PI On A Hot Tin Roof

“Well, I
am
going to pay you.”
    “You are?”
    Raisa had expected him to say, “I’ll tan your little bottom if you don’t,” the way he usually did, to which she invariably replied, “Oh,
Daddy.
”
    “We’re detectives tonight, you understand? We’re undercover. We’re getting paid, so you’re going to get paid, too. One dollar if you do things right.”
    “What I gotta do?” She was understandably suspicious; Darryl didn’t believe in bribes.
    “All you have to do is call Talba ‘Sandra.’ That’s her secret name. Can you do that?”
    “Think I’m a baby? Sandra. S-a-n-d-r-a.”
    Darryl nodded. “Very good, double-o-seven. And one other thing. You can’t tell anyone we’re detectives. They think we’re here to help out with dinner.”
    “Two dollars.”
    “Three.”
    “Oh,
Daddy.”
    “No, I mean it.”
    “For real?”
    “Shake on it?” He held out his hand. Raisa didn’t move.
    “Three dollars. Going once, going twice…” Raisa shook. But Talba wouldn’t rest easy till they’d left the house. The kid was so perverse she might go out of her way to blow their cover.
    “Ready? Let’s go.”
    No one was downstairs except Adele, who seemed impressed by Darryl’s good looks and better grammar, and who positively raved over Raisa. “Why, you look just like a little angel! You want to meet my granddaughter?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    Talba was amazed by the “ma’am” part, pretty used to the other. “Well, it’s nothing personal,” she said. “Raisa’s having a ‘no’ kind of day.”
    Adele laughed. “So’s Lucy. They’re made for each other.” She turned her head toward the stairs and hollered, “Lucy! Luuuucyyy! Come on down, the little girl’s here.”
    Lucy, dressed in a short skirt and a pink T-shirt that looked awful on her, walked slowly and grandly down the staircase, if a disgruntled fourteen-year-old could be said to be grand. Raisa stared up at her, hatred in her eyes.
    One look at Darryl, though, and Lucy perked up; he had that effect on females. Shaking hands with him, she blushed. And when she finally condescended to look at Raisa, it was with a look of such haughty disdain she nearly gave off sparks. But then she
really
looked at her, and did a double-take, moving back a step to get a better view.
    “Omigod! You are adorable.”
    Talba tended to forget it, given the kid’s disposition, but Raisa was one of the prettiest children on the planet. She had smooth, light-mocha skin and crinkly, fine, golden hair—not really blonde, just gold—that (now that she was older) curled in shiny ringlets unless she brushed it, and if she did (which was seldom), turned into a golden cloud. Talba had thought it would turn dark as she got older, but it hadn’t, just developed those curls. Neither Talba nor Darryl had been able to get her to brush it tonight. But the curls were something out of a storybook.
    “You’re exotic,” Lucy said. “Do you know what that means?”
    Raisa said nothing, her brows meeting in the middle and almost, but not quite, covering the frown that brought them together.
    “It means you’re really unusual. I’ve got to get my camera.” The girl turned tail and raced up the stairs.
    “Lucy! Luuuucyyy!” Adele called after her, to no avail. Shrugging, she said, “Raisa, would you like a piece of king cake?”
    At least that was a sure thing. “Yes, ma’am,” Raisa said, turning her attention to the gorgeous spread laid out on the dining room table.
    But Adele wasn’t a grandmother for nothing. “Maybe a ham sandwich first.” Raisa’s face fell, but she could see she was going to have to eat ham to get cake. Darryl grinned at Talba. Things could be worse.
    The kid was spreading mustard when Lucy returned with her camcorder. “Hey, Raisa, look at me. How’s the ham?”
    Raisa frowned. “Haven’t tried it yet.”
    “Well, eat some. Let me get you eating some.” And Raisa started performing.
    She circled her mouth with the sandwich, popped it in, and said, “Mmmmm,” which made everyone laugh.
    “Great,” Lucy said. “Fantastic.”
    “Now say. ‘Thank you, Miss Adele,’” Darryl admonished.
    Raisa turned to her hostess, “The baroness myself thanks you, Miss Adele.” And she curtsied, in perfect imitation of Talba taking a bow.
    Even Adele cracked up. “Where on earth did she learn to do that?”
    Talba cringed. What if the child blurted out the truth?
    But she said, “Saw it on