PI On A Hot Tin Roof

trouble?”
    “Yep.” She was grinning. “Suspended two years ago. For failing to book valuable evidence—sometimes drugs, once a wallet with a lot of money in it; also ‘borrowing’ from the property room. He busted an armed robber, the guy had Rolex watches, Boudreaux turned up wearing one.”
    Eddie thought about it. It was almost too seamless. He really didn’t see how she could have been so lucky with the speakerphone. “Ms. Wallis, ya know about the fruit of the poisoned tree?”
    “Sure. Tainted evidence.” She shrugged. “But this isn’t evidence. It’s journalism.”
    “It’s still poisoned.”
    “What are you getting at, Eddie?”
    “Ya know about going to jail if ya been doin’ anything ya shouldn’t, right?”
    “EdDEE! You mean illegal listening devices? You know I wouldn’t do a thing like that. Besides. I wouldn’t even know how.”
    In a pig’s eye, she wouldn’t. She was an electronics expert. Well, it was her ass if she’d done it: the worst that could happen to Eddie was a lawsuit that would ruin him. But then again, if she did get photos of a judge with a dirty cop, who was going to sue? The P.I. board could still fine him, but what was a few grand to get Angie out of this mess?
    Inwardly, he squirmed a little, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about Ms. Wallis’s methods except fire her. He’d eaten the fruit of the poisoned tree himself a time or two, when he was a Jefferson Parish deputy.
    He narrowed his eyes at her, anyhow. “Just be sure ya never learn.”
    “Let’s get Angie over here. And Jane Storey.”
    And so they powwowed, the four of them, and that tightass Jane Storey nearly wet her pants. “We are going to cook him, baroness. This is enough for a whole series.”
    “Maybe a Pulitzer in it for ya,” Eddie said.
    “Lot of legwork to do, though. Talba, you really think you can get Buddy paying them off?”
    She shrugged. “Depends if I’m there when Mac shows up. If I am, I’ll get it.”
    Eddie had no doubt she would. She had that little phone camera, and a beeper camera as well. She’d get something. But she couldn’t record audio. He reminded her of that.
    “EdDEE!” she said again. “Think I’m crazy?”
    “I’ll take that, as Buddy would say, under judicial review. Look, tell ya what. I’ll surveil the house; I can get them going in if they show up—with my new little toy.” Ms. Wallis had made him buy a state-of-the-art digital camcorder, one you could almost hide in the palm of your hand.
    “Great idea!” Jane Storey cried. “Why don’t you let me go with you? I can see it for myself.”
    What the hell had he gotten himself into? “No, ma’am! Absolutely not. I could be in that car eight hours or more. I am not takin’ you with me. I gotta have peace and quiet.”
    “Okay, I’ll go in my own car.”
    Damn!
he thought, and wished he’d kept his infernal trap shut. He glared at her. “No. You stay away or we don’t give you a damn thing.”
    But he was bluffing and she knew it.
    “Eddie, it’s not like this is your idea. I was going to be there, anyway—I just didn’t mention it.”
    He offered up his palms to the heavens. “Well, what the hell; we don’t need two of us. You go with a photographer. I’ll stay in the office and do Ms. Wallis’s work.”
    Storey was as capable of getting it as he was. He turned to Angie. “Say, ya got Alabama off, right? He gonna be out and about tomorrow?”
    “I didn’t do anything—Jimmy Houlihan did. The charge was dismissed, thank God. So Al’ll be out bright and early, with bells on—or, at least, with his new suit on. Talba, you and Darryl ought to bring Raisa.”
    “What time?”
    “You know the Indians. It’s irregular at best. But he’ll probably be all over everywhere, he’s so proud of that suit—and so damn glad to be free.”
    “Don’t see how we can miss him, then. We’re definitely going to be in the ’hood’.” She turned to Eddie. “Hey, Boss Man, can I ask you something? Raisa’s got a sudden fascination with videotape. I was wondering—you ever use your old camcorder?”
    He shrugged. “Haven’t since I got the new one. It’s so big I don’t know how I ever stood it. Whatcha thinkin’? Ya want to let Raisa try her hand tomorrow? Maybe catch some Indian dances?”
    “Do you mind?”
    “Knock yaself out,” he said. And then, “Ya done good, Ms. Wallis.”
    ***
    He never said anything like that. But she had done good. Even if