PI On A Hot Tin Roof

she’d been very bad in the process. If she ever talked to anyone about it—and she never planned to—she knew their argument would be that listening devices had to be illegal for privacy’s sake. Otherwise, they’d say, think how many black people could be entrapped. And her answer would be, “Tough, if they’re doing something illegal.”
    But in her heart, she still wouldn’t want the cops doing it. She could live with the doublethink, even if she couldn’t explain it.
    She accepted the praise, put the whole sticky business out of her mind, and drove across the bridge to Algiers Point, her thoughts turning to the coming holiday.
    In New Orleans, there are probably as many forms of Mardi Gras as there are neighborhoods, ethnic groups, and bands of eccentrics with agendas. This year, Darryl had Raisa, who usually spent the holiday with her mother in St. Bernard Parish. He and Talba planned to show the kid a traditional African-American Mardi Gras, beginning with the Zulu parade and moving on to the neighborhood called Tremé, which still boasted some of the old ways, like the Indians, and was trying to revive others, like the Baby Dolls and the skeletons.
    Living out of town as she did, Raisa had never seen Zulu and didn’t even know about the Indians, the most spectacular sight of all Mardi Gras.
    But Fat Tuesday dawned gray and threatening.
    Still, if you looked hard and had an optimistic nature, you could see patches of blue here and there. Talba had hopes, but they were nearly dashed when Raisa threw her cereal bowl on the floor and said it was the worst Mardi Gras ever because it was going to rain and she and her dad couldn’t even have the day to themselves. That wouldn’t have been so bad if Darryl hadn’t said, “That’s it, young lady. Go to your room and stay there till you’re ready to apologize.”
    Raisa fled the room, crying and yelling over her shoulder, “I’m not coming out all day. I wish I’d stayed home with my mother!”
    Darryl leaned on the kitchen counter and spoke to the wall. “She’s going to tell Kimmie we wouldn’t even take her out.”
    “She’ll come out.”
    “You don’t know her.”
    “You forget. I do. All too well.”
    Darryl put his arms around her. “Talba, I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know why she has to be such a brat.”
    Talba had been wondering about it herself—for all the time they’d been dating. But knowing Lucy was making her mellower toward the kid—her life couldn’t be easy, and kids were supposed to have it easy. “Know what, Darryl?” she said. “I think it’s partly my fault. I never know what to do when she acts like this, so I just leave her alone. When what she probably needs is attention.”
    “Well, she sure doesn’t want it from you.”
    “She could learn to love me. I’m very lovable.”
    He laughed. “That’s what she’s got against you.”
    “No, really. It’s not just jealousy. I’m going to go talk to her.”
    “She’ll take your head off.”
    “No, she won’t,” Talba said confidently, and strode off to Raisa’s room. She was back in ten minutes, Raisa in tow. The kid was still in her nightgown, looking like the cherub she wasn’t.
    She stood sweetly before her father. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I want to go see Zulu and the Indians.”
    Her dad folded her into his arms, telling her it was all right. And over her head, he mouthed to Talba, “What did you do in there?”
    “Bribed her,” Talba mouthed back.
    “Talba brought me a present.”
    “Well, it isn’t exactly a present.”
    Raisa actually smiled. “Well, it is for one day. For just one day, I get to have it.”
    And Talba went to the car to get the camcorder she’d cadged from Eddie. “Guess who’s about to go into show biz?”
    Darryl broke out in a delighted grin. “Raisa, you can really work that thing?”
    “Yep. Lucy taught me. I’m a videographer now. Can I have some breakfast?”
    “First you better clean up that mess you made.” He had saved it for her.
    In half an hour, they were on the ferry, having decided driving on Mardi Gras was foolish at best. Darryl was coaching Raisa on her coconut supplications. “Now, you’ve got to get up right next to the float. Tell you what—you’re too big for it, but I’ll put you on my shoulder.”
    For a moment, she was wide-eyed. “Really, Daddy? You never do that.”
    “Yeah, but this is important. Know what else? You can lie today, too. I mean, exaggerate—’cause the best