PI On A Hot Tin Roof

but then you heard stuff about everybody. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention. “Swear to me on ya mother,” he said, “that there’s no way ya client coulda had the drugs.”
    “Dad, I swear to you. The drugs weren’t even in his stuff. The pot was on the front seat, and he hadn’t even been in the car yet. The rock was way in the back of my trunk. Somebody had tucked it away in a real safe place. Very tenderly and lovingly.”
    Eddie set down his beer with a thunk. “That bastard—’scuse my French—mess with my little girl, I swear to God—”
    “Dad, cut it out. I’m not a little girl.” She paused and gave him what from her was a beseeching look, though you’d have to be a close relative to pick it up. “But I do need your help.”
    For the first time in a long while—an unnaturally long while—Ms. Wallis spoke. “Ange. What did you mean when you said it was getting worse? And what in hell was that about my contacts? I don’t have any contacts.”
    “You have one. Evan Farley called from the
Times-Picayune
this afternoon. He’s the one who wrote that unfair story about the marina. Champagne’s got him in his pocket.”
    “Called about what?” Eddie asked.
    “He knew Al and I got arrested.”
    “And he’s going to run a story about it?”
    “Unless we can nip it in the bud.”
    “Jane Storey!” Ms. Wallis said. Storey was a
Times-Picayune
reporter and a friend of hers.
    Angie nodded. “I thought maybe if we could offer her a better story, they might hold off on this one. I mean, I don’t know how much clout she’s got, but it might be worth a try.”
    Eddie was seeing his daughter’s law school education go down the drain. If the story ran, she might never recover from it—no one would remember she was never convicted of the crime; all they’d remember was that she’d been involved in something shady. He absolutely couldn’t let that happen to her.
    “I don’t care for myself, but Alabama’s a public figure. He doesn’t deserve this, y’all. I got him into this. The one person he trusted.”
    “Ya better start carin’ for yourself,” Eddie muttered. His mind was whirling. “Look, if Buddy planted the drugs, he’s dirty.”
    “Yeah. And you guys are detectives, right?”
    “Angie, Angie. Hold it. How we gonna prove somethin’ like that?”
    “Ben says he’s into other stuff.”
    “What other stuff?”
    Angie leaned back, deflated. “I don’t know. We need time.” She looked at Talba, her eyes pleading—or as close to pleading as they got.
    Ms. Wallis was nodding. “Could be done. I’ve got an idea.”
    “God help us,” Eddie said automatically.
    “Look, I’ll do one of my undercover acts.”
    Ms. Wallis had two other talents besides being a pretty decent fledgling P.I.—she was an accomplished poet and a computer virtuoso. Anything that needed doing, she could do, so long as it involved the infernal machines. She was self-taught, but she could play the computer like a Stradivarius. It made her an invaluable little corporate spy. Somebody needed a nerd, she could get the job; and while she was in the office, nobody had any secrets. Eddie’d never say it to her face, but he was in awe of what she could do. True, he had doubts about her methods, but she swore to him she never did anything illegal.
    “This ain’t no fancy law office, Ms. Wallis. Ya think ya gonna worm ya way into his chambers, go through his files? Besides, he ain’ gon’ have anything on paper.”
    “I’m not going into the courthouse, Eddie. I’m going into his house—as a maid.”
    There were those who said Eddie was a bit of a racist and even more of a sexist—Audrey and Angela, for two—but this didn’t sit right with him. No way was he going to send his associate in as a maid. Uh-uh. He said it aloud: “No way. José.”
    Even Angie looked at her in horror.
    “Yep. I’m gonna do it. And y’all can’t stop me. If he’s dirty, it’ll come out—on the telephone, maybe. Or somebody’ll come to the house for payoffs. He’ll feel safe at home; that’s where he’ll be careless. Y’all have probably heard that no one ever notices the help? Miz Clara knows the damnedest things about people. It’s like she’s invisible. I’m just going to put on my invisible suit and go in there and come out with some dirt.”
    “Ya not plantin’ anything on him.”
    “Eddie, don’t be ridiculous. Give me two weeks; I’ll do it. Two weeks’ leave if you want to play it