PI On A Hot Tin Roof

Louisiana’s automatically a commie rag. I got a lotta respect for the
New York Times.
But they had the gall to attack the shrimp tariffs in an editorial. Said it was unfair to goddam Vietnam and China! Said it was political, and what was even worse, complained that some of the money would go to the people who’re hurtin’. That’s
Americans
they’re talkin’ about. That’s
me.
Assholes don’t understand a goddam thing about people with families to feed.”
    Talba was actually fairly interested, not to mention sympathetic. But she felt a need to get the conversation back on course. “Where does the illegal part come in?” she asked.
    “Buddy’s a judge, see? Think about it.”
    Once he put it that way, Talba didn’t have to think about it at all. It was incredibly obvious—so exactly like Buddy down to his toenails, she didn’t see why she hadn’t already seen it. She told him what she’d known since her records search. “LaGarde had a case before Buddy, and Buddy ruled in his favor.”
    “Two cases. It’s a matter of record, ya know that? I went down and looked ’em up myself. Goddam matter of record. That’s what I went to see goddam LaGarde about. I was so goddam hot under the collar I coulda killed him, too.”
    Talba smiled. “So how come he’s still alive?”
    Cheramie took another dose of medicine, wiped his mouth, sighed, and pointed with his chin to the back of the house. “Only thing stoppin’ me’s I got a kid to raise. His mama left us three years ago. I coulda got arrested for beatin’ Royce up if anybody’d seen us, but nobody did, and I went right out after and got me an alibi. But a whole hotel full of people woulda known if I up and killed LaGarde.” Hearing what he’d just said, he gave Talba a sly look. “Look, you know I don’t mean that. I’m not a violent man. Figure of speech.”
    “I understand.”
And I really, really don’t want to get on your bad side.
    “So anyway, I couldn’t even beat him up, much less kill him. And that I’d’a gladly done if it wouldn’ta been my ass.”
    “But you did talk to him—I saw the two of you get in the elevator. What’d he say?”
    “Said Royce made the whole thing up. Said he never had no deal with Buddy.” He guzzled again, and shook his head. “How ya like that, ya know? ’S why this country’s in the shape it’s in. Ain’t even honor among thieves anymore.”
    Talba smiled, seeing the irony. “That’s the lowest.” She could feel his pain, all right. But the timing bothered her. “Tell me something—when was Buddy supposed to pay you?”
    He repeated his routine—guzzle, wipe, lower can. “On delivery. And I made quite a few deliveries. Buddy’s been owin’ me for weeks, tell ya the truth.”
    “And you never confronted him before?”
    “Ah, he always had some story.”
    “It isn’t shrimp season, is it? So you had nowhere else to sell the shrimp.”
    “Now don’t you get all righteous with me, Miss Private Investigator. Here I am, about to lose my boat, can’t even stay out a coupla days cause I got a kid to take care of—what I’m gonna do? I gotta catch shrimp to make a livin’—I don’t
know
nothin’ else.”
    “I’m just surprised you put up with it, that’s all.”
    “You know how Buddy was. He could charm the pants off
a picture
of a nun. Or maybe ya never met him.”
    “Oh, I met him. I met him all right.” She winked. “But he wasn’t my type, in case you’re wondering. Did you know he was engaged to LaGarde’s daughter?”
    “He was
what?
”
    Talba repeated what she’d just said. “But don’t get too excited. I don’t think the father and daughter get along.”
    “That is one fucked-up family.”
    “Two,” Talba said. “So. You have any idea who killed Buddy?”
    “I know it was a righteous dude, whoever he was. Huh! Shrimpers’ friend. Tell me about it.” He finished his beer, whereupon Talba thanked him for his help and left, wondering how Royce was.
    She called Lucy to check and also to confirm their reading date. “Hey, Luce, it’s me. How’s Royce?”
    “Omigod, he’s got a broken rib. He looks like someone beat him up.”
    “Is that what happened?”
    “He says he fell over something. But his face is all bruised up, and so’s his whole chest and everything.”
    “Well, I’m sorry to hear it. How’s the little princess?”
    “She is sooo wonderful! And no one knows yet.”
    “Try and keep it that way. Pick you up tomorrow at