Thrown-away Child

name?“
    “Florence—”
    “Poor Flo. I bet you was her ugliest child.” Detective Eckles had a spasm of laughs. Mueller cracked an elbow into his partner’s ribs. Eckles accidentally chomped his tongue, which took all the humor out of the situation for him.
    Look here, ma’am,” Mueller said, hand resting on his gun, “we’d like to have a little talk with your boy.”
    “No boy staying here, sir. Only a grown man—name of Mr. Duclat.”
    “That’s just who I’m talking about. Perry Duclat.”
    “You had a mind, you could to learn how to talk respectable about a black man.”
    “Respectable’s got nothin’ to do with the bidness we got with Perry Duclat.”
    “What you think Perry done?”
    “Where is he, ma’am?”
    Mueller drew himself a step toward Mama. So did Eckles. Which brought me off the sofa and to my feet I moved in on Mueller, warning him, “You want to gear down some, Detective?”
    “Who in goddamn hell are you?” Mueller drew out his gun again, holding it barrel-down to the floor.
    “Put it away.”
    But Mueller kept his gun where it was. Eckles now drew his piece as well, dangling it the same as his partner.
    “Don’t sound like he’s from ’round here,” Eckles said, having difficulty with the letters d and s, on account of his injured tongue.
    Mueller pressed me. “I as’t you a question, Yankee-boy.”
    “I asked you to put the gun away.”
    “You best answer me first.”
    “I’m family,” I said, smiling.
    “Oh, man—that’s choice!” Mueller laughed hard, expecting me to join in the joke. When I did not, he took a second look at Ruby. This time he did not look straight through her. He turned back to me, eyes lowered like a couple of broken sunshades. “Now ain’t this just special. The pretty one, she your missus?“
    “That’s right.”
    “Where y’all from, Yankee-boy?”
    “The gun, put it away.”
    “ ’Fraid I can’t accommodate you. Not until I got me at least a name.”
    “I’ve got identification.” I pulled open my coat, slowly, so that Mueller could see the inside breast pocket. “There’s all the ID you need in my pocket. Come and get it, Detective.”
    Mueller gave his gun a shake, directing Eckles' “G’wan over there, take it off’n him, Ricky Ray.”
    Eckles removed what he naturally thought was an ordinary wallet, opened it and whistled at the gold shield he found inside. He handed the wallet over to Mueller, whose lips moved as he read my name off the shield.
    “Says here your name’s Neil Hockaday,” Mueller said.
    “I know that.”
    “Says here you’re a detective up there to Jew York City. Hoo-whee! A po-liceman, just like me.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Mueller returned the wallet and shield, and ignored me for the time being. He put his gun away, though. So did his trained seal.
    “Say now, Mrs. Pretty,” Mueller said to Ruby, shifting his lopsided bulk. I said to myself, Now that’s a very unwise manner of addressing Ruby. As I had not warmed to Mueller, I decided he was on his own. “You down from Jew York to visit some ol’ Louisiana kin for a spell?”
    “Listen up, you ignorant peckerwood. What I’d like to do is cram a rat in your mouth and sew your lips shut. But I’m going to be polite instead.” Mueller might have preferred being in a dentist’s chair than having Ruby drill her eyes into him the way she was. “State your fool bid ness . Then kindly move your big ass out of here.”
    Mama added, “Go, girl!”
    Mueller and his red face exploded. “Missy, I just ain’t accustomed—!”
    “No, I’m sure you ain’t!” Ruby looked like she might leap up from the couch and grab Mueller’s fat neck. Mueller took a step back. “A cracker like you pisses in my face, I do not call it rain—I call it piss. Have we established an understanding, Detective?”
    I broke in to advise Mueller, “In the interest of being professionally helpful, I’d take things from the top if I were you.” I nodded to Eckles, including him in my counsel. “Take a little beat, fellows. Then make like you’re actual gentlemen.”
    The two of them sputtered for a couple of seconds After their feathers were smoothed down, I asked Mueller, “Now then, Detective, what do you want with Mr. Duclat?”
    “Got a few questions.”
    “About what?”
    “None of your affair, Detective Hockaday. We ain’t up north right now, we in New Orleans. But I don: mind tellin’ Miz Flagg here.” He turned to Mama, and