PI On A Hot Tin Roof Read Free Page A

It’s five thousand dollars for Angie, but he doubled it for the chief. That’s fifteen hundred to a bail bondsman—can you swing it?”
    “The important thing’s to get Angie out. She can worry about Al.”
    “Listen, let me help you.”
    Talba thought nervously of Patsy. “Naah,” she said regretfully. “We’ll be fine.”
    “You sure?” But he looked relieved.
    “Really.”
    “Well, there’s one thing. Judges can set bond, but they don’t really have any clout with the sheriff. Every prisoner brings in so much revenue per day; so nobody gets out before midnight the day they’re arrested. That’s the rumor, anyhow.”
    “Damn!”
    “You ever done this before?”
    Talba shook her head.
    “Go to Harry Nicasio. He won’t cheat you.”
    “An honest bail bondsman. What a concept.”
    He laughed again. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
    “That’s what Eddie says. Angie’s dad.”
    His eyes took on a faraway look. “Never met Eddie.”
    “You’ve got to be the only one in New Orleans.” She figured Jimmy just didn’t remember him—everybody’d run into Eddie at one time or another.
    “Good luck to you,” he said, and touched her shoulder.
    She made her way out to the street, crossing the avenue between floats, retrieved her car, and drove, first to an ATM, then to the West Broad Street office of Harry Nicasio, whose male, skinny, black assistant took her cash and walked her over to Central Lockup, where she waited six hours for Angie to be processed, first into the system, then out of it.
    As usual, the lawyer wore black. Black T-shirt and black jeans, practically guaranteed to stand up to anything, even a night in jail. But for once, the elegant Angie managed to look disheveled.
    Without a word, she went for a hug and held on tight for a while. Finally, Talba ventured, “You okay?”
    Angie bit her lip. “Pride’s hurt, that’s all. Jesus! That’s an experience no one should have.”
    “You’ve got to be hungry.”
    The lawyer ignored her. “How about Al? Jimmy get him out?”
    “His bond’s been set, but I couldn’t get the cash. It’s a thousand dollars. Can you?”
    “Shit! Who keeps that kind of money around? What are we going to do? We can’t wait for the banks to open; he’ll have to spend the rest of the weekend in jail.”
    “ATM?”
    “Yeah. Maybe. I’ve got a gold card—I think I can get eight hundred dollars, and I’ve got about a hundred fifty in my purse. Do you have another fifty?”
    “Yeah. Just. Same deal with me—I could only get four hundred, but I had a couple of hundred bucks, and a hundred of that went for your bail. I can give you the fifty, and still buy you breakfast.” Talba looked at her watch. “But, Angie, it’s three a.m. It’ll take hours to process him—believe me, I know. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep and we’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”
    “I can’t leave him.”
    Talba had enough sense not to argue. “Okay, okay. Where’s your car?”
    “They made me leave it parked on Esplanade, near the old Mint—that’s where we got picked up. Al was playing a gig there. Just get me there and I’ll take care of the rest. You’ve done enough for one night.”
    Talba sighed. There was nothing she’d rather do than go home, but she felt like Angie did—she couldn’t really leave a friend in trouble. “Look. I’ll go with you to get the money and post the bond. But you don’t have to wait for Al—he’s got a wife. Or something. She can go get him.”
    “I don’t trust her.”
    Talba sighed again. But the way Angie stumbled when she tried to walk, teared up every five minutes or so, and kept absolutely silent told her the lawyer simply wasn’t up to it. She was in shock, too disoriented to function. In the end, they posted the bond, and finally went by Brazil’s house to alert his wife and give her taxi fare to go get him. By then it was almost five, and Angie was so far gone she’d stopped speaking