Bluff Walk. Charles R. Crawford

      “He probably used Ajax Bond, that’s who he got to help me last year when I got in a fight with that woman who used to stay next door. She a crack ‘ho and the police arrest me for assault. What kind of justice is that?”

      Lucy Tuggle was obviously a member of that large subculture who knew the practical aspects of the criminal justice system from personal experience. A good bail bondsman was an essential part of existence, and probably sent a card at Christmas.

      “What about a lawyer, Ms. Tuggle? Had Thomas ever used one before?”

      “The last time he was in trouble, he had some no account cracker who didn’t know what he was doing. I went down to the trial to testify as a character witness, and he wouldn’t even put me on the stand, made me stay out in the hall. I don’t even remember his name, but Thomas promised me when he got out of the penal farm that he wouldn’t never use him again.”

      I could imagine Lucy Tuggle’s effect on a jury, and knew that Amanda could, too. I purposefully did not look at Amanda as I asked why Thomas had been sent to the penal farm.

      “I don’t remember,” she answered.

      “You don’t remember?” I asked. “It might in some way help me find Thomas.”

      “No, I don’t remember.”

      I looked at Amanda for help, but she offered none.

      “Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me? Names of friends, other family, business associates?” I asked.

      “I don’t know his friends and we got no other family. I don’t know nothing about his business.”

      “Ms. Tuggle, you understand that I’m not a policeman. If there’s anything that might help, I would like to know it,” I said.

      Apparently, she had not heard me.

      Before I could say anything else, Amanda added, “I have Thomas’s picture and address, John. I’ll give them to you before you leave. Lucy, I’m sure John will do everything he can to find Thomas.”

      Lucy conveyed her doubts in my ability by snorting, heaved herself up out of her chair, and shuffled out of the office.

      As the door closed behind her, Amanda turned to me and said, “No cracks from you, buddy.”

      “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Amanda,” I said. “If we were having a be polite to Ms. Tuggle contest, I’d be the clear winner. I believe you were the one who called her pig-headed.”

      “It’s one thing how you treat her to her face, it’s another what you say after she’s gone,” Amanda said.

      “Well, I won’t say she’s a vision of loveliness and I plan to ask her out,” I said, “but she is a mother concerned about her son, and I feel bad for her, even if I can’t relate to sitting around with my mom getting shit-faced on cheap wine. Maybe with Dad.”

      Amanda curled one side of her lovely lips, but only asked, “Do you feel bad enough to look for Thomas?”

      “First, tell me how you know her.”

      “Lucy and I grew up together,” Amanda said. “She comes to me when she has a problem.”

      “You mean you went to private school together and swam at the country club while your mothers played tennis?”

      “You know what I mean, smartass. Lucy’s mother was our housekeeper. We’re the same age and played together when we were kids.”

      “Sort of like in Gone with the Wind, huh?” I asked.

      “Yeah, just like that. Now, I have to be in court in thirty minutes. Will you help Lucy or not?”

      “I’ll see what I can do. But you know the two likeliest scenarios as well as I do. First, Thomas has skipped town for a while. He’s in Chicago or Detroit and he’ll be back for Christmas. Second, his crack buddies have killed him. If so, his body will show up any day and the case will be solved, no thanks to me.”

      “Maybe you can find out if he left town. That would ease Lucy’s mind,” Amanda said.

      “Everyone I talk to about Thomas will be about as forthcoming as Lucy. Besides, if he’s alive, he’d have gotten in touch with her.”

      “Well, he hasn’t.”

      “Which means…”

      “Not necessarily,” Amanda said.

      “99% is not enough?” I asked.

      “John, I’ve given you a lot of good business over the years. You owe me this,” Amanda said with a look that was both exasperated and pleading.

      “Amanda,” I said, “you know I’ll do it. I just hate to see us both waste our time.”

      She gave me a relieved look, and murmured a quiet thank you.

      “Okay, okay,” I said. “So tell me what you know about Thomas.”

      “I don’t really know much,” she said. “Lucy had him when she was fifteen, which would make him about twenty-seven, since she and I are the same age. Her mother quit working for us right after Thomas was born, and we didn’t stay in touch. I was a freshman in high school, and I remember feeling that Lucy was much older.”

      “When did you see her next?” I asked.

      “Not till I was in college. My mother heard that her mother had died, and she asked Lucy if she wanted to work for us. I was home one summer while she was our maid, and she brought Thomas over now and then. He was a cute little boy. But by the time I came back for Christmas break, Lucy was gone. Mom said the silver and booze kept disappearing, so she finally let Lucy go. Lucy ended up the way you saw her today.”

      “I bet I hadn’t thought of Lucy in ten years,” she continued, “when she called me one day after I had started practicing law. She said she had heard I was a lawyer, and asked me if I would help her in a dispute with her landlord. Since then she’ll call me every two or three years with some problem.”

      “Did you get her off the assault charge she mentioned?” I asked.

      “No, that’s the first time I heard about that one, but it doesn’t surprise me. She’s always had a temper.”

      “What did Lucy tell you about Thomas?”

      “Not much. I know he graduated from high school, she was real proud of that. The last time I saw her she just said he was a businessman, and doing real well.”

      “What’s going on with the Jones estate?” I asked, changing the subject. “Do you see any problems?”

      “No, but it won’t happen any time soon. What does that have to do with Lucy?”

      “I don’t expect to get paid on Jones till you get paid, but I’ll make you a deal. You pay me for Tuggle, and then when Jones comes in you deduct the Tuggle fee and pay me from that.”

      “I’ll pay you for Lucy anyway,” she said. “I’m not asking you to work for free.”

      “I know you’re not, but this is the way I want to do it. Maybe the PI society will give me the do-gooder award.”

      “You’re not the one feeling guilty about Jones now, are you? Is this atonement?” she asked.

      “That’s just the way I want to do it, okay?” I said.

      “Okay, would you like an advance?”

      “An advance is always nice.”

      “How about a thousand?” she said.

      “A thousand is always nice.”

      She pulled a checkbook out of her drawer and wrote a check. She handed it to me along with a legal sized envelope and said, “Now I have to go