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“Ray, this is Detective Killian,” he said. “She’s here about Miss Alma. And Samson.”
“Forgive the way I look, I had a rough night.” Ray waved her inside. “You want coffee?”
“Thanks, no. I power-guzzled a cup on the way here.”
He nodded his understanding and directed them to their charmingly decorated living room. Samson trailed behind, snuffling and snorting.
Stacy sat on the velvet-covered chair; the dog flopped down at her feet.
She motioned to the animal. “He seems to have made a full recovery.”
“You know about his being poisoned?” Ray said.
“Captain O’Shay informed me.”
“Yvette’s friend?” She nodded and he went on. “He’s doing okay, though I wouldn’t say he’s fully recovered. Poor baby.”
At that, the “baby” lifted his head and looked at his master. Ray smiled and clucked at him; the animal stood, trotted over and allowed his master to scoop him up and set him on his lap. With his pushed-in face, she decided, Samson was so ugly he was cute.
“Any idea who did it?” she asked.
They shook their heads in unison. “We didn’t pursue it. He pulled through and after what happened to Miss Alma-”
“We just didn’t.”
“I understand you were out the night it happened.”
Bob nodded, looking miserable. “Overnight trip to the Mississippi Gulf Coast casinos. Saw a show, lost a few bucks, drank too much. Typical getaway.”
“What do you do, Bob?”
“Loan officer. Gulf Coast Bank. You know, the bank that makes pigs fly.”
She smiled slightly, thinking of the local bank’s very fu
“I have a dog-grooming business. Ray’s Perfect Pups.”
“Here in the Quarter?”
“Yes.”
Bill frowned. “May I ask why that’s important?”
Before she could reply, her cell phone vibrated. She excused herself and answered. “Detective Killian.”
“Hi, Detective. This is Jamie from the lab. Got something interesting for you on the Maytree murder.”
“Shoot.”
“Guess what we found on her robe? Dog fur.”
“Not so blown away. She had a Pomeranian.”
“Goldish-orange fur. Found lots of that. This was definitely canine, but a different breed. And a different color. Black and white.”
“She spent a lot of time in the courtyard with Sissy. No doubt other animals and their owners use that courtyard.”
“The only place we found it was on her robe, in front, lapel area. Only two strands. Killer may have carried it inside with him, transferred it to the victim.”
Stacy narrowed her eyes in thought. Now, that was interesting. “I want to know what breed those strands are from.”
“Under way. It’ll take a little time.”
“Thanks, Jamie. Keep me posted.”
She flipped her phone shut and returned to the couple. “By any chance, did Alma Maytree have a key to your apartment?”
Bob’s face went slack with surprise. “Yes. She helped with Samson sometimes. When we were gone.”
“Like overnight trips to the Gulf Coast?”
“Yes, she…” His words trailed off as he filled in the blanks. She saw the moment it all made sense. “Oh, my God, you don’t think…The person who poisoned Samson-”
Ray jumped in. “Killed Miss Alma?”
Stacy ignored that question, asking another of her own. “Ray, did Miss Alma bring Sissy to you for grooming?”
“She did. I groomed Sissy for free…in exchange for Miss Alma helping us out with Sam-”
His eyes welled with tears. “She was such a sweetheart, how could anyone…hurt her?”
Stacy stood. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
As soon as Stacy cleared Yvette’s building, she dialed Patti’s cell phone. The woman picked up right away.
“It’s Stacy. Where are you?”
“At the house. What’s up?”
“I have news. Regarding the Maytree murder. Be there in ten.”
Ten became fifteen because of a garbage truck. Patti was waiting at the door when Stacy pulled up. She hurried up the walk to meet her.
Without speaking, they went inside. Stacy followed Patti to the kitchen. There, the woman shoved a mug of coffee into her hands, then poured one for herself.
“Where’s Yvette?”
“Sleeping.”
“You look like you could use some.”
“I haven’t quite grasped the concept of ‘work half the night, sleep till noon.’ What do you have?”
“Heard from the lab this morning. Found plenty of Sissy’s fur on Miss Alma’s robe. Also picked up two strands from another breed.”
“Just two?”
“On her robe. Definitely canine.”
“Killer brought it in, transferred it to the robe.”
“It’s possible.”
“Anyone in the building have a pet that fits that description?”
“Don’t know yet. That’s the first thing I’m going to find out when I leave here. The lab’s working to identify the breed.”
Before Patti could comment, Stacy went on. “Miss Alma had a key to Bob and Ray’s apartment.”
“Samson’s owners.”
“Yes. She helped them out when they were gone. In exchange, Ray groomed Sissy for free.”
Patti sipped her coffee, brow furrowed in thought. “Let’s assume Miss Alma’s murder, Samson’s poisoning and the Artist’s nocturnal visit are all related. Why kill the old lady and poison the dog?”
“Kill the old lady to get the key-”
“To poison the dog-”
“To keep him quiet-”
“So he can make his visit to Yvette without waking the entire apartment complex.”
“Bingo.” Stacy set her coffee cup on the counter. “The killer knew Alma Maytree had a key to that apartment.”
“How?”
“And how did he know he could get to Samson when he did?”
“What’s she doing here?”
Stacy turned to the kitchen doorway. Yvette stood there, looking absolutely wrecked. Stacy smiled. “Hello, Yvette.”
She didn’t return the greeting. “I repeat, what’s she doing here?”
“Helping,” Patti answered. “Be nice.”
Stacy fought back a grin. Patti sounded like a scolding mother.
The young woman glared. “Helping? You thought I was full of shit, remember?”
“Maybe now I think you’re not as full of it as before.”
“Gee, thanks.” She shuffled to the fridge, opened it and retrieved a Coke.
Stacy turned back to Patti. “Any sign of the Artist yet?”
“No. Not since Yvette moved in here. Almost a week.”
“One big thing’s changed,” Stacy said.
Patti nodded. “She’s not in her apartment.”
“Exactly. I’ve got a plan. Yvette moves back into her apartment. With a roommate. A friend she made at the Hustle.”
Yvette popped the can’s top. “I suppose you have someone in mind?”
“A cocktail waitress named Brandi.”
“No way.”
“I don’t really think this is up to you.”
The younger woman jerked her chin up. “That’s where you’re wrong. It is most definitely up to me.”
“As I understand it,” Stacy said softly, “you’re in it for the money. Throwing me into the mix doesn’t change that.”
Her face flooded with angry color. “I can change my mind if I want. And I will.”
Patti stepped between them. “I agree with Yvette. Thanks for the offer, but I’m not going to jeopardize your career.”
“I appreciate your concern, but the department has no say in where I live. Or how I spend my off hours.”
That wasn’t quite true. NOPD officers had a code of conduct to live by, but what she was proposing was neither illegal nor would it dishonor her badge.
“I’ll have a gun,” Stacy continued. “And a badge. He won’t be able to resist paying another midnight visit. When he does, I take him down.”
“Spencer will have my hide,” Patti said.
Yvette’s jaw dropped. “You’re not actually consid-”
Stacy cut her off. “He’ll get over it. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking I’ve got to be crazy, but it just might work.”