“He’s found something,” Bob said. A moment later, the animal began pawing at an air-conditioning vent.
Obviously, Buster was a scratcher.
Stacy and Rene hurried over. The vent was located in the hallway that led to the bathrooms. The vent cover proved to be loose, and they removed it easily. Stacy eased out the air filter, which was filthy.
“Flashlight,” Stacy said. Bob handed her one and she directed the beam around the small space. “Empty.”
“Now,” Bob said. “But I promise you, there were drugs in there at least once.”
“How’d you do that?” Rene asked. “How’d you know he’d found something before he did?”
Bob laughed and scratched Buster’s head. “His breathing. It changed.”
Stacy’s cell phone vibrated; she separated from the group and answered. It was Spencer.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey to you.”
“How’s it going?”
“Pretty great. Buster just got excited.”
“Where are you?”
“Used to be a supper club. On South Peters, in the Warehouse District.”
He was silent, and she cleared her throat. “What’s up?”
“I don’t want you to move out.”
She tightened her grip on the phone. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
“I know. I just…I wanted you to know that.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. “We’ll talk later.”
Stacy ended the call and slipped the device back into its holster. The moment she did, it vibrated. She unclipped it and saw from the caller ID, it was Spencer again.
“Yo,” she said.
“What was the name of the club?”
“Don’t know, signage is gone. Why?”
“Curious more than anything. Ask Baxter if he knows.”
She did. Rene looked momentarily perplexed, then grinned. “The Cosmopolitan,” he said. “Was the hot place for about a year. Sported a bar made out of ice.”
She relayed the information; Spencer whistled. “That place belonged to Aunt Patti’s friend June. And her brother Riley. They shut it down after Katrina. Didn’t know they’d decided to sell.”
“Bet they didn’t know their listing agent was a drug dealer. I might need to question them. Got a number?”
He gave it to her and hung up.
While she had been on the phone, Buster had searched the rest of the space-and come up empty.
“Next address?” Stacy asked, eager to move on.
Rene must have been eager as well; he agreed with no mention of tacos at all.
Three and a half hours later, they had visited fifteen of the thirty addresses-and Buster had alerted at every one of them.
They had Gabrielle now. He had been using his listings as drop-off and pickup points for his meth business. The storage place had been the same in every one-an air-conditioning vent.
Rather ingenious, Stacy thought, using vacant commercial properties. A “Realtor” meets “prospective buyers.” No chance of neighbors becoming suspicious at the comings and goings of strangers.
Just another real estate showing.
Too bad Gabrielle was dead. She would have loved busting him.
Too bad for Borger, too. At present she was their only link to Gabrielle’s drug trade.
As she and Baxter wolfed down Mexican fast food, they decided to split up. He would continue on with Buster and Bob while she would start questioning property owners, mostly as a formality.
Beginning with Patti’s friends, the Bensons. Curiously, they owned three of the properties on Yvette’s list.
As a courtesy, she notified Patti.
“I’ll bet they’re at the gallery,” she said. “Pieces. On Julia Street. If you don’t mind, I’ll meet you there.”
“No problem at all. I’m leaving now.”
Patti was waiting in her car when Stacy arrived. Stacy climbed out of her SUV and together they crossed to the gallery’s double glass doors and stepped inside.
The current exhibition was of large, vigorously executed paintings, their subject matter highly abstracted portraits and landscapes. Like the art galleries she had visited before-and there had been many as her sister, Jane, was an artist-the interior was spare, the walls white, the floors muted. In this case, stained, scored concrete.
Nothing about the interior would distract, clash or interfere with the artwork.
June stood behind an elegant writing desk located between the two viewing rooms. She was on the phone. When she spotted them, her face lit up. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.”
“Patti!” she cried, hurrying over. “What a surprise!”
She hugged Patti, then turned to her with a warm smile. “Stacy, it’s good to see you again.”
Stacy returned the smile. “Likewise.”
The woman shifted her gaze back to Patti expectantly. “Please tell me you’ve finally decided to add some color to your walls? Something other than Jazz Fest and Mardi Gras posters?”
“Like there’s enough for real art in my civil servant’s salary.”
“I’d make you a deal.”
“I’m sure you would. One I still couldn’t afford.”
Stacy stepped in. “Actually, we’re here to question you about a couple pieces of property you and Riley have for sale. Three, to be exact.”
Riley burst out of the back, cell phone clutched in his hand. “June! I sold that piece to-” He saw them and stopped, a huge smile spreading across his face. “Aunt Patti, what a nice surprise.”
He kissed her cheek, then turned to Stacy and grinned. “I didn’t know you were an art lover, Stacy.”
“I’d better be. If I wasn’t, my sister’d be pretty pissed at me.”
“Your sister?”
“Jane.”
He stared at her a moment, looking stunned. “Jane Killian’s your sister?”
“I thought you knew.”
His face took on an expression of delight. “My God, I love her work. She’s a genius!”
Stacy laughed. There was a time that statement would have bothered her. Her and Jane’s relationship had come a long way in the past couple of years.
All it had taken was a maniac trying to kill Jane-and damn near succeeding.
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
“Does she have local representation?”
He reminded her a bit of Buster, big and enthusiastic, nearly quivering over the possibility of a “find.”
He caught her hand. “We’re having an opening Saturday night. I’d love it if you came.”
“Riley!” June admonished him. “Stop flirting with her. She’s spoken for.”
“No ring,” he teased, smile widening. “I can flirt if I want.”
It occurred to her that this was the second time in recent days someone had made a similar comment-no ring, no commitment.
“I apologize for my brother’s exuberance,” June said, scowling at her sibling.
“Please, don’t apologize. He’s right. I’m not wearing a ring.”
Patti’s mouth dropped and June looked distraught. Stacy cleared her throat. “That didn’t come out quite the way I planned. I only meant that Riley didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Thank you,” he said with exaggerated solemnity. “So, will you come Saturday?”
“It’s Shauna’s show, isn’t it? Spencer and I will be here along with the rest of the Malone clan.”
He sighed dramatically and released her hands. “The Malones get all the best ones. Always have.”
“Oh, stop it,” June scolded. “Patti and Stacy are here on official business. Let them do their jobs.”
Instead of being chastened, he looked delighted. “By all means, don’t let me stand in the way of justice.”
Patti grabbed the opening. “You have three pieces of commercial property for sale, listed with Gabrielle Realty. Is that correct?”
“It is,” June answered. “After Katrina, we decided to divest of some of our holdings. The businesses were all devastated by the storm. We lost tenants, had to fight with insurance companies, deal with repairs and all that entailed.”