“But I think Dexter would have gotten in any licks he could,” I said.
Ida Belle nodded. “It’s a frustrating thing to watch as it’s repeated, but Fortune’s right. I’m willing to bet Angel says as much when we talk to her. Tell me where the apartments are.”
I gave her some general directions toward the area and would narrow it down when we got closer. Traffic was surprisingly light and we made it across downtown and into the Ninth Ward in about thirty minutes. I took one look at the apartment building and looked at Gertie.
“Bring your purse this time,” I said before we climbed out.
A bar and a bail bonds business were directly across the street, which usually indicated trouble. Two empty spaces were next to the bar and then there was a small convenience store that cashed checks, and some sort of church. All of the businesses had bars on their windows and doors.
The office for the apartment building was toward the back of the property. It had a tree on top of the roof, which at first, I figured was from recent storms, then I realized it was mostly rotted through and might have been sitting there for years. I could only imagine why they hadn’t been cited, and my imagination currently ran to payoffs that were considerably less than the cost of removing the tree. Likely, it was the only thing keeping a flood of rain from coming inside.
We headed for the office and I held my hands on my hips as I walked inside. To strangers, it looked like a mad woman walk. To people who knew better, it allowed me to access my pistol in seconds. Bells rang over the door as we walked in and a guy stepped out of an office behind the counter.
Six foot three. Two hundred sixty pounds and most of it solid. Shaved head. Piercings in his lip. So many tattoos he looked like a mural. No hindrances that I could see except his taste in artwork. Threat level high in an enclosed space. Much lower out in the open and if he didn’t have a gun. If this was Winky Bear, I could see how he pulled off the nickname without getting any grief.
He never said a word. Just stood at the counter, staring at us, arms crossed in front of his chest. Obviously, Mr. Bear didn’t feel the need to have his hands in a ready position.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Fortune Redding. If you’re Winky Bear, I spoke with you earlier about Dexter Nutters.”
“That’s me,” he said. “I guess you didn’t give him the right message.”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Nutters,” I said. “He was being hauled to jail the last time I laid eyes on him.”
“Well, he’s out now,” Winky Bear said. “In fact, you just missed him. Showed up here about fifteen minutes ago, wanting to get some things he’d left behind. I told him when he came up with the rent, he could have his things. I got rights, you know.”
“Of course,” I said. “I can’t imagine the difficulty of your job dealing with people like Dexter.”
He tilted his head and gave me a long stare. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re not exactly the kind of woman that gets tangled up with Nutters.”
He didn’t ask a question, but I knew it was implied.
“I’m not tangled up with Dexter,” I said and pulled out my ID. “I’m a private investigator and these two ladies are my assistants. Let’s just say some of Dexter’s behavior has caused my client to suspect he’s up to no good, and they asked me to check him out.”
Winky Bear snorted. “If Nutters is breathing, then he’s absolutely up to no good.”
“I don’t suppose you’d fill me in on what kind of no-good behavior you’re aware of, would you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Hell, why not. We aren’t friends and I never liked the guy, but you know, rent money’s rent money. I can start with you’re not the first people to come looking for him. Bill collectors come here on the regular. That was my first sign that rent was probably going to come up missing but I didn’t have any legal grounds to evict him until he skipped. And then there was this one cat came by yesterday, looked like he’d been pumped up with air, you know the type? Like he was birthed by a gym and steroids?”