“I wouldn’t,” Ida Belle said. “The main channels are right but at least a third are wrong. The weather changes a lot of things. But if you make a copy, I’ll mark it up for you.”
“Do you really think Dexter is stupid enough to think this half-baked plan would work?” Gertie asked.
“Yes.”
Ida Belle and I both answered at once.
“Me too,” Gertie said. “Which makes me even more angry. Still, you’d think he would have given it a little more time—convince Molly to let him help with setup and other things so that people saw him. At least then, when he claimed he was a partner, people would back him up in saying he was helping with their event.”
“Stupid people aren’t always the most patient,” I said.
“Or…” Ida Belle held up a photo of Dexter and a woman. A woman who wasn’t Molly.
“Who wants to place bets that Dexter promised this woman something that required money?” Ida Belle asked.
“That’s a sucker bet if I ever saw it,” Gertie said. “That woman is too good-looking and way too young for Dexter. And Lord knows, she wasn’t with him for his winning personality.”
Ida Belle flipped the photo over and sighed. “No name on the back. Why can’t people go back to old-school ways, like listing people, locations, and dates on the back of photos? It would make this so much easier.”
“I wish there were a way to find her,” Gertie said. “I’d love to know if she knew about Molly. I’m guessing that’s a big fat no.”
“Or Dexter passed her off as his business partner and made sure the two were never in the same place,” Ida Belle said.
“We might be able to find her,” I said.
“How?” Gertie asked.
“After we talk to Angel, we’ll hunt up that bar that Dexter frequented,” I said.
“You want to stroll into a bar in that part of town?” Ida Belle asked.
“We’re armed,” I said. “And probably far more dangerous than any of the patrons. They just don’t realize.”
“And because they don’t realize, that’s why we could have problems,” Ida Belle said.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you seriously suggesting that I back off of something just because there’s risk involved?”
“Not at all,” Ida Belle said. “I’m suggesting you weigh the risks of going to a NOLA jail against my upcoming wedding. There’s not a big margin for error there.”
“Hmmm.” I considered this. She was right, of course. If I got into a scuffle, whoever started it wouldn’t fare as well. Once the police found out I was former CIA, they would probably take me in just because it was a good time to razz a Fed. And an ambitious DA could sit on it for a bit, trying to make me sweat. I wouldn’t shed even one drop of perspiration over sitting in jail. I’d sat in way worse places. But if I missed Ida Belle’s wedding, that could lead to trouble I might never get out of.
“Okay,” I said. “So we check it out and at the first sign of trouble, we scoot. And if the people there clearly aren’t willing to talk to us, same thing. I have a feeling a couple of twenties might grease up lips and if we can get there before the regulars arrive, we can hit up the bartender before it gets crowded. If the bartender doesn’t know anything about Dexter, that would mean Dexter just drank quietly and then went home. I have a hard time believing that.”
“I think that’s a good compromise,” Ida Belle said. “I’m sorry this wedding of mine is causing such a shift in our norm.”
“Hey, at least it’s not the Swamp Bar,” I said. “How bad can it be?”
Angel had arrived at her apartment just minutes before we did and excused herself to change into her uniform as soon as we were done with introductions. We took a seat in her living room to wait and about five minutes later, she popped back in wearing a black skirt and white button-up shirt.
Five foot ten. One hundred eighty pounds. Based on the strain on her skirt and shirt, both of which looked fairly new, I’d say the weight gain was recent. Based on the five million pictures scattered around the living room, I’d put that weight gain down to her having a baby.
“Thanks so much for meeting me here,” she said as she hurried into the kitchen. “Do you ladies want anything to drink? I only have unsweet tea and