He shrugged and spit chewing tobacco on the dirt. “Guess that depends on who you ask. I tried to teach both of ’em how to survive without needing other people. It’s other people that brings trouble. But neither one listened. Took up with partners and Molly ran off with that crap she ended up killing. If they’d both listened to me and stayed put on the land that’s held my family for generations, they’d still be alive.”
“That’s quite possible,” I said. “When was the last time you saw Molly?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say as I know. Saw her right before she went in the first time. She called after she got out—claimed she was checking on me—but I don’t need no checking.”
“So you haven’t seen your daughter in years?” I asked. “Then why would she name you as a beneficiary on a life insurance policy?”
Gertie’s eyes widened a bit but both she and Ida Belle kept their expressions blank.
“Don’t got no idea,” he said. “I got a call from that agent telling me I needed to come down and sign some papers. Had to be in front of one of those people with the stamps.”
“A notary?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “So I went down and signed and that was it.”
“And you didn’t find it curious that she was going to leave you money even though you had no relationship?” I asked.
He took one hand off the gun and pointed his finger at me. “Listen here, I raised that girl best I could after her momma took off and left us. I don’t know why she did half the things she did so I ain’t trying to answer for her. All I know is she’s gone and I’m due that money. Weren’t no clause that said we had to have dinner every Sunday or fish together or anything else. She wanted me to have the money and I intend to have it. Now you get back in your vehicle and go tell the insurance company that. They best not think they can get away with keeping my money. I had people try that before. I know my rights.”
He raised the gun again and aimed it right at me. “Go. I ain’t got no use for private investigators or women round here. And don’t come back unless you got a check.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said and we headed back to the SUV. Silas kept the shotgun trained on us until we were out of sight. He didn’t turn to go back into the house until we were pulling away. I noticed his limp had gotten worse.
“You were a heck of a lot nicer than I would have been,” Gertie said. “What a—”
“I think we all know what he is,” Ida Belle interrupted. “But it was a smart move mentioning that insurance companies hire investigators.”
I grinned. “I’m learning from the best. I didn’t lie. I just stated a fact and he assumed the insurance company had hired me.”
Gertie nodded. “One day, you might give me a run for my money.”
“I’m pretty sure you will always be the reigning champion of misdirected conversation,” Ida Belle said.
“So Silas appears as mean as Nickel described,” I said. “And Lord is he a big dude.”
“I bet I can guess why Molly’s mother ran off,” Gertie said. “With all his ‘no use for women’ and that attitude, it doesn’t take a genius to figure the score.”
“No,” Ida Belle said. “It’s not exactly an uncommon situation, but I always have trouble when a woman leaves her kids behind. If a man is so bad you have to run from him, why leave your children there to take up the slack you left behind?”
Gertie shook her head. “It’s a sad state of affairs. Maybe Angel can fill in some holes. What time do we meet with her?”
“Not for another couple hours,” I said.
“So what are we doing now?” Gertie said. “There’s this party shop near Bourbon Street that has these blow-up man dolls. I was thinking—”
Ida Belle cringed so hard she hit one of the holes without slowing and we bounced a good foot out of our seats.
“I think we should hunt down that apartment manager and see if maybe Dexter left anything behind,” I said.
“As mad as he is, he’d probably give us everything Dexter owned for twenty bucks,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “And my guess is if Dexter did leave anything behind, he’ll make a move to go collect it now that he’s out of jail and can’t get back in Molly’s house.”
“You think he was living with Molly?” Gertie asked.
“Hard to say,” I said. “Molly didn’t strike me as the type that would let a man move in on her space but then she might have loved the guy.”
“I don’t see how she could,” Gertie said.
“I didn’t say it was healthy,” I said. “But these cycles of abuse tend to repeat, right? You said rumor was Molly’s husband tuned her up and that’s ultimately why she killed him. My guess is her father did the same thing and she fell into the same situation because it was familiar.”
“Except it looked more like Molly was beating up Dexter, not the other way around,” Gertie said.
“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.