“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?”
We all nodded.
“A friend of Dexter’s?” Ida Belle asked.
“Dudes like Nutters don’t have friends,” he said. “My guess is the guy was his pusher.”
“He was doing drugs?” Gertie asked.
“Steroids,” I said. “Right?”
“Good call,” Winky Bear said. “The guy comes in here thirty pounds lighter six months ago and then puts all that weight on in muscle? Come on. Not that it helped with all that flab around it.”
“I suppose he needed the muscle for his job,” I said.
Winky Bear laughed. “Job? Nutters didn’t have a job to speak of.”
“I thought he was a cage fighter,” Ida Belle said.
“He wishes,” Winky Bear said. “From what I heard, he did two bouts and got his butt kicked so hard in the first thirty seconds that no one will even give him another shot. I did my rounds in the cage back years ago. You can’t just bulk up and win. It takes some actual ability and hard training.”
“Did you know his girlfriend?” I asked. “Molly Broussard?”
He shook his head. “Not personally. By reputation, I did a little and I saw some of her fights on YouTube. Now that was a woman with some talent. It’s a shame she quit fighting. I think she could have been a regional champion at the least.”
“Have you heard that Molly has disappeared?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Some deputy called me earlier asking questions about Nutters. Hey, do you think he did something to Molly? Because I can’t imagine he could take her without a gun.”
“We don’t know exactly what happened to Molly,” I said. “But Dexter has claimed that he was helping her with her catering business and that she was going to make him a partner.”
Winky Bear stared. “That’s some fine fiction right there. Look, Dexter couldn’t manage to pay his bills even when he had money. And Lord knows, he didn’t have the palate for good food or wine. I’ve seen what he drank—rotgut whiskey, and always cramming a hot dog in his mouth.”
He must have caught our expressions at his choice of words like ‘palate’ and grinned. “I’m a bit of a foodie. I try to eat at one high-end place a month. There’s some fine eating in NOLA but Nutters wouldn’t know it from a microwave dinner. Does that sound like someone who could be a partner in a business furnishing quality food?”
“Not to me,” I said. “But I’m just working with what I’ve been given. That’s why we’re here. No one really knows anything about Dexter, so I’m trying to get a feel for him. Understand what kind of man he is.”
“He’s no man,” Winky Bear said. “He’s a chronic loser who bounced from woman to woman, getting them to foot his bills. I don’t have any idea why Molly would take that sort of thing on. I know she had her history and all with that murder rap but she just didn’t strike me as that stupid. Still, I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”
“Anything else you can tell me?” I asked. “You said he didn’t have friends. What about relatives?”
“None that I’m aware of but if he had any, he’s probably tapped them all out for cash and they avoid him now.”
“What about hangouts?” I asked. “The bar across the street maybe?”
“Used to, but the owner banned him. Caused too many fights. He’s a regular at the bar around the corner now. The owner there can handle a scuffle.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
“The Bar,” he said, then laughed at my expression. “It’s a really classy joint.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “So Dexter came by earlier to collect his things. I don’t suppose you’d consider selling them to me. I’m not paying his rent for them, but since you’re unlikely to collect from him, anything is better than nothing.”
He frowned. “Why in the world would you want to pay for that box of trash? The furniture, such as it is, comes with the rental. So do the dishes and pots and pans. This place was a motel before the owner turned it into apartments, so they just left the stuff in it that it had before. The only thing Dexter had was some cheap clothes, a couple books, bathroom stuff, and a bottle of Jim Beam, probably the only decent thing he owned. And since I already drank it, there’s nothing left that amounts to anything.”
“So twenty bucks and I take it off your hands?” I asked.
“Make it fifty and I never saw you, much less sold you his stuff,” he said.
“It’s a deal,” I said and pulled the money out of my wallet. I also handed him a card. “I know the official story is that we never met, but if you can think of anything else about Dexter that I might find interesting, please give me a call.”
He took the money and the card and stuffed both in his jeans pocket. “Give me a minute. It’s in the storeroom.”
He was back a couple minutes later with one medium-sized box of stuff. He hadn’t lied. Homeless people had more belongings. I wondered if the bulk of his possessions were at Molly’s house but figured there was no way I’d get that information out of Carter. Winky Bear insisted on carrying the box to Ida Belle’s SUV and then we were on our way.