Big Easy Bonanza

usual, he was just playing hard to get. “The nose knows. Barkus is never wrong.”
    “Yeah, well what about this Violet chick?”
    “Get back to you on that.”
    Oh, yeah. I sure would. Because the Mistress of Detection was definitely putting three and three together. And you know what Diva just hates? Being played for a sucker. Fortunately, unlike Bopp, I do
not
work for NOPD.
    Perhaps it would be revealing too much to say exactly what the Mistress of Detection did next—and how. Suffice it to say, the color of the day was basic black and I was forced to trade in my usual fabulous footwear for something a bit stealthier. And then…
    Back to that Dauphine Street address Wendy’d given me, an entirely boring two hours waiting for her to go panhandle or drink coffee, depending on whether she was in money-in or money-out mode, and finally—Action Jackson!
    Not being Bopp, I could operate freely on the theory that you can’t make a case without breaking windows, and in the back, I found a nice one I could kick in with my stealth-boots. I lifted Barkus in first and then followed gracefully. Who knew whether she’d gone for a quick coffee or a slow day of panhandling, so I had to be fast. But no problem, it was a one-room room, as the old joke went. It was going to take about five minutes to toss the entire joint.
    Oddly, nothing of Geo’s was in evidence. It was clear only one person lived here, and that person was a woman. Wendy obviously wasn’t expecting her dearly beloved to come back. Okay, then, drawers, files, suitcases, closet. Right. Check. Good show. A very fruitful search indeed.
    All that remained was to find something amusing to read till Miss Thing came home. I settled for her personal papers.
    And in about an hour, she returned, carrying a coffee cup—so maybe panhandling first, then sustenance? That would explain the time frame. She found me waiting for her, on a chair she evidently used to catch yesterday’s appalling outfit, and the one from the day before that and…hmmmm, seemingly back through eternity. I’d transferred them all to the unmade bed and you could hardly notice the difference. In my lap were my faithful dog Barkus and three items of interest.
    Quite a reasonable question she asked upon seeing us: “What the hell are you doing here?”
    What she’d asked me to do, of course. I said, “Making this case my
bitch
, darlin’. Think I might almost have this thing wrapped up. Doesn’t look so good for Geo, though. You were right, my baby. Looks like Ramsay did kill him because, just as he suspected, he Knew Too Much. Oh, yeah, Geo knew all about Violet and Ramsay, a circumstance that was gonna cut off Ramsay’s gravy train if his very rich wife found out. Geo tried to blackmail him and…well…Ramsay didn’t want to be blackmailed.”
    “Oh my God! No. Do you mean what I think you mean?”
    “Well, it’s not all bad, Ramsay
was
going to make him immortal. Until Diva came along. So Geo’s now a clarinet, I’m sorry to say. And I’m even sorrier to have to report it’s the world’s
ugliest
clarinet. But, see, there’s another problem. Violet’s dead too. Or let’s just say she never existed.” The coffee cup slipped unnoticed through her fingers. “Barkus, could you get off the evidence, please?”
    My sweet baby jumped to the floor, giving the client a tiny little Barkus-snarl.
    I held up the first item in my lap. “Recognize this nice blonde wig, Miss Thing?”
    “Excuse
me
, Delish, but we’re wigs ’r us around here—haven’t you noticed? I’ve got blue, I’ve got pink, why wouldn’t I have blonde?”
    Hmmm. Very defensive. She definitely saw where I was going. I stayed on course. “Oh, and would these temporary tattoos be yours? By the way, I see you’re not wearing your slave bracelets today.”
    “The last I heard, permanent tattoos weren’t mandatory in this parish.”
    “Well, aren’t we petulant!”
    “What are you implying, anyway?”
    I stood up and got in her face. “I’m
implying
, Miss Thing, that you don’t know who you’re dealing with, my baby. Diva Delish was a world-famous Mistress of Disguise before you got your first training bra. And what’s the first rule of disguise? It’s sleight of hand, my darlin’, just like magic. Distract ’em—like with a
face
tattoo—Diva’s hat’s off to you, by the way—and that’s all anybody’s gonna notice.
You
were Violet, darlin’. Oh, yeah, you and Geo set the whole thing