“She’s happily retired on a farm outside of Baton Rouge. My sister dotes on her as if she were a puppy dog. Trust me, Arabella is doing just fine.” He pointed in a westerly direction. “He had property just over that way. Small but zoned properly to keep Arabella back then.”

She smiled. “Well, I guess you do have associations here and that you didn’t follow me.”

“No. I didn’t follow you,” he assured her. He smiled. “But I am going to be following you now, and vice versa, I hope. Adam and Alex and even Ryder think we’re important on this.”

“I’m not sure why. Do they believe we can think like the killer?”

He shook his head. “I’d say it was because Mabel approached me, but Axel had already come to get me. Maybe everyone is grabbing at straws and we’re the straws. Okay, well, this was great, but I take it there is a washhouse out here somewhere?” He grimaced. “I did a little scooping in Sarah’s stall.”

She laughed. “Let’s go through to my place.”

He nodded, but as they headed to the connecting gate, he turned back.

“What?” Katie asked.

“Monty’s place is dark.”

“Well, this is his haven, but the man does go out now and then,” she said.

“Sure, of course.”

He followed her to her place, thanking her when she directed him to the downstairs bathroom. When he came out, his face shimmering a little from the washing he’d given himself, he was frowning.

“What?”

“Easy as pie to slip in that bathroom window,” he said. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take care of that.”

“I... Sure,” she said.

“Let’s just walk down to Royal,” he suggested.

“Okay. You have a place in mind?”

“Let’s see what appeals as we go along. But... I like the idea of walking down to the city.”

“You know, there are areas around Rampart and Treme that people consider dangerous,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “I think we’ll be okay.”

They were about to cross over to the French Quarter when they were approached by a tall figure who was completely silver.

Not a ghost, just Katie’s friend Benny, the human statue/mime.

Benny was tall and lean, an amazing acrobat, Katie knew, and a great mime. Sometimes, he wasn’t on the streets because he was working a theatrical performance. But he was another person who simply loved what he did. He was about to turn thirty, something that had worried him a bit. Adults were supposed to have full-time jobs, and he was still on his own or in a show. Nothing permanent. Nothing with a pension. His background was mixed, and without makeup covering his body and hair, he was an extremely handsome man, dark bronze with flashing amber eyes and a roguish smile.