The Lady Who Sang High: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 7) by Renee Pawlish Page A

wasn’t as mean to anybody when she was there. She acted like kind of a barometer for him, helped him keep his emotions in check. But if she wasn’t around, look out.”
    “Sounds like she turned a blind eye to his behavior.”
    “No argument there. It’s like the time he –” He stopped.
    “What?”
    He was looking down the alley toward the entrance. I turned and followed his gaze. A man stood in the shadows. He gazed at us for a second, then took a step into the alley.
    Carlo took a drag on his cigarette and then flicked it away. “Come on.” It was hard to tell with his olive-skinned features, but he looked pale.
    “Who’s that?” I asked.
    “What do you mean? No one’s there.”
    I glanced back at the alley entrance, but the man was gone.
    “Did you know him?” I persisted.
    “No, but…” He jerked his head toward the Dumpster where Jude died. “It’s probably just a bum, but someone killed Jude right there. Who knows what they were after, but maybe they’ve come back.” He pushed me back across the alley. “No sense in taking any chances, dude.”
    I yanked open the back door and as I stepped inside, I glanced back at Carlo. He was staring down the alley again. He noticed me watching him, so he quickly pulled the door shut behind him and locked it.
    “I’ve got to get back to work,” he said.
    “Me, too.”
    I picked up my broom and headed across the warehouse, thinking about what transpired. Was that guy we saw just someone who wanted to Dumpster-dive? That seemed logical, as there were plenty of street people in this part of town. But I wondered if I’d seen him before. He vaguely reminded me of the man who’d been talking to Jude the day he died. Or was it my imagination? I wished I’d gotten a closer look him.
    Carlo disappeared down the aisle, so I quietly turned back and unlocked the door. I poked my head out and looked both ways.
    The alley was empty. Disappointed, I headed back to the store to see what I should do next.
    ***
    When I entered the store, Bill was helping a customer. Ivy wasn’t around.
    He gave me a curt nod, then said, “Ivy’s in the back room, separating seeds. She said if you show up, you should go help her.”
    I hesitated, wondering if I should take a moment to talk to Bill in private.
    “What’re you waiting for?” he growled. “Hurry up.”
    “Why so grumpy?” I asked.
    “Dude,” he said, his smile returning. “If you don’t help her, I’ll have to, and I hate that job.”
    “Oh, okay,” I said. I felt like a pinball, bouncing between jobs. I went to the door and turned the knob, but it was locked.
    “You gotta knock, Sherlock,” Bill said, rolling his eyes. The customer snickered.
    I was tempted to say something snide about how I really was Sherlock, but instead I tapped on the door. It opened a moment later.
    “About time,” Ivy said as she held the door open for me.
    I sat next to her at the table and dove into a bag of weed sitting on the floor.
    “Hurry up.” She pointed at another piece of paper.
    “I am.” I set to work, trying to keep up with her.
    She was edgy and I wasn’t sure why. Because she was regretting telling me she might blackmail Jude and Jodie? Or because she killed Jude? Was I sitting next to a murderer? Or was it murderess ? I subtly moved my chair farther away from her.
    “I forgot to give you some samples yesterday,” she broke the silence.
    “It’s okay.”
    “You’ve got to know something about the products you’re selling,” she snapped.
    “Fine, I’ll make sure I take some samples home.” We worked for a few minutes, and then I glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
    She shrugged.
    “It’s terrible what happened to Jude,” I pressed.
    “I can’t say I shed a tear,” she said.
    “What does that do to your plan?”
    “Nothing.”
    “But Jude’s dead.”
    “So I deal with Jodie.” She waved a dismissive hand at me. “She’ll be easier to manipulate anyway.”
    Interesting phrasing , I