Page 25 of Diamonds in the Mud

“Why what?”

“Why is your name Rayne and only Rayne?”

I tilted my head. “As I said, I don’t know you well enough⁠—”

He held up his hand to stop me. “Okay, how about we agree to an answer for an answer? But…”—he glanced back at the building—“not here.”

“Where?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

“There’s a cabin on Red River Road, on the bend along the river near Barns Street, just outside of town. It’s red with a blue door, off by itself,” he said.

“I know of it,” I said, and his eyebrows rose slowly. “I know my town,” I added with a chuckle.

He nodded. “Noon? Don’t drive the patrol car.”

I didn’t know what I had expected, maybe a late-night rendezvous, but the middle of the day worked for me too. I nodded and Jameson climbed out of my car and dashed through the rain back inside.

Glancing at my watch, I groaned. I’d effectively wasted an hour. Deciding to try my luck at Bayou Brews I was happily surprised when I saw a light on inside.

I knocked on the door and waited until Faye Baker opened the door. Seeing me, she quickly glanced up and down the street before pulling me inside.

“What?” she hissed as she shut the door behind me. “I answered all your questions the other day.”

“I have a few more,” I said, walking into the empty bar. There was only a low light on behind the bar area and by the way Faye was dressed, I’d wager she’d come downstairs for something. She wore hot pink sleeping shorts and a tank top that said “Hot Stuff” on her butt and boobs, and her jet-black hair was at the nape of her neck in one of those messy buns I could never get to look right on me.

“Coffee?” Faye asked, moving behind the bar.

“Sure,” I said, pulling down one of the stools and sitting on it.

“Black?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Cream and sugar if you have it,” I said.

Faye glanced over her shoulder as her eyes narrowed. “I thought all cops like their coffee black?”

“That’s a stereotype,” I said with a sigh. “Don’t group me in with the rest of the cops in town.”

“No,” Faye said with a sigh. “I forgot, you’re some sort of super-cop.”

I rolled my eyes. “Detective.”

“Right.” She set a mug in front of me and leaned on the counter as she sipped from her mug. Her dark eyes ran over me slowly. “Ask your questions.”

“How is it you are lucky enough to live upstairs?” I pointed at my mug before taking a drink. Up until the mayor’s death, I hadn’t known there was an apartment on the third floor of the building or that Faye was living there.

“I’m friendly with the owner,” she said smoothly.

The owner—Jackson Pennington. In my book, Jackson Pennington was a suspected sleazeball in a suit. That didn’t mean he had anything to do with my case. He was extremely rich like the Taylors, but that didn’t automatically mean that he would stoop to murder. From all the information I had on the man, he was friendly with the Taylors.

Still, I mentally added his name to my interview-again list, just in case.

“Plus, I pay rent and watch out for the building,” Faye added. “Next question.”

“What do you know about the Taylor’s trouble with the State Attorney General’s Office looking into them for public corruption and embezzling?”

I watched the sheer shock on Faye’s face and knew the answer before she even opened her mouth.

“They’re what?” Faye asked, setting down her cup.