“So we’ll meet up again in a few hours,” Mark said. “After last night, I have nothing but faith. Oh, for the performance, we’ll have the ballad as the encore. And maybe—the encore should have at least two numbers—we’ll also do ‘Real Paradise.’”
“Gotcha,” Chase assured him.
One by one, their guests filed out. When they were gone, Chase was silent.
“Well, did you get anything?” she asked him.
“Charlie would have been first on my list,” Chase said. “And no more.”
“Really?” Sky pressed. “I mean...he’s...he was super and kind, but he is the one most likely to fall to excess.”
Chase let out a long sigh. “Okay. We both think it was more than an accident. That means that your dad was going to do something after the show that involved someone—who or what, we don’t know. He didn’t care if other people had their minor vices, but...”
“He’d care if someone was selling drugs,” Sky said.
“And those who use recreationally—sometimes a little too recreationally—aren’t usually the ones with the control to make money on the scam.”
“So...why?” Sky asked, perplexed. “Skyhawk started off in a garage, and they all struggled. But then they got hot, and everyone involved made money. Why—”
Chase frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve deep-dived into the financials—”
“What?” Sky interrupted explosively.
“Hey, years of criminology courses can pay off,” he said lightly. “We have a few hours—”
“Dog,” Skylar said.
“What did you say?” he demanded.
She smiled. “You said I needed a dog. Let’s head to the pound.”
He was quiet for a minute and then looked at her, a half grin on his lips. “We can get a dog. You should have one. A dog is always good. But you won’t get rid of me. Not until—”
“Until we get through this? Because,” she added, frustrated, “we never got any answers.”
“But we will,” he assured her. “Still, a dog. A big one with a bark that shakes the very trees.”
“No Teacup Yorkies or the like, eh?” she said lightly. “What if a big dog is mean—”
“Wait!” he said. “I have the perfect dog. Let me get this all cleaned up, and then I have a friend you should meet. Great guy, with great, perfect dogs.”
“I thought I was going to adopt a dog that needed a home.”
“You’ll be adopting. Wait and see. I’ve got the ticket on this one.”
He turned away from her, taking out trash bags. She hopped in to help him, separating trash from recycling. They were quickly done, and he swore he’d be right down as he ran quickly up the stairs.
“Let’s go,” he said, descending almost as rapidly as he had left.
“Okay. Where are we heading?”
“Tremé,” he told her. “A great piece of property there...well, you’ll see!”
They headed out, leaving the French Quarter to cross Rampart. In a few minutes, they came to a solid block that seemed to be mainly pasture and stables.
“Someone who owns a carriage company?” Sky asked.
“No, Trey owns horses, but not carriage horses. He’s just a friend who...lectured one day. He’s retired now and came into some family money.”
Chase spoke as he pulled into a parking space outside a wooden fence. They had barely gotten out of the car when a gate opened and an older man appeared, a welcoming smile on his face.
“Chase!” he said with pleasure.
“Trey!” Chase called in return, and leading Sky forward, he introduced her and then said, “Sky, this is Trey Montgomery, and I think we might just call him an animal whisperer since he has enormous talents with all kinds of creatures!”
“Come in, come in, and welcome!” Trey said. He was almost Chase’s height and, though lean, seemed to be made of sinewy muscles.
“Retired—teacher?” she asked him.
“Something like that,” he told her. “I sure love what I do now, though.” He pointed out a pasture where five horses were wandering about, snatching bits of grass here and there from the earth. “The paint there—that’s Sally. She just came in last week.” He paused, shrugging. “Most workhorses are tended to carefully, fed, seen by the vet...then you hit an idiot who should never be around any kind of animal—including humankind—and he abuses a creature to no end. We’ve finally taken care of the sores in her mouth from having a bridle ripped around like a hockey puck, and she lets me approach her. I don’t think we’ll ever see her coat grow back over some of the scars she got from a whip, but...hey, at least they got the bastard on animal-abuse charges!”
“And you got the horse,” Chase said, smiling.
“Sally already comes to me,” Trey said happily. “But you don’t want a horse. You want a dog. I think I have the perfect new friend. Come on to the house!”
His house was a simple ranch-style dwelling; when Trey opened the door, he was greeted by a bevy of dogs, most of them German shepherds or shepherd mixes. He made a point of petting them all, as did Chase and then Skylar.
“So...” Chase said.
