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“Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”
The woman smiled. “No, not at all. Why don’t you come in outta that hot sun?”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t get around like I used to, so just be patient with me. I'll be there in a second or two.”
“You take your time,” Olivia said and started for the door.
When the door opened Olivia stepped inside the air-conditioned condo and found the woman standing with the aid of a walker. She even looked a little like Olivia remembered her great grandmother. “Say you a private investigator? You ain’t real police?”
“No, ma’am. I used to be real police though. But I quit to go into business for myself.”
“Well, I’m Maysa Brown,” she said with her hand out. “Why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like something cold to drink? I made some fresh lemonade this morning.”
“Well, Ms. Brown, how about you tell me where the kitchen is, and I’ll make a glass for both of us. How does that sound?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Miss Brown said and went into her living room.
“Have the real police talked to you, ma’am?” Olivia asked from the kitchen.
“No, they haven’t. Just like you, they stayed in front of her building asking questions. Never did make it down this far.”
When Olivia came out of the kitchen, she found the woman seated on the couch with a photo album opened on the coffee table in front of her.
Olivia smiled and sat down next to the woman. For the next hour, the ladies sipped lemonade and talked like old friends before Olivia got around to asking a single question. “I appreciate you sitting a while and talking to me. I know you got questions you need to ask me, but I just want to say thank you for taking the time,” Ms. Brown said, holding Olivia’s hand.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Brown. Do you have any family here?”
“Not really. Like I told you, my two sons have both passed. I got a daughter-in-law who lives in Covington. She come if I need her, and I got a little Mexican gal come by once a week to clean and do a little shopping for me, but she don’t like to talk much.”
“I enjoyed talking to you. I told you, you remind me of my great grandmother.”
“Yes, honey, but I bet she wasn’t as pretty as me,” she said, laughing. “So, what you wanna know?”
“Did you know the young lady that died?”
“Not personally, but like everybody else who live out here, I see ’em come and go every day.” Olivia took out a picture of Abril Arrington and handed it to Ms. Brown. “That’s her—pretty girl. Thought more of herself than she actually was, if you want my opinion.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know her?”
“I can tell by the way she carried herself. You can tell a lot about a person’s character by the way they carries themselves.”
“Were you in the window the night she was killed?”
“I saw the police and ambulances and whatnot.”
“Have you ever seen this woman before?” Olivia asked, handing Ms. Brown a picture of Panthea.
“No, never seen her before. She do kinda favor the other girl,” Ms. Brown noted.
Olivia looked at the two pictures. “You know they kinda do look alike, but you’ve never seen her?”
“Nope. This one didn’t have too many women visitors,” Ms. Brown said, pointing back to Abril’s picture.
Olivia handed her a picture of Scott. “Seen this man before?”
“He’s been a regular visitor last few months. Drives that pretty blue Jaguar.”
