Ms. Dailey rolled her eyes. “Oh, heavens, he sits at that place and doodles in a notebook, sometimes talking and joking with those drug addicts.” She made a disgusted noise. “If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up just like them!”
Yeah, wouldn’t want anyone to actually reach out to those people. I knew the center she was talking about. A couple of years ago, several of the local churches had cooperated to create a community outreach center that I had to grudgingly admit was proving to be pretty effective. Though I was about as far from a churchgoer as one could be, even I had occasionally steered people who were having trouble coping toward the place. It had also become the “in” thing to be involved with for local politicians, and just about anyone of any importance was on the board of directors in some capacity.
But now I was intrigued about Mr. Cerise. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said, being deliberately obtuse. “He does drugs with them?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, it’s possible! It’s not just that outreach center either. He wanders in bad sections of town, hangs out in the park, gives money to bums …” She gave a not-so-delicate shudder. “Plus, he dresses like a hippie, and with that long hair of his …” She gave a sniff. “I’ve called his landlady several times about him, but all she says is that he pays his rent on time and doesn’t cause any problems.” She made a face. “I don’t know why she won’t listen to me.”
“Did she ever live here?” I had a suspicion as to why the landlady didn’t pay much heed to Ms. Dailey.
The woman nodded. “Oh, yes, for several years. Then she got married and moved to the other end of the parish. She put the place up for rent, and he moved in near the beginning of this year.”
No wonder she doesn’t listen to you. She’s dealt with you in person, I thought, controlling my urge to snicker.
“Is Mr. Cerise in trouble?” Ms. Dailey continued, her expression eager and hopeful, very obviously wanting it to be true so she could have proof that all her suspicions were correct.
“Oh, no!” I said with wide-eyed disingenuousness. “I’m just here to talk to him about his volunteer work with crippled children,” I lied smoothly.
Her smile turned rigid and forced. Ms. Dailey’s disappointment was obviously crushing, but she put on a brave face. “Ah. I see. How nice.”
“Is Mr. Cerise a bad neighbor?”
Ms. Dailey wagged her head. “Oh, he just worries me to death.” Now she was changing her act to Concerned Neighbor. “He comes in and out at such strange hours.” Then she leaned close and lowered her voice. “But at least he isn’t black,” she said, giving me a knowing nod. “I was worried when Dana told me she was renting the place out, and I even asked her to make sure she didn’t rent it to any of the wrong sort.”
I somehow managed to keep my face immobile. “Well, don’t you worry about anything, ma’am, and I appreciate the information about where to find him.”
Ms. Dailey gave a sniff, then spun and marched back across to her house, bright yellow velour swishing with each step.
I watched her go, feeling ever so slightly soiled, then returned to my car. If I were that landlady, I think I’d have been tempted to rent to the “wrong” person just to annoy Ms. Nora Dailey.
MOST OF THE churches that had sponsored the outreach center were in the middle of town, a lovely area with clean streets and flowering trees and a pleasant view of the lake. The outreach center was nowhere near there, since the nice people who diligently attended worship didn’t care to have the tourist section of town marred by such a thing and didn’t want to have to actually see any of the people who used the center. As a result, the outreach center was located several miles away, on the outskirts of town, well away from the lake and any possible contact with tourists.
Trash lingered a bit longer in the streets here, the sidewalk was cracked, and the few trees were scraggly, pathetic things that did little to improve the looks of the area. The stores were a far cry from the dainty antiques shops and upscale clothing stores that could be found in midtown. Instead, there were scatterings of secondhand-clothing stores, pawnshops, and the occasional bail bondsman. A diner of questionable cleanliness did a fairly steady business across the street from the center.