“I hope I didn’t say anything to offend Ms. Ramsey. I enjoy eating at her restaurant.” Sasha watched Lille through the shop’s front windows.
“You’ll be fine. She believes I sent her boyfriend to prison and she still lets me in the door.” I glanced around the empty shop. “Will you be okay until Toby gets here?”
“This ain’t my first shift.” Sasha smiled. “The three of you baby me so much, I’m beginning to think you believe I can’t do much at all.”
I leaned on the counter and studied her. “If you’re ready, I’ll let you fly solo. You’re on your own with the other two.”
“If I get in trouble, I’ll give Jackie a call.” Sasha smiled. “I appreciate your confidence in me.”
Walking out into the chilly air, I wondered if Greg was in the office. Last night, I’d gone through the photos that Josh had given me and discovered I had two copies of everything. Studying the ones Greg had been interested in, I realized they were all of the inside of the same car—Conner McBride’s blue BMW if I had to guess. And in the middle of all the fast-food wrappers and empty to-go cups sat a plastic box filled with what looked like little Baggies. Little Baggies filled with something white.
Either Conner enjoyed baking and the powder was flour, or, more likely, Greg had found the most recent drug dealer for the South Cove area. And probably, Kent’s supplier.
Even though Greg had told me the cocaine wasn’t the cause of death, I had to wonder. What if it had been spiked with something to make the powder go further? But if that was true, why weren’t others dying from Conner’s bad product?
On a hunch, I called Information for the number of Pampered Pet. When someone answered, I started my story. “I’m interested in buying one of those pretty frogs, the poison dart frogs for my son. But I’m concerned about safety.”
“Hold on a minute, I’ll connect you to that section,” the chirpy female voice said, then switched me to a recorded message about grooming appointments and the importance of spaying and neutering your pets. Getting closer to City Hall, I found a street-side bench and settled down to wait for a real person to return to the line. I took my notebook out of my purse and dug deeper until I found a pen.
“This is Jeremy, how can I help you?” a friendly voice spoke into my ear.
“My son is begging me for one of those poison dart frogs we saw in your store last week, but I’m concerned. Are they safe?”
“The frogs are just frogs, unless they eat stuff that has poison in them. So yeah, if you keep them on the suggested diet, they’re perfectly safe in captivity. Now, I wouldn’t go out into the jungles and take one as a pet.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Do you sell a lot of them?”
“A fair amount. The frogs can live up to twenty-five years if cared for, so you have to be sure you’re in it for the long haul. Many people can’t have dogs or cats in their rentals, so taking on a frog gives them that feeling of having a pet. We sell a lot to single guys looking for the coolness factor.”
Jeremy was a wealth of information; now, if I could just get him to tell me one more thing. “Do you have any customers in the area I could talk to about owning a frog? Like what to look out for? Maybe there’s someone who lives nearby me I could talk to or call.”
“Hold on.” The line was filled with clicks. Then the voice came back. “There are five registered owners in the Bakerstown area. Of course, some buyers don’t join our Pet Rewards program, so I wouldn’t know those. Where do you live?”
I gambled. “South Cove.”
“Love that town. My girlfriend and I bike down the highway and stop there for lunch in that diner.” The sales clerk paused. “Hey, you’re in luck. I show two owners real close to you. Do you know Anne Marsh or maybe Conner McBride? He’s some sort of an artist. I think he’s used the frogs as models for his paintings before.”
“Actually, I know both of them. Thank you so much.” And thinking I needed to give him hope for a sale, “Will you be available next weekend if we decide to buy?”
“We’ll be open. We don’t work on commission here, so anyone can help you.” He called out to someone in the store that he’d be right there and returned to the call. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, what’s the wrong kind of food to feed these frogs?”
“Any insects with a high alkaloid level can cause the frogs to become toxic. Like ants or centipedes. Don’t worry, we’ll send your frog home with a safe diet.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to lose a customer over a bad diet.”
“Literally, you mean.” I said my good-byes and wrote a few notes down, then sat tapping my pen. The frogs only had poison if they were in the wild or fed the wrong things. Maybe Conner knew that, too. I decided it was time to tell Greg what I’d learned.