Page 60 of Killer Clone

“He never mentioned someone by the name of Patrick Marrion?”

Father Ted scrunched his nose. “No, I don’t remember Otto ever talking about someone named Patrick. Oh, now that I think about it, he did mention someone named Trevor though.”

“Trevor?” Stacy held her pen above her notebook. “Did you get a last name?”

“No. I don’t think they were friends for long. They met in some sort of online group, and this Trevor person mentioned he was coming down to Nashville. Otto got very excited. Sounded like he’d found a friend. I was happy for him.”

Coming to town. An online group. Maureen King had fallen down a rabbit hole online. Maybe she and Otto had fallen down the same one.

Stella’s eyes narrowed. “Did Trevor ever make it to Nashville?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never met him.”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit.” Stella glanced up at the priest. His expression hadn’t changed, but she needed to watch her language. “Sorry.”

“I hear much worse here.” Father Ted lifted his chin. “Although usually from people living on the streets.”

Stella hadn’t lived on the streets, but she’d spent a lot of time on them. She shrugged. “Thanks. You’ve been?—”

“Not much help, I’m sure.” Father Ted stood up. “But if you have any other questions, you know where to find me.”

Stella watched him go.

Trevor’s last name would’ve been handy. Still, a first name was a start.

They turned to go, and Stella spotted a familiar figure. Fett.

26

Delafayette didn’t see them. He inched forward, keeping his distance from the man ahead of him. He accepted his bowl of soup, waited for his plate, then gave the plate back and motioned with eager little hand movements for another large dollop of rice.

Content with his extra load, he found a table by the wall and sat with his back to Stella and Stacy.

Stella walked up to the dessert counter. The woman serving the food watched her as she helped herself to a plate with a large slice of cake.

“It’s not for me.”

“’Course not, hun. You take whatever you want. No judgment here.”

Motioning to Stacy to follow, Stella carried the plate to Delafayette and slid it across the table.

Delafayette eyed the cake. He finished his spoonful of soup and licked his lips. Then he looked up, saw Stella and Stacy, and leaped to his feet. He still gripped the tray and, as he rose, almost spilled his soup.

“Easy, easy.” Stella held out a hand. “Sit yourself down. We just want to talk for a few minutes. Even brought you some cake. This is for you. Looks good, right?”

Delafayette sat slowly, his black eyes still fixed firmly on Stella. He pulled the cake closer and wrapped an arm around it. “Forgot they have cake. Must be Thursday. You get your own.”

“I’m good, thanks. That’s yours.” Stella sat across from him. “You’re Delafayette, right?”

“Fett.” He grunted through a mouthful of soup. “Told you. It’s what everyone calls me. Since I was a boy. Fett. S’me.”

“Fett, right. We saw you out in Kerrick’s Alley a couple of days ago. You know a body was dumped there, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Heard that. You FBI, right? I remember.”

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