The Dead Play On (7 page)

Danni turned back to watch the band. Shamus suddenly noticed Tyler in the audience and looked at him curiously then studied her and Quinn—and never missed a beat.

A few minutes later Blake announced that they were taking a five-minute break and turned on the music system so that Lana Del Rey spilled out over the speakers, and then the whole band headed to the table.

“What gives, Tyler?” Shamus asked, sliding into the chair next to Quinn. He quickly offered Quinn a handshake as he studied Danni. “Hi, Shamus Ahearn. Nice to meet you.”

They went around the table making introductions. Then Tyler addressed his bandmates. “They want to ask you guys about Arnie’s last night,” he said flatly.

“Oh,” Shamus said, studying Quinn again. He grinned. “I should have realized you were a cop,” he said.

“I’m not a cop,” Quinn said. “Private investigator.”

“Oh. Okay,” Shamus said.

The rest of the band looked at one another then all shrugged as one. Speaking for the group, Gus said sure, they would be happy to do what they could.

Jessica came by with a tray holding three glasses of water and set them down in front of the band.

“Thank you, love,” Shamus told her.

“Pleasure.”

“You going to sing with us tonight?” Blake asked her.

“Can’t. It suddenly got too busy,” she said. “You guys okay?” she asked Quinn and Danni.

“Just fine, thank you,” Danni assured her.

“What about me?” Tyler teased, raising his eyebrows in a mock leer.

“I know you’re fine—and if you weren’t, you’d lean over the bar and pour yourself a soda,” she said. “So don’t get fresh with me, Tyler Anderson.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jessica moved on.

Gus Epstein was sitting next to Tyler. “I don’t know what we can say that would help. We finished up here about 3:00 a.m. on the night he died. And he was his usual self all night. Friendly, happy. He was just a great guy.”

“Amen to that,” Shamus said.

“Actually, we asked him to go for pizza with us,” Blake said. “We were all starving, so we were going right down the street. But he said he was tired.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Shamus agreed. “He said he wasn’t hungry, that he just wanted to go home and get some sleep. We all said good-night and went our separate ways. Oh, and if you’re asking these questions on behalf of some cop, you can check out my story. Marianna Thomas—a cranky old witch if there ever was one—was waiting tables that night, and she’ll vouch for us.”

“Arnie didn’t say he was going to meet anyone, did he?” Quinn asked.

“No. Like Blake and Shamus told you, he said he was going home to bed,” Gus said. “When we heard about him being...dead, we were all...”

“Fookin’ stunned!” Shamus said.

“And devastated. He was one of the good guys,” Gus added.

“But they said—” Blake began then broke off at a look from Tyler. “You know how they found him,” he said.

“So you’re a private eye,” Shamus said, looking at Quinn. “I guess you don’t think what they’re saying is right.”

“Nope, I don’t,” Quinn said. “Two other local musicians are also dead—Holton Morelli and Lawrence Barrett. Murdered. In their own homes.”

Danni watched the three musicians closely as the conversation continued.

“I heard about Morelli,” Gus said, his tone a dry thread. “But I didn’t think... Well, he was kind of heavy into drugs. Never played straight that I saw. I figured that...”

“Larry Barrett
too
?” Blake asked. “You sure? I haven’t heard anything about him.”

“I guess it hasn’t hit the news yet, but yes, I’m sure,” Quinn said.

“I knew Larry, too,” Shamus said. “I was jealous as hell of him—he did so much studio work he made a fortune. But he liked his coke, too, you know. Maybe...it’s got to be the drug scene. And we don’t do drugs.”

“Neither did Arnie,” Tyler said.

“Be careful,” Quinn warned them. “Be really careful. It’s looking like both men were killed by someone they thought was a friend. Someone they let in the front door.”

They stayed a few minutes longer, until the band’s break was over. The whole group seemed to be in shock that another musician was dead. They sounded just a little bit off when they returned to the stage.

They parted with Tyler at the club, too. He was going to stay and finish out the night with his band.

On the way back to Royal Street, they were quiet, walking hand in hand.

“What do we do now?” Danni asked.

He looked at her, a slow smile forming on his lips. “We go home, go to bed. Perhaps do something incredibly life affirming. Something distracting, so we can return to this dilemma with fresh minds and a new perspective.”

Danni laughed. “So you want to fool around, huh?”

“I believe it’s called ‘making love,’” he told her. He paused on the street, looking down into her eyes. His were hazel, ever-changing. She loved that there was something serious in them, something that spoke to her of sanity no matter what was going on around them. They’d learned that they had to give themselves over fully to a case in order to solve it, but they also had to hang on to their souls in the process.

“Indeed?” she murmured, stroking his cheek. She loved the rough feel of his jawline and the way that just standing there, thinking about the very near future, sent a sweet rush of liquid longing through her. “Personally, I like the thought of forgetting what we can’t solve in a night and fooling around.”

“However you want to put it is fine with me,” he told her. His strides grew longer as he caught her hand again and hurried her down the street. “By the way, what’s in that box that Amy Watson gave us?”

* * *

Danni let out a sigh of ecstasy. “So good,” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” Quinn had to agree. “More?” he teased.

“I don’t know if I can take any more,” she said, but she rolled his way on the bed. “Delicious,” she added.

“Like a touch of silk,” he said.

“Melts on the tongue,” she said. “I just can’t get enough.”

“I’m here, my love. You can have all you want.”

“Then why are you hogging Amy Watson’s homemade candy?” she demanded.

“Hey, I’m passing it right over whenever you ask,” he protested.

She rolled closer and leaned over him, blue eyes dazzling, the fall of her hair sweeping erotically over his naked shoulders. “Actually, I’m done with chocolate,” she told him. A wicked grin teased her lips. “I’m ready for the real candy now.”

“I always try to oblige,” he vowed seriously and took her into his arms.

Their days, he knew, were about to grow longer again, and moments of sweet intimacy might well become few and far between.

It was time to stock up for the future.

Chapter 4

DANNI WAS SLEEPING
when Quinn awoke and rose. He showered and dressed, not wanting to wake her.

He loved to wake up first in the morning and watch her as she slept, hair spilling wildly around her, the length of her body half draped in the sheets. He smiled, thinking that she was a genuine work of art.

Actually, he also loved waking up to find her already awake herself, propped up on one elbow watching him, a mischievous smile on her face and a sensual look in her eyes.

They’d both grown up in the city, but he was about five years older than she was, and their paths hadn’t really crossed until Angus had died. He still kept his house in the Garden District, but the more they were together, the more he knew that he wanted them to be together forever.

He was tempted to crawl back into bed and just move against her until she woke groggily in his arms. That was fun, too.

He loved to stroke the length of her back. She would keep her eyes closed at first, but finally she would begin to smile and then touch him in ways that seemed to rock the earth.

He steeled himself to look away and walked to the door, letting himself out.

It was early, but he was expecting a call from Larue at some point, and he wanted to be ready to head straight to the station to interview the musicians who had been attacked after their gig.

Wolf wasn’t in his usual spot in the hallway. The dog had decided that he was Danni’s protector whether Quinn was in the city or not. He was always outside their room standing guard—unless Billie was already making breakfast.

He headed downstairs and found that Billie was cooking and Wolf was indeed with him, sitting patiently in a corner and awaiting his chance at something delectable. Bo Ray was there, as well, and the news was playing on the small TV set in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Quinn asked Bo Ray, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He breathed in the aroma as he waited for Bo Ray to answer. Billie made a mean cup of coffee. Of course, in Quinn’s mind, the best coffee in the world was to be found in New Orleans. It was rich and dark, and Billie’s coffee could probably put hair on anyone’s chest. But at The
Cheshire Cat
, they all loved it.

Bo Ray turned to look at Quinn. He had the appearance of a chipmunk that had been attacked on both cheeks by a swarm of bees.

“Great,” Bo Ray said—or tried to. His mouth could barely move.

Bo Ray Tompkins was a young man they’d hired to help out at the shop on the first case Quinn had worked with Danni. A good guy at heart, Bo Ray had fallen in with some bad people and taken up their bad ways. Thanks to the help of Father John Ryan—a priest who was prepared to go to war in their strange fight against evil—Bo Ray had come back to the straight and narrow. They’d taken a leap of faith when they brought him in, and their faith had proved to be the right choice.

“I’m sending him back up with his knockout pills as soon as I’ve gotten a breakfast smoothie into him,” Billie said.

Bo Ray said something Quinn didn’t understand. He shot Billie a questioning look.

“He said he’s been watching the news. Larue gave a press conference at the crack of dawn, warning all musicians to be hypervigilant—even among friends,” Billie said. “I brought him up to speed on what’s been going on.”

Quinn nodded and turned back to Bo Ray. “After you finish whatever Billie’s cooking up for you, head back on upstairs so you can get some rest and get better.” He looked at Billie. “Did the oral surgeon say how long he was going to be like this?”

Bo Ray said something. Once again, Quinn had no idea what.

“I’ll send him up some ice packs. He should be well on the mend by tomorrow. I think he’s not too happy that sax is here,” Billie said.

“Well, that’s what
here
is for, remember?” Quinn said softly. “Not to mention it’s not the sax.”

“What do you mean, it’s not the sax?” Billie asked. “It has to be! I was playing like a pro.”

“It’s amazing what the human mind will do,” Quinn told him. “You sounded great because you expected to sound great. But we saw Arnie Watson’s mom and dad last night. They never had Arnie’s special sax. It disappeared the night he died. And if we’re right—and I’d lay you odds we are—that the killer wants it, then obviously he doesn’t have it, either, which means it’s still out there somewhere. Anyway, after breakfast I’m going to head for the station. Larue is interviewing the three musicians who were attacked on the street. I want to be there for that. He’s going to call me with the time, but I’m up, so there’s no point in my waiting around here if the call doesn’t come.”

Wolf padded over as if he’d understood what Quinn had said.

“You’ll all be fine without me,” Quinn said. “Wolf will be here. No one gets past Wolf, right, boy?”

He hunkered down and patted his dog.
His
dog. He’d rescued Wolf from the K-9 unit after he’d been so badly injured that they were going to put him down. But Quinn knew Wolf considered himself to be Danni’s dog now, and that was more than all right with Quinn. The hardest thing he’d been forced to learn was that while it was his instinct to protect Danni at all times, she was his partner. Didn’t mean he didn’t still want to protect her with his life, but it
did
mean he had to let her follow her own hunches and intuitions. But he was glad Wolf would also protect her with his life, because she had a way of plunging in on a hunch that meant she sometimes walked into dangerous situations.

And sometimes dangerous situations found
them
.

It was good to have a protector like Wolf.

Bo Ray started to say something again, but Quinn lifted a hand and said, “We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some rest.” He grabbed a waffle off the plate where they were cooling, chewing a mouthful as he poured his coffee into a to-go cup. “Let Danni know where I am,” he said.

“Will do. And I’ll man the shop today,” Billie said.

“Be careful,” Quinn said.

“Not to worry. Wolf knows a bad guy when he sees one,” Billie said.

Quinn waved and left. Larue’s call came through just as he reached the sidewalk. Larue was on his way to the station in the Quarter, and he told Quinn to head over whenever he was ready. They were set up to talk to the three musicians at 10:00 a.m.

* * *

Danni first woke with a sense of well-being. She stretched her arm out across the bed and then realized that Quinn was gone.

Her sense of well-being vanished.

She hurriedly showered and dressed then ran down to the kitchen. Billie was there, alone with Wolf, who was chowing down on a waffle. The dog wasn’t really supposed to have so much human food, but Billie swore that he never gave Wolf anything that would hurt him. And if she was being honest, she had to admit that she could never resist the giant hybrid herself. Wolf was ready to die for them at any time. How could you refuse to indulge a friend like that?

“Quinn’s gone to the station to see Larue,” Billie said, taking a forkful of the eggs on his plate. “And Bo Ray is back up in bed. No worries, though. I figure I can keep an eye on the shop today.”

“Thanks, Billie,” Danni said, grabbing a plate and helping herself to waffles and scrambled eggs. “Nice breakfast.”

She tried not to grin as he grunted something about it not being Italian and chose not to rise to the bait.

Billie finished before she did and went out to open the shop. She cleaned up in the kitchen, deciding to leave as soon as she was done to see Natasha Larouche, aka Madame LaBelle. Natasha was a voodoo priestess and a dear friend. She also owned a voodoo shop where she learned just about everything that was going on in the Quarter and the surrounding area.

Once the kitchen was clean Danni walked out through the shop, Wolf at her heels. Billie was behind the counter with the newspaper. He hated reading anything on a tablet.

“Your murder made the front page,” he told her.

She walked to the counter and checked out the headline, which read
Second Musician Murdered in Search for Valuable Sax
.

“It sounded as if Larue thought Arnie Watson was the first,” Billie said. “Wouldn’t that make three?”

“It would. And I think Larue does believe now that the killings started with Arnie. But you know how the police think. The less the public knows about the details, the better. Makes it easier to ID the killer. And as far as the killer is aware, the official theory is that he’s looking for a certain expensive instrument.”

Billie nodded. “Good to know. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”

Impulsively, she kissed his wrinkled cheek.

Wolf followed her to the door. Natasha loved Wolf, and they usually talked in the courtyard at her place so he could hang out with them. Today, though, Danni wanted him on guard duty at The
Cheshire Cat
.

“Gotta stay, boy,” she told him. “Watch over Billie for me.”

He wagged his tail and whined but trotted obediently over to Billie and took up a position by the counter.

The walk to Natasha’s was barely a couple of blocks. Danni had basically lived in the house on Royal her whole life other than college, but she’d never ceased to love its location. If she turned to her right and looked down the street, she could see the fabulously beautiful Cornstalk Hotel, built as a private home in the early eighteen hundreds and graced with a wrought-iron fence molded in the form of cornstalks, because the owner wanted his beloved wife to feel as if she were back at her home in the North. Nearby were the George Rodrigue Studios, where the shop was filled with the artist’s famous Blue Dog pictures. Though Rodrigue had passed away a few years ago, Danni thought his Blue Dog art would live forever.

Her favorite wig shop was also on Royal, and she thought of the amazing pieces the stylists created, not only for everyday but for the elaborate costumes of Mardi Gras and the city’s other festivities, wigs that added two feet to the wearer’s height, wigs with whole ships on them, wigs to fulfill just about any fantasy. She could easily get to Community Coffee, her favorite. The jewelry and boutique shops were ever-changing but always fun. They all carried a lot of the same T-shirts and souvenirs, but every little boutique was also different and stamped with the personality of the owner. Hard to find in this day and age, she knew. Sometimes she could even hear the children’s laughter from a nearby school.

And while the city boasted many voodoo and occult shops, each one was equally unique, and none more so than Natasha’s. Customers entered through a wood arch, and various magical items, amulets and beads and more, adorned the door. Entering, the visitor was treated to displays of gris-gris bags, an altar with its various offerings of pennies, pictures, pins and candles, and—the specialty here—carved African and Caribbean island masks. The outer gallery was large, and there were rooms in back for private readings. Natasha read palms, tea leaves, tarot cards... If it could be read, Natasha could read it. She was a deep believer in many spirits but one great power, and the ongoing battle, in the world as well as in the human heart and mind, between good and evil. Danni always thought how it was the people she knew who helped to make the world feel sane even when it wasn’t. Father Ryan was a Roman Catholic priest, but while he loved his church and his calling, he and Natasha were great friends. While the world might see them as drastically different, they saw each other as kindred spirits.

The store had just opened, but those tourists who were early risers had already found the place. Natasha also had a local clientele—she was a voodoo priestess—but those in her flock knew that they were welcome at all hours, and that she was just a phone call, or a knock on the door, away.

Danni didn’t see Natasha at first, but she did see her assistant, Jeziah, at the counter.

Danni thought Jeziah was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Mixed race, he seemed to be made of gold. His eyes were neither green nor brown nor even hazel but a gleaming amber. He was tall and carried himself with an easy confidence that was attractive in itself. He was as loyal to Natasha as Billie was to her, and he—like Natasha—had been Danni’s friend for years.

She smiled, walking toward him, and he asked her, “Where have you been? I have to say, Natasha was wrong this time. She expected you last night.”

“How does she always know I’m coming?” Danni demanded. “That woman really is complete magic.”

Jeziah laughed, leaned over the counter and whispered, “She was always a big fan of Marie Laveau, you know. And Marie Laveau got most of her mystical wisdom from being a good listener—and having the wisdom to truly hear what was going on. This time, it’s not so much of a secret. She heard about the musicians, and knew you and Quinn would be involved in the investigation.”

“The newest murder wasn’t even made public last night,” Danni said.

“Danni Cafferty! Have you forgotten? This is New Orleans. There’s public, and then there’s public. You don’t think the people in Lawrence Barrett’s neighborhood noticed the cop cars and the throngs of police over there?”

Danni laughed. “You have a point.”

“Natasha is in the courtyard.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Actually, she’s doing a reading out there right now. Give her five, then she’ll be ready.”

Natasha definitely did have spiritual powers. Danni had seen her at work often enough to know. But she was also, as Jeziah had implied, brilliant at reading the people around her and at zeroing in on a situation.

“There are some new masks from Haiti on the wall. You might want to browse those for a few minutes. Hey, where’s Wolf?”

“Guarding the shop,” Danni said.

Jeziah didn’t ask why. He merely nodded.

The Haitian masks were beautiful, painstakingly hand-carved. Danni could easily have studied each one for a long time, but it seemed she had barely begun when Jeziah told her to head out to the courtyard.

Natasha stood to greet her. She “held court” at a wrought-iron table in the courtyard. Small trees and well-tended bushes planted long ago surrounded the courtyard, while delicate wind chimes and dream catchers hung in the branches around them.