He cursed himself for being an idiot; the house was asleep, but still…he should have thought to have made sure they threw on robes or pajamas after…
That didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. There was a killer on the prowl.
Wolf followed; when Danni went into her studio, Quinn followed and told the dog, “Watch this door, boy!”
Wolf sat before the door. Quinn closed it.
Danni was heading straight for her easel where she’d set a fresh canvas. She began to sketch. She was a good artist; she created many fantastic pieces, but perhaps none as fantastic as those that came through when she was sleep-sketching or painting.
He waited and watched. Her strokes began to create a picture, but, he frowned, trying to decipher the drawing first, and then the meaning. She’d drawn a fireplace, with an armchair before it. An old man sat in the chair, a book open before him, and a young child by his side, looking at the book.
It seemed like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting at first.
And then he saw the portrait in an oval frame above the fireplace. The portrait was of a man in a slouch hat, dark suit, and lowered head. His flesh had begun to decay. He had an evil grin on his face, as if he enjoyed what he was seeing. The painting above the hearth seemed all the more malignant because of the charming scene of the man and the child.
The sketch was apparently finished. Danni dropped her pencil, staring at, but not seeing, her canvas.
She rose, letting the robe he’d gotten her slip from her shoulders. He quickly retrieved and walked up to her before she could open the door to the hall. She stood acquiescent as he slipped it on to her.
He held her then by the shoulders. “Danni, Danni!” he said softly.
For a moment, she still just stared. Then she blinked, and she saw him. She gasped softly.
“Oh, no, did I…”
“It’s fine. You came down here okay, just me behind you. You’re in your robe.”
“What did I draw? Or was I painting?”
“A sketch.”
She pulled away from him, hurrying to stand before the easel.
“What the hell?” She murmured
He pointed to the painting above the fireplace in her sketch.
“That looks like one of the descriptions given of the Axeman. A decayed Axeman, but, nevertheless…”
“He’d be dead; he’d have to be dead,” she said softly. “A portrait over the mantle….” She turned to look at Quinn. “Someone out there…knows something about the Axeman that we don’t.”
“His identity?” Quinn asked dryly.
“You’re being a wise-ass, but, yes. Quinn, don’t you think someone believes they’re his descendent, at the very least.”
“Yes, that’s not a stretch. But, the thing is…the creatures. The insects and animals that rip up the bodies now. That didn’t happen with the original Axeman. Although…”
“What?”
“The Axeman is dead. So…insects and vultures come around as a body decays.”
“And squirrels?” she asked.
“Maybe they’re just part of the bargain.”
“Natasha said there was a woman in—”
“Her Medusa.”
“Yes, and she was asking about spells to wake the dead.”
“Great,” he murmured.
“Well, it is getting us somewhere. We have to find her.”
“Yep. Find Medusa.”
Danni grimaced.
“For now…it’s about three A.M. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
She nodded, thoughtful.
They were going back to bed—to sleep.
In pajamas, Quinn determined.
They started out of the studio. Wolf suddenly started to bark. Quinn hurried out into the hallway.
Wolf, hackles raised, was staring at the door to the shop.
“What is it, boy?” Quinn demanded. Striding forward, he threw open the door.
The shop was quiet. Nothing was amiss. But…
He could hear footsteps out on the sidewalk. Someone hurrying away.
“Quinn?” Danny asked.
“Nothing.” He flicked on the shop lights. No one was in the shop; nothing had changed.
He didn’t think.
Danni brushed by him, walking into the center of the shop. And there, she seemed to freeze.
“Quinn?”
“What is it?”
“They—they moved!”
She was referring to Mr. and Mrs. Devil Demon. And he wasn’t sure, but she might have been right. The thing was they seemed to have moved toward the door of the shop, as if…
“It’s as if they’re on guard there, protecting the shop,” Danni said, her voice soft and perplexed.
Two voices. Casey Cormier had heard two voices, one urging her out, one urging her to stay.
He walked up to the mannequins and studied them both. Their faces hadn’t changed. And, yet, he was certain Danni was right. It was subtle, but there was something different.
“Is it possible for a spirit of goodness to inhabit something, too?” Danni whispered.
“Maybe,” Quinn said. “Why not? I mean, if there is evil, there is also…goodness. But, if so…if these guys are good, just what the hell was at Sean’s that was evil?”
***
Natasha called Danni’s cell, bright and early. She’d phoned Father Ryan already, and Father Ryan would be at her place by 7:30 A.M.
They needed to meet, to find out if anyone had any information the others didn’t. “I figured my courtyard was best, and really early was best. You have houseguests, and we may not want them hearing everything, so, my place. And this way, we can have Jez and Bo Ray, and then they can get back to keeping shop if…if we need to be elsewhere,” Natasha said.
“Sounds good,” Danni told her. Quinn was already up, looking at her. She thought he could hear Natasha, and if not, he knew what was going on.
He was out of bed before Danni could hang up.
“What about our guests?” she asked.
“We leave them sleeping.”
“What if they wake up?”
“We leave a note.”
He was already in the shower. She thought about joining him, and then decided to wait. When he was out, she hurried in.
By 7:20, they had wakened Billie and Bo Ray, and they were all ready to take the short walk down to Natasha’s.
Father Ryan had beaten them there. And he wasn’t alone.
Father Ryan—a bull of a man who was a damned good Catholic priest, even if he was on the unorthodox side—had called on another of their strange associates. He was there with Hattie Lamont, the very rich widow with whom they’d become involved while working on the case of the bloody Hubert painting. Hattie was both elegant, authoritative—and somehow down to earth as well. She was in her sixties or early seventies, Danni had figured, but she could move with the grace of a teenager and carry herself with complete dignity.
Hattie had also learned the hard way that the world could be very strange.
“Hattie!” Danni said, hugging her, and then Father Ryan.
“You weren’t going to invite me?” Hattie queried, smiling.
“Actually, I was going to call you,” Quinn said.
Hattie sighed. “He has a favor to ask,” she told Danni.
“I do. How do you feel about turning your place on Esplanade into a Halloween wonderland—for kids from the schools.”
“You know I’m all in on that,” Hattie said.
“Of course, she is!” Father Ryan said. “Got to get moving here—I have a mass this morning!”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Hattie said. “Quinn, we’ll talk after.”
Quinn nodded his thanks to Hattie. They gathered around the table, Danni, Quinn, Billie, and Bo Ray, Father Ryan, Hattie, Natasha, and Jez.
“Sean DeMille is one of my parishioners,” Father Ryan. “He called me yesterday right after he called the police, and, naturally…I told him to call you
, Quinn. So…?” He lifted his hands, looking around the table.
“So!” Quinn said. He related the events that had occurred with him. Danni went on to tell them what she had discovered in her father’s book, and about visiting Eric Garfield. Quinn told them about Horrible Hauntings, and how he believed someone had lured Sean DeMille from his home. He also mentioned Mr. and Mrs. Devil Demon, and how they didn’t seem to be malignant, but…
They had moved. And someone had been in the street.
Now, it was New Orleans, so, someone being on Royal Street at 3:00 A.M. didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Natasha had Jez told them about his “Medusa” woman.
And Danni went on to relay information about the “sleep-sketching” she had done, something they all knew about.
“It appears what we have is someone channeling the Axeman,” Father Ryan said. “In what way—we need to know—and the ‘who’ on that would be very helpful, very helpful, indeed.”
Danni spoke carefully. “In other words…it’s not just an object that came from someone evil, but we might we looking at something similar to what we’ve seen before. Someone is—or thinks they are—a descendent of the Axeman, and somehow, they’ve delved into his…power?”
“Could it be the same person, though?” Natasha asked. “Danni, Eric Garfield told you about murders in 1942 and in 1972. And the Axeman was 1918 through 1919.”
“A dynasty!” Quinn said softly. He leaned forward. “Which could just make it easier for us!”
“How?” Jez asked.
“We have more than the present—we have the past. If we can find out more about the people involved in the past, we can perhaps find out who followed after them into our present day.”
“I can work with Eric Garfield again,” Danni said.
Quinn agreed with Danni to continue searching through the archives.
“The only woman I know of who was involved in this from the start is Chrissy Monroe, a friend of Casey’s, who works with her. I think I should see her—and her boyfriend, Gill Martin. They were at the house when I went over with Larue. I already saw Ned Denton—and Horrible Hauntings.”
“I’ll go through parish files,” Father Ryan said, “and call in favors from friends.” He paused. “I’ve started, but now I’ll have a better idea of where I’m going.”
“And we’ll get word out,” Natasha said.
“That’s it, then, let’s move,” Quinn said. He started to rise.
“Quinn!” Father Ryan said, stopping him. “I’ll talk to Hattie about Sean DeMille’s work with the schools—for Halloween for the children.” He hesitated. “I know Sean DeMille. I’ve known him since he was a kid. I’d bet my life he’s not involved in any way—other than he might have been targeted. Or Casey might have been targeted.”
Quinn smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to love this,” Hattie said. “I’ll be useful in all, too.”
“Hattie, you’re always a gem!” Danni told her.
“We’d best be moving, indeed,” Billie said. “Bo Ray and I need to be getting the shop open; murder doesn’t stop shoppers or tourists—not just one murder, anyway.”
They all rose, ready to go their separate ways. As they walked back to the shop, Quinn told Danni, “Wolf goes with you—wherever you go.”
“Of course!” she promised him.
When they reached the house on Royal Street, he gave her a quick kiss on the head.
Nothing like his kisses of the night before!
He paused for a minute in the shop, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Devil Demon.
He looked at Danni. “Maybe they shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“And maybe they should be,” Danni said.
“They don’t bother me any,” Bo Ray said cheerfully. “I like them!”
“Billie?” Quinn asked.
“Wolf seems okay; I’m okay,” Billie said.
“All right, then….” Quinn studied the characters again, then headed out through the house.
.“I’m going back to see Eric Garfield; Wolf and I will just walk,” she told Billie and Bo Ray.
“What about Casey and Sean?”
“They can help themselves to whatever they need, go to work…come and go,” Danni said. “You can reach me easily and I can be back here quickly. I’m just a short walk up past Rampart.”
“All right, and be calling if you need us!” Billie said firmly.
“Oh, that lady was coming back by to see if we’d carry her jack-o-lanterns,” Bo Ray said.
“She’s a little late, but…just have her leave one. And I’ll call her and let her know if I think we can move them for her. We’re very close to Halloween.”
“Last minute rush!” Bo Ray said.
Danni curled Wolf’s leash around her hand. He was a good boy; he’d stay with her no matter what, but he always went out on a leash anyway.
“Okay, then we’re off!” she said. Waving to Billie and Bo Ray, she left the shop and headed out on Royal.
She looked back.
It was almost as if they were watching her. Mr. and Mrs. Devil Demon.
With either care or concern…
Or with the deepest malice and most evil intent?
Chapter 7
Quinn called Larue from the car.
“You get anything on James Hornby? Any friends who have any idea of how he got to the Garden District?” Quinn asked him.
“I talked to the business owners on the street. It was sad. Everyone loved the guy. He could go into any of the restaurants and get a hand out. He was even offered places to stay. He always said thank you, and maybe he’d spend a night somewhere, but he didn’t accept anything more than that.”
“Where was he sleeping then?” Quinn asked.
“Different places. A guy who owns a donut shop said he knew a lot of people who told him he could bunk down in the garages, porches, or even their homes. He would do so now and then, and take showers at shelters, and things like that. It seems he didn’t want to become beholden to one place or person. He would, however, so they said, takes rides here and there. I found a dozen or so people who knew him and cared about him; I couldn’t find one person who knew of a specific friend in the Garden District who he might have been visiting or seeing. Spent the whole day on the street. And what I learned is he probably took a ride with someone to go somewhere.”
“No one remembers seeing him get in a car with anyone?”
“Busy street; busy season. No. Donut guy said he gave him one of his new specials to try out—but that was early. People with an antique shop saw him opening their door for a lady with a cane at about 4:00. Others remember seeing him on the street, but that’s all. How did you do?”
Quinn told him what he suspected about the coffin being purposely rigged to lure Sean out of the house.
“They lured Sean away—to kill a man in his yard? They didn’t want to kill Sean—or Casey?”
“Maybe it was just a taunt.” Quinn was quiet a second. He was always careful about what he said to Larue and others. He never wanted to put his old partner in an uncomfortable position, or one in which others could tease him about working with the haunts of New Orleans or the vampire brigade, or so on.
“I don’t know. Jake, how long did you interview those friends of Sean’s—Gill Martin and Chrissy Monroe? I’m headed out to Paper People. I’m going to speak with Chrissy now.”
“At her work?”
“Hey, I’ll be good. Thing is, I talked to Natasha, asked her if there was any mumbling in her circles about someone abusing voodoo, looking for spells that cause evil, that kind of a thing.” He told Larue about the “Medusa” woman.
“I talked to them both for a while. They showed up at the scene after I got there, and after Hubert was on the scene, too. They talked about that night; they were all there. They weren’t drinking at all—coffee, milk, and cookies. They left, Sean left…I had no grounds to stand on to drag them down to the station—or suspect t
hey might have come over to kill someone.” He sighed. “But, hey, you do your no-I’m-not-a-cop thing and see what you can get from her.”
“I’ll be careful,” Quinn promised.
“Weird, Quinn. The way that body was chewed up.”
“Well, creatures…chew dead bodies. Thing is, I’m hoping to hell someone isn’t trying to bring back the Axeman.”
Larue made some kind of a strange sound.
“Danni is going to be over with Eric Garfield today—we think it might be a descendent of the Axeman.”
“Well, I’ll just look that right up!” Larue said with weary sarcasm. “No one knows who the Axeman was!”
“Yeah, I know.”
Larue was quiet. He groaned. “I’m going to see what I can find in the records, though, I’m assuming, Eric Garfield will have it all together. He and his dad…that case was an obsession with them. You never know what might hit though; talk to me after you visit with Chrissy Monroe. And, I’m assuming, you’re going to try to talk to Gill Martin. I’ve talked to them; my men have talked to them…we’ve got nothing. Just a dead man with an axe in his head, chewed up by creatures that don’t usually chew on corpses—the squirrels, anyway. The guy was a vet. Maybe he was dying of cancer, but the least we can give him is justice.”
“And we’ll do it. We know someone picked him up off the street, so, I’m thinking, local, someone he knew. That person got him to Sean’s and Casey’s house where he hit him with the axe and got the hell out but not before somehow taunting Casey out to see the body. I’m saying someone who knew Sean and Casey because they had to have gotten into the house to do the voices and the taunting.”
“So you’re back to…”
“Someone at Horrible Hauntings, or someone who was a close friend.”
“I’ll do some more work on your Axeman, and try Magazine Street again,” Larue said. “If you’re right, and someone is trying to pull an Axeman in the city…”
“I know.”
“Keep me up to date.”
“Will do.”
Quinn ended the call. He’d reached the offices of Paper People.
***
“Let’s go back to the first incident after the original Axeman attacks,” Danni said to Garfield. “That was when the soldier was found dead in the bayou by his wife—who was arrested and then let go. But, her husband was never seen again.”
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