The Dead Play On

by Heather Graham

“All right, fine—and thanks, Quinn,” Brad said.

  Jenny flashed Quinn a quick glance. Her gratitude and relief were obvious, and he smiled back and lowered his head in a small nod.

  He’d reached Royal Street and hit the clicker to open the courtyard gate. But even as he pulled the car into its spot next to Danni’s, he heard Wolf barking.

  He was drawing his gun from the small holster tucked into his waistband even as he exited the car.

  “Stay behind me,” he curtly ordered Brad and Jenny.

  He moved quickly across the courtyard, with the two of them following him. But as they walked between its umbrella-shaded tables, the door to the house opened.

  Wolf came bounding out to greet him.

  Danni stood at the door, with Bo Ray right behind her.

  “He was here,” she said softly. “I saw him in the glow of the streetlight. I saw him there—and then he was gone. Just gone. As if he’d disappeared into thin air.”

  * * *

  “I think that, in an odd way, it’s good that Danni saw the killer on the street. It means that he was going to come in here, but then he heard Wolf,” Quinn said.

  He’d gone out and searched the streets, but he hadn’t found a man in a trench coat or a mask. Then again, he hadn’t really expected to; he’d just been going through the motions. He’d taken Wolf with him, but whatever scent the dog had started out following had gotten lost in the mixture of odors once they got to Bourbon Street.

  By the time he returned to the house, Billie was back, too. Natasha and Hattie had been safely returned to their own homes, but Father Ryan was sitting with the rest of the group around the table. Danni had brewed a pot of coffee and set out beignets and Danish; it was getting close to breakfast time.

  “Why is that good?” Jenny asked Quinn. “It just means that he’s still out there.”

  “It means that we’re after a person,” Quinn said. “One real-live person who can be warned off by a barking dog, and that’s an advantage for our side. His whole MO has been based on taking people by surprise. When he killed Holton Morelli and Lawrence Barrett, he just walked up to their houses and knocked on their doors, and they let him in. At least that seems logical, since there was no sign of forced entry, which means he’s almost certainly someone they knew. Someone they would just let in. But by the time he got to your place,” he told Brad and Jenny, “he was back to wearing his mask. He didn’t want anyone knowing who he is, which means he’s aware that people are being cautious and that you wouldn’t open your door to just anyone, even someone you knew.” At Jenny’s stricken look he hastened to add, “Calm down. I’m not saying you knew him, just that you might, and so might other people he passed, so he was making sure no one could recognize him.”

  Jenny breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Everyone in the city knows to be cautious now,” she said.

  “He’s got to be after the sax,” Danni said. “He’s after every sax in this city. And maybe a particular song, but mostly I think it’s the sax.”

  “Yes, I believe that’s true,” Quinn said.

  “At least partially true,” Father Ryan said.

  “What do you mean?” Quinn asked him.

  “There’s a sax in this house, and Billie’s been out there playing and calling attention to it. But there’s more than that here, Quinn. You and Danni are here. You’ve been playing music in public. You’ve been snooping around. The killer might have come here after the two of you,” Father Ryan said.

  “Or a two-in-one,” Danni said softly. “The two of us—and a sax. But Father, he came when Quinn wasn’t here. What if he’s really after me?”

  “Or maybe he thought it would be easier to take you out one at a time. Get in and get you, and the dog and Bo Ray if he had to, then wait to jump Quinn.” Father Ryan turned to Jenny. “I’d guess he was well aware that Brad wasn’t home last night. He was either trying to get in and get out before Brad got back or take you down one at a time because that would be safer and easier for him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t even want Quinn. I mean, he’s not part of the Survivor Set,” Jenny said.

  “No, of course not,” Danni said then frowned. “What about the Survivor Set?” she asked. “How does that fit in?”

  “Everyone who’s been killed was part of the Survivor Set, Danni, or they had something to do with it,” Jenny said. “We just realized that when we were talking tonight. You were into art rather than music, but you were still part of the group. Even Holton Morelli and Lawrence Barrett, they taught us. Jeff was part of it, too.”

  “So was Arnie Watson,” Brad added.

  “So this person is trying to kill all of us...why? Because we were friends or at least knew each other years ago?” Danni asked.

  “I really don’t think so,” Quinn said. “Every time something has happened, the common denominator has been a sax.”

  “Where is Arnie’s damned sax?” Jenny asked. “We need to find it and give it to him, so he’ll stop killing.”

  Quinn looked at Danni and weighed his words carefully. “We need to find the sax,” he agreed. “But we also have to find whoever is doing this and stop him.”

  “Maybe he’s not real. Maybe he’s a monster. We think it’s a mask, but maybe it’s his face,” Jenny said. “But,” she added anxiously, looking at Quinn and Danni, “you kill monsters, don’t you? Oh, Lord. Listen to me,” she said. “I sound like a crazy person.” She laid her head down on the table and groaned.

  “Everyone should get some sleep,” Quinn said. “Being overtired doesn’t help anything.”

  “Yes,” Jenny agreed. But she didn’t move. She looked at Quinn and said, “We’re safe, right? I mean if the killer were to come back, well, you’ve got your gun?” She looked at Brad. “And you have yours, too, right? And you’re ready to use them on that creep if he does come back?”

  “We’re armed, Jenny,” Quinn assured her.

  “I even know how to shoot,” Father Ryan said. He smiled grimly and told Jenny, “God’s warrior, you know. Don’t get the wrong idea. I am a man of peace. But sometimes the innocent need to be protected.”

  “But you’re going home, Father,” Jenny said.

  “We’ve always got another bed,” Danni offered.

  “Thank you, dear. But I think I will head back to the rectory. Mass later, you know? And I have never had a sax. I can’t play a sax—trust me, you wouldn’t want to hear me try. So...time for me to go now.”

  “Alone?” Jenny asked him.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said I can shoot. And I have a permit for a concealed weapon, which I have on me, under my jacket. I’ll see you all tomorrow night,” he assured them.

  He told them all good-night, and then Quinn walked him to the courtyard door and watched until he was in his car and on his way. Quinn didn’t really know much about the priest’s past other than that he’d been in the service as a young man and after, as a priest, served in some of the most viciously war-torn areas of the world. He truly was “God’s warrior” in many ways; spiritually or physically, he was ready to go to battle for innocence and the good of mankind.

  When Quinn walked back into the kitchen, he heard Jenny telling Danni, “I wish he wouldn’t leave.”

  “We’ll be fine, trust me,” Danni said. “Please.”

  “I certainly trust you,” Quinn said. “Why don’t you all go on up to bed. I’m going to call Detective Larue.”

  “At this hour?” Danni asked softly.

  He nodded. “Yes, I’ll wake him. He’ll be irritated, but he’d be more irritated if I didn’t report in on what happened here tonight.”

  He pulled out his phone and called Larue, expecting that the others would leave, but they didn’t. He looked at Danni as he spoke, making sure that what he told Larue was right.

  Lar
ue did sound tired, but he didn’t say a word about the hour. Quinn figured that he’d been ready to get up and face the day, anyway.

  After he rang off with Larue he assured the others that every officer on every shift would be on alert for anyone in a trench coat. The mask was secondary, since the killer was unlikely to wear it where he might be spotted, but of course they would keep it in mind, too.

  “He’s just like Jack the Ripper, don’t you think?” Jenny asked, shivering. “He commits horrible crimes then just disappears into the streets. He even manages to disappear while he’s loaded down with musical instruments.”

  “Because he knows the city,” Quinn said. “He’s local, either born here or, at the least, he’s been living here for quite some time. He knows the alleyways, what courtyard gates are left unlocked and where he can find easy access to hidey-holes. He’s smart, so we’ll just have to get smarter.”

  Quinn could hear the street sweepers outside, cleaning up after another night of the usual mayhem in the Quarter.

  “It’s morning, guys,” he said. “And I can guarantee you nothing happened during the night. Since this house was targeted, we don’t need to be worried about anyone else. Not till tonight, anyway.”

  Jenny slapped Brad lightly on his shoulder. “We are not leaving—not until this is over,” she told him.

  Brad looked at Quinn and Danni apologetically.

  “Hey, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, you know that,” Danni said.

  “Absolutely,” Quinn agreed, knowing Brad was still feeling awkward. Maybe some primeval sense deep within made him feel he was infringing on another man’s castle.

  “Thanks,” Brad said awkwardly.

  Finally Quinn realized that no one was going to bed until he did. “Wolf, you’re on duty, boy. And don’t worry about waking me up. Bark at anything you want.”

  Billie groaned softly. “We’re opening in just a few hours.”

  “Not to worry. I actually slept awhile,” Bo Ray said. “And I’ll get in my last few hours now. Good night, all.”

  He headed up the stairs. Brad and Jenny followed him. Billie looked at Quinn. “Want me to stay up?”

  “We’re good. We’ve got Wolf,” Quinn said.

  Billie nodded and went on up. Danni looked at Quinn. “Wow. Can we really go up and sleep?”

  “We can really go up and sleep.”

  “The funny thing is, I was exhausted before, but now I’ve got so much adrenaline going that I’m not sure I can sleep,” she said.

  He smiled and slipped an arm around her. “I can take care of that for you,” he told her.

  “Really?” she said, a curious smile on her face.

  “Physical activity is known to relieve stress and make it easier to fall asleep.”

  “That’s incredibly romantic.”

  “I can be romantic,” he promised.

  She laughed. “No, I meant it—that’s incredibly romantic. At this moment, anyway. Makes me want to strip my clothes off as I run up the stairs— Oh, wait! The house is full of people. Guess I’ll have to control myself till I make it to our room.”

  She turned and ran up the stairs. He followed.

  She left a trail of clothing from the bedroom doorway to the bed. He tried to do the same but couldn’t match her grace. He tripped over a shoe then remembered his gun. He saw the amusement on her face as he stopped to handle it with care, but he finally got down to bare flesh and made a dive for the bed then rolled carefully atop her.

  “Mock me, will you?” he said in a mock growl.

  She shook her head, still smiling, her eyes alight. “Never. Not when the finale is so...fine.”

  She ran her fingers along his back, and he felt arousal sizzle through him. He caught her hands and threaded his fingers through hers then leaned down low to kiss her lips.

  And then lower. To kiss all of her.

  It was, as promised, a wonderful way to relieve stress.

  It was quite a while before they slept.

  Chapter 9

  WHEN QUINN AWOKE, Danni wasn’t next to him. A fleeting moment of panic swept through him. He couldn’t help it; maybe it was some instinctive macho thing. It worried him that she’d moved and he hadn’t wakened.

  The panic subsided quickly, but another fear quickly arose. Danni was a sleepwalker—and a “sleep-sketcher.” When things didn’t make sense, when she didn’t have a ready answer rolling through her mind, she had a tendency to rise and walk down to her studio and start to draw—all while she was dead asleep.

  And she did so nude, since that was how they slept.

  Quinn bolted out of bed.

  The rest of the household might not be sleeping. Worse, Danni’s studio was a short hallway down from the main gallery of the shop.

  He slid into his jeans but didn’t bother with shoes, shirt or even his gun. Bursting out of the room, he raced down the stairs. Wolf wasn’t in the kitchen, he discovered, taking a hasty look inside.

  Brad and Jenny were there, however. Brad was reading the paper Billie insisted on having delivered every day. Jenny was making coffee.

  “Morning,” he said to them. “Have you seen Danni?”

  “We just came down,” Brad said. “Do you want some breakfast? We’d like to help out.”

  “No, thanks,” he said. Smiling—and aware that they’d both noted with interest that he was in nothing but his jeans—he hurried on to Danni’s studio.

  To his vast relief, he saw that she was clothed.

  Their line of work called for strange hours sometimes. He hadn’t glanced at the time yet, but it had to be eleven or twelve. Not only were Brad and Jenny in the kitchen, but he could hear voices from the shop. Bo Ray was talking to a customer. He was talking about a local craftsman and how each piece was one of a kind. No hard sell at The Cheshire Cat, just the kind of information that helped unique items sell themselves.

  Danni wasn’t aware of him at first; she was seated on her stool and staring at the newly drawn picture on her easel. Wolf was by her side. The mammoth dog thumped his tail as he saw Quinn.

  “Danni?” he said.

  She turned to look at him, awake and aware.

  “Hey,” she said. She smiled, examining him from head to toe. “Like the outfit.”

  “Thanks,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “I was worried, so I wasn’t really thinking about my wardrobe.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” she told him.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you leave. At least you didn’t sleepwalk.”

  Her smile faded slightly. “I did. But apparently I had the sense to sleep-dress first. I woke up here, dressed and drawing.”

  “A psychiatrist would have a field day with you, you know?”

  She grinned at that. “It is somewhat worrisome, but...”

  “So what did you draw?” he asked her.

  “La Porte Rouge. It’s pretty good, actually, if I do say so myself. But it doesn’t really tell me anything.”

  Quinn walked over to her, setting his hands on her shoulders as he studied the drawing. He saw the bar as if he were standing in the cross-street entrance. To his left was the bandstand, and to his right was the bar. Jessica was there, and Eric Lyons was setting drinks on her tray. The place was crowded, but most of the faces in the crowd were indistinct, faded. He could see that Billie was offstage, sitting with Hattie, Father Ryan and Natasha. He and Danni were onstage with Shamus, Gus, Blake and Tyler.

  Tyler’s saxophone seemed to be the focal point of the drawing. It was slightly oversize.

  “Great drawing,” Quinn told her. “Wish I could draw a tenth so well wide awake, much less in my sleep.”

  “What do you think it means?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know.
It looks like it’s just a picture of where we’ve been, but your mind must have been trying to tell you something about it, since you drew it,” he said carefully.

  “You’re not being honest,” she said.

  He glanced at her quickly. She could read him so well.

  “I’m never quite sure what it means—your sleep-drawing. But I think this picture means that you think the murderer was in the bar the night when we both were playing. And that he’s one of the people whose faces you’ve drawn.”

  Danni frowned. “I don’t. Or maybe I just don’t want to. I like the guys we were playing with. I like everyone there.”

  Quinn hesitated, well aware that things could be hitting too close to home. One of Danni’s trusted employees had once proved to be involved in what could best be described as demonic rites.

  “Still, not a bad place to concentrate,” Quinn said. “It’s the last place Arnie was before he was killed.”

  She stood up suddenly. “Arnie,” she said.

  “Is gone.”

  “Yes, but Quinn, the killer hasn’t gone after his parents’ house yet. But he will. He’s bound to.”

  “Tyler has been staying with them.”

  “Staying with them, yes. But he doesn’t get there till morning. What about all night, before he shows up? Why doesn’t the killer show up before Tyler gets there? Or, if it’s Tyler he wants, why doesn’t he get there early and then ambush Tyler when he shows up? I can’t believe we haven’t thought about protecting them yet.”

  “I’m guessing the killer doesn’t think they have the sax. He’s convinced that a musician somewhere in the city has it.”

  “And there’s what’s frightening. Tyler is a sax player. The player most likely to have Arnie’s special sax if the killer figures Arnie’s parents would have been as likely to give it to one of Arnie’s friends as sell it with the rest of his stuff,” she said. “And if the killer can’t find it with any of the Survivor Set, eventually he’ll think Arnie’s parents must have it after all and go after them.”

  She was right, he realized, feeling irritated he hadn’t thought things through that way himself.