parents think he was murdered, too. But there’s nowhere they can go with that any more than I can. They know the police would think they were crazy, too, if they tried to convince them some random killer had hunted Arnie down and killed him with an overdose of heroin.”
Quinn pushed his plate aside and leaned on the table, his attention focused entirely on Tyler.
“Were you with him the night he died? Do you know who he was hanging around with, what might have been going on in his life?” he asked.
Tyler shook his head. “I wasn’t with him the night he died. Wish I had been!” he said fervently. “I was working in the Quarter that night, too. Arnie had been sitting in with my band, getting back into the swing of playing. I was filling in with another group. A friend of mine was sick and needed someone to cover for him, and I figured Arnie was just getting used to my band, so I’d head over to work with the other group. My band didn’t mind. They all knew Arnie was way better than me,” he added without rancor. “Usually when we end a shift we’re all hungry, so we go out for pizza or something. But that night Arnie told them he had something to do, so he’d see them the next night. And that was it. Sometime after he left the band, someone killed him.
“They were playing at the same place where you saw me today, Danni, La Porte Rouge. What the police didn’t investigate, I did. Who was he hanging around with? Me. Other musicians. His family. What was going on in his life? Nothing. So yeah, I promise you, the cops would laugh at me if I tried to tell them some random murderer who didn’t steal a thing from him just decided to off him by pumping him full of heroin. Believe me, I know what I sound like. Like I’m on crack myself. But I know what I saw and what I heard when I played that sax, and...”
“And?” Danni asked.
He looked at her with eyes as gold as his skin and said, “I knew Arnie. And like most of us who grew up around here, he was exposed to his share of drugs and alcohol. He saw what it did to people—including me. Arnie wouldn’t have touched the stuff. Hell, he’d have swallowed his gun before he stuck a needle in his arm. I know it.”
He stopped talking and looked at the two of them questioningly.
Danni turned to Quinn. He nodded slowly.
“We’ll look into it,” he promised.
Danni almost fell off her chair.
How? she wanted to scream at Quinn. How the hell were they going to look into it? No witnesses, the body already interred, and they weren’t likely to get any help from the ME or the cops.
Obviously, Tyler Anderson didn’t want to accept the fact his friend had committed suicide, and maybe that was all this was: a man desperate to think the best of his friend. But then there was the vision he’d claimed to have had while playing the dead man’s sax...
It was all just too damned tragic.
She winced, lowering her head.
And yet, was it any less a tragedy if he’d been murdered?
It was almost as if Tyler read her thoughts. When she looked up, he was staring at her.
He shook his head. “The truth. The truth is what we all need. And if...if I’m right, it’s not vengeance I’m after. It’s justice. Justice for Arnie.”
Looking back at him, she understood. She didn’t know why, but she understood. Wondering, not knowing, those were the emotional upheavals that tore people to pieces.
“We’ll need a lot from you,” Quinn told him. “I need names—all the musicians he might have played with and anyone he might have been seeing. A one-night stand, a long-lost love—anyone. And,” he said, “I’ll have to talk to his family.”
Tyler winced at that. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
“And,” Danni added, “if the sax...says anything else to you, we have to know.”
Tyler stiffened and stared at her. “The sax doesn’t talk,” he told her, irritated.
She smiled. “I didn’t say it talked. But if it gives you anything else, another vision, anything else at all, we need to know right away.”
He nodded and said, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she said softly.
He rose, picking up the sax case.
“Oh, and...” He paused, looking at his plate as if surprised. Somewhere along the way he’d actually finished his food. “Thanks for the lasagna.”
“My pleasure. I just hope we can help you,” she said.
“One more thing,” Quinn said.
“What’s that?” Tyler asked.
“The sax,” Quinn said.
“The sax?” Tyler repeated, puzzled.
“That’s the sax that Arnie’s mom gave you, right?” Quinn asked.
“That’s it.”
“Leave it here,” Quinn said.
“But...I’m a saxophonist. I make a living playing music.”
“You have others, right?”
“None that I play like this,” Tyler said.
“You’ll play it again,” Quinn promised. “For now, please, let us keep it. Let us try to figure out if there really is something about this sax that’s special. But if anyone comes up to you threatening you for a sax, hand it right over. Any sax you happen to have on you.”
Tyler looked puzzled. “You’re talking about that holdup down near Frenchman Street, right?” he asked, then something dawned in his eyes.
“More than that, Tyler. Two musicians have been killed in their homes.”
“Two?” Tyler looked shocked. “I saw something on the news a few days ago about a guy, but—”
“Another man was killed today. It will be on the eleven o’clock news, if you don’t believe me. I think someone wants the sax you have right there. They just don’t know where it is,” Quinn said. He frowned, puzzled. “Didn’t Arnie have his sax the night he was killed?”
“He must have, but I don’t know if it was found with him or not, and I don’t know what sax he had,” Tyler said.
Danni looked at Quinn. He’d caught her by surprise with his mention of a musician’s murder earlier that day. Clearly he knew much more, saw more connections, than she did.
Tyler looked as if he were loath to part with the instrument.
“It could mean your life,” Quinn said quietly. “And while you’re at it, when you’re talking to people, make a point of saying you wish you had Arnie’s old sax. Don’t tell anyone who doesn’t already know that you had it or where it might be. As far as you know, it went up for auction.”
