do our job, all right?”
Tyler nodded and slowly handed over the sax. “Thank you.” He reached into his pocket and produced his card. “This is me. If you need me at any time for anything, just call. Obviously, when I’m playing, I don’t hear my phone. But I’ll check it every break in case...in case I can help.”
“Here are our numbers,” Quinn said, and produced a card, as well. It had his cell, Danni’s cell and the shop number.
Tyler took the card as if it were a lifeline. “Thanks,” he said.
“Be careful, okay?” Quinn said. “I expect the police will be putting out a parish-wide warning for musicians, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded. Don’t open the door when you’re alone, even to people you think are your friends. And make sure you warn your band and anyone else you play with that someone has it in for musicians.”
Tyler nodded gravely. “I’ll do that,” he promised.
“I’ll walk you out through the front,” Quinn told him.
Danni picked up in the kitchen while Quinn led Tyler back through the shop. When he came back he slipped his arms around her where she stood at the sink.
She spun in his embrace, staring at him, a sudsy plate in her hands.
“Hey! What the heck is going on? You know way more than I do. Do you really think this has something to do with the incidents with those other musicians? And what about this second murder? Are you sure it makes sense for us to investigate this? Arnie’s death must have been investigated, even if they just wanted to know where he got the heroin. He was a hero and a popular local figure, found dead on Rampart Street. They could be right, you know, and it really was an accidental OD.”
He took the plate from her. Suds were flying, because she was waving it around as she talked, she realized.
“I’m sorry. I thought we’d think alike on this,” he said.
“I’m not saying I disagree.”
“What, then?” He moved away from her, and she was almost sorry she had spoken.
There was a sudden distant look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something she hadn’t been a part of. She loved him so much, but she knew he’d had a life before he’d met her, a very different life. He’d once been a shining star, and then he’d crashed and burned, finally becoming the man he was today.
“You know,” he said quietly. “I was messed up. So messed up that I almost died. I did die, actually. They brought me back.”
“I know that,” she said softly. “I thank God constantly that you came through. And you’re right. I believe Tyler. And I don’t believe Arnie Watson just left work one night and decided to stick a needle in his arm.”
“All these incidents are related—they have to be,” Quinn said. “Larue was mistaken earlier when he told me about Holton Morelli, the musician who was killed in his home last week. He wasn’t the first to die. Arnie Watson was.”
QUINN HEARD A knock at the side door, off the courtyard entrance, to the house on Royal Street just as he was returning to the kitchen.
He knew it was Larue or another friend. Only those in their close circle ever used the courtyard entrance.
He looked at Danni and saw the resolve reflected in her eyes. He lowered his head, not wanting her to see the bittersweet smile on his lips. He couldn’t help but remember when he’d first gotten to know her. He’d worked with her late father many times. And when he’d been thrown into an “assignment” with her the first time—seeking a mysterious Italian bust—he’d believed he’d been stuck seeking help from a spoiled debutante.
Danni was beautiful, filled with grace and charm and a smile that could melt a man’s heart—or ignite his libido. And Angus had never said a word to her about his special “collection.” She’d been pitched almost blindly into a world where people killed over possessions that were more than they seemed, and where the sins of the past could thunder down upon the present.
And now, when he looked at her, he saw the resolve in her eyes, an implicit promise to find justice for Tyler’s dead friend.
“I’ll get it,” he said. “It’s probably Jake.”
“You have a very odd smile on your face, considering the circumstances,” she told him.
“I was thinking that I’m a lucky man,” he said softly.
“Quinn, this is bad, isn’t it? Very bad.”
“Yes, but I have a luscious—and brilliant—partner,” he told her. “One who comes with...benefits.”
“Hmm. I confess I appreciate my coworker—and eye candy—too,” she said.
She was worried, though; he could tell. Her eyes had already fallen to the sax he’d been so determined they should keep.
There was another knock, and Quinn went to let Larue in.
He greeted Danni warmly. Over the past few years they’d gotten to know one another well. Although Larue preferred to believe in what his five senses told him, Quinn knew he respected the connection he and Danni felt to something...more. And all of them believed deeply in right over wrong, which meant together they were a crime-solving force that worked.
“Want some coffee?” she asked Larue warmly.
“I’ll have something a lot stronger—if that won’t bother you?” he asked, looking at Quinn.
“Not at all. One man’s demon can be another man’s friend,” he said. He looked over at Danni with a questioning glance.
“I’ll stick to coffee,” she said.
Billie came into the kitchen from the shop just then. “Detective Larue, good to see you,” he said then caught the serious vibe in the room and quickly added, “Or not.”
“Billie, good to see you,” Larue replied.
“Shop is locked up,” he said. “I’m going to go catch up on some television, I guess.”
“Stay, Billie,” Quinn said.
“Yes, stay,” Larue echoed.
Billie nodded. He had started working with Angus in Scotland, and after Angus’s death he had cast himself in the role of Danni’s guardian. They were lucky, Quinn knew, to have him in their fold.
Quinn poured Larue a good stiff scotch and set it in front of him. Larue told Danni that he would take a coffee “chaser,” too, and soon the four of them were seated around the table.
Larue spoke first, telling them about the holdup in the street and progressing to the two murders. Quinn, in turn, explained everything that had happened with Arnie Watson and how Tyler Anderson was convinced that Arnie had been murdered.
Larue
