The Dead Play On

by Heather Graham

  “Tyler’s band?” Kevin asked. “The B-Street Bombers?”

  “Yes,” Danni said. “So you know them? Well, about them, I mean.”

  “Sure. Arnie talked about them all the time. I could practically see them just from his descriptions, but he had pictures, too. He said Shamus was a massive flirt. I think he liked Gus Epstein the most, after Tyler. Said he came at music with a quiet wonder—that was his exact phrase.” He paused, frowning. “I guess if he ever had a problem with any of the guys it was Blake. Blake was like Arnie—could play almost anything. Arnie said Blake took his sax from him once to show him how he thought something should sound.”

  “So they fought?” Quinn asked.

  “No, I told you, Arnie wouldn’t have fought over something like that. He mostly thought it was funny. He said everyone just kind of stared, ’cause when it came to the sax, no one was better than Arnie. Supposedly he had a magic sax.” Kevin was quiet for a minute, smiling at a memory. “Arnie said it did have magic—the magic of the love his grandmother gave him.”

  “Whether it’s true or not, our killer thinks the sax is really magic, the kind of magic that makes everyone who plays it better,” Danni said. “That’s our theory, at any rate. Do you have any idea what he might have done with that sax? Did he have a hiding place? Could he have given it to one of the men he served with?”

  “No. Arnie had the sax overseas, but he took it home with him. To the best of my knowledge, at least.” He paused for a moment then nodded toward the harpist. “She’s good, but nothing can touch Arnie’s smooth jazz.”

  “Well, no one can ever be Arnie or play like Arnie,” Quinn said. “But the B-Street Bombers are good. A friend of ours is playing sax with them now, along with Tyler. You’ve got to hear them sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” Kevin said.

  “You’ve met Tyler, right?”

  “Sure. When we were on base in Kuwait, the USO set up a bunch of Skype calls for us. I’ve talked to Tyler. I even said I’d be coming to New Orleans to hear him play one day.”

  “You’ve still got to come. I have a big house,” Danni said.

  “We even have an extra house. I have a place in the Garden District. Barely use it anymore,” Quinn said.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day. I have to visit Arnie’s grave, you know?” Kevin said. “Pay my respects. But for now, while I’m stuck in this place, don’t hesitate to call.” He gave them his cell number.

  “We appreciate it,” Quinn said. “And we will call if we think of anything else.”

  Major Johnson seemed to know that the conversation was finished. He came over and told Quinn and Danni, “Just in case we get caught in traffic, I’d better get you to the airport. Hattie made me promise not to let you miss your plane. Kevin, you need any help with anything?”

  Kevin shook his head. “I’m good.” He stood up and shook their hands. “You call me. For anything.”

  “Thank you,” Danni said.

  As they left the cafeteria, she turned back to wave to Kevin and saw him staring at the harpist, a smile on his face. He must have sensed her attention, because he turned to her, still smiling, and waved.

  She thought there was something infinitely sad in his smile. On impulse, she ran back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I told you I would do anything to—”

  “No, I mean, thank you for serving our country. Please do come visit. We’d love to show our appreciation.”

  “Will do,” he promised her.

  Danni hurried to catch up with Quinn and Johnson. Quinn was looking back, and she saw him meet Kevin’s eyes. The two men saluted at the same time, and Danni realized they shared something she would never really understand.

  * * *

  “Maybe I was crazy to think it was so important to talk to Kevin,” Danni said. “I’m not sure what we learned.”

  She was looking out the plane window. Quinn reached over and touched her cheek. “Sometimes what we didn’t learn is as important as what we did.”

  She laughed softly and drew a pattern on the window. “And what didn’t we learn?”

  “Well, we can be sure that sax is somewhere in New Orleans.”

  “Are we really sure of that?”

  “Okay, maybe it’s more of a theory, but every investigation has to operate on theory until there’s proof. But from everything we’ve learned, Arnie was a really good guy. He was friends with everyone. He liked the guys in his unit, and he was best friends with Kevin. But he didn’t give the saxophone to anyone he served with, so that means it’s most likely in New Orleans.”

  “Do you think that sax can really be magic?” Danni asked him. “And what if that magic can be used for evil?”

  He was thoughtful. “Even if it can, whoever is after it doesn’t have it yet. And you and I have seen enough to know that sometimes there are things we can’t really explain. But some magic...” He paused. “Some magic may be nothing more than our belief in something—an outcome, an ability—manifesting as reality.”

  “You’re talking about self-fulfilling prophecies,” Danni said.

  “In a way,” he told her. “I’m just saying that in this case, I think we’re talking about belief. Arnie became such a phenomenal player because he believed his sax was special, even magic. It’s pretty astounding what we can do when we believe in ourselves.”

  She gave him an enigmatic smile and turned back to the window. He squeezed her hand, and she looked back at him curiously.

  “And each other,” he added softly.

  She lowered her head, nodding. “I’ve always believed in you.”

  “That is a bald-faced lie!” he reminded her. “You hated me.”

  “Hate is a very strong word. I merely thought you were...different.”

  “And now?”

  She grinned. “Now I know you’re different. But so am I,” she added softly. Then she said in a very businesslike tone, “What else didn’t we learn?”

  “Actually, now we’re on to what we did learn,” he said.

  “That Arnie was in love?”

  “Exactly. No matter what Kevin said, we have to consider the possibility that she’s guilty. We need to find out who Arnie was in love with.”

  “Right. In a city filled with women.”

  “I’m assuming we’re looking for someone in her midtwenties to early thirties. And since he spent most of his time playing music when he was home, I’m also going to assume that he met her while he was working.”

  “He played several places.”

  “But mostly La Porte Rouge.”

  “You’re thinking Jessica?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think Jessica killed all those people? She couldn’t have. Everyone said it was a man.”

  “How could they tell? The killer was in a trench coat and mask. They couldn’t be certain.”

  “She has a toddler.”

  “So having a child means you can’t be a killer?”

  “I just can’t believe it.”

  “I don’t really believe it, either. But we have to take everything into consideration. Anyway, somehow I have to get out of babysitting Jenny at night. I need to be back at La Porte Rouge,” he said determinedly.

  “Babysitting?” Danni protested.

  “I’m sorry. I know she’s your friend, it’s just that she’s so...needy. Anyway, I’ll go with them tonight. I know you’ll be all right, with Billie, Tyler and Father Ryan, but I’m becoming more and more convinced—call it a gut instinct—this all goes back to La Porte Rouge.”

  “What about the woman who was attacked with her bandmates?” Danni asked. “The timetable has Arnie dying first, and then the attack on the musicians leaving Frenchman Street. Maybe the
killer knows something we don’t. Maybe she’s the one Arnie was in love with, and that’s why the killer was convinced that she had the sax.”

  “Lily Parker,” Quinn said, remembering his interview with her, Jeff Braman and Rowdy Tambor.

  In his mind’s eye he could see the day at the police station when he had questioned them. Lily was pretty. Arnie might have been drawn to her.

  “Lily Parker, right,” Danni said.

  “Maybe, but I’m still betting we’re looking closer to home.”

  “Home being La Porte Rouge?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s the other woman,” Danni pointed out. “Eric Lyons’s part-time bartender.”

  “Good point,” Quinn said. “Try talking casually to her tonight or whenever she’s in next. Talk to Jessica, too, and find out how they felt about Arnie. And talk to the band and to Eric and anyone else you can. Eventually, if I’m right, and the killer is someone associated with La Porte Rouge, someone will say something—even if inadvertently—that will give us what we need. I’ll make sure I’m back at La Porte Rouge by tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 12

  HOME WAS EVEN more of a “full house” than it had been when Danni had left that morning.

  The Watsons, Tyler, Bo Ray, Brad, Jenny and Billie were all there, as she had expected. But Natasha was there, as well as Father Ryan—and a man Danni didn’t know.

  Father Ryan was quick to introduce him as Pastor Ben Cooke of the Baptist church the Watsons attended. Father Ryan had called on him to come over because the Watsons were in need of a little spiritual support.

  Danni was embarrassed to realize that when she had been at Walter Reed, she had entirely forgotten the turmoil that was going to be part of the Watsons’ next months—even years—as they tried to put their home and their lives back together.

  To her surprise, though, they were in better shape than she had expected.

  While doling out paper plates for the pizza they’d decided on so that everyone had something to eat before heading out for the night, Danni assured Amy Watson that everyone she knew would help once the crime scene tape came down and it was possible to start fixing the house.

  “Oh, honey, I know we’ll get the house taken care of, don’t you fear none. A house don’t mean nothing. Losing my boy, now, that will take some learning to live with. I don’t say ‘getting over,’ because you never get over it. You just learn to live with it because you’re still on the journey with other people you love and who love you. And we’re lucky. We have our other children, and we’re blessed with a bounty of friends.”

  “Amy, we will find the man who did this,” Danni swore then wondered if it really could have been a woman. But witnesses had said it was a man. People could pull off all kinds of disguises, she knew. And the stereotypes of the past were going away. But biology remained the same, and some of the things the killer had done had taken a great deal of strength.

  Father Ryan walked over. “Come on, darlin’, let’s get those plates moving.”

  Amy laughed, took the plates from Danni and started handing them out. Danni smiled at Father Ryan. “I didn’t know you were friends with the Baptists.”

  “And why not? We’re not so different.” He shrugged. “One of my best friends is a voodoo priestess, why not a Baptist? And if that throws you for a loop, I’ll bring over Rabbi Abramson next time I come.”

  Despite the fact that she was so tired she felt as if she had a hangover, and despite the fear gripping the city, Danni found the evening strangely pleasant. They talked about sports and movies and art as they ate pizza, and drank water and beer and soda.

  Then it was time for the musicians to head off to their respective venues. Quinn, Brad and Jenny headed out first in Quinn’s car. Then Danni got up to leave with Billie, Tyler, Natasha and Father Ryan, and, as they headed to the door, she realized that Pastor Cooke was joining them, too.

  Tyler, walking by Danni’s side, said jokingly as they left the house, “What’s this world coming to? We’re heading to work accompanied by a voodoo priestess, a priest and a pastor. Everyone at La Porte Rouge is going to be afraid to sin!”

  Soft laughter followed his words.

  Billie was in the lead, his head bowed in deep thought. Behind them, Natasha, Pastor Cooke and Father Ryan were involved in conversation. And Danni realized that Tyler had been waiting for his chance to talk to her.

  “How was Kevin Hart?” he asked her.

  “He’s overcome so much. He’s an amazing guy,” she said.

  “I’d like to meet the man face-to-face one day. I feel close to him, you know? We shared a best friend.”

  “We invited him to visit sometime, when he’s ready, of course. So maybe you’ll get your chance.”

  “You know someone like him, and you just want to help them, you know?” Tyler said. “But I guess what’s most important at the moment is, was he able to help at all?”

  “Yes and no,” Danni said. “He didn’t know anyone who didn’t get along with Arnie. But there is one thing. Did you know anything about Arnie being interested in a woman? Someone he might have been falling in love with?”

  Tyler looked surprised and shook his head. “Arnie liked to flirt, but he was never obnoxious about it. He was a good-looking guy in great shape. A lot of women gave him that look, you know? But if there was someone...he didn’t tell me. Damn. Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “He didn’t tell Kevin who it was. He just told him that there was someone. It sounded like he had a massive crush on someone and didn’t think she felt the same way about him, so he hadn’t said anything to her.”

  “He could have told me anything,” Tyler said.

  “Did he sneak off a lot? Hide what he was doing?”

  Tyler laughed at that. “We were friends—I wasn’t his keeper. He was living at his parents’ house, but he was a grown man. You’d have to ask the Watsons whether he came home every night or not.”

  “Thanks,” Danni told him. “I will ask them.”

  They’d reached La Porte Rouge. A small, sluggish crowd was in. Monday nights didn’t tend to be wild, but since the city had begun its laborious comeback after the summer of storms, every night meant that someone was in the city, barhopping along Bourbon. The hawkers on the street had to work harder on Monday nights, but there were usually enough people to keep them busy, just with more breaks between spiels.

  Shamus, Gus and Blake were setting up when they arrived. Before they could even say hello, Shamus greeted them with, “Did you hear what happened to Arnie’s house last night? It was all over the news. Place totally trashed. Man, someone had a vengeance bone out for him or someone in his family.”

  Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been with Arnie’s folks most of the day.”

  “They doing okay?” Blake asked.

  “Yeah, as much as anyone could after everything they’ve been through,” Tyler said.

  “Must be another maniac in the city,” Shamus said. “I mean, whoever it was couldn’t have gone there to kill Arnie, ’cause Arnie’s already dead. This is getting bad, really bad.”

  “Worse and worse,” Blake said.

  “But at least his folks are all right. They are, aren’t they?” Shamus asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, yeah, they were out staying with friends. Didn’t know a thing about it until the police told them,” Tyler said.

  Danni watched the band members as they spoke, and she wondered if she should be worried for them or because of them.

  Kevin had said that Blake had taken the sax from Arnie to show him how something should be played but they hadn’t fought, because Arnie didn’t fight.

  At that moment, at least, Blake appeared to be just as concerned about the Watsons as everyone else.

  “We need to stay together, just like we’v
e been doing,” Blake said. “See each other home, watch the damned door. Hey, I wonder if that police press conference about the killer dressing up in a trench coat and a mask scared him off from breaking in, at least when people are home.”

  “Maybe,” Tyler said.

  “Maybe he’ll just change his mask,” Gus said.

  They all looked at him.

  “Hey, this is Mardi Gras town—the guy could dress up as the Statue of Liberty and no one would notice him.”

  That was probably true, Danni thought. “Let’s hope he doesn’t,” she said.

  Father Ryan, Natasha and Pastor Cooke had already found themselves a table a little distance from the stage, so she walked over to sit with them for a minute.

  Jessica arrived at the table just after she did. She looked at Danni, her eyes wide, and asked the same question Shamus had. “You heard what happened to the Watson house?”

  Danni nodded.

  “So awful. They’re such nice people. It’s horrible. I guess not as horrible as—” She broke off, shaking her head, and tried to smile. After all, Bourbon Street was synonymous with having a good time, and waitresses weren’t supposed to be grim and shivering. She teased about them not being much of a drinking crowd, seeing as there were two clergymen in the mix, and Father Ryan laughed and told her that he liked wine, just not that night.

  Then Jessica turned to Danni. “Did you have a chance to work on those duets yet?”

  “No,” Danni apologized. “But I will. I swear.” That gave her a great opening, so she hopped up and followed Jessica to the bar.

  Startled when she realized Danni was right behind her, Jessica turned. “Did I forget something?” she asked.

  “No, I just...I wanted to ask you a few questions about Arnie,” Danni said.

  “Arnie?” Jessica repeated, her voice soft and something cloudy in her eyes. “What can I tell you? He was a great sax player, a great musician. And one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

  “Did you ever go out with him?” Danni asked.