The Dead Play On

by Heather Graham

  Danni rose uncertainly, a question in her eyes.

  “Miss Tate, will you be staying here with your mother?” Larue asked her.

  “I don’t want to leave her,” Jessica said. “But I have to take care of my son.”

  “He’ll be fine with us,” Danni said. “I’m sure he’s sleeping now.” She still looked as if she were uncertain about leaving.

  “The officers will stay on duty through the night,” Larue said. “You’ll be fine, Miss Tate, and, as Danni said, your little one will be fine, too.”

  “Rest and get better,” Danni told Victoria. “And, Jessica, please don’t worry about Craig.”

  Jessica nodded then stood to tell them goodbye. She thanked Larue and Quinn, but she hugged Danni and held her tightly for a long moment.

  Outside in the hall, Larue sighed. “We’re going to need more cops. We’re trying to protect musicians around the city while keeping an eye on our suspects. Now we need to watch the hospital, too.”

  “It’s going to end soon,” Danni said.

  Quinn and Larue both looked at her.

  “If this guy is going to go after every sax player in the city, a lot more people could die,” Larue said.

  “But he didn’t kill Victoria Tate,” Quinn said. “He knocked her across the room, but then he ran.” Studying Danni, he added, “And you know why, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Jessica was the woman Arnie told Kevin about. Her child is Arnie’s child. You’ll see when we get to the house.”

  “Already did,” Quinn said. “But why did she deny the relationship when we asked?”

  “Fear,” Danni said. “She and Arnie were still working out their relationship. She was dragging her feet a lot more than he was.”

  “But what were they afraid of?”

  “I think Arnie was afraid of commitment while he was in the service, afraid he might not make it home,” she said. “But then their son came along, and he was out, and they were trying to figure things out when Arnie was killed. And then Jessica didn’t want to tell the truth in case that put Craig at risk.”

  “Well, I’m sure the Watsons will be ecstatic,” Larue said. “Now come on. I’ll get you all home.”

  * * *

  The Watsons were already ecstatic, as they discovered as soon as they got home. According to Natasha, Amy had known the child was her grandson the minute she’d seen him. She’d cried for an hour and then started getting to know him, playing with him, singing to him then convincing him to go to sleep. The Watsons and Bo Ray were sleeping; Jez, Natasha and Father Ryan were standing sentinel in the kitchen. Jez volunteered to stay up that night while the others got some sleep.

  The situation had changed tonight, Quinn thought, and he was still trying to get a handle on what that meant. It was interesting that the killer had apparently been as much in the dark about Jessica and Arnie’s son as they had been themselves. And he had been so stunned by the discovery that he had abandoned his attack.

  He had changed things up, as well. He’d attacked during the early evening instead of the very early morning when his preferred targets were on their way home.

  They would need to be even more vigilant in the days ahead. He’d never been a profiler, but even Quinn could see that things had changed for the killer. He would be growing more desperate.

  And even more dangerous.

  * * *

  They were both exhausted; it felt as if they had been exhausted for days. So Quinn was surprised when Danni began peeling off her clothes the minute they reached her bedroom, leaving a trail on her way to the shower.

  “You could wait till we wake up,” he said gently, and teased, “You don’t smell that bad.”

  “Hospitals, beer, smoke, Bourbon Street? Ugh!” she called back to him. She disappeared for a moment then peeked out from around the door. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  He was so tired, and the bed was so tempting.

  But Danni was more so.

  It was amazing, he thought a moment later, what standing beneath the hot spray did to sharpen his senses.

  She looked as if she were trying to scrub away the clamp of fear that had settled over the city. But she needed to be held, as well. To touch him and be touched in turn, to curve into him and feel his arms around her.

  The shower was for foreplay; his height made making love there tricky. Drying off became more foreplay, and crashing into bed, feeling the heat of her skin against his, breathing in the scent of her, clean and sensual, created the kind of desire that transcended the world around him. He’d thought they would be gentle, playful. But instead their lovemaking was heated and volatile, passionate and, finally, sating. At last, exhausted, he lay next to her. She rested her head on his chest, so he began running his fingers through her hair. He didn’t want to move, but finally he did. He got up and donned a pair of boxers. Danni was half-asleep, but he managed to get her into a long sleepshirt. There were just too many people in the house for them to sleep the way they liked, flesh touching flesh.

  Four hours later, he was glad he’d urged her into the T.

  He felt her move and was instantly awake. He realized that she was sleepwalking, so he let her go and followed her downstairs, where she headed toward her studio. As they passed the kitchen he saw that Amy and Woodrow were there with Craig, feeding him cereal and playing with him. Woodrow instantly looked up, ready to come to the defense of his family. Quinn smiled and motioned for him to stay then followed Danni into her studio.

  She flipped a page on her drawing board, picked up a pencil and sat down on her stool then began to sketch.

  It was the same scene she had sketched before—but with a crucial difference. The B-Street Bombers were all there. Tyler, seemingly unaware of anything but the music, was playing the saxophone, clearly transported by the music. Shamus was idly tapping on his drum set and looking toward the bar. Both Jessica and Sharon were at the bar, empty trays resting on their hips as they talked to the customers, smiling, relaxed and friendly.

  Gus was also standing at the bar. Quinn himself was standing nearby, watching Gus. Billie was at a table with Father Ryan and Natasha. They were all there; they’d just moved around from her last drawing.

  But this time there was more.

  Craig was sitting on the bar, and while everyone in the room seemed to be doing something else, they were all really watching the little boy.

  Danni finished the sketch and sat back. In a matter of minutes she had created detail and life. It was amazing, and yet...

  Damned if he could figure out what it meant.

  Other than that the killer had to be someone connected with La Porte Rouge, and they’d already been 99 percent sure of that.

  He set a hand on her shoulder. She blinked and looked at him, and just like that she was awake again.

  “Hey,” she murmured. “So...what does it mean?” she asked, studying her own work. “Do you think anything would have been different if we had known? If the Watsons had known? Or even if Jessica and Arnie had sped things up a little and gotten married?”

  “We’ll never know, but things could be worse, too. Jessica and Craig could be dead, too.”

  As he spoke, he heard Wolf barking. He and Danni both rose and hurried back into the hallway; the sound was coming from the main door to Royal Street, and they headed through the shop to see what was going on. Wolf was jumping excitedly and continuing to bark. Quinn took a look through the peephole.

  Jessica was standing outside, accompanied by a police officer.

  “Larue told me to deliver her directly into your hands,” the officer told Quinn as soon as he opened the door. The officer was grinning broadly.

  Quinn realized he was standing there in boxer shorts. They were as well designed and more concealing than a lot of bathing trunks, so he ju
st shrugged and thanked the man.

  “Oh, and Larue asked you to call him as soon as you can.”

  Jessica looked even more exhausted than he’d felt the night before, Quinn thought, and quickly ushered her in. Wolf greeted her as a friend.

  “How’s your mom?” Danni asked, stepping up from behind Quinn.

  “She’s good, but they’re going to keep her another night, or maybe two. She got a really good knock on her head when she crashed against the wall.” Jessica swallowed and looked around anxiously. “Where’s Craig?” she asked.

  “Right here, darling girl, right here,” Amy said, coming from the kitchen with the toddler in her arms. “We’ve just been getting to know our grandson.”

  Jessica turned white and looked at Danni reproachfully.

  “The Watsons have been staying with us,” Danni said. “They figured things out on their own.”

  Jessica looked as if she was about to crumple right to the floor. Quinn started to reach for her, but Danni pushed past him. “Come on into the kitchen, Jessica. You can sit down, see your son, have some coffee.”

  Amy swept back into the kitchen with Craig, and the rest of them followed. Jessica fell into a chair, tears welling in her eyes. “We wanted to tell you,” she choked out. “We loved each other, we really did, even though we had our ups and downs. But we were careful. We used birth control. I didn’t know I was pregnant until he shipped out—and then I didn’t tell him until I could see him, face-to-face. And now, well...now we were working it out together. We were going to tell you. We just weren’t quite ready yet.”

  “Jessica, you had your reasons. You don’t owe us a thing,” Woodrow said. “We’re just grateful you and little Craig are fine, and we want you to know we’re here when you need us.” He didn’t try to hug her, only offered her a warm smile that was so genuine that Jessica started to cry again, at which point Amy, still holding Craig, went to put an arm around her.

  Danni smiled at Quinn and slipped out to the hall, catching his hand as she went.

  “Let’s give them some time,” she said.

  “Good idea. Besides, I think we ought to get dressed,” Quinn said.

  “You have to call Larue,” she reminded him.

  “As soon as I have clothes on.”

  Billie walked in from the shop at that point, staring at them. “New look?” he asked.

  “No, we’re running up to get dressed right now. How’d you and Tyler do last night after we all ran out?” Danni asked him. “Did Sharon stay and fill in for Jessica?”

  “We were all right. Things seemed odd, though. The whole room just seemed tense to me all night,” Billie said. “But maybe that was natural. I mean, the bunch of you lit out like bats out of hell. Jessica screaming like that...it put everyone on edge.”

  “We’ll be back tonight,” Quinn said. “This afternoon we— What the hell time is it, anyway?”

  “Two o’clock,” Billie told him.

  Quinn turned quickly to Danni. “We’d better get moving,” he said.

  * * *

  Danni was dressed by the time Quinn finished speaking with Larue.

  She walked up to him with a questioning look.

  “Larue is frustrated,” he told her. “He was talking to Grace, and she’s frustrated, too. She isn’t getting fingerprints, and everything that was used to bind and torture the dead men came from their own houses. We know the killer shot 9 millimeter bullets when he attacked Rowdy, Lily and Jeff, and that’s about it. They’ve had men watching Gus’s house, but Larue doesn’t have the manpower to follow his every movement. Same with Steve.”

  “We know he’s changed his pattern, coming out earlier at least the one time,” Danni reminded him.

  “I know,” he said.

  “Costume shop records might let us know about a spike in purchasing if he’s using a certain place,” she suggested.

  “Larue’s already tried that. No credit card records to tie either of our suspects to the costumes the killer’s used, and no one shop has sold all three recently. Whoever he is, he’s smart enough not to go to the same shop every time. Anyway, I’m going to run surveillance today.”

  “Surveillance on who?” Danni asked.

  “Gus Epstein.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Danni...”

  “I’m going. And you won’t have to be worried about me, because I’ll be with you.”

  He smiled. “Actually, it has nothing to do with me being worried. I was going to tell you that it’s usually the most boring job in the world.”

  “And I’m not going to start an argument, but I suggest we drop in on Shamus. He was the one who went to confession, so we should see what we can get him to confess to us.”

  “Good idea. We’ll stop by his place on the way to Gus’s.”

  * * *

  He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big-time last night. He should have known. Fucking Arnie, he always had everything. First he had the magic sax, and now it was obvious that he’d also had Jessica. And when he found her purse one day and saw pictures of the kid—well, he’d known. He’d known then. Even so, he’d followed Jessica, just to be sure.

  He’d barely kept his facade in place, he’d been so stunned. No wonder she’d never brought the damned kid around. No wonder she’d never shown pictures around. He was angry—and anxious. He needed that sax. Needed it now.

  For a moment frustration almost overwhelmed him. This was a big city. It was filled with musicians. Any one of those bastards could have the sax.

  No. It had to be someone with a connection—a strong connection—to Arnie.

  He pulled out the picture again and studied it. Who else had Arnie known? Who else had he played with over the years?

  It should have been one of the big guys, one of the top guys, but...

  He studied the picture more closely. The Survivor Set, huh? Well, they weren’t all survivors anymore, were they?

  He drew a deep breath and willed himself to be calm. It was all in the facade.

  He had to choose a new facade.

  And he had to get that sax.

  * * *

  Quinn called Shamus to tell him they were on the way over. Danni watched him as he spoke into the phone. He glanced her way as he repeated what had obviously been Shamus’s question. “Why? We just want to catch you up on last night.”

  They could see Shamus watching through the window as they arrived. He opened the door as they reached the front steps, looking nervously up and down the street. A boy was riding a skateboard past his house, and an old woman was walking by with her groceries.

  “Get in, get in,” Shamus said, sounding stressed.

  The minute they were inside, he quickly closed, locked and bolted his door.

  “I may get caught by this guy eventually,” Shamus said, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to make it easy for him.”

  “It’s always smart to be vigilant,” Quinn said.

  “You guys want coffee or tea?” Shamus asked.

  “Sure,” Quinn told him. “There’s never enough coffee to keep me awake these days.”

  Shamus led the way into the kitchen. He lived in an old shotgun house; the parlor led right into the dining room, which led into the kitchen, where two bedrooms broke off to the side. The decor was Bohemian and retro hippie. He had drapes for doors and strings of Mardi Gras beads hanging from archways. A drum set took up most of the back bedroom. Danni could also see amps and mikes, along with several guitars set in stands.

  “I don’t even own a sax,” Shamus said, reaching into a cupboard for mugs. “So while Arnie and I were friends, I don’t know why anyone would think I have his sax. But this guy is crazy, so I’m not taking any chances. I mean, why the hell attack Jessica’s mom then leave her ali
ve and let her kid out and all?” he asked. “They’re both all right, aren’t they? Nothing’s happened to them since Billie filled us in last night, has it?”

  “No, not that we know of,” Danni said. She perched on one of the stools by his counter. “Shamus, do you have any idea who could be doing this? Are you suspicious of anyone—did anyone ever say or do anything odd around Arnie before he died?”

  “We all teased Arnie. We all said we could be just as good as he was if we had magical instruments, too,” Shamus said.

  He already had a pot of coffee ready. He filled mugs for them and topped off his own. Then he reached up and pulled a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey from the cabinet and offered it to them. They shook their heads, but he added a liberal portion to his own mug then took a sip.

  “I don’t. I don’t know anything,” he said.

  “But Gus and Arnie didn’t always get along, right?” Quinn asked.

  “Who told you that?” Shamus asked, frowning. “They got along fine except for...” He stopped and lowered his head to avoid meeting their eyes. “It was just the one time.”

  “They had a fight?” Quinn asked.

  “Yeah, sort of a continuing argument,” Shamus said. “But that can’t have anything to do with this. Gus has a temper on him, sure, but it’s because he cares so much about the music. He wants everything just right. All musicians hear things just a little differently or have their own ideas about how an arrangement should sound.”

  “But something is wrong. Something is bothering you about him, right?” Danni asked.

  “I promise we’ll never say that you were the one who felt something was off,” Quinn said. “If he’s innocent, we’ll find that out, too. Why do you think he could be doing this?”

  “I don’t!” Shamus protested.

  “Then what is it?” Quinn asked.

  Shamus looked down, shaking his head. “Jessica,” he said quietly.

  “What about her?” Quinn asked, and added, “Please, Shamus, if the man is innocent, we have to start looking elsewhere. Tell us what you know.”

  Shamus sighed. “Gus and Arnie fought over Jessica. Gus saw how they flirted, and he told Arnie that if they wanted to be together, they’d better both get new jobs. He didn’t have any right to say it, but the thing is, he was into Jessica, too, and he could have made things unpleasant for them if he wanted to. And then, the morning after the Watsons’ house was broken into...”