The Dead Play On. Heather Graham
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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 frowned and said, “The ME reported Arnie’s death as an accidental overdose. Based on the circumstances, we accepted that finding. And I’m still not a hundred percent convinced his death is connected. These other murders... They were about as brutal and sadistic as you can get.”
“The connection makes sense,” Quinn argued. “They were all musicians. The holdup? Only their instruments were stolen. After that, things escalated. First you had Arnie’s death. Maybe it was a gentler murder because the killer and Arnie were actually friends. But Arnie didn’t have the sax on him. Not the right sax, anyway.”
“I wonder why that was,” Danni put in.
“What?” Quinn asked her.
“Arnie had been playing with Tyler’s group that night. But he wasn’t found with his sax, and his family had the...special sax after he died, when his mother gave it to Tyler, who left it here with us. So what happened to his sax that night?” Danni asked.
“Maybe he had a different sax and his killer did take it,” Larue suggested.
“That seems like the most logical explanation,” Quinn said. “The killer lured him to Rampart, where he killed him when no one else was around. He stole the sax from him. But then he discovered it was the wrong one and figured maybe Arnie needed money and had sold it.”
“Could be,” Larue said.
“But he stole all the instruments when he robbed that group of musicians, right?” Danni asked.
“He did,” Larue answered.
“If he was looking for a saxophone, why take other instruments?” she asked.
“So that no one would know he was looking for a sax?” Quinn suggested. “Anyway, somehow the killer got Arnie to go with him. Maybe he was a friend, or maybe he preyed on Arnie’s generosity, which seems pretty well-known, and pretended to need help with something. Maybe he even told him another vet needed help. When Arnie was dead, he took the sax then discovered later it was just a regular sax, not worth what a Penn Special is. Or maybe it wasn’t the monetary value. Maybe he knew it supposedly had special powers and what he wanted was to play as well as Arnie played. And then he started trying to figure out where the sax had ended up, first hiding his goal by stealing a bunch of different instruments. Then he started targeting people he thought were likely to have ended up with it, and when Morelli and Barrett couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him, he got pissed off and killed them.”
“Sounds like a good working theory,” she said.
“Where is this sax you got from Tyler?” Billie asked.
Quinn pointed out the case where it was sitting under the table.
Billie picked it up and opened it carefully then took out the instrument.
“You play?” Danni asked him with surprise.
“If you can play a bagpipe, the sax is a piece of cake.” He coaxed