That hadn’t been the answer he expected, obviously, because his face blanked. “What?”
“I tailed Jean Lafitte through the Quarter today, just like Zrakovi told me to do.” I sipped the soda and wished I’d taken the time to make hot chocolate. “Until we’d traipsed all the way to Jackson Square and halfway back to the Monteleone in the cold, I didn’t realize that I also had that freaky elven hibernation thing, probably because of the bonding with Rand.” I wouldn’t mention fainting-goat disease. “I don’t go down as quickly as a pure-blooded elf, but if I get cold enough? Bam. Hibernation sucks.”
God, had the scene with Rand only been last night? No wonder I was exhausted.
Alex grunted like a caveman. “You hibernated?”
I nodded and grinned. “Right on Royal Street in front of God, man, Jean Lafitte, and the Hotel Monteleone bellman. How humiliating is that?”
Alex didn’t come close to smiling. “It’s not funny, DJ. Although you seem to be okay, and I’m sure Lafitte was happy to ride in and be the hero.”
Not taking the bait. I wasn’t going to let this be about Jean, at least not unless I had to. “Actually, Rand was the one who tipped me off as to what was happening—you know, through his mental communication thing. But by the time he got through to me, I was down for the count.”
Of course it would’ve been nice if the elf had warned me that our bonding might leave me open to such a thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex tipped my chin up to look me in the eye, maybe to see if I had dilated pupils or any other sign of hibernation hangover. “I was worried when I couldn’t get you. You should put a tracking device on Lafitte; it would make trailing him easier.”
I stepped back and stared at Alex. My mouth probably hung open in sheer awe. “That is freaking brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?” I was a Green Congress wizard; making charms was my thing. I should have thought of it. Of course, not having a heated space in which to make potions and charms was cramping my style.
“Because you need me.” He kissed me again and treated me to a quick flash of that sexy crease at the side of his mouth before it disappeared. “We do need to talk, though.”
“Yeah, we do.” So much for romance. I followed him to the dining room table and we took chairs facing each other. Before me lay a massive sea of earth tones. Alex was all about subtle colors, from the dark brown hair to eyes the color of dark chocolate to the warm caramel color he’d painted his walls and the pale cream of the molding and woodwork. The only splash of true color in the tidy, comfortable middle room of his classic New Orleans shotgun house was the signed poster of Sir Ian McKellen as Gandalf I’d given him as a housewarming gift.
“I guess while you were hibernating, Lafitte trotted back out to burn down L’Amour Sauvage,” Alex said. “Unless you know of an alibi. I’m sure he has one.”
I looked up at Sir Ian, his wizard’s staff raised above the bridge at Khazad-d?m, making his stand as the Balrog approached. You shall not pass. Of course, then the Balrog dragged him off the cliff. Unlike Gandalf the Grey, I didn’t think I’d be resurrected as DJ the White.
I planted my feet on the Magazine Street version of Khazad-d?m and held out my imaginary staff, because Charlie was too short to bang on the ground. Then I reconsidered. I had other options. No point in facing the Balrog yet. “Actually, as soon as I woke up and realized what happened, I went to the fire scene and talked to Etienne.”
That sentence had the desired effect. Alex sat up straighter, his enforcer face on alert, Jean Lafitte a distant memory. “Boulard is in New Orleans? Why didn’t you call me?”
I’m sure we’d get back to the subject of Jean’s guilt but for now, Alex was distracted. Score one for the master procrastinator. “I tried. I called the Elders first, but got voice mail.”
I waited for that to sink in, but it didn’t get the response I’d hoped for. I thought it outrageous that the Elders’ hotline even had voice mail.
“Yeah, and?”
“Just as I was calling you, one of Etienne’s vampires knocked me over in a puddle of icy sludge, along with a street musician. By the time we got untangled, Etienne was gone.”
I left out all the bits about the broken guitar and Etienne’s body double. Gone was gone.
This time, Alex did smile. “You’ve kinda had a rough day.”
“Tell me about it.” I said a silent prayer for forgiveness. “When I got back to the hotel, Jean was sitting in the Monteleone bar. It looked like he’d been there awhile, and he was with Truman Capote, who’d definitely been drinking awhile.”
Alex blinked. Twice. “Truman Capote.”
I nodded. “Did you realize his mother was living at the Monteleone when she went into labor with him?”
The muscles in Alex’s jaw twitched. One of these days, he’d crack his molars from clenching them together. “So you’re telling me Lafitte’s alibi is Truman Capote and that as far as you know, he didn’t set the fire?”