“No,” she said. “My ex married the girl he was cheating on me with—three years ago. We’re actually all on fairly friendly terms. And he’s in Detroit now, anyway, playing some backup gig there.”
“Thank you, Lacey. I hope you understand, we have to ask. What about the drugs?” Quinn said.
Once again tears streamed from her eyes, silent tears that just ran down her cheeks.
“We argued about the drugs,” she said softly. “I said the pot was fine, but the coke...we didn’t need the coke. He didn’t deal, if that’s what you’re getting at. He just shared with friends. He always shared everything with friends. He helped down-and-out musicians. You don’t understand, everyone liked him!”
“What about his ex-girlfriends? Any crazy ones?” Larue asked.
“Crazy ex-girlfriends?” Lacey repeated. “Pretty much all of them,” she said. “But mostly crazy in a good way. And none living in New Orleans. Suzanne Delmer is working on a cruise ship, and she’s crazy like a happy puppy. Before her it was Janis Bruge, and she’s out in LA now. This can’t have been anyone we know—it can’t have been. There’s just no reason.”
“Okay, so let me ask you something else. When you reached the house, did you see anyone around? Anyone at all?” Larue asked.
She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “There were some kids playing with a football in the street. A UPS truck down a block or so. It was just kind of a lazy afternoon. Typical,” she said.
More tears fell.
“Lacey, can you give us a list of people he’d played with recently and the places he’d been playing?” Quinn asked her.
“Of course,” she said. “You want his hangouts, too?”
“Yes, any place he might have come into contact with the person who hurt him,” Quinn said.
She frowned and gave him a hazy look. He realized she’d been doing pretty well for someone who had just undergone surgery and was on heavy-duty meds.
“You know what I think?” she asked.
“What?”
“I think there’s a crazy person in New Orleans.”
There were lots of crazy people in New Orleans, Quinn thought.
“No one who knew Larry could have done this,” she whispered. “There’s a madman out there, a vicious madman breaking into houses and torturing and killing people.”
“Lacey, the killer didn’t break in. Larry opened the door to him,” Larue told her.
She began to sob in earnest. “’Cause he was so nice! He would have opened the door to anyone who needed help. I don’t...I just don’t believe he knew his murderer. You have to catch him. He’s a madman, and he’ll kill more people if you don’t catch him right away!”
*
“Danni?”
Danni was definitely relieved to hear Quinn’s voice.
“In the shop!” she called.
“Whatever that is in the kitchen, it smells great. Can’t wait to eat.”
Quinn strode into the shop like a force of nature, though without any intent of seeming so. It was just that he was well over six feet, broad-shouldered and striking, and when he moved, Danni thought, smiling, he drew all eyes to him without even trying. Whenever she saw him—and that was often, since they basically lived together now—she felt a little flutter in her heart, especially if they’d been apart for more than a few hours. No matter how often they touched, he still electrified her. They slept together most nights, and when he was near her, he aroused her; no matter how often they made love, he still thrilled her.
Of course, she reminded herself, she was in love with him.
Even when she wanted to kill him.
He was bright, determined, compassionate and strong.
Also pigheaded and very annoying when she thought she was right and he disagreed. He’d worked with her father, something she hadn’t known until after Angus Cafferty’s death. That had been hard to take at first, but then, she’d never known that her father had been something of a secret sleuth, handling the same kinds of items she and Quinn handled now.
The Cheshire Cat had merely been the tip of the iceberg. Her father had dedicated his life to taking in or destroying items—old and new—with a reputation for being haunted, even evil.
“Oh, excuse me, sorry,” Quinn said when he noticed Tyler Anderson. He smiled slowly, and Danni realized that she was actually a little irked. Quinn’s memory was better than hers. He not only knew he had met Tyler before, he also remembered where and when.
Wolf naturally went trotting over to Quinn for a pat on the head. Quinn obliged absently, his attention on their visitor.
“Tyler Anderson. I know your music, man,” Quinn said, walking forward. He shook Tyler’s hand. “I watched you play years ago when you were at Paisley Park on Frenchman Street. I heard you were still playing around the city. I’ve been meaning to look you up. Great to see you.”
“Thanks,” Tyler said.
“So where are you playing? We’ll come see you,” Quinn said.
Tyler looked at Danni.