“I’m sure we will, Jenny,” Danni said.
They said their goodbyes. Danni realized that she’d told Jenny they were playing with another band tonight, but she hadn’t even asked Tyler yet. She called him immediately.
Speaking with him was great for her confidence as an investigator but not so much as a musician, since he, too, suggested a tambourine. “And wear something sexy, Danni. No one will care what you do onstage as long as you look good up there.”
“What about your band? Will they mind?” she asked.
“Everyone is spooked now. They won’t mind at all.”
“Will they know what we’re doing?” she asked, and thought, Will they know that they’re all suspects as well as potential victims?
“I’d say most people have heard about the two of you, yes, so they’ll know why you’re really there. But that will help the situation, you know?”
“When should we be there?”
“Whenever you want, so long as you make it by nine thirty, when we go onstage.”
“We’ll show up between eight and nine,” she promised.
He told her that would be fine. Then before hanging up he said, “And, Danni, thank you.”
There was an unexpected depth of emotion in his voice, and she knew that however embarrassed she ended up feeling on that stage, it would be worth it.
When she hung up that time, she tapped her fingers on the table. There was one person they hadn’t spoken to yet, the last member of their unique unit that dealt with the unusual aspects of the criminal element.
She dialed Father John Ryan.
It didn’t surprise her that he expected her call.
“Danni,” he said, answering without a hello. “I’ve been watching the news and waiting for your call. Bring me up to speed.”
“First, Father, I need you at a bar on Bourbon Street tonight.”
“Lovely,” he said. “I can have a word with a few of those crazy people who carry signs saying ‘God hates this one’ or ‘Christ hates that one.’ I’ve been waiting for an opportune moment. I’m going to slip right up beside them, collar and all, and tell them, ‘Excuse me, my child, but God and I just had a lovely conversation, and He’s just fine with whoever, but He has a slight problem with you.’”
“No fighting in the streets tonight, Father. You’re going to come and rouse the audience to applause whenever I’m onstage,” she said.
She could almost see the grin on his face. “Well, bless you, girl. Bless you. Now, tell me what’s going on, and how you and Quinn are involved.”
*
Larue looked at the flattened bullets Quinn set on his desk.
“Well, damn. You did find them.”
“No fault of the officers at the scene that they missed them,” Quinn assured him. “They were embedded in the one tree in the area. The killer couldn’t find them, either.”
“I still find it curious that he’s got a gun and only threatened people at first, and then hasn’t used it whenever he actually killed someone.”
“Maybe he realized he got lucky no one heard the shots and came running, and that the next time he tried something like that there could be a cop or someone else around.”
“Maybe. Still...”
“You come up with anything?” Quinn asked Larue.
“I have someone putting together a list of local saxophone players,” Larue said. “It’s not easy. So many people in this city play so many instruments. But these...” He paused and pointed to the bullets. “I’m willing to bet on a Glock 19, though forensics can let us know for sure. We can throw data into a computer and see what matches we come up with for who plays sax and owns a Glock.”
“The gun may not be registered.”
“No, and it’s popular as hell, besides. But we’ve got nothing else except for a picture of a man in a mask—the kind of mask that’s sold in a hundred places. All we really have is that our killer’s a musician, and hell, we don’t even know that for sure.”
“A musician or a wannabe, or even someone in the entertainment or hospitality field,” Quinn said.
“Because of the hour?”
“The attack and all three murders occurred in the wee hours of the morning—the time when musicians are finished with their gigs, have packed up all their gear and are heading home.”
“I’m going to hang out at the site of Holton Morelli’s last gig tonight, and I’ve got men going to Lawrence Barrett’s last venue, as well. I figured you’d be going to the last club Arnie played.”
“I’m going to sit in with a band I know. I’ve played with them before.”
“And Danni?”
“Danni will be with me,” Quinn assured him.
*
Danni’s cell buzzed the second she got off with Father Ryan; it was actually hot, she’d been on it so long.
It was Billie, calling her from the shop. “There’s someone here to see you,” he told her.
“Oh?”
“A pretty young lass. She’s been in before but says she just met you last night.”
“Jessica?” Danni asked.
“That’s her name.”
“I’m coming right out,” Danni said.