They all laughed; then Quinn introduced Natasha and Father Ryan to Gus, Shamus and Blake.
Quinn saw that Jessica was running around taking and delivering orders, along with two other waitresses they had yet to meet. He excused himself and went to the bar, where a young female bartender was assisting Eric, who was at the far end handing a pitcher of beer to a customer. Quinn headed in that direction, and Eric saw him and lifted a hand as Quinn reached him.
“What can I get you?” Eric asked.
“I guess we’ll take six waters. Looks like things are pretty crazy here.”
Eric grinned. “Busy night. You guys are like lucky coins or something. People generally come and go, checking out a dozen clubs in a night. But we’ve got people staying tonight, and they’re all drinking. I gotta admit, I was doubtful about how all this would work out, but you all sound good together.”
“I admit, I was doubtful, too,” Quinn admitted, raising his voice a little to be heard.
“We haven’t been this busy since—” Eric broke off and looked down at the bar.
“Since?” Quinn prodded.
Eric looked back up at him ruefully. “Since Arnie Watson was sitting in with the band. That guy could play like...like he was magic or something. God, I love it when the music is good.”
“You play?” Quinn asked him.
Eric laughed. “I dabble. New Orleans is the Hollywood of the South, you might say. In Hollywood, every server is an actor. In New Orleans, every server is a musician.”
“We’re all something else at heart, huh?” Quinn asked. He thanked Eric for the waters, balanced the bottles between his hands and made his way back to the table.
By the time he reached it, Jessica was there, apologizing for being so busy and not getting to them earlier.
“Go for the money every time,” Tyler told her. “Hey, haven’t I seen you get up onstage sometimes?”
“Yeah, but not tonight. It’s wild in here tonight,” she said. “Too busy. Which is good—making money is nice.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Tyler agreed.
“So you’re having fun?” Jessica asked Danni and Quinn.
“Actually, yes,” Danni admitted.
“I’m glad. I have to tell you, it’s good to have you here. I feel safer.”
“Don’t forget Max,” Quinn told her. “Max even makes me feel safe.”
“Max is the best,” Jessica agreed. “Anyway, it looks like you’re all set, so if you’ll excuse me...”
Father Ryan and Natasha said goodbye at that point, too, saying they were going to go barhopping.
“A voodoo priestess and a Catholic priest, barhopping together,” Quinn said. “Gotta love it.”
“Natasha knows a lot of the local musicians. So does Father Ryan, actually. You’d be surprised how many musicians are Catholic and flock to his church,” Danni said.
“Including me.”
Quinn looked up quickly at the sound of Shamus’s voice. He hadn’t realized that Shamus had stopped talking to the other members of the band and was studying them.
Shamus had gotten himself a beer. He lifted his plastic cup to them. “Best priest around. No bullshit with him. He tells it like it is and lives in the real world. I’m not saying he tells everyone to go off and sin or anything like that. He just recognizes real life for what it is and accepts everyone just as she or he is, gay, straight, white, black or whatever.”
“He’s a good guy,” Quinn agreed. “He must be pleased to have you as one of his parishioners?”
“Hope so.”
“Back onstage,” Tyler announced. “Break time is over.”
The night passed, and everything went well, Quinn thought. It was a pity, really, that they were only there hoping to catch a killer, because it kept him from losing himself in the music as much as he wanted to. By the time the crowd thinned out and Friday night was just a memory, Danni was in her element, joking around with Tyler onstage, and harmonizing easily no matter which of the two lead singers—Tyler or Shamus—took a song.
It was after 3:00 a.m. when they quit for the night. As the rest of the band packed up their equipment, Tyler walked over to them. “The guys want to head down to Café du Monde. You guys game?”
“Sounds great,” Quinn said, and Danni nodded in agreement.
In another half an hour they were heading through Jackson Square and on to Decatur. Most of the night’s partyers had gone on to their homes, hotels or bed-and-breakfasts, but a few people still straggled along the street. Quinn looked back toward the square and the cathedral rising high in the night sky. There was something peaceful about the scene. The equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson grandly guarded the center of the square as usual. He always loved to find the right position in front of that statue just as the sun was falling and see the cathedral rising majestically behind it.
The carriage drivers had called it quits for the night, as well. Everything seemed especially serene.