Danni smiled. Billie and Hattie had not begun their relationship as friends. Now, however, the two “spent a wee bit of time together, here and there,” as Billie put it.
When the song ended the applause was almost deafening. Tyler and the other band members bowed, accustomed to the approval of crowds. Billie blushed and did the same, and then noticed that Hattie had joined Father Ryan and Natasha, and his blush turned darker than a barrel of boiled crawfish.
He was due to sit out a few numbers, and Danni grinned at him as he left the stage to join the others. It was fun to watch him head for the table and greet Hattie.
During the next break she went to join them. Because the table was small, the band headed to the bar for the break.
Billie was sitting close to Hattie, looking just a little awkward. Hattie didn’t seem to notice, but then, Hattie could manage herself in any situation.
“Dreadful, what’s going on,” she whispered to Danni, and Danni was suddenly certain the woman had come not to see Billie but because she’d heard that Danni was playing. Apparently, Father Ryan had the same impression.
“Anything here that I’m not seeing?” he asked Danni.
She kept her voice low. “No, or if there is, I’m not seeing it, either. But last night the killer stole some things from Jenny and Brad’s house. Instruments and sheet music. One of the instruments was a sax. I’m sure the killer is looking for Arnie Watson’s special sax.”
“And Tyler really has no idea of where it is?” Natasha asked.
“Not a clue,” Danni said.
“Strange, when you consider Tyler was his closest friend,” Father Ryan mused.
“He mentioned that Arnie was close with one of his army friends. Kevin Hart, a guy from Houma. Unfortunately, we can’t just drive over and talk to him. He’s at Walter Reed.”
“Injured?” Father Ryan asked.
“Severely. He lost a leg, so he’s being fitted for a prosthesis and getting physical therapy. He’s been there six months. He rotated out with Arnie,” Danni said. “Tyler said that he’d like to see Kevin, too. Actually, he thinks the whole band should go and play for the patients. I don’t know if that’s possible, but it’s certainly one way to make the trip seem casual. But I don’t know if we need to make it casual. Although if he doesn’t believe we’re all really looking out for Arnie’s reputation, he may not talk to us.”
Hattie waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I’ve been there many times. As you know, my late husband and I were quite fond of giving his money away. I could never see a better cause than helping those who fought for our country. If you wish to go and entertain them, just let me know.” She offered Danni a wry grin. “I know all the right people. No doubt you could find the right people yourselves, but I can speed things up for you.”
“I don’t know,” Danni said. “I’ll have to talk to Quinn.”
“Just let me know, dear,” Hattie said.
Tyler called to Danni, and she headed back up onstage. When Billie came up for his next number, he definitely looked nervous. Danni loved that he cared so much now that Hattie was in the room. She whispered to him, “Just believe that it is Arnie’s special sax.”
He gave her a smile, then played beautifully.
The night wore on. Bit by bit, the crowd thinned, though Father Ryan, Natasha and Hattie were still hanging in. Finally Tyler announced the last song.
The waitresses and Eric were trying hard to clean up quickly, so as soon as she was done helping the band, Danni quickly collected all the glasses her group had used and brought them up to the bar. Eric offered her a smile of gratitude. “I never mind the hours,” he told her. “But when it’s time to leave...well, it’s time to leave.”
“I don’t blame you,” she told him, looking around. “You here alone now? I don’t see Jessica or any of the other waitresses.”
“I always let them go as soon as I can,” he said. “See you tomorrow?”
“I think so,” she told him.
“But no Quinn?”
She laughed. “Probably not—status quo for a while, I think, and then we may start sitting in somewhere else. But who knows? We aren’t real musicians, anyway.”
He laughed. “Define real when it comes to anything in the arts,” he said. “You look and sound real enough to me up there. And your man can play a mean guitar. Your friend is really good, too.”
“He is, isn’t he? He learned the bagpipes first—guess that explains why he’s full of hot air,” she joked. Eric grinned, and she told him good-night.
When she returned to the table it was empty. Max had just come in, leaving his post at the door. She bade him good-night, too, and realized that Billie and the rest of her friends, along with the band, were standing outside on a litter-strewn and rapidly emptying Bourbon Street. Here and there people still laughed and walked—or staggered—along, off to get pizza or beignets, or heading back to wherever they were going to rest their heads.
“You hungry, love?” Shamus asked.