“So they fought?” Quinn asked.
“No, I told you, Arnie wouldn’t have fought over something like that. He mostly thought it was funny. He said everyone just kind of stared, ’cause when it came to the sax, no one was better than Arnie. Supposedly he had a magic sax.” Kevin was quiet for a minute, smiling at a memory. “Arnie said it did have magic—the magic of the love his grandmother gave him.”
“Whether it’s true or not, our killer thinks the sax is really magic, the kind of magic that makes everyone who plays it better,” Danni said. “That’s our theory, at any rate. Do you have any idea what he might have done with that sax? Did he have a hiding place? Could he have given it to one of the men he served with?”
“No. Arnie had the sax overseas, but he took it home with him. To the best of my knowledge, at least.” He paused for a moment then nodded toward the harpist. “She’s good, but nothing can touch Arnie’s smooth jazz.”
“Well, no one can ever be Arnie or play like Arnie,” Quinn said. “But the B-Street Bombers are good. A friend of ours is playing sax with them now, along with Tyler. You’ve got to hear them sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Kevin said.
“You’ve met Tyler, right?”
“Sure. When we were on base in Kuwait, the USO set up a bunch of Skype calls for us. I’ve talked to Tyler. I even said I’d be coming to New Orleans to hear him play one day.”
“You’ve still got to come. I have a big house,” Danni said.
“We even have an extra house. I have a place in the Garden District. Barely use it anymore,” Quinn said.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day. I have to visit Arnie’s grave, you know?” Kevin said. “Pay my respects. But for now, while I’m stuck in this place, don’t hesitate to call.” He gave them his cell number.
“We appreciate it,” Quinn said. “And we will call if we think of anything else.”
Major Johnson seemed to know that the conversation was finished. He came over and told Quinn and Danni, “Just in case we get caught in traffic, I’d better get you to the airport. Hattie made me promise not to let you miss your plane. Kevin, you need any help with anything?”
Kevin shook his head. “I’m good.” He stood up and shook their hands. “You call me. For anything.”
“Thank you,” Danni said.
As they left the cafeteria, she turned back to wave to Kevin and saw him staring at the harpist, a smile on his face. He must have sensed her attention, because he turned to her, still smiling, and waved.
She thought there was something infinitely sad in his smile. On impulse, she ran back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
“I told you I would do anything to—”
“No, I mean, thank you for serving our country. Please do come visit. We’d love to show our appreciation.”
“Will do,” he promised her.
Danni hurried to catch up with Quinn and Johnson. Quinn was looking back, and she saw him meet Kevin’s eyes. The two men saluted at the same time, and Danni realized they shared something she would never really understand.
*
“Maybe I was crazy to think it was so important to talk to Kevin,” Danni said. “I’m not sure what we learned.”
She was looking out the plane window. Quinn reached over and touched her cheek. “Sometimes what we didn’t learn is as important as what we did.”
She laughed softly and drew a pattern on the window. “And what didn’t we learn?”
“Well, we can be sure that sax is somewhere in New Orleans.”
“Are we really sure of that?”
“Okay, maybe it’s more of a theory, but every investigation has to operate on theory until there’s proof. But from everything we’ve learned, Arnie was a really good guy. He was friends with everyone. He liked the guys in his unit, and he was best friends with Kevin. But he didn’t give the saxophone to anyone he served with, so that means it’s most likely in New Orleans.”
“Do you think that sax can really be magic?” Danni asked him. “And what if that magic can be used for evil?”
He was thoughtful. “Even if it can, whoever is after it doesn’t have it yet. And you and I have seen enough to know that sometimes there are things we can’t really explain. But some magic...” He paused. “Some magic may be nothing more than our belief in something—an outcome, an ability—manifesting as reality.”
“You’re talking about self-fulfilling prophecies,” Danni said.
“In a way,” he told her. “I’m just saying that in this case, I think we’re talking about belief. Arnie became such a phenomenal player because he believed his sax was special, even magic. It’s pretty astounding what we can do when we believe in ourselves.”
She gave him an enigmatic smile and turned back to the window. He squeezed her hand, and she looked back at him curiously.
“And each other,” he added softly.
She lowered her head, nodding. “I’ve always believed in you.”