The Dead Play On

At that moment, at least, Blake appeared to be just as concerned about the Watsons as everyone else.

 

“We need to stay together, just like we’ve been doing,” Blake said. “See each other home, watch the damned door. Hey, I wonder if that police press conference about the killer dressing up in a trench coat and a mask scared him off from breaking in, at least when people are home.”

 

“Maybe,” Tyler said.

 

“Maybe he’ll just change his mask,” Gus said.

 

They all looked at him.

 

“Hey, this is Mardi Gras town—the guy could dress up as the Statue of Liberty and no one would notice him.”

 

That was probably true, Danni thought. “Let’s hope he doesn’t,” she said.

 

Father Ryan, Natasha and Pastor Cooke had already found themselves a table a little distance from the stage, so she walked over to sit with them for a minute.

 

Jessica arrived at the table just after she did. She looked at Danni, her eyes wide, and asked the same question Shamus had. “You heard what happened to the Watson house?”

 

Danni nodded.

 

“So awful. They’re such nice people. It’s horrible. I guess not as horrible as—” She broke off, shaking her head, and tried to smile. After all, Bourbon Street was synonymous with having a good time, and waitresses weren’t supposed to be grim and shivering. She teased about them not being much of a drinking crowd, seeing as there were two clergymen in the mix, and Father Ryan laughed and told her that he liked wine, just not that night.

 

Then Jessica turned to Danni. “Did you have a chance to work on those duets yet?”

 

“No,” Danni apologized. “But I will. I swear.” That gave her a great opening, so she hopped up and followed Jessica to the bar.

 

Startled when she realized Danni was right behind her, Jessica turned. “Did I forget something?” she asked.

 

“No, I just...I wanted to ask you a few questions about Arnie,” Danni said.

 

“Arnie?” Jessica repeated, her voice soft and something cloudy in her eyes. “What can I tell you? He was a great sax player, a great musician. And one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

 

“Did you ever go out with him?” Danni asked.

 

Jessica blushed and set her tray on the bar. “Arnie? No, no, we were friends, just friends. Did someone tell you we were dating or something? I don’t think anyone would say that. Because we weren’t. Why? Why do you ask?”

 

“Oh, I talked to a friend of his today, and apparently there was someone special in his life,” Danni said.

 

“I never saw him with anyone, but... Eric?” Jessica said. The bartender was just placing a glass of seltzer with a squeeze of lime in front of a customer at the bar. “Did you ever see Arnie in here with a woman? Did he have something going on that maybe you knew about?”

 

Eric turned their way. “Arnie was a good-looking guy. He had that bad-boy smile, even though he wasn’t a bad boy at all. Lots of girls liked him.”

 

“But no one special that you know of?” Danni asked.

 

Eric and Jessica looked at each other then shook their heads in unison.

 

“Sorry, Danni. I don’t know of anyone,” Eric said.

 

“What about Sharon Eastman, the woman who helps you out on the weekends?” Danni asked him.

 

Once again, Eric and Jessica looked at one another.

 

“I know she liked Arnie,” Jessica said.

 

“And Arnie liked her,” Eric said. “But not like that, as far as I know.” Eric shook his head. “You’ll have to ask her, though, and she’s not back in until Thursday night.”

 

“Thanks,” she told them.

 

“Danni!” Tyler called to her.

 

They were about to go on for the night, she realized.

 

Being backup, she spent a lot of time just moving to the music or shaking the tambourine. She prayed that her eyes wouldn’t close and that she wouldn’t fall asleep onstage.

 

As the night went on, the neon lights in the bar began blending together, and the music became a sonic blur.

 

“Hey! You all right?”

 

Danni started. It was Blake.

 

She smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

 

“We’re taking a break.”

 

“Oh. Oh!”

 

She walked off the stage. Tyler caught her by the arm and walked her to the table. “Danni needs to get home,” he told Father Ryan.

 

“No, I’m fine, really.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Tyler said. “It’s a Monday night, quiet as a graveyard, and I know you haven’t slept. Father Ryan, why don’t you and Pastor Cooke go on ahead with Danni? We’ll be cutting things short tonight, anyway.”

 

“And what about me, Mr. Tyler Anderson?” Natasha demanded indignantly.

 

“My deepest apologies!” Tyler said dramatically. “You’re young, so I figure you’re accustomed to keeping later hours.”

 

“I’ll have you know I’m not about to move into senior housing yet!” Father Ryan said.

 

“No, no, it’s just that you’ve been such a trouper, and I’m sure you’re not usually up so late this many nights in a row,” Tyler said, desperately trying to talk his way out of the verbal mess he’d made, albeit with the best of intentions.

 

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