The Dead Play On

“But?”

 

 

“I know you. You look after your own. Mostly, you try to do it all by yourself. Sleep or you’ll be worthless. I’ll station a patrol car out in front of your place, but make sure someone is awake and watching at your place at all times.”

 

“Will do,” Quinn promised him and rang off.

 

“What now?” Danni asked.

 

Quinn smiled. “He told me to go to bed. I’m all for that suggestion.”

 

“Don’t grin at me like that. We’re both keeling over.”

 

“I’m not grinning. I’m contemplating bed.”

 

She laughed. “And I’m contemplating sleep!”

 

“Let’s do it, shall we?” he asked her.

 

“Sex or sleep?” she countered.

 

“Both?”

 

“We’ll see, but let’s get home first, okay?”

 

Wolf barked in agreement.

 

They returned to the house, where they told the others what they had discovered and what Larue had said. Bo Ray said he would open the shop in the morning, so he was going up to bed, and Woodrow promised to stay on guard until morning. After that, everyone said their good-nights and dispersed.

 

In the bedroom a few minutes later, Danni threw her arms around Quinn’s neck. “I’m surprised you didn’t give me a hard time about going with you just now,” she told him.

 

“No,” he said. “I didn’t. So do I get a reward?”

 

She twirled away from him, strewing clothing behind her as she made her way to the bed.

 

He sat on the bed, grinning, to take off his own clothes.

 

But when he turned around, he saw that Danni had only gotten so far.

 

She was sound asleep, shoes and jeans off, shirt and underwear still on.

 

He pulled the covers up around her. His head barely hit the pillow before he was sleeping himself.

 

*

 

Larue and Quinn were back at the courtyard the next morning, talking to the owner or manager of every shop. Everyone had been vague; they were each responsible for locking up their own shops. The last person out was supposed to lock the gate. So far, none of them seemed concerned. If someone had been in the courtyard, so what? Their shops had all been locked. And nothing had been taken, so they couldn’t understand why it was so important to the police that someone had forgotten to lock the gate.

 

They’d left the café for last.

 

“Who’s responsible for locking the café each night?” Quinn asked Rafael Payne, manager of the Courtyard Café. “Someone was definitely in here. That should concern you.”

 

“Well, of course it concerns me,” Payne said. “I just don’t know why you’re so concerned. Nothing was taken.”

 

“Someone got away through your café, and I’m pretty sure he knew he’d have an escape route,” Quinn said.

 

Payne lifted his hands in exasperation. “Who? Why? And since nothing was touched, what makes you so sure anyone was even in here? This is like—like police harassment!”

 

“A killer might have escaped through this café and you don’t care?” Quinn asked, aggravated.

 

“Was someone killed last night?” Payne asked, a worried look on his brow at last. He was in his midthirties, with well-muscled arms and a harried expression.

 

“Not last night,” Larue said.

 

“Then what are you talking about?” Payne asked.

 

“A suspect was seen on the street, and he escaped through your shop,” Larue said.

 

“Look, I don’t know how or why it was left open. Someone got careless, that’s all I know. Really. At the end of a day...we’re tired. We make mistakes. And we’re not the last ones to leave the area, you know. The boutique in front closes late—really late. Their stuff is high-end. They wait for a lot of people who work downtown to come after they get off. That shop is open until at least nine most nights. Why don’t you harass them?”

 

“We need to know who left that door open,” Quinn said, pointing to the café’s front door.

 

Payne hesitated and then exploded. “Me, it was probably me, all right? But I’m not the one who left the gate to the street open. You’ll have to find someone else to blame that on! What, am I under arrest or something for forgetting to lock up?”

 

“Did you do it on purpose?” Quinn asked him.

 

“No!” Payne said.

 

“It’s aiding and abetting, if you did,” Larue said.

 

“It is not—there was no crime last night,” Payne protested.

 

He was right, of course. It was stretching to think there could be any charge against this man.

 

Quinn looked at Larue.

 

“Thank you for your time,” Larue said. “But if you think of anything...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call the police right away.”

 

Larue looked aggravated. Quinn caught his eye, and Larue shook his head in disgust. Quinn gave it a try. “No one asked you to leave your doors unlocked?”

 

“No. It was a stupid mistake. And I probably wouldn’t even have noticed if you hadn’t come and made a big deal out of it.”

 

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