“Well, let me see,” Danni murmured, studying the photo. “Millie Arliss is a violinist in New York City now. I know because she’s my friend on Facebook.”
“And Gail Wicker,” Jenny said, pointing out another woman. “She’s teaching music at the University of Miami.”
“George Hensen is currently touring with a production of The Lion King,” Brad offered, pointing at another student.
“And Kyle Mason still plays somewhere in Austin, but he went on to law school and became a maritime attorney,” Danni offered, seeing another friend she chatted with now and then on social media. “David Dumfries went to California and Gig ‘Peewee’ Mason wound up being a host at a casino in Las Vegas.”
“That’s it, that’s everyone,” Jenny said.
“Except there are some kids with books in the background talking to each other,” Quinn pointed out. “And a dog-walker over there.”
“But they weren’t part of the Survivor Set,” Jenny said. “We called ourselves the Survivor Set, but in a way, we were really the Outsider Set.”
Quinn, Danni saw, was frowning. “Who is that by the tree?” he asked.
She peered closely at the picture. There was someone just behind a big oak that was dripping with Spanish moss. He was barely visible, and his face was turned away. “I have no idea.”
Brad and Jenny strained to see the picture more clearly, but they couldn’t identify the mysterious figure, either.
“Do you remember anyone hanging around, watching you, that day?” Quinn asked.
“No,” Brad said.
“We were just kids,” Jenny reminded him. “Kind of clinging to one another. And I guess we weren’t all that observant.”
“He’s young, whoever he is,” Quinn said.
“How the hell can you tell that?” Danni asked him.
“The stance. Looks like his body was long and lanky, like a typical teenage boy. The shoulders are a little hunched. Kids stand like that. Especially boys who grow tall fast and are often thin and awkward. I’d say he was your age or maybe a year or two older—closer to Arnie’s age,” he said.
Danni studied the picture again then looked at Quinn and shook her head. “I still have absolutely no idea.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t, either,” Brad said.
“We might be looking at the killer,” Quinn told them quietly. As he spoke, his phone rang. He excused himself to answer it.
The rest of them looked at one another. “So none of us has any idea who the kid in the picture is?” Jenny asked.
“I don’t,” Danni said, and Brad shook his head, as well.
Quinn walked back into the kitchen. “That was Larue with some ballistics info. The gun the killer used when he robbed Lily, Jeff and Rowdy fired 9 millimeter bullets, which we suspected. Larue thinks it was a Glock 19.”
“That’s what you got me,” Danni reminded him.
“It’s a very popular gun,” he said. He looked knowingly at Brad.
“Yes, I own one, too,” Brad said.
Quinn nodded. “You own one, Danni owns one. And so do Gus and your own bandmate Steve,” he said, looking from Brad to Jenny.
“Yes, but the night Jenny was attacked, I was driving Steve and Luis home,” Brad reminded him.
“Where does Steve live?” Quinn asked.
“Treme, just the other side of Rampart Street,” Brad said.
“And Luis?”
“Farther up in the Garden District.”
“That could have given Steve time to hop in a car and get to your place,” Quinn said.
“It could have, but it didn’t,” Jenny said passionately. “Steve would never hurt me or Brad.”
“Someone is doing this,” Quinn said.
“Then look at Gus,” Brad argued. “He’s with the B-Street Bombers. He would have been closer to Arnie, would have known all about Arnie’s special sax. He could have followed him after the bar closed for the night. Why aren’t you thinking about him?”
“Oh, I am thinking about him,” Quinn said. “We have to follow every possible lead.”
“Yes, well, you can follow Gus really easily now, since you’ve decided to leave us for the B-Street Bombers and La Porte Rouge,” Jenny said, a subtle note of reproach in her tone.
But Quinn didn’t seem to be bothered by it. “Do you know who’s seeing whom home now that you’ve both been staying here?”
“No,” Brad admitted.
“Then maybe we should find out,” Quinn said.
*
Truthfully, Quinn’s gut led him to believe—as Brad had suggested—that Gus Epstein was the more likely suspect. Still, he intended to make sure that someone kept an eye on Steve.
Not long before it was time to leave for the night, he received another call, this one from Father Ryan, who told him that he would be stopping by the house. He said he wanted to talk to Quinn before Natasha joined him for a night at La Porte Rouge.
Quinn met Father Ryan outside on Royal Street. The priest appeared to be gravely concerned.
“Not sure how to do this, because anything I learn in the confessional is strictly confidential between man and God,” Father Ryan told him.