He didnt want to adjust.
But he would.
5
A year and a day.
That thought kept going through Nikkis head as she stood in the graveyard. Andrea hadnt hailed from New Orleans, but she didnt have any family left anywhere else, either. Shed been orphaned, like Nikki, and had grown up in a series of foster homes.
There had been no one to call. Andrea had been out of school for two years, traveling and taking odd jobs along the way. Shed left no names to contact in any kind of an emergency. She had gone to Tulane and probably still had friends in the area, but who they were and how they could be reached, Nikki hadnt had the faintest idea.
And because there was no place Andrea had called home and no one she had called family, Nikki had decided that she would take care of all the arrangements.
So Andy was being buried in Nikkis family vault, since there was plenty of room and no one left to fill it. The DuMondes had lived in the area since the late 1700s. Where her very early ancestors had been buried, Nikki didnt know. But in the 1800s they had acquired a plot in the Garden District. Someone at some time had put some money into the family mausoleum. Giant angels guarded the wrought-iron doors to the elaborate family tomb that boasted the name DuMonde in large chiseled letters.
The last interment had been her parents, killed in an automobile accident when she had been a toddler, and her grandparents, gone just a few years ago.
As she stood in front of the door, she realized that it was truly sad, but she barely remembered either her mother or her father. She had pictures, of course, and because of the pictures, she had convinced herself that she remembered much more than she really did.
A year and a day
The time it took for the fierce New Orleans heat to cremate the earthly remains of a once-living soul. Then the ashes could be scraped back into a holding cell in the niche within the vault, and a new body could be interred. There were actually twelve burial vaults within the family mausoleum. Nikki had decided that Andrea should be buried with her own folks. She certainly didnt believe that corpses or remains could find comfort with one another, but it made her feel a little better to know that they would be interred together.
Of course, funerals were for the living.
Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They all thought she was in serious shock. She was. They all thought it was because she and Andy had bonded so quickly. It wasnt.
She had liked Andrea, really liked her. But none of them had known her more than a few weeks.
It was partly because Nikki was convinced Andrea had been murdered, no matter what anyone else said or thought. But there was more.
It wasnt the fact that a monster was out there, still at liberty, unknown by the police, that was the greatest horror.
It was the dream.
Sweetie, its over, Julian whispered to her. Set your flower on the coffin.
She nodded, swallowing. And set the flower on the coffin.
The funeral had cost a mint, a mint she didnt really have. But the rest of the group had been wonderful, contributing what they could, and Max had told her to take whatever she needed from the corporate account.
After she set her flower down, she turned. The glass-enclosed, horse-drawn hearse, empty now, remained on the dirt path that led from the street to the vault. The band began to playa typical New Orleans band, a small group that Nikki was convinced would have meant a great deal to Andrea. It hadnt exactly been a full-blown New Orleans jazz funeral, but it had been close.
Andy had wanted to be a part of the real New Orleans.
Now she was.
Andrea had been dead for four days. Despite the fact that an autopsy had been not only demanded by Nikki but required by law, nothing the ME had been able to tell them had shed any light on the situation. Nikki had continued to insist to Massey that there had been a killer.
To her relief, he didnt try to convince her that she was simply in denial, grieving for the loss of a friend. Perhaps he didnt believe her, but he had at least gone through the motions of an investigation.
All they knew was that Andrea had gone to Pat OBriens with her friends, and at 2:00 a.m. they had parted company.
What had happened after that, none of them knew.
The police had found herforcing the door of her apartment at the insistence of Mrs. Montobelloat nine oclock in the morning. Andy had checked in with Mrs. Montobello with such regularity that the woman had been worried, and rightly so.
Andy had no longer been clad in the short sassy skirt and bandeau top she had been wearing when they celebrated. She had been in a New Orleans Saints shirt and nothing else.
Just as Nikki had seen her.
She had been found with a needle and other drug paraphernalia at her side. The only prints found in her place could be traced to her friends, and even those had been sparse. Many surfaces had been wiped clean. Nikki knew that some of the officers involved in the case believed that was because Andy had recently cleaned the apartment. Thankfully, Massey seemed to find it a bit suspicious.
Butother than that
There had been no forced entry, nothing to show that anyone else had been with her that night. There was nothing.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Or, if the police did have anything, they werent sharing.
Nikki didnt think any of her own friends believed her. They had tried, however, to help her cover any possible angle. They had all spent hours in the police station, trying to remember if they had seen anyone, anyone at all, looking at Andrea oddly or threateningly. Hard to decide, though they did remember the sandy-haired guy who might have been looking at Nikki herself. Admittedly, they had all been smashed.
Even Andy.
Oh, God, please let it be that she didnt feel fear and pain, Nikki thought.
Had Andy been followed home? By someone who had been watching her at the bar? Or by someone who had seen her on the streets as she walked home.
Were the others right, when they looked at her with sympathy, thinking that she just couldnt accept the fact that Andy had fallen back into using? God knew, it was easy enough to buy whatever drugs you might want.
No. There had been someone else, someone who had forced the drug on Andy.
Mrs. Montobello hadnt heard a thing, which wasnt surprising. She couldnt hear a bomb go off without her hearing aid, which she wouldnt have been wearing at four oclock in the morning. She was here now, softly crying into an embroidered handkerchief. Andy had always been so good to her, checking up on her, bringing her gourmet treats and other little presents. Poor Mrs. Montobello was really going to miss Andy. But as to being much help when it came to the investigationwell, she wasnt any.
The account executive who lived above Andy had been in New York on business. The single mother of two next to him had taken her toddlers to her mothers house. So there had been no one in Andys quaint Victorian manor who might have heard anything, or have any clue as to what had happened.
The police had posted an appeal in the newspaper seeking anyone who might have seen Andy that night. And people had come in, trying to be helpful with stories about any strange character they might have met.
In New Orleans, that could be practically anybody.
The police were at a loss. As far as Nikki knew, the crime scene investigation department had gone over Andys apartment with the best forensics available. They hadnt found as much as a hair that might help unravel the mystery of her death. Not a single clue.
Naturally, Nikki had kept silent about her strange dream. She could barely remember it, anywayother than the fact that Andy had been there at the foot of her bed. But she hadnt been there. She had been either dead or dying by that time.
She was pretty sure, though, that even as they went through the motions, the police believed that Andys death had been self-inflicted, even if accidentally so. Still, Massey had assured Nikki that, as tragic and frustrating as it was, finding a murderer could take a long time. Months or even years. Though Detective Massey didnt say it, she knew that far too often a killer was never discovered and walked away free.
That made her think that maybe she should mention her dream to someone. The only person she had told was Julian, and he had looked at her with such incredulity that she had immediately felt foolish. Julian had gone on to warn her that telling her bizarre tale would either make the police think she was a kook who had been giving her own tours for too long or a suspicious individual herself.
But the dream bothered her on a daily basis. No. Hourly. Constantly.
She felt a pang in her heart that was so sharp it might have been delivered by a knife.
Oh, God, Andy, I cant stop believing that you came to me for help.
And I failed you.
She closed her eyes tightly as she stood near the coffin, desperately trying to remember everything that she had seen that night.
Nikki.
It was Patricia, looking at her with dampened eyes. Come on, now. Let them finish.
Nikki nodded and looked around. The funeral had been small, but a few people had made it. There were her neighbors, and even Madame DOrso from the coffee shop, and a few other local business owners.
As always, there were the curious, tourists, who happened to be at the cemetery and slipped in to join the crowd at the service.
A stretch limo awaited their group, and Nikki knew it was time to walk away.
She looked back. The cemetery workers were in the tomb, getting ready to slide the remains into the appropriate vault.
The band played to the end.
They drove back into the French Quarter, and then went through another ritual, the after-service gathering at Madame DOrsos.
Madame was in her element. Tall and buxom, with her silver hair swept high on top of her head, she took charge naturally. She had liked Andy. Besides, it was her place. Nikki realized that she was one of the few people who knew that Madames real name was Debra Smith and shed actually had ancestors come over on the Mayflower. But a pretense of being French was a good thing for business in the French Quarter.
She had come through today, closing her café in the morning, then opening in honor of Andrea in the afternoon.
Julian, Nathan, Mitch and Patricia were trying to do what was usually done on such occasions, remember the person with affection and a smile.
It wasnt easy, when some people clearly thought it was her own fault for being a junkie.
People cared, but Nikki knew, too, that most of them would not think about that day much after they had returned to their regular lives.
At last, as the hour grew late, people began to leave.
Madame, who had truly been the perfect hostess, settled tiredly into a chair by Nikki. She patted her hand where it lay on the table. Come on, child, she said. Andy wouldnt want you to be morose forever.
Nikki nodded. No, of course, youre right.
Madame smoothed a stray lock of hair from Nikkis face. Youre plumb ashen, girl. Pale as if youd seen a ghost.
Nikkis brows arched. Julian, who was standing nearby, turned and stared at Nikki.
She frowned back at him, then turned to Madame.
Heydo you remember that last day when Andy and I were in here? she asked.
Well, vaguely, Madame said. You all come in most days, you know.
I know, but that day, there was akind of a bum hanging around. He looked as if hed be good looking if he had a bath and a haircut.
Madame looked at her blankly.
You must have seen him, Nikki persisted. I asked you about him, so I figured you would have noticed him when you went back inside.
Honey, I see lots of folks. And we get our share of bums. If one passed out on my floor, Id have the police in so fast he wouldnt even get to exhale. Other than that, I doubt Id notice.
He must have come and gone while you were busy, Nikki murmured.
Madame smiled. Do you know what I do remember? Andy teasing you about the fact that you needed to get yourself a fellow.
Thats when the guy was in here, Nikki said triumphantly.
Honey, Im really sorry, I dont know why its so important, but I really didnt see him.
Julian, frowning, took a chair at the table. Nikkido you think the guy followed you and Andy? Maybe thats something you should report to the police.
She shook her head, aware that Julians gray gaze was intense and serious. You guys were sitting out here when Andy and I brought out the beignets and coffee, and you didnt see himdid you?
Nobut we werent paying any attention. We werent paying any attention that night, either, Julian said ruefully.
Patricia came over and slid into another chair. She, too, patted Nikkis hand. You holding up?
Im fine, she murmured. Patricia, you did make sure that any tours for tonight were rescheduled, right?
Yes, I did. I spoke with Max, just as you told me, and he apologized again for not being here, by the way, she said, offering Nikki a weak smile. She shrugged. We had no problem reschedulingthere was a mention about the funeral in the paper. People she glanced dryly at Julian even tourists, tend to be sympatheticstill curious, yes, but sympathetic.
Did everyone reschedule? Nikki asked.
Oh, yeah, Patricia said.
Those sympathetic tourists are sure well be the best tour out there now, Julian said, and flashed a stern look at Patricia.
What was that look all about? Nikki demanded.
Patricia stared at Julian, then shook her head with a sigh. Oh, one woman said that she was certain the spirit of our departed comrade would remain with us on our tours, making them even better, she murmured.
How awful, Madame breathed.
Some people are just heartless that way, Mitch said, sliding into another chair at the large round wrought-iron table. Hey, he said pragmatically, some of the stories we tell are pretty grim. Its just that nowwell, now Andys part of it, whether we like it or not.
We will never, ever mention Andy on a tour! Nikki said fiercely.
Of course not, but, Nikki, in our business, you know that this will come up, Mitch reminded her. He offered her an ironic smile. Mitch wasnt as dramatic a guide as either Julian or Nathan, but his knowledge of the area was inexhaustible. He had a wonderful all-American, corn-fed look, ash-blond, flyaway hair, bright blue eyes, handsome face. He was very popular with the younger crowd. Nikki was certain that they often had repeat local customers just because a certain teenage crowd loved to follow him around the city.
He frowned, looking at her suddenly. We will never, ever mention Andy, he agreed. He hesitated, clearing his throat. Im sorry, you knew her much better than we did. She was only with us a few weeks. Nikki, are you doing all right?