Billie might have been perfectly cast as Riff Raff in a Rocky Horror remake or as an aging Ichabod Crane. He was as skinny as his mentor and employer had been robust. Billie had steel-gray eyes and a shock of neck-length white hair and was dressed in jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. He must have been a startling and imposing figure to a Versace-clad and perfectly manicured matron like Gladys Simon.
But Gladys didnt seem to notice anything about Billie at all. She rushed over to him.
You buy antiquities, unusual items, dont you? You have to buy the bust from meyou must buy it from me. No, no, you dont need to buy it. You can have it. Please, come to my house and take the bust away. It belongs in a place like this!
Billie glanced briefly at Quinn, a frown furrowing his wrinkled brow. Id love to help you, maam. Im not the owner, but
Oh, dear! Thats right! she said with a gasp. But...the owner died, didnt he? Oh, please tell me the new owner is available...please! I must... I cant live with that thing anymore....
Now, try to calm down, Mrs....?
Simon. Gladys Simon. It was my husbands. Hes dead now. Hes dead because of that...thing!
Please calm down, Mrs. Simon, he said again. The object is a bust?
Yes, very oldand exquisite, really.
You want to give me an old and exquisite piece? Billies voice was incredulous.
Are you deaf, sir? she shrieked. YesI must be rid of it!
By then, the womans frantic tone had drawn the new owner from her studio in the back of the store.
Quinn had watched her on the day of Angus Caffertys funeral. He had chosen not to approach her then; he had kept his distance when Cafferty was laid to rest in the Scottish vault at the old cemeterythe City of the Dead, where he had long stated he would go when the time came. Thered been a piper at the grave site, but Cafferty was accompanied by the traditional New Orleans jazz band and a crowd of friends to his final resting place. Hed been loved by many in the city. Of course, a tourist or twoor ten or twentyfascinated by the ritual, had joined in, as well. The vaults in the cemetery didnt allow for the immediate grouping around the grave that was customary at in-ground burials, so hed been able to hover on the edges of the crowd, paying his own respects from afar.
There was no doubt that the mans daughter had been devastated. And there was no doubt that she was old Anguss daughtershe had his startling dark blue eyes and sculpted features, finer and slimmer, but still a face that spoke of her parentage. Her hair was a rich auburn, brushing her shoulders, a color that might well have been Anguss oncewhen hed had pigment in his hair. Despite her grief, she hadnt seemed fragile or broken, which gave him hope. Though she was slim, she was a good five-nine and might just possess some of the old mans inner strength.
As she walked to the front of the shop, she was frowning slightly, obviously perplexed by the commotion. She wore jeans and a short-sleeved tailored shirt and somehow appeared casual and yet naturally elegant. She moved with an innate grace.
Gladys heard her coming and turned to her. Youyoure the owner?
Yes, Im Danni Cafferty. May I help you?
Oh, yes, you certainly may. I know your father was intrigued by historic objects. I never met him but I read that his shop acquired the most unusual and...historic objects, she repeated. You must come and take the bust.
Mrs. Simon, we dont just take anything.
Its priceless! You must take it.
Mrs. Simon, I didnt say we wouldnt buy it. Its that we dont take things. Danni looked at the woman, assessing her with a smile. I cant believe this is such an emergency that
The bust killed my husband! Gladys Simon broke in.
Danni raised perfectly arched brows. Do you mean that...that it was used to strike him? If thats the case, the bust might well be evidence
No! Mrs. Simon cried. You are not your father!
Danni seemed to freeze, calling on reserves of hard-fought control and dignity. No, Mrs. Simon, I am not my father. But if you wish to bring this bust in
No! I wont touch it. You must come and get it.
Danni mulled that over for a minute, as if she was still fighting for control. Quinn noted that Gladys Simons shrill voice had alerted Jane, and the bookkeeper was coming hesitantly down the stairs, one of Angus Caffertys ebony nineteenth-century gentlemans canes in her hands. A good match for Billiealthough the two werent romantically linkedJane was slim and straight with iron-gray hair knotted at her nape and gold-rimmed spectacles. Shed been with Angus for the past two years or so, and though she hadnt been a confidant in the way Billie had, she was fiercely loyal to the Cafferty family.
Jane was ready for whatever danger threatened, but seeing Gladys, her slim frame and near-hysteria, she held her place on the stairs, watching Danni to see if she was needed.
Mrs. Simon, Im sorry, Danni said. Youre suffering from terrible grief, and I have a lot of empathy for you. But were not equipped to handle the psychological stages of that pain. Were a curio and collectibles shop and
Yes! You must take the bust.
Danni glanced at Billie, who was following the conversation with unabashed interest.
Mrs. Simon, she said gently. Is there someone we can call? A close friend, a relative? Perhaps a minister or a priest?
I need you to take the statue! Mrs. Simon said. Then she raged at Danni. Oh, you stupid, stupid girl!
Danni stiffened at the insult but, to her credit, took a deep breath and refused to reply, shaking her head with sorrow instead. Let us help you. Let us get you someone who can help you.
Gladys whirled around, starting for the door.
Mrs. Simon, if its so awful, why didnt you just get rid of it? Danni demanded.
Gladys stopped abruptly. She slowly turned around and walked toward her. Dont you think I tried? I threw it in the trash, and it was back in the study the next day. I dropped it in a Dumpster on Bourbon Street, and it was back the next day. I buried itand it was back!
She was delusionalor so she obviously appeared to Danielle Cafferty.
Mrs. Simon, really, you need to calm down, Danni said. Well go over and see the statue. Give me an address and well come this evening. We close at seven.
A sigh of sheer relief escaped Gladys and she dug into her handbag for a card, which she handed to Danni. Thank you...thank you. Youve saved my life!
Its just a bust...a statue...whatever, Mrs. Simon. Please relax. Everything will be fine.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! Gladys breathed.
And then she was gone.
Danni picked up the stores old-fashioned phone. She started dialing as Jane came the rest of the way down the stairs.
You all right, Danni? Jane didnt hide her concern.
Of course. But Im worried about that poor woman.
Who are you calling? Billie asked.
The police, Danni said. Someone needs to help that womanperhaps see that shes committed. Shes
It was time for Quinn to make his move and he did so swiftly, setting his thumb down on the disconnect button before she could dial three digits.
It was time for Quinn to make his move and he did so swiftly, setting his thumb down on the disconnect button before she could dial three digits.
Danni stared at him in total indignation. What the hell? Who are youwhat do you think youre doing?
Dont call the police just yet. Listen to me. The woman really needs your help. Ask Billie, Quinn said. I can try to follow her and get the damned thing, but Ive already tried to see her and talk to her. She knows about your father and the shop, so youre the one she needs to trust. You need to go and get the statue. But you dont have to deal with this alone. Ill be there.
Taken aback, she was still angry, but he saw sudden recognition in her smoldering gaze, along with shock and resentment.
Maybe he wasnt handling this well.
You...you were at my fathers funeral, she said.
He nodded. I was his friend. He was a good man. The best. And youre doing him a real disservice if you dont continue his work.
His work? His work was this shop and Im keeping it open. Listen, Im calling the police. That woman needs professional helpand I dont believe youre any more equipped to deal with her than I am, she said.
Billie? Quinn turned to Anguss long-time assistant.
Billie cleared his throat, looking at Danni. Um, yeah, I dont know how to explain it all, but your father wouldve gone out there and seen the statue.
Who is he? she asked Billie, inclining her head toward Quinn.
He is standing right here. Im Quinn. Michael Quinn, private investigator.
And youre investigating crazy ladies with statues? she asked sarcastically.
You should go see the bust, Danni, Billie said.
Whats the matter with both of you? If I dont call the police, Ill live with a guilty conscience forever. Shes deranged! She could be a danger to herself and others.
Quinn stepped back. By all means, then. Call the police. And maybe they can help her for a few hoursa few days. The danger will continue. I guarantee it.
Really? And youre so sure of this...how?
Because I worked with your father on occasion.
Her eyes narrowed. I dont know you, she told him.
Um, I do, Billie said. I know him.
Ive seen him with your father, too, Jane murmured. But I dont think you should trust him.
She should trust him. Yes, she should! Billie argued. No offense, Jane, but you were never part of Anguss real world. Youve barely been around two years and youre his bookkeeper, nothing more.
Well, I never! Jane said.
Jane is a wonderful employee and you will not stand here in my store and insult her! Danni said indignantly.
Angus trusted me implicitly, Jane declared.
Perhaps, Quinn said with a shrug. But thats not important right now.
Danni looked at him warily. You should state your business, your relationship with my father and then leave the store.
I helped him. He helped me. I guess Angus wanted to protect you, his little princess, Quinn said. Well, its a shame and its sad and its probably too late. He felt his anger growing, and he wasnt sure why. It wasnt really her fault if her father had chosen not to share the depths of his life with her.
But she should have figured out that he wasnt just a shopkeeper or a collector! How naive could she have been? On the other hand, maybe she hadnt been that naive. Maybe shed just been gone too much.
Like I said, I dont know you, and I was very close to my father! she began. Mrs. Simon is suffering and needs help but understand thisI am not trained or equipped to deal with mental illness, and I rather think you might have some problems in that area yourselfrather than being a person whos capable of dealing with it!
Call the police, then. Like I said, maybe they can at least buy her a few hours. Although Quinn ignored her insult, he felt his fingers knotting into fists. He had to get out of the shop. There was no chance hed offer unprovoked violence to anyone but he didnt want to break anything there. He studied her for a moment and added, If you come up with some sense, meet me at the Simon house at five. At fiveI dont care if youve closed or not. Billie handles the shop, anyway. He doesnt need you here.
With that, Quinn turned.
As the door closed behind him, he found himself shaking with emotion.
And some of it was anger.
Some of it was fear. Not for himself. Hed long since learned that fear, in itself, wasnt a bad thing. But a mans reaction to fear could be very bad indeed.
He was afraid for the future. He hadnt realized how much hed depended on Angus Cafferty.
* * *
Danni watched the stranger leave, puzzled and trembling inwardly with outrage, indignation, a painful sense of loss. And dread...
Shed been working until shed heard Gladys Simons strident voice. Working idly on the finishing touches to a painting. She assumed shed been inspired by a face shed seen on the streets of New Orleans. Dignified, aging, attractive, intriguing. But her painting was almost an exact image of the woman whod come into the shop.
It doesnt mean anything, she assured herself. It was just a resemblance. There were many such women in the South. Old-school, well-groomed and usually ruled by impeccable manners and propriety.
But...
She turned her thoughts to the man whod been in the shopas if hed followed Gladys in, as if hed known why she was coming. Yes, shed seen him at the funeral. Hed interested her. He hadnt exactly been hiding, but hed kept his distance from the family and other mourners. It would be difficult, she imagined, for a man like that to really blend into a crowd. He had to be six foot four, and he seemed to be solidly built but not too heavily muscled. He had neatly cropped sandy hair and hazel eyes that seemed to marble to a piercing shade of gold.
Who is he? she asked Billie.
And if he knew my father so well, she wondered silently, feeling a familiar sense of loss and pain, why did my father never tell me about him?
I was so blithely unaware! Completely focused on art...
Billie looked uncomfortable. He told you. His name is Michael Quinn. Hes a P.I. Used to be a cop with the NOPD, but he left the force to work for himself.
So what? she demanded. He worked with my dad to track down stolen objects or something like that? she asked.
Something like that, Billie said, his gaze sliding from hers.
Hmmph! Hes rude, Jane said, resting the cane shed brought down on the bar counter. Obnoxious. Like a crazy man. You should stay away from him!
No, you should listen to him, Billie insisted.
Jane shook her head. Report him to the police!
Ah, Jane. Youll argue with anything I suggest, Billie said, aggravated.
Well, rude isnt really the problem at the moment. Danni sighed, looking at the two of them. They could bicker like a married couple; Billie didnt really trust Jane, she thought. But both of them were excellent at their jobs, excellent at helping her run the business. She lowered her head. Most of the time, they were amusing when they were together.
Billie, sorry. I cant just take the word of some guy who thinks he knew my father better than I did. I am going to call the police. Im worried about that woman.