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.
Are you going to go and see about the bust? Billie asked.
Maybe, she replied. But...I need to report this. If something happened to herif she was so upset she walked into trafficId never be able to live with myself.
Billie and Jane both stared at her. She called the operator rather than the emergency number and was put through to the right department. Billie and Jane watched as she gave the womans name and reported her strange behavior in the shop and then answered a zillion questions. Had the woman been armed? No. Had she threatened anyone? No. Had she mentioned suicide? No. But she had talked about a killer statue and sounded as if she needed some serious intervention.
In the end, a public safety officer promised that Mrs. Simons state of mind would be investigated, and she hung up, feeling frustrated.
Jane and Billie were still staring at her.
What? she asked.
Your dad wouldve found out about the bust. He wouldnt have ignored that poor lady, Billie said.
You havent been on any buying trips since he died, Jane added. No, I wasnt your fathers right handlike Billiebut I knew him well and loved him. Maybe... She looked pained as she spoke again. Maybe you should listen to Billie.
Will wonders never cease! Billie muttered.
Danni lifted her hands in a gesture that said nothing at all. It was still hard; she didnt spend her days crying or moping, but she felt as if there was a huge hole in her life. Angus had expected her to be strong and independent. Shed gone away to school and gotten her own apartment and led a life separate from his.
But hed always been there. Once she was back in New Orleans, shed seen him almost every day. Shed traveled with him extensively through the years.
Seeing the sightsat his urgingwhile he did his buying and collecting. He had spoiled her, yes. But hed also taught her to be courteous and caring. Hed never walked away from anyone who needed help, whether it was a confused tourist seeking directions or a homeless veteran or down-and-outer needing food and shelteror a ride to detox.
I will go see the bust, okay? Ill do what I can for Mrs. Simon.
Billie nodded. Thats what your dad would want.
Im trying to keep his legacy alive, she told the pair. Now, if youll excuse me...I was working. Ill go at five. Ill meet that obnoxious man and buy the stupid bust and hopefully make everyone happy, all right?
Neither spoke or moved.
With a slight sound of impatience, she passed them by, thinking shed return to her studio.
But she didnt want to go there. She didnt want to see the painting shed almost finished, the character study that suddenly looked just like a real person.
Mrs. Simon.
Instead, she headed downstairs to the rooms that had been the most precious to her father. There were glass cases here and thereand boxes everywhere. A full suit of armor stood in one corner while in another an upright Victorian coffin held pride of place. It had never been used for a body but had been a display piece for a funeral home that had once been in business on Canal Street. A mannequin enjoyed eternal sleep behind the small window above the face, a style that was popular at the time. The wall displayed the death mask of an ancient Egyptian queen. One corner of the room held a horrifically screaming gorilla from a movie that was never completed and probably with good cause; the sign on the creature said From The Gorilla That Ate Manhattan.
She paused, glancing around. Other people, she thought, might find the basement creepy. Shed spent so much time working with her father that shed learned to appreciate the delicate artistry put into so many of the items. The carving on the coffin, for instance, was the result of painstaking craft and labor.
Light filtered in from the old glass panes just above ground level but it wasnt enough for her that afternoon. Danni turned on the low-watt bulbs that helped protect the old pieces of art and artistry and sighed wistfully. Some people might suggest that her father haunted the rooms where his collections were kept.
She wished he did.
Oh, Dad, if only you were here now! she said softly.
The book.
Hed been so frantic that she turn to the book.
It was a very old volume and it sat on a desk, encased in protective glass. Danni could remember it being there forever, she just hadnt thought much about it among the other curios so dear to her father. She walked over to the desk, sat in the swivel chair and looked down at the old tome before opening the glass cover and lifting it out. Shed never held it before, and the book was heavy, the parchment rich and the pages gold-trimmed. It was American, something that always gave her father great pride, and had been printed in 1699.
Carefully she turned pages, wondering what hed wanted her to read in this bookor why hed believed it would answer all questions, solve all dilemmas.
She was startled when a piece of folded paper slipped out.
She recognized her fathers writingher name in cursive on the outside.
With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper.
Danni, dearest daughter, my sorrow is great as I write this. My burden is hard to bear, and yet it will be yours, too. Read with the light on the desk. And remember, the book is only for those who have the heart and the will to understand and to care, and though I have tried to give you the life of a normal young woman, the day will come when you must understand. Of course, I will tell you, talk to you, about all this, but I am writing in case my time comes before I know. Life is fleeting for us all and none can predict the day that well be called to a greater reward. My dearest Danni, I believe that love transcends time, and so I am with you, even if I have failed you.
Tears stung her eyes. You never failed me, Dad. Ever. I loved you so much, she said aloud.
No, he had never failed her. She didnt know that much about his pastonly that he had immigrated from Edinburgh when hed been a young man, that hed studied ancient history there and spent many years working on archaeological digs. Hed batted around the world until he was in his forties, met her motheran anthropologist half his agemarried her and moved to her home, New Orleans. After her mom died of an aneurysm when Danni was four, hed done everything for her, acting as both father and mother. Even as an older man, hed been gorgeous. But hed never remarried.
A bittersweet smile curved her lips. I wish youd make a little more sense, Dad, but...no, you never failed me. You were the best ever!
Danni began to flip through the pages. The Book of Truth offered medieval cures for whatever might ail you. One chapter listed herbs and their mixtures for maladies ranging from snakebite to the plague. Another gave instructions for cupping and bleeding.
She went back to the beginning. The print thoughout was largeperhaps to help the elderly and those with poor eyesight. The letters were exquisite, more like calligraphy than print.
She found a publication page. The book had been published in Boston. Maybe accepting herbs as natural medicinal components was something the author had done boldly and angrily, since it was printed only a few years after the calamity of the Salem witch trials.
She quickly discovered that she was right. The author, Millicent Smith, had written an introduction, dedicating the book to the women who had died in innocence, victims of jealousy or greed or even mass hysteria. True evil rests deeply and does not enter into the clean souls of those who will not be corrupted by demons. Danni admired the author and printer for their courage, and wondered how many copies of The Book of Truth had been created. Were they kept secret during those perilous times, circulating underground? How had her father come across this one?
Turn to the book, hed told her.
She shook her head. She didnt believe shed have to protect anyone from being hanged, pressed or burned to death for being a witch. Maybe he was warning her to guard against prejudice of any kind, because there was nothing so dangerous.
Maybe it was his way of saying that there were people out there who needed to be saved.
I called the police, Dad, she murmured. I tried to get help for Mrs. Simon. She sighed. Okay, Ill meet your bulwark of a private eye and buy the damned statue!
She set the book back in its case, but as she did, she noticed another piece of paper between the next pages.
The light. Make sure you use the light!
That had been written hastily.
Use the light.
Well, she couldnt read without light, could she? Besides, there were plenty of lights down here.
Determined, feeling guilty although she couldnt understand why, Danni looked at her watch. Shed been down here longer than shed realized.
If she was going to meet Quinn, she had to get moving.
But she hesitated, drumming her fingers on the glass, frowning. Michael Quinn. She vaguely remembered the name and wondered why. She knew she hadnt met him through her father. It was a good old Irish name and there were plenty of those in the city.
And then she remembered. Years ago, the name had been revered. Thered been a Michael Quinn who had hit the sports pages of the Times Picayune again and again. Hed lifted his public school from obscurity to stardom playing football. He was offered scholarships to half the colleges in the country. Hed been a local hero, soaring to football glory while maintaining academic achievement and capturing the hearts of adolescent females through the city, the parish and beyond. She was only twelve at the time, so she couldnt really remember the details, but...
But nothing. Hed disappeared. Thered been brief articles about himabout his behavior, attending parties known for excessive drug and alcohol use. Then everything had stopped. She hadnt heard anything about him ripping up the college scoreboards or joining the pros. Hed just disappeared.
Might have been a different Michael Quinn.
* * *
Gladys heard the voice again as she drove down the street. He was there, beside her, whispering in her ear.
Do it. Gun it! he ordered her.
She had ignored him as shed driven through the French Quarter; you could barely move through the Quarter at times, much less gun a car. People walked into the street heedlesslyespecially those whod gotten an early start on Bourbon Street.
But now, she could see a group of schoolchildren. A crossing guard stood in the street with a large red stop sign, warning drivers that it was a school zone and elementary kids were making their way across the road.
Gun it. End it for the little bastardsstop the pain for them now. Half of them live in crack houses, you know that. End their pain and yours. Gun it!
She turned to look at him. He was beautiful. His face was so handsomely structured, with dark hair curling over his brow. His mouth was full and sensual. He moved, and yet he still looked as if he were cast out of marble. It was so strange; the statue in her house was a bust, showing only the head, shoulders and neck of the man, but he seemed to be sitting by her side in full body. He acted natural and at ease. Hed been carved during the time of the Renaissance, but he spoke English and knew modern idioms. He seemed to know modern mores and customs, too.
He was beautiful, yes...
And so malicious. Evil to the core. His smile was one of pure cruelty.
You have to do it, Gladys. Think of the world, always the same. Kill or be killed. You can end their misery and your own. Or if you survive, youll walk away because of your fragile mental state, the depths of your grief. Its kill or be killed, Gladys. Thats the way of the world.
She saw the man in her mind, of course, but he seemed so...real. Shed seen him the night her husband had died, seen him standing over the body. And shed known that Hank Simon was killed by the marble bust hed been so ecstatic to acquire, the piece that had lain half-buried by the grave of a pirate-turned-entrepreneur in St. Louis Cemetery #1. A former pirate, yes, but a man whod dedicated himself to good works in the latter part of his life. God knew where the bust had been before that.
Hed stood over Hank where he lay on the floor of their grand Garden District home; hed stood over him, smiling, while Hank lay broken and bleeding. It looked as if hed fallen or jumped over the balcony railing, but he hadnt. Shed known it when she saw the man. He had disappeared into thin air and she hadnt seen him againuntil hed appeared at the foot of her bed that morning, telling her she had to do as he instructed, or shed wind up like Hank.
It was astonishing that her heart hadnt given out then.
No, it was tragic that her heart hadnt given out. Because now he was with her, urging her to kill....
She wasnt a killer. She wasnt going to mow down schoolchildren with her Lincoln.
And yet...
She felt her foot almost itching to touch the pedal. She felt something inside her suddenly longing to do as he saidhit the gas. Hit it hard. Hit all the children she could. And, definitely, hit the plump crossing guard with her sign and her whistle....
Her foot inched down on the gas with a malevolence that seemed to fill her heart with bloodred fury.
Chapter Two
QUINN HAD THOUGHT hed be able to keep up with Gladys.
Chasing her on foot hadnt been difficult, but following her once hed gotten back to his car had proven to be a challenge. Parking in the Quarter was a nightmare, so naturally hed been two blocks down. Still, Gladys Simon wasnt exactly a speed demon, so he shouldve managed to catch up with her.
But it was the French Quarter. He should have known but never suspected that a parade would close off Bourbon precisely when he needed to cross it.
Gladys had beaten the parade.
He chafed, waiting. There was no turning; there was no backing up.
Assuming that shed be headed home, he figured hed start uptown as soon as he could. He tried to assure himself that Danni Cafferty had called the police and that theyd come byor social services wouldto see to her welfare.
But he couldnt be sure.
He knew he had to reach Gladys himself. If Danni wasnt going to take the statue, he had to do it. But he didnt know whether he dared wait long enough to catch up with Gladys, since she seemed to be at the end of her rope. If Danni had just agreed immediately to come and get the damn thing, he wouldnt have been so worried.
When hed tried to call Gladys, shed refused to talk to him. When hed tried to see her at home, hed been put off by a protective housekeeper. He hadnt known that Hank Simon had the statue in time to try and see the man. In fact, he wouldnt even have learned about its existenceother than through vague references in art-history booksif it wasnt for the sniveling Vic Brown, incarcerated now with no bail while he awaited trial.