Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella (8 page)

“I get it,” Bo Ray said. “She thought he was like dung on a shoe, and that made him want to have her all the more. And she turned him down.”

“Did she make it rain? Or did it rain because it was Southern Louisiana?” Danni nodded. “The thing is, yes, all the
rougarou
killing came about. But the count wanted something.”

Billie frowned. “One of the victims killed is male. Another female. And, unless I don’t know everything, there was no sexual assault.”

“Not everyone is after sex,” Danni said.

“Most people,” Bo Ray assured her. “I mean, you two, you and Quinn, you’re at it—sorry, sorry. Together all the time, so you don’t realize—”

“Bo Ray,” Quinn said.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“He’s a Texan.” Father Ryan lowered his head to hide a small smile. “Texans can’t help themselves. They just say it like it is.”

Danni wagged a plastic fork at them all. “David believes that he was personally threatened with the writing in the mud. Someone wants something. Julian Henri owns some great property, if you’re into swamp tours and history. I think we’re all supposed to believe what’s happening is a throwback, and that it all has to do with a
rougarou
. But I don’t buy it.”

“Okay, in the morning everyone is on it,” Quinn said. “Let’s all get some sleep.

“I’ll see to Natasha,” Father Ryan said. “You all just hunker in for the night.”

Danni went to walk Father Ryan and Natasha out through the front of the shop and lock up. Bo Ray and Billie finished cleaning up and headed for the stairs to the third floor attic where they had their apartments. Quinn put through a call to Larue. With what they’d heard about the previous murders, he wanted to make sure that the two young women who’d received the balcony visit were safe. Larue assured him that he had a man on guard at the new hotel where they’d been taken.

“Inside room,” Larue told him. “No balcony, hotel security, cameras everywhere. If a
rougarou
does make it up there somehow, we’ll make history.”

Quinn thanked Larue and they said goodnight.

Danni still hadn’t come back.

He walked out to the shop and saw that she was staring at her front window from the back. Her displays were always excellent. She knew where to shop and where to find the right pieces that made everything perfect. He slipped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“We’ll find out what’s going on,” he told her.

“The cane,” she murmured. “The story goes that Count D’Oro had his own wizard, and the silver grip wolf’s head on his cane was magical. That it gave him the power to deflect Melissa DeVane’s curse and become the
rougarou
.”

“We talked about that. I don’t think we can find the old cane in the swamp, Danni.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think the cane is in the swamp. I think someone had it hidden away. And maybe someone else has found it, believing they have the power of the
rougarou
.”

“That’s a lot of maybes. For now, it’s kind of late. Bed?”

She turned in his arms with a smile, then checked the door and called to Wolf. “Hey, boy. Time to guard the hallway.”

The dog barked his approval.

Danni hurried ahead and Quinn followed her up the stairs. Wolf curled up on his bed in the hallway. When Quinn entered the room, he found that Danni had laid a trail of her clothing from the doorway to the shower.

He smiled.

And he followed.

The curtain was drawn. Steam filled the bathroom. She stood in the shower. He couldn’t help thinking that she could have been a mermaid, or a siren, smiling with the kind of light in her eyes that was sure to drive a man mad. He allowed his gaze to fall upon her.

“Did you need a written invitation?” she asked.

He stripped, stepped into the shower, and drew her into his arms. Warm water beats pulsated on his skin. The surge of steam was both relaxing and invigorating, the feel of her body crushing against his overwhelming. He would never tire of feeling her against him. The wonder in her eyes always seemed so fresh, her smiles evocative. The taste of her lips part of a fantasy, and every time he kissed her he felt a rush of arousal.

Her fingers slid down his back, then moved to his chest.

He reached behind her, cupping her buttocks, and lifting her to him, their every point of contact now an erogenous zone.

He kissed her again.

This time more passionate.

“Shampoo in the tub,” she whispered to him.

The words made no sense.

“Slip, fall, break body parts,” Danni whispered. “Not as much fun.”

Now he understood, and he lifted her over the rim of the tub, following her out quickly himself. Not to lose the moment, he kissed her again, and they became engaged in twined lips and stroking hands.

“Towel rack,” Quinn said.

“What?”

“Towel rack. Big bruise on the back, maybe your head against the wall. A concussion. Not as much fun.”

They both laughed.

Danni threw open the bedroom door and they made a beeline for the sheets, shivering.

“It’s cold out here,” she said.

Quinn landed on the bed at her side. “Not to add more bad and trite lines to the wonderful foreplay I’ve initiated,” he kissed her shoulder. “But give me a chance and I’ll warm you up.”

Safe from falling, tripping, or breaking bones, he wrapped his arms around her, covered her with the length of his body, and eased himself slowly down. She quickly rose against him, seeking the same, kissing his flesh, teasing him, light brushes, far more serious touches that escalated him to a place where the world existed in the physical sense of the two of them, and nothing else.

Later, lying beside her, Quinn thought that life could be strange indeed. He thought about the wasted years gone before. He hadn’t deserved a second chance, but had gotten one anyway. Danni was a part of that second chance. They might not ever really understand their role in the world as it had fallen to them. Maybe Angus had never really understood himself. But Danni was his lifeline now.

Whatever happened, they had one another.

He smiled.

Trite and a bad pickup line. But true.

As long as he had her, the world could send him anything.

Wolf began to bark, then the dog slammed himself against the bedroom door.

Quinn jumped from the bed, drew on his jeans, and reached to the bedside table for the SIG Sauer P226 that Jake Larue had given him last Christmas.

Danni was leaping out of bed, scrambling for clothing too.

“Stay here,” he told her. “My old Glock is in the top drawer. Get it.”

He hurried out of the room.

Wolf waited in the hall. Bo Ray and Billie were running down the stairs.

“Hold off,” Quinn said.

“Following you,” Billie said. “Bo Ray, get in with Danni.”

The look he tossed Quinn was to remind him that Billie had worked with Angus for years before a young upstart like Quinn had come along.

Wolf led the way to the ground floor and the courtyard entrance. Quinn opened the door and Wolf rushed out, barking furiously. Quinn stood perfectly still. Whoever had been there was gone. And whoever had been there had been blessed with the capability of jumping high fences, as the gate that led out to Royal Street was still latched tightly.

“Quinn,” Billie said. “Over here.”

He walked to the courtyard entry for the kitchen. There, by the door, were what appeared to be footprints of some large bipedal creature.

Billie hunkered down and touched the substance creating the prints, then looked up at Quinn.

They both knew what it was.

Blood.

* * * *

Danni poured coffee as she listened to Quinn.

It had been just a few minutes after 6:00 a.m. when Wolf, Billie, and Quinn came back into the house, too late to bother trying to get back to sleep.

Quinn called Larue.

No, he didn’t want a major investigation. No, he didn’t believe that the Royal Street house had been besieged by a league of
rougarous
. He didn’t want a big deal made out of it. No sirens blazing.

“But I want to know what that blood substance is, so send a tech over,” he told Larue. “Whatever is going on, they think they’re going to scare Danni and me away. That’s what that was all about.
Rougarou
or not—whatever, whoever, they didn’t want to mess with Wolf. We’re in good shape here, and whoever came by didn’t actually try to get in. Just get me a tech to look at the substance.”

He listened, thanked Larue, hung up, and came for the coffee pot.

“They’ll have somebody here in a few minutes.”

“They have anything yet on Byron Grayson?” Danni asked.

Quinn shook his head. “Go figure. A major office building in the Central Business District and no one saw a thing. I’m heading out to the swamp today. I want you—”

“Quinn, you can’t worry about me all the time. That’s not the way this works.” She stood on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “However, today, you don’t have to worry about me. Natasha and I are heading to the library. We’re going to find out what’s happened over the years.” She was quiet a minute and then said, “There are dozens of theories but in Salem, Massachusetts, during the witch hysteria, a strong theory was that people let their hatred take hold, and a lot of that hatred had to do with people wanting prime land. Accuse a neighbor and the land was taken and then it went up for sale. None of that came about this time until David and Julian opened their business. I’m going to see who is doing what.”

“Byron Grayson wanted the land,” Quinn told her. “And Grayson has gone missing.”

“Be careful,” she said.

He gave her what should have been a quick kiss good-bye for the day.

She caught the anguish in his eyes and the kiss became something deeper.

A loud “ahem” made them break apart and laugh.

Bo Ray had apparently followed Billie in, because he said, “See, when life is good, you just don’t think the way some others might. That came out wrong. That doesn’t mean that all single people are sex fiends. I just…okay. Bo Ray, time to just shut up and get your foot out of your mouth.”

Quinn looked at Bo Ray and shook his head with amusement. “Keep in touch all day, everyone.”

Billie nodded.

“Go,” Danni told Quinn. “You two have coffee. Enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to take that display down before I take off with Natasha.”

Quinn exited out the kitchen door to the courtyard and the garage. He paused there, looking back at her. She smiled. He nodded and kept going. Danni headed down the hallway and into the store. Moving a few props, she reached the store side of her left facing display window. The mannequin wasn’t heavy, just a little awkward. She picked it up first and set it down, staring at the creation. It was damned good. She’d bought it from a friend in Louisiana’s booming film business.

The eyes almost seemed to follow her.

She wagged a finger at the mannequin. “Sick murderer, playing on legend. How could you kill that beautiful young woman who never hurt a soul? Or kill anyone. Look at the legacy you’ve left.”

 Crawling back into the window, she hurriedly gathered the rest of the items that had made up the display, tossing them into the shop. Then she looked around, trying to decide what she was going to put up in place of the display on Count D’Oro and the
rougarou
.

Billie came into the shop.

“Egyptian,” she announced. “We have that mannequin of Cleopatra. We can add a lot of the local jewelry. There’s a really beautiful ankh and then, to the side, we can add in a display of those fleur-de-lis pendants. Not Egyptian per se, but for now it will do.”

“Aye, lass, got it. I’ll need Bo Ray to help.”

He turned and left her, heading back down the hallway.

The mannequin of Count D’Oro suddenly fell over.

The cane rolled across the floor and landed at Danni’s feet, the silver wolf’s head seeming to stare up at her. For a moment, she froze. The way the mannequin had landed, it seemed to be staring at her too. She trembled despite herself, then walked over and glared down at the mannequin, kicking the cane to the side.

“We will end this,” she said with determination.

And it almost seemed like the mannequin disagreed.

Challenging her to do so.

Chapter 5

Quinn met up with Detectives Beauchamp and Deerfield and they headed out on a police boat, stopping by properties in Honey Swamp, briefly speaking to those they found along the way. Everyone seemed to think that the
rougarou
had awakened, so they were all staying armed and close to home.

“I’m going to have a bunch of shot-up tourists on my hands soon enough,” Deerfield said, looking a bit like a disgruntled bulldog.

They saved Selena Duarte for the next to the last and planned on visiting Julian Henri’s property last. Quinn hopped up on the dock at Selena Duarte’s rustic wood home on the water. He knocked at the door several times, peered in the window, and knocked again.

No answer.

He headed back down to the dock to speak with Beauchamp and Deerfield.

“She’s not there,” he said.

“Selena’s there,” Deerfield said. “She’s just being an old pain in the ass.”

Deerfield hopped to the dock and left Beauchamp and Quinn to tie up the boat.

“Selena, you ornery cuss. It’s Detective Deerfield. Open the damned door.”

To Quinn’s surprise, the door opened.

Selena Duarte was white haired and wrinkled to the nines, and she appeared to be older than the earth itself.

“What the hell you doing out here, bothering an old woman? You know damned well I ain’t guilty of a damned thing. What, you think I could even wield some kind of a weapon hard enough to do in a big man or a woman for that matter? And you think I got good teeth all of a sudden? My dentures barely bite through butter.”

“Not out here to accuse you of anything, Selena. We came here to find out if you might have seen anything,” Beauchamp told her.

She pointed at Quinn. “What you doing out here, football-blow-it-all boy? Heard you went military, cop, and then P.I. in New Orleans. You’re a far cry from the city, Quinn. You know nothing about these swamps.”