Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella Read Free Page B

songs.”
    “I love it when you play your pipes,” Danni said. “It’s just that the bar is small and bagpipes are loud. But it’s great to have them.”
    Billie laughed. “Hey, now. I just want you to know, Miss Danni Cafferty, I made good money in me younger years standing on the streets with me hat out. You should have seen the folks throwing bills in it when I played.”
    “Maybe they were paying you to stop,” Danni teased.
    “Ah, lass.”
    “Kidding, Billie. I love it when you play.”
    “Here’s hoping Quinn does make it back,” he said, “and that he’s not starting into some fresh trouble with Detective Larue. I’m looking forward to some fun times this evening.”
    “Don’t worry. Quinn said he’d be back in plenty of time, and we’ll head right out at closing.”
    The front door opened quickly and a tall man entered.
    Who she recognized.
    David Fagin.
    She greeted him, curious because of his anxious manner.
    David was an old friend. They’d gone to high school together, one of those magnet schools for the arts. She’d been in visual art and David had focused on theater. They’d bumped into each other a few times over the last three or four years, and he’d come to her father’s funeral. They’d talked about the changes in their lives, their plans and dreams, and she recalled how he’d been excited about his business ventures. She’d told him that she was happy too, still working as an artist, running her father’s shop.
    David had dropped by a dozen times, but today he seemed to not be on a buying excursion.
    “Danni, I need your help.”
    Billie stepped up beside her, ready to listen to whatever it was their visitor was about to say. She noticed how David shifted on his feet and kept looking around, as if someone were after him.
    “Danni, I’ve heard… There are rumors. We’re talking a life or death situation.” His eyes focused on hers. “My life.”
    She swallowed hard and felt a sense of dread. She wanted to push David back out the door and pretend he’d never come. Every once in a while it was still difficult to reconcile all that had happened in the last several years. She’d thought her father the most wonderful man in the world. Tall, sturdy, and gruff, the perfect Highlander with his rich accent, booming voice, strength, and kindness. He’d traveled the world. On buying trips. Only after his death had she learned that they had been anything but.
    Oh yes, Angus Cafferty had been a collector.
    At the Cheshire Cat they sold local art, jewelry, clothing, and some more unusual items. Angus had especially loved unique pieces, one-of-a-kind carved masks, Egyptian trinkets, religious artifacts, custom items. One of the display cases had been created from an authentic Egyptian sarcophagus. A display in the left window featured a Victorian coffin, a turn-of-the-century mannequin, and a 19th century vampire hunting kit. The right window held local lore. A stunning display from the so-called Count D’Oro, an 18th century aristocrat who murdered numerous young women and dumped their bodies in the swamp. Among them, a beautiful, young witch who had cursed him at her death. Legend noted that he’d been a cruel man whose soul had been consumed by the devil, and only when he’d been caught by vigilantes and then burned alive in the swamp himself had his evil been laid to rest.
    But Angus had also acquired the dangerous.
    Items best described as having evil upon them.
    And as the inheritor of the business, she now was their owner.
    “Okay, David, let’s have a chat,” she said.
    A nod to Billie and he understood to cover the store. She led David through the shop, past her studio, and opened the kitchen door where Wolf, Quinn’s giant mixed breed dog, bounded toward her, then let out a loud woof at the sight of a stranger.
    “He’s a friend,” she told the dog, then turned to David. “Don’t be afraid of Wolf. He’s a good dog. If he thought Quinn or I were in danger he’d