The Dead Play On
music.”
    “You have others, right?”
    “None that I play like this,” Tyler said.
    “You’ll play it again,” Quinn promised. “For now, please, let us keep it. Let us try to figure out if there really
is
something about this sax that’s special. But if anyone comes up to you threatening you for a sax, hand it right over. Any sax you happen to have on you.”
    Tyler looked puzzled. “You’re talking about that holdup down near Frenchman Street, right?” he asked, then something dawned in his eyes.
    “More than that, Tyler. Two musicians have been killed in their homes.”
    “Two?” Tyler looked shocked. “I saw something on the news a few days ago about a guy, but—”
    “Another man was killed today. It will be on the eleven o’clock news, if you don’t believe me. I think someone wants the sax you have right there. They just don’t know where it is,” Quinn said. He frowned, puzzled. “Didn’t Arnie have his sax the night he was killed?”
    “He must have, but I don’t know if it was found with him or not, and I don’t know what sax he had,” Tyler said.
    Danni looked at Quinn. He’d caught her by surprise with his mention of a musician’s murder earlier that day. Clearly he knew much more, saw more connections, than she did.
    Tyler looked as if he were loath to part with the instrument.
    “It could mean your life,” Quinn said quietly. “And while you’re at it, when you’re talking to people, make a point of saying you wish you had Arnie’s old sax. Don’t tell anyone who doesn’t already know that you had it or where it might be. As far as you know, it went up for auction.”
    Tyler still looked doubtful.
    “When you got here you told me you knew what Quinn and I did,” Danni said quietly. “So let us do our job, all right?”
    Tyler nodded and slowly handed over the sax. “Thank you.” He reached into his pocket and produced his card. “This is me. If you need me at any time for anything, just call. Obviously, when I’m playing, I don’t hear my phone. But I’ll check it every break in case...in case I can help.”
    “Here are our numbers,” Quinn said, and produced a card, as well. It had his cell, Danni’s cell and the shop number.
    Tyler took the card as if it were a lifeline. “Thanks,” he said.
    “Be careful, okay?” Quinn said. “I expect the police will be putting out a parish-wide warning for musicians, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded. Don’t open the door when you’re alone, even to people you think are your friends. And make sure you warn your band and anyone else you play with that someone has it in for musicians.”
    Tyler nodded gravely. “I’ll do that,” he promised.
    “I’ll walk you out through the front,” Quinn told him.
    Danni picked up in the kitchen while Quinn led Tyler back through the shop. When he came back he slipped his arms around her where she stood at the sink.
    She spun in his embrace, staring at him, a sudsy plate in her hands.
    “Hey! What the heck is going on? You know way more than I do. Do you really think this has something to do with the incidents with those other musicians? And what about this second murder? Are you sure it makes sense for us to investigate this? Arnie’s death must have been investigated, even if they just wanted to know where he got the heroin. He was a hero and a popular local figure, found dead on Rampart Street. They could be right, you know, and it really was an accidental OD.”
    He took the plate from her. Suds were flying, because she was waving it around as she talked, she realized.
    “I’m sorry. I thought we’d think alike on this,” he said.
    “I’m not saying I disagree.”
    “What, then?” He moved away from her, and she was almost sorry she had spoken.
    There was a sudden distant look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something she hadn’t been a part of. She loved him so much, but she knew he’d had a life before he’d met her, a very different life. He’d once

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