Chapter 1
“I’m still confused. I mean, it’s nice—I mean, what’s not to like? But why exactly are we here?” Michael Quinn asked Danni Cafferty, closing his eyes to luxuriate in the feel of the sun.
“Because Colleen is a friend of mine and she asked us to be here,” Danni replied.
“But we didn’t meet on a dating site,” he reminded her. He glanced her way, a crooked smile on his lips. “As far as I know, as of yet, there are dating sites for those who want a cowboy or a farmer, dating sites for quick romances, those that figure out if you’re financially and socially compatible. But no sites for those who lead slightly different lives dealing with slightly bizarre and often deadly situations,” he pointed out.
Danni looked away sighing, and Quinn allowed himself a smile.
They had met after her father, an amazing old Scot, had died. After his death Danni discovered the “collectibles” her father kept in the basement—or destroyed at their shop on Royal Street in the French Quarter—had been cursed objects, creating havoc around them with often deadly results. She learned Angus Cafferty had been far more than just a nice guy—he’d been a really good man, quietly doing his best to help those in very peculiar trouble.
Quinn had been a cop, but he hadn’t been anything good himself—other than a revered football hero. He had become too enamored of the lifestyle he’d been offered until he’d flatlined—had technically died in the ER—and been helped back to life by a mysterious presence.
Something, someone other than a doctor, had intervened. He’d known that—known he’d been offered a second chance. He’d seized upon it, and he’d changed his ways. Being offered a second chance at life, he’d become a good guy, confused at first, and then discovering evil did exist in ways most people never imagined. This was the beginning of the end of his police work.
Not that he hadn’t been a good cop—he really had been, even if he liked to think of himself as decently humble. It just became far too difficult to explain at times what had happened at a bizarre incident—or to make others understand there was more to a situation than met the eye—or for that matter, more that met any form of rational thought.
So, Quinn left the police and got his private investigator’s license. Some of his cases were humdrum—a way to keep up appearances. And an income. Others were so much more.
It was during this time he’d met Angus Cafferty, and after Angus’s death…
Well, at first meeting, he’d thought Danni was a spoiled little princess. A beautiful princess with her deep auburn hair and brilliant blue eyes, but…
And Danni had thought him to be an incredible jerk. But working together, they’d discovered an attraction, and attraction had bloomed and become much more.
His days as a cop had been over by the time he’d met her. Quickly, she joined him in the work he’d once done with her father, and now Danni and he were always waist-deep in these jobs together.
Also, now he knew that he was a lucky, lucky man.
Not only did he have life itself, he had Danni.
He smiled at her now, taking a moment to bask in their situation, just lying here by the pool, popping in and out of the water when they chose. She was especially appealing in her swim attire, and always more so because she was oblivious to her own appearance. Watching her, he almost forgot he’d asked a question.
Until she answered him.
“Colleen has been incredibly successful with her dating site, so successful she’s now created these resorts for people who have met through her site, or who want to meet others through the site but in the flesh, and for just any couples who wish to be here. It’s a nice concept—a place for people. This is opening week for this property, and she’s anxious, I believe, to see people are happy here. She believes we’ll be the perfect happy couple for other happy couples to see or become! Also, being we are in Louisiana, she wants some of my artwork for the place, and she wants suggestions regarding other local artists. It’s a great vacation, right? She also thinks we’ll dress up, and therefore her other guests will dress up and make her Harvest Festival Ball great.”
“It works for me,” Quinn said. “I’m happy.” He grinned and rolled over on his lounge chair, relaxing in the sun.
The sun was coming through the giant glass roof of the resort’s indoor pool, but it still felt as if the real, unhindered rays were falling upon them.
They might be in the Deep South but fall could be chilly, and the concept of a heated pool in a controlled environment had been a good one for them.
He hated cold water. The pool in here was great. He knew he shouldn’t question things at all—it was pretty darned amazing to be here. Both of them off from work. This was a true rarity.
Danni’s shop, “The Cheshire Cat,” would run fine with Billie McDougall watching over it. Billie had more experience with the shop than either of them really. Both managing the day-to-day running of their charming little boutique—and managing whatever strange object might arise causing havoc. A “Riff-Raff” lookalike from the “Rocky Horror Show”, Billie had been with Angus Cafferty years before his death and had handled many a strange—or deadly—collectible in his day.
So, they were free to just be here at the Honeywell Lodge, Colleen Rankin’s newest establishment for those who were looking for love—or had perhaps just fallen in love, like, or lust—were gathering.
It was a bit bizarre—watching the mating ritual in this venue had made him appreciate his relationship with Danni all the more. He’d now witnessed a lot of hesitant flirting, shy girls with no confidence, men who tripped over their words—and the confident and beautiful who just assumed they were going to be loved.
Still, it was a great resort. They were on vacation. There was a great stable and he hadn’t been able to go riding in ages. They were now at the pool, he was feeling the sun. Well, they’d only had one night thus far, but their suite was beautiful; the whirlpool was big enough to allow for his height and size and another person—as in Danni, of course.
And still…
The sweet feel of luxury that had swept over him began to fade again—ridiculously.
He was restless. Maybe he didn’t know how to relax. Not true. He knew down time was precious, they had embraced the lives that had fallen their way—but were still grateful to have found one another, and to steal free and special moments when they could. Things would happen—that made down time something to be enjoyed to the fullest. So why he couldn’t just lie there, loving the feel of the sun, thinking about the trail ride—and other activities—they’d enjoy later, he didn’t know.
So, go with it! He told himself. Even if he was going a little crazy, he needed to do it in silence. Let Danni have this special time.
She laughed suddenly, the sound soft and teasing, and very sexy.
Maybe he would forget his unease, yet.
“I tend to be the worrier,” she reminded him. “You’re the one always telling me there is no way to deal with what might be happening somewhere—that we live life!” she told him. She gave him a wonderful, ever-so-slightly wicked smile and settled back in her lounge chair as well. “We’re on vacation!” she repeated. “We haven’t had one in a while. Try to remember. Vacations are these nice events during which people don’t work. They enjoy dining and dancing and lying around in the sun.”
“Got it!” Quinn twisted again to look at her.
Not so hard to play this out, the shop, their home, and even Wolf—their incredible hybrid dog—were all in Billie’s capable hands, and he had help. Bo Ray Tompkins was working at the shop, and down the street, should they need more help for any reason, they would find Natasha LaRouche, a voodoo priestess, a true practitioner in the religion. And should she have trouble, they could call on Father Ryan, and from there…
Vacation. He didn’t need to worry; he needed to relax and enjoy this time with Danni. Enjoying time with her wasn’t at all difficult. He was reminded of that every time he looked at her.
He arched a brow and attempted to give himself an exceptionally deep and sensual voice, “We’re on vacation—where people are meeting people and getting romantic, right? Some come as couples. I mean, if I get this right, singles come to meet people they might have chatted with online already, right? But some have met, and they’re in relationships. They’re couples—and couples take the same room, and after a day at the pool, they may sink into their room’s whirlpool tub, and then fool around on the satin sheets, huh?” He slid onto her lounge chair, “Of course, all the new people do all the things those newly in love—or lust—do to one another. Like the couples, they have a chance to spend the day at the pool, sink into a whirlpool in someone’s room, and say the things people say. Like, ‘your hair is as silken as the sheets. Your skin as soft…your eyes are the color of the sky on the clearest day, beautiful and crystal blue, and your hair is pure fire and when it brushes my flesh…’”
Danni looked around uneasily, frowning fiercely, and swatted him with the paper pool lunch menu she was holding. “Stop!”
“Hey—I was being romantic! That’s what people do here, right?” he protested. “I was trying for romantic. Let’s face it, I can promise you a lot of guys here are trying for sex—it’s part of a romantic relationship, right—a true match? And we are in a relationship, deep, and sweet, and wonderful, and of course, hot, and…”
Danni arched a brow to him, grimacing, looking around at the others who were enjoying the indoor pool that day, some just chatting in lounge chairs, others laughing and hopping in and out of the pool.
He chuckled as he moved back to his lounge. He loved her with his whole heart; she was incredible, a sensual and passionate lover, and capable of both tremendous fun and seriousness when necessary. But she was a private person, and while they were at a romantic destination—with people showing displays of affection all around them—he knew she preferred demonstrative displays of affection to be saved for moments when they were alone. So did he.
He couldn’t imagine his life without her now—even though, by the nature of their work, he spent far too much time worried about her. She was smart, street savvy, and so many other things. He knew he couldn’t change her—anymore than she could change him.
That made their time here a surprise to him—but a damned nice one. A vacation. A true romantic getaway.
So why the hell can’t I just sit back and enjoy it?
She laughed suddenly, leaning in a bit closer and lowering her head toward his. “Tease me in public, will you? Two can play at this. So…let’s see…stretched out on the lounge, halfway turned toward me as you are, you look like the perfect poster boy for a ‘young professional singles’ dating site—ah, yes! Let’s see…you’re long, lean-muscled, and your bronze flesh is glistening from your last dip in the pool. Your rich, dark, damp hair is so sexy, haphazardly cast over your forehead.”
She leaned even a bit closer, her eyes bright with mischief.
“Oh, yes, yum. You look like a cover model, boy,” she told him.
“Hey!” he protested. “I was being perfectly honest. I love your hair and eyes and flesh…yeah, well, you know, silky bare flesh, and all.”
She grinned. “And what I was saying was a compliment. You could be the model for Colleen’s site!”
“You used the term ‘boy,’” he said, shaking his head with a sigh. “Military, college, the academy, over ten years with the FBI—and you called me a boy!”
“All men are boys,” she assured him.
He sighed, lying back. “Ah, such is romance! What do you think about pool-boy-man over there—tall, muscled, good-looking, about thirty or maybe thirty-plus—think I’ve seen him with a blond, a brunette, and a redhead so far at last night’s mixer. He’s covering all the bases.”
“That’s Albert Bennett—he’s more or less a host this weekend. He works for Colleen in her security department, doing checks on people. It must be hard—her site is open to the public—but it is a dating site. She has to be careful she’s not allowing kids, pedophiles, or what have you on. I guess Albert’s position is computer security.”
“Looks like he could be a poster boy. When did you meet him?”
“Jealous?” she teased.
“You know me better.”
She nodded, still somewhat smiling. “I met him when I went to Colleen’s offices on Canal Street the other day—after she called and asked us to come out this weekend. I also met Tracy Willard, Colleen’s office manager. Perfect green-eyed redhead—I think she and Albert like each other, but they can’t show it this weekend. Then again, she was chatting with others last night, too. Oh! And over there, on the far lounge—the kind-of-skinny-slightly-lost-looking fellow over there, the one wearing the trunks and rash-guard—that’s Larry Blythe. He’s involved with the business development. He helps Colleen make decisions about the site and now with her locations, and also about where and when she invests again. Colleen did something a bit different with each site—creating these places for people to meet—and he’s her main man on that kind of thing.”
Danni looked around. “I don’t see her VP—Ally Caldwell—anywhere yet. Ally is also on the development team. That she’s not here yet is kind of a surprise. Ally supported Colleen when she first wanted to expand her Internet site and was with her down in the trenches. Colleen wanted to supply a place for people to meet surrounded by others like them—or for those who had met, and wanted someplace…safe, I guess…to become couples. There are dozens of dating sites out there—but I think Colleen might have had the first business to open such places…fun and elegant havens where people could meet before committing to a relationship. Some sites tout paperwork that will make people compatible, and some exist just for people who pass by one another to start off with a quickie or one-night stand. Colleen believes in seeing, deciding, getting to meet in person, face-to-face.”
“It’s the modern world. You can go online and find just about anything, why not love?” He asked lightly.
“She doesn’t believe paperwork can make you compatible—even if you both have the same interests. If you don’t have chemistry, well, it will just never be a real romance.”
“Sometimes, though, it is good when you share a few interests,” he said.
“Hm. Well, thankfully, most people don’t have to share one of our—interests!” Danni said.
“Hey, your dad’s ‘collecting’ did bring us together!” he said. “Anyways, I’m very happy to be here—thrilled to be a guest—and the price couldn’t be better!”
“Especially since the price is free!”
He frowned, looking toward the garden area beyond the pool.
“So, all these people are looking for love…or something?”
Danni laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, the big party is planned for Martinmas. It’s really a French holiday in honor of St. Martin, born in Hungary, but one of the saints who did much for France. Ally pushed to open now because they really get into the whole concept of celebrating harvest time. The concept travelled over Europe and was carried here along with many of the French settlers and the Acadians. It also became something of a harvest festival, and they celebrate the harvest here along with his saint’s day. It’s a big deal. But like all things once religious, it’s also a big party. I guess in the old days it had a lot to do with praying for or being thankful for a rich harvest—so people could survive through the winter.”
“That makes it a great day for people at a dating service…meeting site? Ah, wait, never mind—I guess a good harvest could mean many things!”
She gave him a slight punch on the arm. “Behave.”
“Why?” he queried lightly. “I mean…this is all about love, right? Or affairs, or…”
Danni did indeed wear her bikini exceptionally well, creating a teasing situation that had already begun to make him contemplate the trip back up to their suite. Maybe they’d head up soon, Quinn thought. That would keep his mind off the strange worry tugging at him. Plenty of privacy there. And never spoke the words.
He opened his mouth to suggest that very thing, but as he looked at Danni he could see past her toward the archways leading from the indoor pool into the bordering patio, and from there back into the sumptuous lobby. Before he could form the words, he saw a disturbing sight. Something seemed to slam against him as if in answer to the restless foreboding that had been tugging at his mind.
“Your friend, our hostess, Colleen is coming,” he sat up, his body filling with tension, a frown knitting his brow, “with people I know,” he added, his tone growing darkly curious.
His senses had been keen. This was it, then, whatever it was he’d felt was coming, and the playful peace they’d been enjoying was abruptly at an end.
Colleen was looking for them specifically, Quinn knew, as she entered the indoor pool area along with two men, one of whom he recognized—and who shouldn’t have been here.
“That’s Jake Larue with her” he said.
When Quinn had been a detective with the NOLA force, Larue had been his partner, and he’d been on hand for many an incident since.
“What the hell is he doing out here?” he muttered.
Danni quickly followed his gaze. “What?” she murmured. “Larue? I hope nothing is wrong at home. I mean, he’s with NOLA. Why would he be out here?”
“I’m sure nothing is wrong at home. Billie would have called. Whatever it is, we’re about to find out. You friend is headed straight to us with Larue in tow, and it looks like another cop. I’m willing to bet he’s with the parish police. I just might know him, too. We were out this way just about a year or so ago.”
Colleen Rankin was a tiny woman with brown curls, warm brown eyes to match and usually a bubbly personality that was friendly and kind and contagious. There was nothing cheerful or bubbly about her now. She looked more than serious as she drew closer; she appeared to have been crying.
She walked just ahead of Larue and the other man. Larue, of course, was in plain clothes. He was wearing a work-day gray-suit and tailored shirt—with a slight bulge beneath his jacket that indicated he was wearing a holster and service arm. He was an even six feet, close-cropped brown hair, level eyes, and had an all-around appearance of competence and determination.
The second man was older with dark hair showing white at the edge and steely gray eyes in a well-lined face.
Yep, parish police! Quinn thought.
“Larue—and another cop,” Danni murmured, her glance at Quinn assuring him she was now dreading what was coming, too.
Something bad.
They both knew it.
“Parish Police—plainclothes homicide,” Quinn said. He got a better look at the second man coming toward them and memory kicked in. He had worked with him not just recently, but also several years back on a drug-smuggling case that had left bodies in New Orleans and half of the state.
“Damn,” he murmured. “It’s Peter Ellsworth. I’ve worked with him before. I’m pretty sure this means there is a body somewhere.”
Quinn quickly stood, and Danni did likewise, ready to meet Colleen and the detectives.
Colleen was distraught, and though she had definitely been crying, she was now somewhat composed—until she neared Danni, and then she rushed forward, throwing herself into Danni’s arms.
Danni instinctively wrapped her arms around her friend, looking at Quinn over Colleen’s head, her eyes filled with care and confusion.
Quinn had recently met Colleen Rankin, their hostess for the weekend, after Danni had come to tell him about the opening of the resort—and how they had been invited. He knew she and Danni had gone to school together, though they hadn’t seen each other in ages because Colleen’s main base had been New York City. Colleen was friendly, open, sincere, and enthusiastic—and easy to like. Danni had told him Colleen was one of the most honestly nice and caring individuals she had ever met—which made it almost surprising Colleen had not just done well but flourished in the business of creating an online dating service—she liked and trusted people so much, she might have been easily taken.
However, she had been smart enough to bring more skeptical help into her business.
She was usually accompanied by one of her VPs—trusted employees who kept her from giving away the entire barn during negotiations on a deal.
Today she was alone—except for Detectives Larue and Peter Ellsworth.
Larue nodded gravely at Quinn and Danni.
“Quinn,” Ellsworth said, offering his hand to Quinn and nodding to Danni as Colleen remained crushed against her like a child.
Danni was almost five-ten. She offered an encompassing hold, and while she was slim enough herself, Colleen appeared extremely tiny and fragile in her arms.
Colleen was babbling as she clung to Danni.
“Composure…composure…I have guests. This is my grand opening weekend. Oh, my God! One of my guests went into the cemetery; and it’s so horrible, so, so horrible. No, no, what am I saying? My employee, a right-hand man…woman…I mean. Of course, it has nothing to do with the resort, except it’s my Ally! I couldn’t understand why she was late…why she wasn’t answering her phone. I tried calling back to the office…a car picked her up, just as she planned, but it’s gone and she’s…”
Colleen broke off with a sob.
“Dead,” Peter Ellsworth offered. He looked at Colleen with a cross between compassion and hard-worn patience and then turned back to Quinn. “Larue told me you were here, Quinn, and you tend to be excellent at…this kind of thing.” He took a long look at Danni.
He’d met her, at least briefly, Quinn thought, and he had to know she worked with him on his investigations.
“Sorry, Quinn,” Larue said.
“On vacation, I understand,” Ellsworth told him apologetically and added, “but with your home being in New Orleans, and now this…”
This what? He wanted to shout.
“It’s all right. What happened?” he managed to ask calmly.
Neither Ellsworth nor Larue had a chance to answer.
“Ally. Ally is dead. She was on her way here,” Colleen said, trying to speak clearly. “One of our couples went back to see the cemetery…it’s rather famous. They found her, and the others, and…oh, God.”
“We were hoping you would be good enough to return to the scene with us; the medical examiner is on his way as well,” Peter Ellsworth said to Quinn. “The scene is—quite bizarre.”
“Of course,” Quinn said, looking at Larue, his frown questioning his friend’s appearance here.
“It mimics a death scene found in a small family cemetery in Uptown, NOLA,” Larue said.
“When?”
“We found the victims…last night. Victims…well, two were victims, the other was already dead,” Larue said. “Yeah, yeah, I realize how confusing this is as I try to explain—we need to get to the crime scene, you’ll understand better there.”
“I do hope you have some kind of a touch of magic. This is going to get the whole state into an uproar…two in two days,” Ellsworth said.
Yes—they were confusing him.
“You’ll come, now? Right away?” Ellsworth asked.
“Of course,” Quinn assured him. He liked the man. He was a Parish officer who knew not just his base—Iberia Parish—but all of Quinn’s beloved Louisiana. He worked well with others and was an interesting man who excelled at listening, which made him invaluable when facts needed to be gathered and put together like puzzle pieces.
He just hoped Larue would make sure he didn’t demand explanations for all of their findings.
“We need five minutes,” Quinn told the detectives. “Clothing,” he added with a grimace.
“We?” Peter Ellsworth asked, frowning, and then studying Danni again. “It’s not—pleasant. And,” he paused, uncomfortable as he spoke, “we’re trying to keep the general populace away.”
“Danni isn’t the general populace,” Quinn said.
“Quinn and I have worked together many times,” Danni informed him. “I’m something of an expert on…bizarre rituals and strange behavior,” she added. “My father was a collector; we did a great deal of research on many…unusual objects.”
“How, uh…well, fitting, I guess,” Detective Ellsworth said, looking at Quinn.
“Sir, we did meet briefly—and you know I’m involved with Quinn’s cases,” Danni said firmly. “I really provide insight and…research.”
Quinn lowered his eyes; there was no other way to explain Danni’s relationship with law enforcement.
Let Ellsworth wonder. He knew he wasn’t leaving without Danni.
She was an odd combination of dignity and sensuality as they stood there—a lovely form in her bathing suit, tall and straight and professional as well. Perhaps it was her face, features composed and confident, heedless of the opinions of others, aware of her own abilities.
Either that, or she just didn’t want Quinn leaving alone. Especially when the matter had to do with her friend.
“It’s…a bizarre and ugly scene,” Ellsworth told her. “Perhaps…”
“I’ll be fine,” Danni added, “murder is never pleasant. It’s always ugly.”