Chapter 8
Last minutes tickets to the festival were extremely reasonable, and Quinn decided they should go in and look around—before perhaps finding someone in management and suggesting that, under the circumstances, the scarecrows were in very bad taste.
The poles stood about twenty feet high; the feet of the scarecrows were at just about ten feet; the pumpkin heads were beyond eerie.
Once they were in, they paused, staring at the things for several minutes.
“You don’t think a killer could get in here and pose bodies up there, do you?” Danni asked. “That’s high, and they must have security here. You couldn’t leave a place with booths and rides and all kinds of things without security—could you?”
“I don’t think so,” Quinn said, pocketing his wallet. “But…anyway, let’s take a walk around. Then, I think we should talk to someone about this.”
“You’re not going to get them to take those scarecrows down,” Danni said.
“Why not?”
“Do you think you could get people not to throw beads at Mardi Gras?”
“If there had been a slew of ‘murder by beads,’ maybe,” Quinn answered.
“The scarecrows are eerie, I imagine, because around here, they’re supposed to protect people. This fair has been up for a while, and I don’t think it goes down until after Thanksgiving, around the beginning of Christmas season. So, those scarecrows have been there for a bit.”
“I know. I understand the harvest tradition around here. It’s just now…there are dead people. Murdered by someone with an agenda, and that agenda has to do with scarecrows.”
“Okay…you can try. For now, let’s walk!”
They did so; the fair was arranged as a large oval with animal displays—including pigs raised by teens, chickens, rabbits, and more—between food booths and rides.
They passed by the kids’ section first. Cute. Little cars went around on a small track. There was a train designed to appear to be a much beloved literary “character,” and there were little swings.
One booth sold jambalaya, boudin, and more. Another offered every kind of hot sauce known to man. Yet another specialized in shrimp and grits and also crawfish etouffee.
They walked past a wicked looking coaster, and then a “twister,” and then something called the giant—a lift that carried fair-goers way up high and then slid them along a steep slope. Finally, they came upon the “Castle of Terror.” The outside of the ride featured movie monsters including vampires, werewolves, mummies, and more.
“Let’s take this one,” he suggested.
Danni arched a brow, wrinkling her face. “Really?”
“I want to see what’s in it.”
“You really think someone involved with the fair might be in on these murders?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but I don’t like the giant scarecrows at the front of the fair, and I really want to see what’s in this ride.”
“Okay,” Danni said.
They joined the short line that remained at the late hour. The young man checking their entry bracelets gave them a wide smile.
“Watch out for that big guy of yours!” he teased Danni. He cast Quinn an amused grin. “The big ones may need a lot of cuddling to get through this kind of a fear factory!”
“I’ll protect him for all I’m worth,” Danni promised.
They stepped into their little car.
“You’re going to protect me?” Quinn asked.
Danni laughed and set her arm around him.
“Well, semi-romantic,” he said softly.
The ride jolted. They went by evil jack-in-the-boxes, a black-widow woman with a beating heart in her hand, and the usual number of monsters, all motion-activated to do something frightening as each car went by.
It was fairly ho-hum. The usual fair ride.
Until they were at the end. Then, to their right, holding signs that bid the rider good night—and good luck—were three scarecrows.
Once again, they had pumpkin heads with faces eerily carved.
“Not good,” Quinn murmured. “Not good.”
“It’s a ride,” Danni reminded him.
“A ride—a dark ride. People scream as they go through it. It’s hardly Fort Knox. I can see a dozen ways someone could slip in here.”
“Okay, well…we can try to do something,” Danni said. “Or you could call Detective Ellsworth who probably has a lot more clout around here.”
She was right; but he didn’t like the fair. He didn’t like the scarecrows.
As they left the ride, he remembered he hadn’t eaten. The aroma of food from some of the booths was strong and he looked at Danni.
“Food,” he said simply.
“That should be easy enough.”
The girl at a booth advertising “amazing” jambalaya was about to close up, but she smiled as they approached.
“I’m sorry. Am I too late?” Quinn asked.
“No, you have about ten minutes left, and we’re easy. I’d have given you fifteen!”
He asked for jambalaya and a soda, and she went to dish up his food, returning and still smiling as she took his money and delivered his order.
Then she glanced uneasily down the path toward the entrance. A quick look of unease, and then she was smiling again.
“Is anything wrong?” Danni asked her.
She shook her head. “No, no, I love working the fair. I’m in the community college, but I’m hoping to head to New Orleans and Loyola! They’re great here—I’ve worked it since I was sixteen. Saved a lot.”
“That’s great,” Danni said. She smiled, too, but she persisted. “You look nervous, though. I guess we’re all nervous.”
The girl nodded. “The murders in the cemetery.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I, uh, well, we stay through the last customer, till we’re sure everyone is out. I was cleaning up a bit early. I…”
“What?” Quinn demanded.
“I don’t know—I’m imagining things, I think. I thought I heard someone in the crowd talking about scarecrows and bodies and…Cursed Yvette, and I’m a little freaked out. This area can get really quiet, and…”
“Hey, finish cleaning up. We’ll walk you out when you’re ready,” Quinn said.
She stared at them and Danni whacked his arm lightly. “Quinn, show her your I.D. How does she know we’re safe?”
“Right!”
“An investigator out of New Orleans?” the girl murmured. “Oh. Oh! There were murders there, too. It’s really scary. I hope this guy has moved on. Not that I wish a murderer on the rest of the state, but…around here, scarecrows are a big thing, and I know I’ll never look at one the same again!”
“I was wondering if the management might be willing to take them down,” Quinn said.
“Management?” she asked. “This place is owned by just one man. Oh, I’m sorry—he has people in charge each night to watch out for problems and the like—taking care of any safety issues. And there are police officers here all the time during opening hours, along with private security. But if you want those scarecrows down, there’s just one person to talk to. He’s richer than Midas—but approachable. Nice guy, really—perhaps because he’s from here. Inherited money, but he’s done well with it, and from what I’ve seen, he never forgets where he came from—right here!”
“You’re talking about Trent Anderson?” Quinn asked.
She nodded gravely and then offered her hand. “Mr. Quinn, I’m Daphne Alain. And,” she said, offering her hand to Danni.
“Danni, Danni Cafferty,” she said.
The girl smiled warmly at her.
“By the way, that’s such a pretty pendant you’re wearing,” Danni said.
Quinn hadn’t noticed her jewelry; he looked at the pendent but couldn’t really see it then. Daphne had clutched it in one hand as she beamed at Danni.
“Thank you! It is pretty—but I’m afraid you’ll see tons just like it! The motif is very popular around here, a copy of an antique piece, I think. They sell pendants just like it or a lot like it at one of the booths right here. If you come back when the place is open, you can see them. The booth is just past the monster ride!”
“Nice,” Danni said. “If we come back, I’ll definitely go see them.”
“If you’re really worried about the scarecrows—they’re creeping me out this year, too—you should talk to Mr. Trent,” Daphne said. “He really is a nice man.”
“I guess we will talk to Mr. Trent Anderson then,” Quinn said, looking at Danni.
Danni nodded and turned to Daphne. “We’ll be at that table there until you’re ready. Then, we’ll see you to your car.”
“Thanks!” the girl said. “Oh, would you like something? On the house.”
“Thank you, I ate earlier, but that was sweet. I’m fine. We’ll be fine waiting for you.”
“Thanks!”
They headed to one of the picnic tables set up for diners by the food booths.
“You don’t mind, do you? This is probably silly, and we could be out of here,” he said to Danni.
She gave him a look of reproach and indignation. “Of course not!”
“What was the bit about her necklace?” Quinn asked Danni.
“I know what it’s copied from. It’s exactly like a pendant in the picture of Yvette. The Yvette whose diary I read and who—I believe—is the murdered Yvette of legend.”
“But, she said—”
“Yes, that it’s a common piece, sold at the fairgrounds, and by a dozen different outlets around here. Probably elsewhere—it’s a fleur-de-lis.”
“But, each fleur-de-lis might be different. And if we are looking for something…ah, hell. There could be a real pendant, causing all kinds of mayhem, and hundreds—or thousands—of knock-offs!”
“There could be,” Danni said, adding dryly, “we could try to buy them all and find out.”
He grimaced. “I have a feeling we wouldn’t buy the real one. If there is such a thing, someone else already has it.”
“How is the jambalaya?”
“Surprisingly good—delicious, actually.”
“Good to hear. Maybe I’ll try it—if we come back.” She was silent a minute and then added, “Maybe we won’t have to come back. Trent Anderson does seem like a decent person.”
“Um. Sure, he was decent enough…and,” he added, “hot and heavy with Colleen’s redhead,” Quinn said.
“It looks like her co-workers—Albert Bennett and Larry Blythe—know she’s seeing him, too. And not so happy—maybe even trying to get her in trouble with Colleen. Colleen is just too distracted to notice right now, but I think Albert and Larry are wrong. If her employee made a great match, Colleen would be delighted, thinking she created a love-match one way or the other.”
Quinn nodded, and then frowned. People had walked by them—many people. All leaving the fairgrounds, since rides and booths had now closed for the night. Fewer and fewer people straggled by them.
It was just about midnight.
He had a mouthful of food when he first noticed the shadow. He froze, listening to Danni, but not really hearing her.
Then he stood.
Daphne’s fears had not been unfounded. He could see someone had slipped behind the booth—there was easy entry from the back. She could have a hand clamped over her mouth and be dragged back—with no one the wiser.
“Quinn?” Danni said.
He bolted around behind the booth, just in time for someone to jerk on one of the canvas coverings, causing it to fall between them and around them. Cursing, Quinn lifted it off himself, shouting for Daphne.
She leapt over the counter, screeching.
He freed himself, searching in every direction for a runner. Whoever it had been had managed to disappear into the brush that lay behind the set-up of the fair on the field. He could give chase, but most probably to no avail.
Besides, Danni and Daphne were alone.
He came around; Daphne was in Danni’s arms, shaking.
“I quit! I quit!” she said. “Right before you came…I saw the shadow. I was about to scream. The other vendors…no one was here. If you hadn’t waited for me…it might have been nothing. It might have been…oh!”
Danni looked searchingly at Quinn. He discretely shook his head. “We need to report this to Ellsworth and Larue,” he said. “I know it’s late, but…”
Daphne winced, looking downward. “I saw the shadow!” she said weakly. “Someone was coming for me. I’m happy to talk to anyone you want!”
Quinn took out his phone; Danni still held a shaking Daphne.
He called Larue first; the man answered the phone with a gruff voice. Quinn had obviously awakened him. He quickly grew sharp and promised to call Ellsworth and meet them just outside the entry to the fair.
In another twenty minutes, both Larue and Ellsworth were there. Quinn explained his concern about the scarecrows, but also said he’d be happy to talk with Trent Anderson himself.
Ellsworth swore to follow Daphne home and see she was locked in.
“You know, it could have just been some jerk trying to pick you up,” Ellsworth told Daphne. “The whole parish is going a little bit crazy. I think we’re going to have to call in some help from the state. Everyone is afraid.”
“State help wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Quinn said.
“It probably was just some jerk!” Daphne said. “But my booth…I can’t wind up alone out here anymore. I…want to make sure I live to get to a four-year college!”
Eventually, everyone got into their cars—Ellsworth following Daphne.
Larue was in his own vehicle.
Quinn revved the engine to the car he and Danni shared. She yawned suddenly.
“It’s past one,” she told him.
“Yeah. Long day. Really, really, really long day.”
“But a good one—at the end. You saved her life.”
“Maybe. Maybe we just stopped an ass from trying too hard to pick her up,” Quinn said.
Danni shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think your instincts were right. I think you just put a crimp into the killer’s plans—and there won’t be a display of three dead scarecrow-people tomorrow morning.”
***
It was nearly two when they finally returned to their room at the Honeywell Lodge.
Danni was bone tired and knew Quinn had to be bone tired, too, but once in their room, he set his weapon and holster on the side of the bed and stripped down before heading toward the shower, kicking off his shoes, jumping on one foot and then other as he stripped off his socks, and shedding his jacket and shirt on his way to the bathroom.
She heard the shower and hesitated.
It seemed eons ago they had laid by the pool, teasing one another about romance.
Long, long, day—as they had said. Still, she stripped quickly herself, heading into the bathroom and joining him in the shower, stepping in behind him and curling her arms around his chest before laying her head on his back.
He turned to her, pulling her close, their bodies flush against one another.
“Poster boy, eh?” he teased softly.
“Um,” she murmured.
The water sluiced around them as he lifted her chin and kissed her long and deep. The heat of the water and the steam around them seemed beautifully mystical, and yet as his hands slid down her back, mystical became increasingly arousing.
Quinn fumbled for the faucet and turned off the spray and for a moment he paused, looking into her eyes. He smiled, and she felt the extent of his arousal against her.
She smiled slowly as well as he stepped out, drawing her with him, and groped for a towel, dropping the first, securing the second.
He wrapped it around her and they met in a fierce kiss once again, one that brought them half dried and half still damp through the steam that embraced the bathroom out to the bedroom area and onto the large bed that dominated the room.
She loved the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. His hands were large, his fingers long, and as they played over the length of her, she felt a gasp of pleasure escaping her. She grinned and touched him in return. Their mouths met again in a fury of a kiss before his lips travelled, and her fingers played over his shoulders as his touches and kisses travelled the length of her.
He was an incredible lover, knowing when to tease, when to move like wildfire, whisper just the right words…
Forge together as one, writhe, twist, thunder…then hold her when the world exploded into beautiful crystals, and it was time to drift back to reality.
She curled against his naked body, stroking the dampness of his chest, feeling his heart beat, feeling him breathe.
“Early morning,” he murmured.
“Very romantic,” she said, and he laughed softly. Then he grew serious, drawing her up to look at him and rising on an elbow.
“I want to get into and out of New Orleans and then see Trent Anderson as soon as I’m back.” He hesitated, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Do you want to come with me? It might be best.”
She shook her head. “Oh, it’s not that I don’t want to come with you. I just think I’m better off staying here.”
“Don’t go—”
“’Walking into any spooky old woods alone?’” she said with a wry smile. “Trust me—I won’t. But I do think I should be here. With Colleen—and just listening and gathering whatever it is we might get. I’ve barely touched the books and the diaries, and there might be something in them.”
He nodded. “Okay.” He touched her hair gently and drew his fingers down her face. “I guess our being back on this so quickly…”
“Sex…business…it’s the way it goes.”
He frowned as if pained and she quickly added, “Quinn, it’s not like we have normal jobs. What we do is…unusual. I guess my dad made it a real vocation, a passion, and I like to believe, we get to make a difference. That we are a force for good.”
“We are,” he told her. “Your father would be so proud. I guess, in our lives, I can believe he is proud—somewhere in the great unknown, looking down.”
“Thanks!” Danni said. “I like to think so,” she whispered, and she curled back against him.
It was really late, and she was really exhausted. Despite that, she was afraid she wouldn’t sleep with so many questions racing through her mind.
She barely laid her head on his chest before she was out, sound asleep.
***
Morning’s light was just dimly breaking through the curtains when Quinn awoke with a start. He could feel Danni was no longer at his side. He bolted up, his heart racing.
But she was there.
He saw her at the desk, a pencil in her hand, a pad of the lodge’s stationary before her. He knew she wasn’t awake. It had happened before; Danni sleep walking—and sleep drawing.
She was really a wonderful artist; her scenes of New Orleans were becoming legendary. Colleen hadn’t just wanted her work for the lodge because they were friends—Danni was good. Exceptionally good. She could somehow breathe life into a stationary scene.
This was something new, though. Ever since coming into her own as a collector of the bizarre and evil, she had taken to this sleep drawing upon occasion. He was careful, when they were home, to have a robe ready at all times, lest she wander downstairs at the house and shop on Royal Street in nothing but her birthday suit to sit down and sketch when they were in the midst of a case.
He walked over to her, looking over her shoulder to see what it was she was drawing.
A pendant.
He thought it was like the one he had seen on Daphne Alain. Maybe it was a little bit different; he wasn’t sure. But it was detailed in every way, a drawing of an elegant pendant on a chain. The fleur-de-lis, a symbol for New Orleans and much of Louisiana.
Like the one on the woman in the picture from the book, she’d said.
She added a final touch and sat back in the chair at the desk, her eyes sightless. He knelt down before her, touching her knees, waking her gently.
“Danni, Danni!” he whispered softly.
She blinked; her eyes opened wide. She stared at the drawing on the desk and turned to him.
“Quinn! I…I was…”
“The pendant. I think we have found our talisman,” he said. “But as Daphne told us, there could be hundreds of imitations around.”
She shook her head. “Go to the house. Ask Billie to get to my dad’s book. See what’s in there. He may have had some experience with this…there are answers in the book.”
She’d known nothing about her father’s book until Angus had been dying.
He had to admit, he’d known nothing about it himself, but Angus—while trying to maintain a life of innocence for his daughter—had prepared for his death. He had catalogued many objects he’d come in contact with along with warnings about those he’d heard about—but never found.
He nodded.
“I’ll take Billie the picture; he can get on it while I’m with Larue and driving back.”
He drew her from the chair, holding her for a moment. But holding her wasn’t a good idea—it could lead to other ideas.
“Go back to sleep,” he told her.
“And you?”
“I’m going to get Larue and get going. I’ll let you know as soon as we’re on the way back. I’ll come for you before meeting up with Trent Anderson.”
She nodded solemnly.
“Danni, I—”
She set a finger to his lips. “Get going!” she told him, and she hurried back to the bed they’d shared, plunging beneath the covers.
He dressed quickly. When he had done so, he paused by the bed to say goodbye and smiled.
She was asleep.
He wasn’t certain whether to be grateful—or slightly insulted and worried. He kissed her brow and headed out, her drawing of the fleur-de-lis medallion tucked into the files he carried beneath his arm.
He reminded himself cases were seldom solved in a day. Investigations could take weeks…months. Sometimes, they weren’t solved. But this…
He wondered again if there had been someone who intended something evil against Daphne Alain the night before. If she might have been an intended victim. Maybe if they hadn’t stayed to wait for her, they might have awakened to discover bodies had been set as scarecrows on the fairgrounds.
He didn’t know. But he did believe this case didn’t have months, weeks, or even days.
They had to solve it quickly.
If not…
Someone else was going to die.
No, two people would die. And once again, “scarecrows” would drip with blood.