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Chapter Fifty-Nine
My phone rang early in the morning and I snatched it up. It was Kyle. In his slow and deliberate voice, he told me that Daniel and Charles had disappeared the previous night. He was furious at his agents. I'd never heard him so angry. So far, no murders had been reported in and around New Orleans. About six that morning, the magicians had showed up at their house in the Garden District. Where had they been all night? What had happened? Something had. I stayed in Washington that day, still recuperating from the cellulitis. I studied Daniel and Charles and wrote a preliminary profile on them to compare with the one being done in Quantico. The first important bit of information was that the magicians had definitely performed in Savannah and Charlotte on the nights of the murders. I was working with a couple of techies in Quantico and they not only matched up the timing of the magicians' tour with about half of the murders, but verified that Daniel and Charles had definitely performed in those cities, and were there when the murders had taken place. Another useful nugget was that the tigers traveled with Daniel and Charles only for bookings that lasted at least a week. The magicians were scheduled to perform in New Orleans for the next three weeks. They also owned a house there, in the Garden District. I shared what I had found with Quantico and they put it into the file they were amassing. I also faxed everything to Jamilla Hughes in San Francisco. She was trying her best to get down to New Orleans, but her boss hadn't made a final decision yet.
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I put in another call to Kyle on the matter. He hemmed and hawed, but finally promised to see if he could get Inspector Hughes sprung for a few days. After all, it had started with her case. I was becoming frustrated at home. I felt as if I were on a stakeout in my own bedroom - with nothing to observe firsthand. The consolation was that I was with little Alex for long patches of the day, and that I got to see more of Damon and Jannie. But I was feeling a little like the forgotten man on the murder case. I went to see Dr Prahbu at St Anthony's that afternoon. The doctor examined me, then reluctantly gave me clearance to go back to work. He told me to take it easy for the next few days. 'How did you get those bites?' he asked. 'You never told me, Detective.' 'Yes, I did,' I said. 'Vampires in North Carolina.' I thanked the doctor for his help, then went home to pack for the trip to New Orleans. I was a little unsteady, but I couldn't wait to get there. Nana didn't bother to give me the business when I left Washington this time. She was angry because I'd been so ill from the infected bites. I flew into New Orleans International Airport that afternoon, then I took an old yellow cab to the Big Easy. A message was waiting at the front desk of my hotel, the Dauphine Orleans. I opened the small envelope hesitantly, but it was good news. Inspector Hughes was on her way to New Orleans. The message was classic. It was pure Jamilla: I'm coming to New Orleans, and they're going down. Don't doubt it for a second.
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Chapter Sixty
T amilla and I met up at the Dauphine Hotel that night. She was | decked out in a black leather jacket, blue jeans, a white pocket-T. She looked rested and ready for anything; I didn't feel so bad myself. We had supper together, steak and eggs and beer, in the dining room. As always I enjoyed her company. We made each other laugh. At ten-thirty we drove over to Howl. Daniel and Charles had shows scheduled at eleven and one. And then? Maybe they had planned another clever disappearing act. We were pumped to take them down. Unfortunately, we still needed concrete evidence that they were our killers. There were more than two hundred agents and New Orleans police involved in the case. Something had to break. Presumably, Daniel and Charles would have to feed soon. It was a Friday night and Howl was almost full when we got there. Loud music played from speakers that seemed to be everywhere in the ceiling and walls. The crowd was mostly young and restless, drinking beer, smoking, dirty dancing. Several Goths were mixed in with the more clean-cut college kids. The two groups leered at one another and the atmosphere was charged. A photographer from Offbeat magazine crouched in front of the stage, waiting for the show to begin. Jamilla and I sat down at one of the small tables and ordered Jax beers. There were at least a dozen FBI agents in the club. Kyle was outside in a surveillance car. He had been inside the night before, but -------------- 165 --------------
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it was hard for Kyle to blend in with a mostly young, hip crowd. He looked too much like a cop. The back of my throat was already beginning to burn from the smoke and the heavy perfume in the air. A gulp of beer soothed the gullet somewhat. My arm and hand still ached some from the bites. My head was clear, though; I definitely felt a lot better than I had. I liked having Jamilla around again. She gave good counsel. 'Kyle has a six-team surveillance on the magicians around the clock/I told her.'They won't lose them again. Kyle guarantees it.' 'The FBI thinks they're definitely the killers?'she asked.'No doubt about it? Lock 'em up, throw away the key?' 'Some doubt I suppose, but not much. You never know exactly what Kyle is thinking,'! told her.'But yes, I think he believes they are. The techies at Quantico do. So do I.' She studied me over the lip of her bottle of Jax. 'Sounds like the two of you are pretty tight, huh?' I nodded. 'We've worked a lot of cases together in the past few years. Our success rate is good. I can't say that I really know him.' 'I've never had much luck working with the FBI,' she said. 'That's just me though.' 'Part of my job is to make sure police relations with the Bureau run smoothly in DC. Kyle is definitely smart. He's just hard to read at times.' She sipped her beer slowly. 'Unlike somebody else at this table.' 'Unlike two somebodies at this table,'! corrected her, and we both laughed. Jamilla glanced toward the stage. 'What's the hold-up? Where are they? Should we start stamping our feet for them to come out and show us some magic? Show us what they've got?' We didn't have to - a moment later one of the magicians walked out onto the stage. It was Charles, and he looked like a killer.
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Chapter Sixty-One
Charles was wearing a skintight black bodysuit and thigh-high patent leather boots. He had a simple diamond earring and a gold nose stud. He stared contemptuously at the audience. He did this for several uncomfortable moments, his eyes full of hatred and disdain for every case he encountered. At least twice, I thought that he looked directly at Jamilla and me. So did she. "Yeah, we're watching you too, asshole,' she said, raising her beer in mock salute.'You think those two pitiful creeps know we're here?' 'Who knows? They're good at this. They haven't been caught yet.' 'I hear you. Hopefully, they both have stomach cancer and will die slowly and painfully over the next few months. Cheers,' she raised her bottle again. Charles leaned down and spoke to a college-age couple at a table near the stage. He was miked. 'What are you two airheads staring at? Watch out, or I'll turn you into a couple of toads. Upgrade you on the food chain.' He laughed, and it was deep and throaty. To my ear, it was also unnecessarily unpleasant, way over the top. The kids in the audience laughed and cheered him on. Civility seems to be dead. Nasty is chic; nasty is so cool and real. I looked over at Jamilla.'He sees them as food. Interesting how his twisted mind works.' The second magician sauntered onto the stage a couple of minutes later. No magic gimmicks to announce the entrance, which surprised -------------- 167 --------------