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until he'd figured that out.
Grace was reading the newspaper when he arrived. It was five minutes to
closing time. She put the paper down and looked up at him with a worried
expression.
"That's two days in a row you've missed your afternoon nap," she teased, but
he could tell her heart wasn't in it.
"Been busy," he said, shrugging off his coat.
"Did you have any customers today?"
Grace frowned. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did.
Thanks for reminding me to ball you out. A guy named George. Ring any bells?"
Damn!
"Look, Grace ..." he started.
"Gabriel, we do not now, nor have we since I
started here, have any Chandler mysteries!"
"Oh," Gabriel said blankly. "My mistake."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were just thinking of one of the many other bookstores
you own. It doesn't matter. I managed to hook him on some old Time-
Life true crime books. Too bad he wasn't a paying customer."
"There's nothing wrong with the barter system, Grace. It's an old Southern
tradition."
"Yeah, well, I'll tell that to Southern Bell next time they threaten to
disconnect the phone."
"Could you do something for me tonight?" he asked, smiling to get back on her
good side.
Assuming she had one he hadn't seen, of course.
"What?"
"Could you look up a Madame Cazaunoux?"
"Oh? Is she 'related to the Voodoo Murders' the way your friend Malia Gedde
was?"
"Grace! Cazaunoux's at least seventy!"
"As if that would stop you," Grace sighed. "All right, Sherlock. I'll see what
I can find."
Grace walked over to the coatrack. "I have my tai chi class tonight, but I'll
check it out when I get home."
"Thanks, Gracie. Sweet dreams."
As if it were that easy. He watched her go, feeling a catch in his throat.
Another night. Alone.
Chapter 3
Drawn to Bacchus's abode, I sought there to conspire.
But it was in the city of the dead that I found my heart's desire.
June 20,1993
He knew he had dreamt again when he awoke the next morning. He didn't remember
anything, which was unusual, but he awoke tired, his muscles sore, and the
sheet on the bed was twisted around him like a shroud. The clock on his
bedside was missing, and after searching for a moment, he found it lying on
the floor just under the bed, blinking a complaint about a temporary loss of
power. He might not remember the dream, but it must have been a doozy.
He showered before coffee, a departure from routine, and pulled on one of the
pairs of Levi's and one of the many white T-shirts that made up the entirety
of his wardrobe. He was already making a mental list of what he had to do that
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day planning anything being yet another depar-
ture from routine as he stepped through the heavy curtain that separated his
studio from the shop front and ran smack into Grace, nearly toppling the full
load of books she carried in her arms.
"You're the only person I know who can get out of bed in the morning and jump
right into being in the way/' Grace said cheerfully, maneuvering around him
and setting down her cargo.
"Good morning to you, too, Grade." He headed for the coffee.
"That guy from Germany called again this morning. Wolfgang Ritter? Now he's
claiming to be a relative of yours." She dusted off her hands and wiped her
brow. "It's going to be hot today."
"A relative? My my."
"Yeah, poor bastard. I took down his name and number. It's stuck to the cash
register."
"Great," Gabriel said distractedly. He sipped his coffee and picked up the
day's newspaper from next to the coffeepot where Grace always left it. He
scanned it casually for anything about the murders.
"And your pal Mosely called, too. Said he was interrogating a suspect this
morning and you might want to come by."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow behind the paper.
"Sounds like fun."
"I bet. Police Brutality 101," Grace said dryly.
"You'll be happy to know I didn't even tell him what a schmuck he was being
for believing you about that book crap."
"Book?" Gabriel said innocently.
"Save it. You told him you'd write a true crime book about the Voodoo Murders
case. Featuring
him, naturally. He told me."
"Well, I..."
"When in reality," Grace continued calmly, "your new novel is about a female
orthodontist who gets entangled in a Voodoo cult while touring New Orleans."
"I might change it," Gabriel said defensively, "I
keep an open mind."
"Uh-huh."
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