Page 103 of Whispers at Dusk
“Yes.”
“Okay. History. And fiction. Hey, Lafitte’s is supposedly the oldest structure used as a bar in the United States, and no, its namesakes didn’t own the place, but supposedly again, one of their partners in crime did and smuggled goods went through the place. You know—Jean and Pierre Laffite stood there! Anyway, it’s an exceptional building and nicely run. There’s the little courtyard, and I intend to find out if Gideon was ever there!”
“But probably not tonight!” he whispered back. “We do have our international friends, and they are ready to keep moving!”
They stopped in to see several of the bars, all offering great music with styles ranging from NOLA jazz to blues and, of course, rock. It wasn’t surprising that dozens of young women flirted with Edmund Taylor; as Mason had once pointed out in teasing her, he was an impressive man.
And while Jeanne Lapierre was older, he had his share of laughter and flirtations, too.
It was very late when they decided they’d end the evening together at a late-late-late-night restaurant off Bourbon Street. Food—and then sleep!
It had been fun, an enjoyable night with enjoyable people.
Detective Fremont excused himself and answered his phone while determining whether to join everyone or head on home.
He smiled after listening to the call and informed them early on that all three of the Louisiana victims were in stable condition.
They would make it.
After that call, Detective Fremont left them, pleased, relieved, and thanking them, and telling them that he was about to keel over.
Della thought she should have been ready to keel over, too. But adrenaline was still rushing through her. She loved the French Quarter and loved showing it to their teammates. Especially since they hadn’t been before, because they were Europeans—and Lapierre and Bisset Frenchmen!
It was when they had ordered—breakfast had seemed the correct meal since it was nearly three in the morning—that Bisset lifted his cup of coffee and looked around the table.
“Cheers, bravo! Della, an American expression here. Boy, do you have balls! You’re beautiful, of course, but fearless.”
“No, trust me, I can be afraid,” she promised.
“We all need to be afraid,” Mason said quietly. “Fear can keep us alive.”
“Ah, but there is fear that debilitates, and fear that is controlled. Fear that is weighed and... Special Agent Mason Carter! Not sure you know what fear is!”
“Ah, but I do.”
“You walk in where you need to be—in the most intelligent manner, of course.”
“Well, um, thank you.”
“That leads us to the detectives. Lapierre and Taylor. Gentlemen, may I just say I will be glad to be your liaison at any time, anywhere within my ability.”
“Best backup ever!” Edmund Taylor said, lifting his coffee cup and grinning.
“Best team ever,” Mason said.
“We were a good team. And I am grateful this horrible man will face prison in several different countries, grateful for Norway, Scotland, for Romania, France...” Bisset told them.
His voice trailed.
“But according to what we learned when Dante thought only Della was with him, he had a follower in England. So, there is still avampirekiller at large in England,” Mason supplied. “We have people at the Krewe with some really special abilities, a psychiatrist who has worked with criminal minds for years and is brilliant. We’ll get him talking to Dante and see what we can find out. If anyone can get him to talk—”
“I really don’t think anyone can,” Edmund said. “Of course, I’m open to your people trying anything, but...”
“Whatever it takes, we’ll find the truth,” Mason said.
“What?” Edmund asked, confused.
“Team. We’re a team. Bisset already knows... He had to go through a few channels to become permanently assigned to us. But we’re officially a Euro-team—an experimental Euro-team. But a team, under the jurisdiction of Jackson Crow and the Krewe and Detective Taylor, we’ll keep working this case. We’ll go to England or wherever we need to go. We’ll find the killer Dante twisted in England, no matter what it takes.”
