Krewe of Hunters 1 Phantom Evil by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

chauffeur and bodyguard.”
    â€œBut it’s just us now?” she asked him.
    â€œJust us. And the others will be in tomorrow.”
    â€œHave you met any of them?”
    â€œNope. We’re all a surprise to one another,” he said.
    She was pretty sure that she’d been quite a surprise to him.
    â€œAll right, I’ll just run these bags up. You’re in the last bedroom on the left-hand side once I’m up there?” she asked.
    He nodded. “I can take your bags up for you,” he offered.
    â€œIt’s okay. I never travel with what I can’t carry. I’ll be right down.”
    She felt his blue gaze on her as she grabbed her carry-on and her shoulder bag. As she reached the landing, she saw that there were three rooms to her left; the first seemed the easiest place, and so she deposited her luggage on the floor by the foot of the bed. The room was handsomely designed with a black-and-gold motif, almost à la the New Orleans Saints. Angela imagined that Regina had carefully planned it as aguest room, which, definitely, did not sound like the act of a woman contemplating suicide. In fact, from what she had seen, the grieving mother had been dedicated to making the house the perfect home for a man-of-the-people politician.
    Angela wasn’t an expert on the depression that led to suicide, so she couldn’t really be sure how people might behave before taking their own lives. A call to a few forensic psychiatrists was in order.
    â€œAny particular cuisine in mind?” Jackson asked her as she came back down the stairs.
    She gazed at him questioningly. “It is New Orleans,” she told him. “Anywhere.”
    â€œMost places are open until at least ten. How about Irene’s?”
    â€œLovely.”
    They locked the house and strolled two silent blocks down to Royal, passing the burst of sound that was Bourbon as they did so. Two mounted-police officers at the corner watched over the night, lest the revelers become a bit too happy. Come-on persons were in the street, hawking the cheapness of an establishment’s drinks, the wonders of the band or the exotic talents of the dancers within a certain club.
    Even when Jackson was approached by a slightly long-in-the-tooth woman urging him to an upstairs establishment to see Wicked Wanda on a pole, he seemed amused.
    â€œSorry, I’m with a friend tonight,” he told the hawker.
    â€œShe can come, too!”
    â€œIt’s okay—I know that I’d just love Wicked Wanda,” Angela said. “But we’re heading off to dinner.”
    â€œWe serve food!” the woman told him. “We have an amazing menu. Two amazing menus, actually. Spankings are five dollars a shot, pants up or down.”
    â€œAnd then the servers bring you your food,” Jackson said, grinning. “Sorry,” he lied, “we have reservations.”
    They managed to elude the persistent woman, and walk quickly on down to Royal where they reached relative quiet. Royal Street was known for its antiques shops and boutiques, and was more serene than the raucous Bourbon by night.
    Arriving at Irene’s, they were ushered past the first dining room to wait at the bar, where a pianist played and sang old tunes, nicely performing “At Last.” Jackson asked her if she’d like a drink, and she opted for a cabernet.
    â€œYou know, I could get the drinks,” she told him.
    He grinned. “We’re on an expense account. Let me use the company’s money.”
    â€œI wonder what the taxpayers would think about that,” she murmured.
    â€œActually, Adam Harrison funds the special unit. I believe he started off in a nice financial place at birth, and managed to parlay his inheritance into a tidy sum through investments and real estate. The last thing he would begrudge his people, I think, would be drinks and dinner after digging up a corpse.”
    â€œBones,” she