The Dead Play On by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

said, looking sternly at Danni before he left the kitchen.
    A moment later Quinn walked in and looked at her curiously. “What’s up with Billie? He looked upset, like you offended him or something.”
    “Didn’t mean to,” she said, reaching for another plate. “Tyler, please, have a seat.”
    Quinn dug into the refrigerator. “Tyler, what will you have to drink?”
    “Water would be fine.”
    Quinn got another glass and poured them all ice water. Billie had already cut the lasagna into neat serving-size squares, which she dished out before sitting.
    “So,” Quinn said, meeting Tyler’s eyes. “Tell us what’s up.” Then he took a bite and started chewing enthusiastically.
    Danni lowered her head for a moment. Quinn had probably skipped lunch; he seemed to be starving. Tyler hadn’t even glanced at his plate, and she wasn’t sure whether to be worried about him and his fears or not.
    Tyler pushed the food around on his plate. “I think my friend was murdered.”
    “Ah,” Quinn said, without seeming surprised. “And your friend’s name was...?”
    “Arnie—Arnold Watson,” Danni put in.
    Quinn sat back and took a drink of water. Danni saw his brow furrow as he considered her words.
    “I read the obituary,” he said quietly. “I thought it was a damned shame. He sounded like a wonderful person. A soldier who gave what he could to his country. It’s hard, though, coming back, sometimes. I’ve known guys who believed they were fine then woke up in the middle of the night shaking and screaming, sweat pouring off them. Even with everything we know about post-traumatic disorders, sometimes...the depth of a guy’s depression is invisible because
he
thinks he’s all right.”
    Tyler Anderson put down his fork. “He didn’t kill himself. And he wasn’t an addict.”
    “Of course he wasn’t,” Danni said gently, resting a hand on Tyler’s where it lay on the table.
    “No, you don’t understand. I’m an addict—in recovery, but an addict all my life. I would have known if Arnie was into drugs, too, and he wasn’t, not in any way.”
    Danni nodded. “But...I’ve seen things happen to men who come home from war. And maybe that was the problem. He wasn’t an addict, but maybe he
was
in pain. His death was accidental because he only tried it once or twice, and—”
    “He
tried
it once,” Tyler said. “Only once. If you don’t believe me, ask the police. There were no other track marks on him, just the needle mark from the one injection. But it sure in hell wasn’t something he did, and it wasn’t an accidental overdose. Someone did it
to
him. Someone
killed
him!”
    “I don’t disbelieve you,” Quinn said. “But...how do you know? How can you be so sure? Things can happen overnight, things we don’t expect. I’ve seen cops who can’t take a case for whatever reason, and suddenly, they’re ingesting every substance out there.”
    He’d asked the questions, Danni thought, but he already believed Tyler.
    “The sax told me,” Tyler said.
    For a moment, just for a moment, Danni thought she had misheard him. That he had said, “The
sex
told me,” as if he had been referring to a girl he’d slept with or who had slept with Arnie.
    But then she remembered what he’d said when he came into the shop and realized he was talking about the saxophone.
    The musical instrument that now lay in its case by his side on the floor.
    “The
sax
told you?” Quinn repeated.
    Tyler nodded gravely. “I was playing...just the other night. It was his sax, you see. It’s really old, some kind of an antique his grandmother bought for him. A silver-plated Pennsylvania Special. I don’t know what it’s worth or the rest of its history. I just know it’s a damned good instrument and Arnie loved it. Said it was special. But the point is, I was playing
his
sax. And suddenly I was playing
his
song, and I could see his life—his life before he came home. I saw the war. I could feel the damned sand, it