The Dead Play On by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Retail, Thriller
ISBN: 9780778317739
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Mira
Published: 2015-03-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

WHEN QUINN AWOKE, Danni wasn’t next to him. A fleeting moment of panic swept through him. He couldn’t help it; maybe it was some instinctive macho thing. It worried him that she’d moved and he hadn’t wakened.

The panic subsided quickly, but another fear quickly arose. Danni was a sleepwalker—and a “sleep-sketcher.” When things didn’t make sense, when she didn’t have a ready answer rolling through her mind, she had a tendency to rise and walk down to her studio and start to draw—all while she was dead asleep.

And she did so nude, since that was how they slept.

Quinn bolted out of bed.

The rest of the household might not be sleeping. Worse, Danni’s studio was a short hallway down from the main gallery of the shop.

He slid into his jeans but didn’t bother with shoes, shirt or even his gun. Bursting out of the room, he raced down the stairs. Wolf wasn’t in the kitchen, he discovered, taking a hasty look inside.

Brad and Jenny were there, however. Brad was reading the paper Billie insisted on having delivered every day. Jenny was making coffee.

“Morning,” he said to them. “Have you seen Danni?”

“We just came down,” Brad said. “Do you want some breakfast? We’d like to help out.”

“No, thanks,” he said. Smiling—and aware that they’d both noted with interest that he was in nothing but his jeans—he hurried on to Danni’s studio.

To his vast relief, he saw that she was clothed.

Their line of work called for strange hours sometimes. He hadn’t glanced at the time yet, but it had to be eleven or twelve. Not only were Brad and Jenny in the kitchen, but he could hear voices from the shop. Bo Ray was talking to a customer. He was talking about a local craftsman and how each piece was one of a kind. No hard sell at The Cheshire Cat, just the kind of information that helped unique items sell themselves.

Danni wasn’t aware of him at first; she was seated on her stool and staring at the newly drawn picture on her easel. Wolf was by her side. The mammoth dog thumped his tail as he saw Quinn.

“Danni?” he said.

She turned to look at him, awake and aware.

“Hey,” she said. She smiled, examining him from head to toe. “Like the outfit.”

“Thanks,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “I was worried, so I wasn’t really thinking about my wardrobe.”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she told him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear you leave. At least you didn’t sleepwalk.”

Her smile faded slightly. “I did. But apparently I had the sense to sleep-dress first. I woke up here, dressed and drawing.”

“A psychiatrist would have a field day with you, you know?”

She grinned at that. “It is somewhat worrisome, but...”

“So what did you draw?” he asked her.

“La Porte Rouge. It’s pretty good, actually, if I do say so myself. But it doesn’t really tell me anything.”

Quinn walked over to her, setting his hands on her shoulders as he studied the drawing. He saw the bar as if he were standing in the cross-street entrance.

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