Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(22)

“It’s damned possible,” Jake said.

The demeanor of the man had changed completely. “So—so what do I do now? I don’t own a gun. I’m not a violent man. I can’t even leave here. They could be waiting for me. And I won’t even know them. I don’t know if they’ll be witches or clowns or just people walking down the street. I don’t even know if they were men or women.”

Good call, Ashley thought. It was true. From what she understood, the witches’ makeup had concealed any concept of a real face, and the clowns had been wearing masks. They could have been male or female or a mix.

“You have to protect me. You have to.” Richard Showalter was working himself into a panic.

But it was true. He was now their responsibility. Ashley looked over at Jake.

They both knew it was true.

“Where do you live?” Jake asked.

“Garden District.”

“Okay. You have a car here?”

“Took an Uber. I knew I’d drink.”

“All right. We’ll get you there, and then I’ll have the cops watching your place. Please tell me you don’t put your real address out anywhere,” Jake said.

“No, I use a P.O. box,” Showalter said.

“Thank God for small favors,” Jake muttered.

They all turned to leave. The music stopped and Ashley turned again, looking back at the stage. Sammy Riley was up there now, and he called out to her loudly. “Hey, Ashley—where are you guys going? Thought you were going to come on up and do a number.”

“Next time, Sammy,” Ashley called.

“That’s next year,” Sammy said.

“Next year then,” Ashley said cheerfully and waved.

She wished he hadn’t called out to her, drawing attention to her and Jake and Richard Showalter.

“Hey,” Showalter said, balking.

“What?” Jake asked.

“Are you guys just fooling with me? You’re musicians? Is this all a crock—is that I.D. of yours a costume piece?”

“I’m an agent who loves his guitar. The badge is real.”

“It’s real,” Ashley swore. “I don’t know what to say to convince you. We need to see you’re—safe.”

Showalter sighed. “So help me, if this isn’t the truth… If you hurt me, kill me, I’ll… I’ll haunt the hell out of you.”

Ashley smiled. “Join the party,” she murmured.

“Let’s go,” Jake said firmly.

“All right, all right.” Showalter moved.

And Ashley still hesitated, just a second.

They had been watching people. They’d come to watch people.

But she was afraid that people might have been watching them too. It was just a feeling, but…

She shook her head and stopped that line of thought, hurrying out behind the men.

“I’m not a violent man. I don’t even carry a gun,” Showalter muttered as they went.

“Not to worry. I do,” Jake assured him.

The streets were busy. Jake urged Ashley and Showalter ahead of him until they reached the car. Once in, Jake got Showalter’s address and they drove the distance.

Showalter’s street in the Garden District was quiet at night. Stately old residences—most of them fenced, and most with alarm systems—sat quietly in the night like the Old Guard.

“There’s an alarm system?” Jake asked.

“Of course,” Showalter said.

“Excellent.”

“You have a dog?” Ashley asked.

“Sorry, I have a cat. A guard cat—honestly. I have a huge old mutt cat I think has some wild cat mixed in. He’ll go after you.”

Showalter opened the gate with his key and they followed him up to a handsome Georgian residence. He hesitated just a second, then opened the front door and stepped inside, hitting numbers on the alarm pad just inside the door.

“I’m confused. Are you staying? I mean, you’re not leaving me, right? Killer clowns, or witches. Or… Damn.”

“Jake will call the NOPD,” Ashley assured Showalter. “They’ll see that someone comes to watch out for you.”

“I don’t want just anyone in my house. Wait a minute. A good cop—a really good cop. Sure—he can be in my house. I mean, you’re not just going to get a cop to drive by every hour, or anything like that, right?”

Jake ignored him and stepped away to organize things on the phone.

Ashley watched him and tried to chat with Showalter too, aware he was actually making two calls.

“I love this place,” she said. And she did. The architectural style was one of her favorites.

“Me too. It’s real vintage New Orleans. My grandparents owned it. I used to come for summers, but I grew up in Chicago. Dad’s job.”

“Chicago is a great city, world class jazz and blues and museums and more,” Ashley said.

“Yes, that’s true. But I always loved this place. And I’m an only grandchild so it was mine if I wanted it. I work from home and I can handle the upkeep. My folks aren’t retired yet. They come when they can. As you can see, it’s plenty big.”

“You have no live-in help?”

He shook his head. “No. I have two housekeepers, but they come every couple of days. It’s just me. Not that big a mess.” He seemed to want answers then. “A guitar-playing G-man, huh? And you?”