They parted ways. Dan drove home. Though he was in the French Quarter, parking for one car was easy. The old carriage house—part of the horseshoe design of the home and courtyard—was easily big enough for his SUV.

It was about an eight-block walk down to Jackson Square. He headed toward the river until he came to Royal Street. He didn’t want to be on Bourbon, but he did want to see how locals and tourists were doing out among the many shops and restaurants on the popular street.

He heard constant snatches of conversation as he moved along, passing the Cornstalk House and—while he really wasn’t hungry yet—he knew there was a Community Coffee shop just ahead, and coffee did seem like a good idea.

He waved to a friend as he passed by Fifi Mahony’s. Mrs. Leary was one of his neighbors, who did costuming for various events and always suggested a good wig would help with any costume. He figured she was busy at work.

At CC’s, he ordered their darkest coffee, black, and was starting out when Mrs. Leary came in, her most recent purchase in a box. She was shaking her head anxiously.

“You know, boy, I need to talk to you!”

Dan smiled. She was a dear from another lifetime. He let her call him boy.

“Okay.”

“New Orleans is always wild. We’re famous for wild!”

“Yes.”

“Dan, those murders! So horrible.”

“Yes. Mrs. Leary—”

“And people, on the streets, they’re talking about buying dogs and shotguns. People are so scared! But when this is over, are they all just going to throw the dogs out?”

“I doubt that, Mrs. Leary. But guess what? I’m giving a press conference soon, and thanks to you, I will mention the fact that if people get dogs for security, they have to remember they’re bringing home a family member, not to be abandoned, okay?”

“Six,” she said.

“Pardon me?”

“People are getting crazy out there. There was a couple on the street. He played a violin, she was dancing. She had a card with a six on it in her hat, a steampunk getup. Then another man went up to her and ripped the card out of her hat! And he was yelling that the sign of six was not to be seen! He huffed off into the crowd, and she just looked after him, all angry. And she started shouting after him, ‘Six, six, six.’ What the hell? It’s a number!”

“No one hurt anyone, right?” he asked her. Mrs. Leary seemed upset.

She shook her head. “Just acting crazy.”

“You do have an alarm on your home, Mrs. Leary, remember? I made you get it two years ago? You remember to set it, right?”

“I will now,” she said sharply.

“Mrs. Leary, you make sure that you do,” he said.