Krewe of Hunters 2 Heart of Evil Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought.
    â€œWell, of course, good old Jackson, he’s still swearing solving cases is all logic, and we all know that he knows best,” Whitney said.
    Jake wasn’t really paying attention. He had seen the tour-group leader come out—he wasn’t sure where she had come from. Of course, there were a number of restaurants and bars in the area, and some had been open forever. It was New Orleans. No one frowned if you discovered you were dying for that 8:00 a.m. drink.
    The tour guide was a blonde woman dressed in Civil War attire. Her bonnet hid her face, but she was tall and statuesque, and he had a feeling that she was going to be an attractive woman before he saw her face. Assured, probably in her mid to late thirties, she moved among the chattering crowd as they waited.
    She was coming toward the sidewalk, politely excusing herself as she did so, but people didn’t seem to notice as she made her way through them, which said a lot for the good nature of the group, since she was wearing a respectable day dress with large hoops.
    She paused when she reached the sidewalk.
    Jake started. She was staring straight at him, and she smiled, but her smile seemed to be very sad. Her mouth moved. He squinted. He wasn’t all that much at reading lips, but it was almost as if he could hear her.
    â€œWe’re waiting, we need you. Hurry,” he thought she said.
    â€œJake?”
    â€œHuh?” He turned back to look at Whitney.
    â€œWant to move on?” she asked.
    â€œYes, sure,” he agreed. He stood and left a tip on the table, having already paid the waiter.
    When he glanced up again, the tour had moved on down toward the cathedral. He didn’t see the woman, but they would be walking in the same direction.
    â€œWhitney,” he asked as they did so, “did you understand what that woman was trying to say?”
    â€œWhat woman?”
    â€œShe was the guide for that group that’s ahead of us. She looked right over at us and said something,” Jake told her.
    Whitney arched a delicately formed brow. “First, I didn’t see the woman, but I wasn’t looking. And second, if she’d spoken from across the street, unless she’d been yelling, how could I have heard anything she had to say?”
    He shrugged. “Good point.”
    They walked up St. Ann Street, took a pedestrian thruway as they passed by the square, then turned in right in front of the cathedral, where the tour group had now paused.
    The woman wasn’t with them. There was a man in a top hat and frock coat leading the tour.
    Jake stopped short.
    â€œHey! Hey there, remember me?” Whitney said, nudging him.
    â€œJust a second,” Jake said. He knew that the man would finish his spiel about St. Louis Cathedral, and then allow the group to take pictures.
    This guide, however, apparently liked to hear himself speak. He added in several personal anecdotes regarding the cathedral, before allowing his group to disperse for pictures.
    When the group finally thinned, Jake approached him. The fellow, in his mid-twenties, saw them coming.
    â€œThe tour offices are actually on Decatur, sir, if you’re interested in any of our offerings. We do history tours, ghost tours, vampire tours, plantation tours—”
    â€œActually, we’re locals and could do the tours,” Jake said, interrupting him with a pleasant tone. “I’m just curious—why did you all change tour guides at the last minute?”
    The man frowned. “We didn’t. I’ve been scheduled for over a week to do this tour.”
    Jake frowned. “I saw a woman with your group. She was dressed in antebellum clothing, bonnet and all.”
    â€œOh, she was probably heading for Le Petit Theatre,” the tour guide said. “They’re doing several performances of Our American Cousin. She’s a bit early to be in costume for the matinee, but I imagine you saw one of the