Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,43

then shut. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Extremely."

"How do you know the gun was his?"

"His fingerprints were all over the thing. Besides, if it was a robbery, why leave a gun like that lying around? Thing has to be worth some money, even without the weird bullets."

"What kind of weird?" I asked.

"Silver." He opened the door. "Who uses silver bullets?"

Without waiting for an answer, the detective left.

Cassandra and I stared after him, then looked at each other. "Uh-oh," we both said at the same time.

"Appears you aren't the only one searching for a loup-garou," Cassandra murmured.

"I am now," I said dryly.

"You should be careful. Someone doesn't want the beast found."

"Seems to me like someone doesn't want the beast killed."

Cassandra's lips pursed. "You've got a point"

I shook my head, gave a little laugh, even though I didn't find much of this funny. "Is everyone around here nuts?"

"That's rhetorical, right?"

"Silver bullets, missing bodies, zombies."

"Welcome to New Orleans." She tilted her head. "You look like you haven't slept at all. Did something happen in the swamp?"

I'd planned to tell her of Charlie; I'd forgotten about the wolf and Simon.

"It was probably just a dream," I muttered.

Cassandra's eyes sharpened. "Dreams have meaning. Tell me."

So I did.

"The wolf sounds like a dream."

"My dead husband at the window doesn't?"

"In this town - not so much."

A chill passed over me that had nothing to do with the overactive air conditioner. Simon was dead. I'd buried him years ago. I didn't believe in ghosts or zombies or werewolves. Really.

"You said there weren't any tracks."

"There could have been. The ground was all turned up."

Cassandra frowned. "Odd, but maybe it was like that even before your dream."

Maybe. But I doubted it

"You're intent on finding a loup-garou," she continued. "You see one at the window. Simple wish fulfillment."

"And Simon?"

"Could be the same thing. You miss him, he's there."

I wrinkled my nose. "His ghost?"

"Why not?"

"Why now?"

"Guilt?"

I stilled. I hadn't told Cassandra about doing the horizontal mambo with Adam Ruelle, but from the lift of her brow, she knew anyway.

"You shouldn't feel guilty, Diana. Your husband's gone; you're not."

"I understand that here." I pointed to my head. "But here?" I patted my chest. "Not so much."

Her sigh was long and sad. "I know."

From the expression on her face, she did know, and I wanted to ask who she'd lost, how long it had been. After all, we'd bonded. But she shook off the sadness, smiling brightly, and I got the distinct impression her past was off-limits.

"You want to tell me why you came careening in here like something was chasing you?"

"Oh, yeah! Charlie Wagner."

Cassandra's smile faded. "How did you - ?"

"What?"

"His body is the one that's missing."

"Which might be why I saw him on Jackson Square."

Her gaze sharpened. "Did you use the powder?"

"He took off. Disappeared." I paused. "Can a zombie disappear?"

"Not that I know of."

Was I having this conversation?

"Where did you lose him?" Cassandra demanded.

"Frenchmen Street."

She grabbed a huge purse from under the counter, then chose items from the shelves and shoved them inside. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Frenchmen Street."

"Because...?'

"Zombies aren't the smartest beings on the planet. They follow orders, then return to their master."

"I don't believe this," I muttered.

"You do, or you wouldn't be here."

The woman was right too often for her own good.

"You have the powder?" she asked as she locked the door behind us.

"Yep."

"OK. We find him, reveal him, put him back where he belongs."

"Which is?"

She frowned. "Good question. I've never heard of a zombie being raised before they were buried. But then again, they aren't exactly buried around here. Encrypted. Is that a word?"

"Got me."

Cassandra led the way, moving at a fast clip down Royal Street, then turning on St. Peter and heading for Jackson Square. Night had fallen; the moon that rose was just over half-full. Where had the time gone? I'd need to wait over a week to search for the loup-garou again.

And was I really adjusting my job because of the phases of the moon? Yes. The unbelievable became more believable with every passing hour.

"Can't we do this in the daytime?" I asked.

"No."

"I saw him in the daytime." I frowned, remembering. "Well, not exactly daytime, but it wasn't night, either."

She stopped, turned, and put a hand on my shoulder. "It isn't that we can't wait; it's that we shouldn't Zombies are rarely raised for the good of mankind. The longer Charlie's waltzing around, the more trouble he'll cause."

"You're the expert."

We started walking again.

"What did he look like?" she asked.

"Charlie."

"I mean was there any decay? What about his throat wound?"

I shook my