“Hey, Lieutenant,” the big musician said.
“Big Jim, what’s going on?”
“A fight—the kind that looked like it could have turned bloody,” Big Jim supplied.
“Between…?” the lieutenant asked.
“They were right there. This—Big Jim told them to stop and threw beer at them, and then they both…took off, I guess,” Lauren said.
The steel blue eyes settled on her. “And you are?”
“My name is Lauren Crow,” she said.
He looked around. “And you were egging on one of the participants?” he inquired.
“Of course not! I came out to tell Mark to leave the other guy alone.”
“And Mark is…your boyfriend?” the lieutenant asked.
“No! He’s just someone we…we met. He’s staying at our bed and breakfast,” Lauren explained quickly. Oh, God, what kind of a mess had the far too good-looking lunatic gotten her into?
The mounted patrolmen took off down the alley.
The lieutenant’s partner got out of the car and stood silently in the background. As two more uniformed officers arrived from the second car, the lieutenant raised a hand. “I’ve got it, guys. Doesn’t look like we’ve got a situation anymore anyway.”
“Sure. Night, Lieutenant Canady,” one of them called.
“Hey, Lieutenant, you’re working late,” the second man said, respect in his voice.
“Yeah, well…anyway, I’ve got this. Thanks,” Canady told him.
“Yessir.” The pair spoke in unison and headed back to their car.
“Mark,” Canady said. “Mark…?”
“His name is Mark Davidson.”
“I see.”
He had a notebook out, but he wasn’t writing. “And who was the other man?”
“I don’t know him. He and a friend of mine have had a few conversations,” Lauren said. Oh, great. Now she was dragging Deanna into it. “She doesn’t really know him, either.” She looked toward the wrought iron fence, the courtyard and the bar. Deanna was nowhere to be seen. “She’s still inside, I guess. I thought he—Jonas—was going to start a fight, and…I guess I thought I could stop it.”
“Is that what happened, Big Jim?” Canady asked the sax player.
“Just the way I saw it,” Big Jim said.
She wanted to kiss him. She let out a sigh of relief and swore silently that she was going to have nothing more to do with Mark Davidson.
She heard the sound of hooves. The mounted officers were returning.
“If there were two guys about to tear each others’ throats out, there’s not a sign of them anywhere around here. Big Jim must have doused the fight right out of them,” one of them said.
“Thanks, Macinaw,” the lieutenant said.
“We’ll be back out on Bourbon,” the mounted officer told him.
The lieutenant nodded and watched them ride toward the street.
Then he startled Lauren when he took a step toward her and indicated her throat. “That’s an interesting cross you’re wearing. Antique.”
“Uh, yes.”
He stared at her, as if expecting her to say more. She swallowed, not about to tell him that she had put it on after Mark Davidson had left it on the table that afternoon. She hadn’t wanted to lose it until she had a chance to give it back.
“You should always wear it,” he said quietly, then stepped back.
“What’s your bed and breakfast?” he asked.
She told him, and he arched a brow at her. “Did you call in the other night to ask the patrol officers to keep an eye on the place?”
She flushed. “Yes.”
“You were afraid?”
“I…. I had seen someone lurking around on the sidewalk.”
He nodded, watching her intently. “So where are you from?”
“Actually, I’m originally from Baton Rouge. But I live in L.A. now.”
“I see.”
