Jazz Funeral

could spend more time hanging out.”
    “Hey, listen, you’re the perfect hostess. Don’t give it a thought.” He took a long swig of his beer, a huge bite of sandwich. He was eating as if he hadn’t had a meal in a week. “I’m having the time of my life, I’m not kidding.”
    She sighed again. “I wish I could say that.”
    “Case got you down?”
    “It’s still Melody.”
    “Instant replay of last night.”
    “Worse. I’ve talked to a few cops who know something about runaways—kids can hide here forever, you know that? One woman looked solidly for her kid every day for six months and never did find her. The kid called home—turned out she’d been dancing at Bayou Babies. Now how could you overlook that?”
    “The mom went there at different times from when the kid was dancing. Or the first time she went, she stupidly identified herself, and every time she came in afterward, someone warned the kid and she split.”
    “That’s it. You stick out when you’re looking—and they protect each other. Plus, they sleep all day and only come out at night.”
    “Besides which, there are just a lot of places they could be at any given time. And they change their appearance, I bet.”
    “Yeah. Melody did, but her boyfriend spotted her, so now she’ll probably do it again.” Skip set down her sandwich, feeling even more depressed. “Isn’t it weird? You can’t walk outside in this town without seeing ten people you know.”
    “But they’re not trying to hide.” He made a noise as if clearing his throat.
    “You know what they say at Covenant House? They say homeless teenagers have a pretty lousy chance of growing up.”
    “Makes sense.” He seemed distracted.
    “Yeah, but guess what the percentage is.”
    “I give up.”
    “A big three.”
    He whistled. “Three percent! What kills them? AIDS and drugs?”
    “Not that much. More like murder and suicide. Accidents caused by what they call ‘self-destructive behavior’—I guess that could be drugs.”
    “And that’s if you aren’t the key to a murder case.”
    “Yeah. I’ve got to find her, Steve.” She was getting the butterflies that had taken to coming when she thought about Melody.
    But Steve, who normally loved to go on and on about her cases, apparently had something else on his mind. “Listen, Skip, I’ve got to tell you something. I think I owe you an apology.”
    Her stomach tightened. There was something about the words “I’ve got to tell you something” that set off every internal alarm in her body. “An apology?” she said.
    “For Mardi Gras. For the way I was then.”
    She relaxed. But she didn’t have a clue what he meant. That was over a year ago.
    “I really blew it, trying to get in on your life—get you to let me in on your case and everything. I just should have stuck to doing my own work. That film never did come together, you know that? All that color, all that drama, everything in the world going on, and I really didn’t end up with anything at all.”
    “But you did.” She had seen it. It wasn’t bad either—it was partly about Mardi Gras, partly about her case, and pretty damned intriguing, she thought.
    “Oh, yeah, I got something, enough to satisfy AFI, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I just never could settle on a focus—I guess somehow I expected you to give it to me.”
    He had been pushy. He had been in her face about things she couldn’t do for him—like magically turn him into a cop working on the case himself. He had been a pain in the ass, and she deserved an apology. Still, she hadn’t expected one at this late date. She was taken aback.
    It was what she wanted, if she really thought about it, but she didn’t know what it meant. Maybe it meant she’d been a learning experience for him and he was ready to move on. She planned to walk the streets later that night, looking for Melody, and she’d asked him to join her, but he’d declined. He had his own work to do. And she’d been disappointed. Much as she thought it annoyed her, she had to admit to herself that there was something appealing about having him panting like a puppy in her wake.
    “You know,” she said, “I kind of liked having you underfoot.”
    “I thought you hated it.”
    “So did I. Now I’m wishing I had you back.”
    He laughed. “Never satisfied.”
    But she didn’t laugh with him. It was too close to the truth.
    Before getting down to the Melody hunt, she had another errand. She’d phoned Johnny