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Why had Elise been so adamant about keeping them apart? Did Achille have any connection to her death?
I needed to find out.
THREE
VIOLET
Is someone following me?
Hairs rose on the back of my neck as I stood under a flickering neon sign—Afterlife. I searched for a shadowy figure lurking near the streetlight and glanced over my shoulder—nothing. Since my sister’s death, walking anywhere felt dangerous. I constantly felt eyes on me.
Taking a deep breath, I faced the club. The sign cast an eerie glow on the damp pavement. A distant thud of bass seeped through the walls. The bouncer barely inspected my ID before ushering me into the lion’s den. I pushed the heavy doors and stepped into the bar. A wave of EDM blasted my ears. I frowned at the girl on stage performing a solo on her keyboard. I couldn’t imagine a less fitting venue for folk music.
I approached the bartender, a thirty-something man with a shaved head, tatted sleeves, and a black T-shirt.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“G and T.”
He mixed the drink and slid the cocktail over a coaster. “Did you want to keep an open tab?”
I passed him my credit card. “Close it.”
As I sipped my drink, the sharp tang of gin settled my nerves. I took in the young crowd, the pulsing lights, trying to picture my sister mingling with these people.
“I bet you see all sorts of performers on that stage.”
The bartender wiped down the counter. “We have a mix. Keeps things interesting.”
I nodded, playing with the rim of my glass. “My sister played Appalachian, country, and bluegrass. It was her dream to perform in all kinds of places. She used to say that different crowds made each performance special.”
“Country isn’t big in this city.”
I figured. When my sister announced that she was moving to Boston to start her career, I called her crazy. The music scene in Boston was nothing like Nashville. Mama and I told her it would never work out, but nobody could convince Elise of anything once she’d decided something.
I pulled up a picture on my phone. “Ever seen her?”
He peered at the screen. “Yeah, a few times.”
“So you don’t know she’s dead?”
His eyes flicked to the door and back to me. “You’re kidding.”
My lips flattened. “’Fraid not.”
“My condolences to you.”
“Thank you,” I said, staring him down. “She was shot on the South Boston waterfront. No arrests, if you can believe that.”
He clicked his tongue. “The wheels of justice move slow.”
“Too slow. That’s why I’m here. Do you remember who she hung around with? Maybe a fan or like a boyfriend?”
He straightened, tossing the rag into the sink. “No idea.”
“Look, I’m tryin’ to figure out why someone killed my sister. I need your help. Please.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping. “Be careful asking about her. Some dangerous people were interested in her. The kind you don’t want to cross.”
