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The green eyeshade made the man's eyes a pale yellow as he watched her. "Name?"
"Smith. Joan Smith."
He made a note on a card. "Address?"
"Dowman Road. Thirty-twenty Dowman Road."
Without looking up he said, "There is no Thirty-twenty Dowman Road. That would be in the middle of the river. We'll make it Fifty-twenty." He pushed the receipt in front of her.
She signed JOAN SMITH. "Is that it?"
"That's it." He carefully pushed the revolver through the cage. Tracy stared at it,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], then picked it up, put it in her purse, turned and hurried out of the shop.
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Jackson Square is in the heart of the French Quarter, with the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral towering over it like a benediction. Lovely old homes and estates in the square are sheltered from the bustling street traffic by tall hedges and graceful magnolia trees. Joe Romano lived in one of those houses.
Tracy waited until dark before she set out. The parades had moved on to Chartres Street, and in the distance Tracy could hear an echo of the pandemonium she had been swept up in earlier.
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