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'It's just that Dupre struck me as such a creep&'

'An accurate assessment. I appreciate your concern. I might very well have got in over my head. It happens sometimes.'

That's an understatement, she thought.

'So how was your date with Rust?' he asked.

To her chagrin, she flushed. 'It wasn't a date.'

'Did he ask you out?'

'Yes.'

'Did you go?'

'Well, obviously.'

'Isn't that a date?'

Sometimes his naivete exasperated her. 'Doctor, you've been around for a century. Haven't you figured out what constitutes a date?'

'No,' he said. 'Has anyone?' He looked at her expectantly, waiting for enlightenment.

'It was very nice,' she said quickly. 'We went dancing.'

'So he's not a staid old policeman.'

'He can really dance.' There was a trace of admiration in Anji's voice. He really could. He was surprisingly boyish when he relaxed, a terrific dancer.

Not a bad kisser either, she thought - she hadn't made out that enthusiastically since university. And then he'd been a perfect gentleman and taken her back to her hotel at a decent hour. She wasn't sure she was altogether pleased about that, although it would have been awkward explaining him to Fitz at breakfast. Not that Fitz had put in an appearance.

'I think Fitz was out all night,' she said, to move the attention off her.

'Really?'

'Well, he wasn't answering either time you came by. I think he's just never come in.'

'It wouldn't be the first time.'

As it turned out, they had misjudged Fitz. He was on the porch, slouched in a white wicker chair and enjoying a cigarette, when they returned to the hotel, and smugly informed them he'd been to the library.

'Got up off whatever bar-room floor you slept on and went straight to the stacks, did you?' said Anji.

'I'll have you know I shaved first. Can we get some breakfast? I'm ravenous.'

'No,' said Anji.

The Doctor said, 'Why were you at the library?'

'Seeing what I could find out about our mystery plantation, wasn't I? Anji tell you about that?'

The Doctor nodded. 'And what did you find out?'

'Not much as far as explanations go. No one ever figured out what happened. They called it a freak tornado and tried to forget about it. The family and some guests were all killed. The only survivor was the four-year-old son, Auguste - erm - some French name. Half a minute, I wrote it down

' Fitz checked a couple of pockets. 'Here it is. Delesormes.'

'Really?' said the Doctor.

Chapter Ten

The Fall of the House of Delesormes

The Doctor paid a visit to the office of the New Orleans Cemeteries Society, which was staffed by a pleasant middle-aged woman named Mrs Loysel, who was touchingly pleased by the interest shown in St Louis #1 by a non-American.

'They're very unusual, you know,' she said, scanning computer files. 'There are no other above-ground cemeteries of this sort in the country. We call them the cities of the dead. Did you know that?'

'No, I didn't.'

'It's a real shame the way the oldest ones are deteriorating so badly. A couple of them are in unsafe neighbourhoods, of course. But even St Louis

#1, which is still used - the mayor's father, our first black mayor, and his uncle are buried there, you know - and hasn't been troubled for some years now, has many derelict tombs. The families die out, you see, and there's no one left to care for them. I'm sorry, what was that name again? Desornes?'

'Delesormes.'

'Oh, yes.' Click, click, click, click. 'Here we are. Yes, that tomb is owned today by this organisation, as a matter of fact. We purchased it back in 1992, when it was clear no one in the family was going to claim it.'

'Disinterest, or were they all dead?'

Mrs Loysel looked a little disconcerted at the blunt use of the word. 'Well, you know, we have histories on all the families we could find records of.

Would you like me to look this one up?'

'If it's not too much trouble.'

'I would be delighted.'

While she clicked away, the Doctor sat in an old, no doubt donated, armchair and looked through the NOCS newsletter. Anne