75

Jackson Square in the morning is a glorious thing. St. Louis Cathedral's white Gothic facade dazzles in the rising sun, an old-world giant stabbing the new-world sky with its three steeple daggers.

The people bustle below, mostly oblivious to its grandeur. Besuited businessmen, late for work, scurry through the square, heads down, briefcases clutched tightly in hand. A well-dressed young couple ambles arm in arm through the greenery while a solo trumpeter busks a jazz melody by the roadside. General Andrew Jackson's bronze stallion is frozen mid-rear in perpetuity in the center of the square. The rich scent of hot waffles from a food truck flirts with your nostrils. You've seen much of the world and been dazzled by its richness and beauty, but still, there's nowhere quite like New Orleans.

As promised, Cleo is here, sitting on a bench with her back to the street. She is dressed rather less conservatively today in shocking pink shoes and a red skirt shorter than the priests inside the cathedral would be comfortable with. Big hoop earrings are dancing by her neck.

She's clutching a white paper bag full of beignets, and she holds it out for you as you sit by her side. It's not the healthiest breakfast, but it'll sure keep you going.

"So we're really doing this?" you say, swallowing your first bite of fried sugary goodness. "Where do we start? I guess we should see if the cops will let us talk to Elliot."

Cleo nods. "They're keeping him in the First Precinct. While we're there, we may as well see if the cops can tell us anything about their investigation. That's one possibility. Or we could just go over there." She gestures at the Cabildo, the grand Spanish Colonial structure down one side of the square.

Of course—the museum is housed in the Cabildo! Getting a look at the crime scene does seem like a sensible course of action.

"One more possibility," Cleo says, swallowing a bite of her beignet. "Maman Danflous. She's an old friend of my dad, runs a Voodoo store in the French Quarter. It's mostly for tourists, but she also supplies real practitioners, and she's pretty well plugged into the Voodoo scene here. She might be able to tell us more about the amulet, and maybe she'll have some ideas about who might want to steal it.

"I'll leave it up to you, Sherlock. Where do you want to start?"