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melt away, reviving the romanticism that he'd thought had died long ago.
    As he headed for the shop door, the florist called after him. "Sir? Sir! Where and when would you like the display delivered?"
    "Send it to the same place the roses were delivered to. There's no hurry."

    Carnival

    During a carnival men put on masks over their masks.
    - Xavier Forneret

    3
    When Palmer informed Pangloss of his destination, the good doctor assured him Renfield would see to airline tickets and accommodations. Palmer pointed out that flights into New Orleans during Carnival were booked solid weeks in advance, not to mention the hotels. Pangloss laughed and said there was nothing to worry about: He kept an apartment in the French Quarter, away from the serious tourist areas but still close to the action. He'd call the housekeeper and have the place aired out in anticipation of Palmer's arrival.
    Palmer arrived late Sunday evening. The city was swarming with drunken, raucous merrymakers. Still, he had not expected Renfield to answer the door. "You're here,"
    was all the pale man said in way of greeting, stepping back into the hallway to allow Palmer entrance.
    "Doc didn't say anything about sending you to keep tabs on me." If Renfield noticed the barb, he ignored it. He pointed to the staircase, curled inside the house like a chambered nautilus. "Your room is on the second floor. Third door to the right."
    "I thought Doc said he only kept an apartment here." Renfield shrugged. "In a way.
    He owns the entire building." Palmer frowned at the stack of junk mail piled haphazardly on the antique sideboard inside the foyer. Most of it seemed to be addressed to "Occupant" or "Current Resident." Renfield cleared his throat and lead Palmer upstairs. As they made their way to the landing, Palmer could tell by the echoes that the downstairs was empty.
    Palmer's quarters were quite spacious, consisting of a bed-sitter, a sizable bathroom complete with a cast-iron tub with lion's feet, and a kitchenette furnished with a

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) stocked refrigerator and a microwave oven. There was also a widescreen TV, a video deck, a stereo system and a wet bar. The apartment also came with two of the wrought iron balconies the city was famous for.
    The bedroom balcony offered a view of the patio and what had been, a century and a half ago, the slave quarters. It was too dark for Palmer to see much, since the patio below was unlit, but a faint reek of vegetable decay rose From the garden beneath his window.
    The balcony fronting the sitting room was better, as it overlooked the street, empty now except for the occasional passing mule buggy and cruising taxi. As he stood savoring his Shermans in the pleasant evening breeze, Palmer could hear Bourbon Street-its roar blurred and muted, but still distinct in the otherwise quiet neighborhood. Every now and again a drunken celebrant would shriek with laughter, the echoes losing themselves among the ancient buildings.
    Palmer experienced a slight twinge of unreality, as if he were dreaming and aware of dreaming at the same time. When he had left for New Orleans that morning, there was still frost on the ground, and in certain alleys where the shadows rarely part, there were still hard crusts of snow and ice to be found. Now he was standing in his shirtsleeves, taking in the fragrant subtropical night air while listening to the sounds of Carnival.
    He contemplated going out and joining the party, but jet lag claimed him instead.
    He fell asleep splayed across the massive four-poster, wisps of mosquito netting fluttering in the breeze from the open French windows.
    He dreamed that he woke up. In that dream, he lay in bed for a few seconds, trying to place where he was and what he was doing there. When he remembered, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. It was still dark outside; a pale sliver of moonlight fell through the open windows. There was a