NOLA (20 page)

“It’s these boots.  I call them my away-from-the-girls boots.  I would never be able to keep up with them in these things.”

Audrey looked down and saw the expensive, high-heeled footwear and sighed.  “I wish I could afford those.”

“I know a guy that can get them real cheap.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Shem.”

“Uncle Gerald?”  This brought another giggle from Sabine.  “I guess it runs in the family.”

They had reached the office where Cid was standing patiently, holding the door open for the women.

“Thank you, Cid,” Sabine said in her singsong voice.

Audrey watched the investigator blush.  Surely Cid had been exposed to Sabine before.  Was it the soft, cashmere sweater which reminded men that Sabine was more than a fragile waif but a well-formed woman?  Being a mother had taken the sharp edges off of the thin girl.  Sabine looked less and less like a watercolor and more like an oil.

Burt was manning the coffee machine, and Audrey was given a cup as she sat down.  Mike was arguing with Ted over editing out a closeup.

“But, dude, you’ve got a zit on your chin.”

“So, everyone has zits.”

The room hushed, and the investigators looked over at Mike in shock.

Sabine, not used to Mike’s vanity, looked back and forth, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“You told me that if any film hit the show which showed any physical flaw of yours, you would make me swallow a flash drive.  And, dude, they are hell on the colon,” Ted defended.

“Oh, I see,” Sabine said.  “You’re talking about Mike’s former narcissistic attitude.”

Everyone turned from staring at Mike to looking at Sabine and back again.

“She’s right.  Sorry, guys, but life’s too short to worry about a zit.  A double chin, yes, but a zit is a zit, after all.”

Audrey patted the seat beside her.  “Come sit next to me, Superwoman.”

Sabine sat down, pleased that, at least by Audrey, she had been welcomed.

Murphy moved into the room and stood across from Sabine.

“Hello, Stephen.”

Ted turned around and nodded to Murphy.

Burt cleared his voice.  “I guess we’re all here, so let’s get started.  First, I’d like to welcome Sabine. She’s sitting in as Murphy’s interpreter today.”

The group nodded at Sabine, causing her to blush faintly.

“Second, we need to hear from Audrey on the who’s who.”

“More like the ghoul’s who,” Ted quipped.

Cid snickered.

Burt glared.

Sabine was entranced.

“Moving on, Murphy has a report on the ghost in the basement,” Burt said.

Audrey raised her hand.

“Yes?” Burt asked, never getting used to Cid and Audrey treating him like a teacher.

“I’d like to have Murphy go first.  Perhaps his insights will help me to define a possible course of action for the frozen fellow.”

“Fine with me.”

Sabine looked over at Murphy, and he nodded.

“It’s fine with Stephen.  If I may, I’d like Stephen to talk directly to you through me.  This will save a lot of time.”

“I have no objections as long as it’s safe for you,” Burt said, amazed.

“It’s what I do best,” Sabine said.  “Stephen…”

The team watched as the very feminine Sabine closed her eyes, and in a few moments, subtle transformations of attitude and posture let them know that Sabine was now rocking Stephen Murphy.

Murphy looked out from the icy blue eyes and saw the team members in a new light.  Mia had mentioned to him that she felt that Sabine saw everyone in a kinder light, but he thought it was just a figure of speech.  Truth was, from his new perspective, Sabine actually saw everyone in their best light.  Audrey had a warm aura that emanated caring outwards from her heart.  Burt was statuesque, and Mike was dreamy.  Murphy rolled his eyes and was determined to wash that thought out of his head.  Cid was more fragile than Murphy thought of him, and Ted was Ted.  No different than the everyday Ted.  He was still the accepting joker who Murphy so admired and Mia loved.

“Are you, er, settled?” Burt asked him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, yesterday you had the opportunity to converse with the children in the reading room.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“What can you tell the team about them?”

“Alice Marie and Greggy Jones know that they are dead.  They died in an automobile accident.  They spent weeks in the hospital waiting for their mother, who was driving the car, to either come out of the coma or die.  When it became apparent that Mrs. Jones was going to live, the children’s deceased grandmother came for them to take them into the light.  The children, however, remembered their mother’s instructions pertaining to being lost.  They chose instead to wait for their mother in the reading room of the library where their mother told them they would be safe.”

“But are they safe?” Audrey asked.

“No, not with the ghost in the basement.  As he grows in power, he will no longer be satisfied with the basement.  He will move upwards and try to control the library itself.  He was very territorial and adamant that PEEPS leave
his
library.”

“Mike and I experienced a sample of his hostility,” Burt reported.  “Murphy, do you think he’s dangerous to the living?”

“Not now, but soon he will want them gone.  I’m afraid that he has no love of the living and may actually enjoy hurting them.”

“Anything else to report?” Burt asked.

“The gentleman in the basement storage room has run out of things to read, but he’s afraid to leave his room because of the bully.”

“I can understand that.  Does anyone have any other questions for Murphy?”  Burt asked.  No one said anything.  “I guess whenever it’s appropriate, Murphy, you can leave Sabine.”

Murphy moved out of Sabine and resumed his spot across from her.  He watched as she took a few deep breaths and slowly opened her eyes.  She seemed rather embarrassed by the attention.  He winked at her, and she brushed off the awkward feeling and smiled.

“Let’s take a breather before we hear from Audrey.  I, for one, am jonesing for a donut,” Burt said.

“And who here is surprised?” Mike asked.

No one but Sabine raised their hand.

Chapter Fourteen

George pulled into the parking lot of the Starbucks on Magazine Street, and before Mia could get out, he reached a hand over the seat and said, “Here.”

Mia, who was expecting a business card, was surprised by the Gris Gris bag dropped into her hand.  “My grandmother demanded I give this to you.  After I told her about the antics of last night, she went to work immediately.  I didn’t want to give this to you. It is so old-fashioned, and I’m a man of the future. But she will skin me alive if I don’t follow through.”

“Thank her for me.  George, I’m unfamiliar with what to do with one.  I totally embarrassed myself by using a spider-eater to defend me against a demon.  All of this magic is way over my head.”

“Hold on, let me get her on the phone.  Grandmother, this is George.  Miss Mia doesn’t understand the Gris Gris…  Yes, I’ll put her on.”

Mia took the phone and pressed it to her ear and said, “Hello.”

“I hear you’re down here messing around with the dead.  Very dangerous occupation.”

“I’m trying to help the lost.  I fear I may be making things worse.”

“Nonsense, the dead are dead. You can’t harm them. It’s you I’m worried about.  Georgie tells me that you don’t have time for a St. Benedict protection Gris Gris, so I made you somethin’ special.  You wear it around your neck and tuck it into your brassiere over your heart.  You are wearing a brassiere, aren’t you?  Or are you a slutty girl?”

“I’m wearing a brassiere, ma’am,” Mia answered.  She noticed George put his hands to his face in embarrassment.

“Tuck it in there, and if you are in the most dire of situations - now we ain’t talkin’ meaty spiders, miss,” she reminded Mia.  “Then draw it out and say, Lord in Heaven, Help this Poor Sinner.”

Mia repeated George’s grandmother’s words to make sure she got them right.

“Yes.  I pray you never have to use it.  Now put Georgie on the phone.”

Mia handed the phone back to George, opened her own door and got out of the sedan to give him privacy.  Mia pulled the strings of the bag tight and wrapped the long strands around her neck and secured it with a double knot.  She was mindful of a pair of eyes studying her from the door of the café, but she ignored them.  Father Peter would wait.  Right now, she had an old woman’s fears to take care of, and she meant to respect them.

She tucked the bag into her bra as near to her heart as she could.  She buttoned her shirt and adjusted her light jacket.  Only then did she feel that she had honored the old woman and was ready for whatever awaited her today.

“I see you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd, Mia,” Father Peter said, handing her a hot coffee.

“Oh, the Guiding Light Commission are a motley crew but surely not a bad crowd.”  She accepted the coffee and asked, “What’s the plan for today?”

“How’s your leg?”

“Mending.  For the record, Sticks did not burn me. I did that, trying to get him to let me go.”

“Duly noted.  I’m impressed and confused.  You know you’re defending a demon.  A young demon, but still a vessel of evil.”

“Yes, sir, I am aware of that,” Mia said.  “It’s a beautiful afternoon; let’s not spoil it with an ideological argument.”

Father Peter laughed.  “Done and done.  Today we have no demons, just some
nouveaux riches
dead disrupting one of our dear old society grannies.”

“I believe they are called
Old Dears
.”

“Not this group of backbiting, trash-talking, gin-swilling biddies.”

“Why, Father, I’m shocked.”

“I’m a man and a priest, Mia.  I’m allowed to have opinions.”

“Are you?”

Father Peter changed the subject, and soon the two of them were heading down a tree-shaded lane.  “We have been invited inside the glorious home of Alva Bennett. Where gentile taste abounds, or did.  You’ll see what I mean.”

They walked through the iron gate up beyond the floral hedge where Mia stopped in her tracks.  Hung from the tasteful bric-a-brac trimming the porch were mirrored beads, crystal chandelier drops, and various gaudy blitz and bling.

“Oh my,” Mia said.

The front door opened, and an Ann Taylor-wearing, blue-blooded octogenarian stomped over to them.  “You see it, don’t you?  It reeks with bad taste.  Why me? What did I do to deserve such disrespect?”

“Is that an iron fence?” Mia asked.

“Yes, it goes all the way around my property.”

Mia put her finger to her lip.

“What are you thinking?”  Father Peter asked.

“Well, to my knowledge, iron would act as a deterrent to the wandering spirits unless…”

“It was trapping the spirit here,” Father Peter finished.  “Mrs. Bennett, did you have a recent death in the family?”

“No.”

“Were there any deaths on your property?”

“Well, those damn drunken kids during Christmas.  They came barreling through my fence in that Humvee.  They tore around the yard before they hit that tree over there.”

Mia walked over and examined the new scar on the moss-dripping oak tree.

“By the time we got the police to show up, they were dead.  We found out later that they were friends of that singing star that bought the Helmsworth mansion.  Had too many drinks on top of whatever kids sniff nowadays.”

“How many are we talking about?” Mia asked, taking off her glove and caressing the tree’s scar.

“Two, a boy and a girl.  We had that yellow monstrosity in the yard for a few months while they investigated.  They did let me put the fence back up though.  I was ridiculed every day at the club about that piece of trash truck in my yard.  Someone had the audacity to call me a Clampett!”

Mia looked confused.

“Beverly Hillbillies, they drove a piece of junk truck…” Father Peter tried to explain to Mia.

“I’m sorry, I’m not much into television, but I get the idea of the pain you must have suffered,” she qualified.  “I think that the spirits of the two revelers are trapped in this yard, and the decorations are their way of getting attention.  Let me see if we can call them out,” Mia suggested.

“Mrs. Bennett, perhaps you should go back into the house,” Father Peter warned.

“Not on your life, priest.”

Mia stroked the tree and felt a rising of two souls.  They moved out of the tree and stood before Mia.

“Hello, my name is Mia, and I think we have a misunderstanding here.”

The young woman was wearing a cranberry colored, sequin mini dress and very little else.  The male wore a tux jacket over a pair of expensive jeans.  They linked arms and stared at Mrs. Bennett.

“Mrs. Bennett would like you to leave her property.”

“How?”

“If I open the gate, do you promise to leave Mrs. Bennett and her property alone?”

“Fuck yes,” the boy said.  “The hag is so B O R I N G!”

Father Peter cleared his throat.

Mia looked at him a moment and then realized, “Oh, I’m supposed to ask you if you would like to cross over.”

The two looked at each other and shrugged.  The girl answered, “What’s in it for us?”

“Redemption…” Father Peter started.

“For what?  Wearing my skirt too short or for the DUIs?”

“Yes, for a start,” Father Peter said.

“I’ll pass.  You?” the girl asked the boy.

“Me too.  Just let us out of here, and we’ll leave the old bitch alone.”

Mia walked to the iron gate and opened it.  “Come along, the afternoon is almost gone, and I’ve got others to cross over.”

The spirits flew past her.  Mia slammed the gate and took out a saltshaker and drew a line, just in case.

“All this time and money spent on mediums, and all I had to do was open the gate?”

“Yes,” Mia said.

“What do I owe you?” she asked.

Mia looked at Father Peter.

“You owe us nothing,” the priest said.  “I have the number of a good cleanup crew if you need help getting all that down?”

“No thank you, I’ll have my groundskeeper see to it,
again
,” she said.