NOLA (21 page)

Mia opened the gate, stepped over the salt and held the gate open for Father Peter.  They left without giving Alva Bennett a backward glance.

“I can see why my aunt wanted to use an assembly line,” Mia commented.

“Yes, some spirits leave you with a certain bad taste in your mouth.”

“I suppose you wanted me to convince them they needed to cross over?”

“Well, yes.  They are only going to cause trouble some other place.”

“I didn’t feel the light, Father Peter.  It wouldn’t be heaven where they would be going.”

“Oh.”

“I have it from a very reliable source that Purgatory is full.”

“And hell is out of the question?” Father Peter only half asked.

“I’m not qualified to make that call,” Mia said.

“Let’s leave it to the powers that be and move on to the next disrupters.”  Father Peter pulled out a small list and was puzzled.

“What’s the matter?”

“When I was given this list, it had four more haunts listed.  Now it only has one more.  The others have been crossed off.”  He handed the paper to Mia.

“Did you feel anyone near you while we were at the Bennett house?”

“No, but this is special paper, and Honor has a very special skill.  In a way, superior to texting.”

“Ah, so the spirits may have already moved on.”

“I hope so.  Anyway, we’re going to have to catch the streetcar.  This one is on the far side of the Garden District on St. Charles Ave.  We’ll continue to walk down this street until we come to St. Charles and then ride the streetcar.”

Mia closed her mind.  She didn’t think that Alexei would appreciate the priest knowing where he was residing.

“Do you know why they call this area the Garden?”

“I expect it’s all these plants.”

“Oh no, the flowers here are only at their best in the springtime.  The reason is that each house is different, special.  This is a garden of houses.”

“A garden of houses,” Mia repeated.  She looked as far as she could beyond the fences and hedges.  “I suppose the fences are for privacy.”

“I expect that and protection.  Lots of old money here.  It’s a cat burglar’s wet dream.”

“Father!” Mia admonished.

He laughed heartily.

“Honestly, what would your parish say?”

“Oh, they are used to me, I assure you.”

“Tell me about the other Guiding Light members?” Mia asked.

“Well, you met the three witches, and I use that term lightly, a Voodoo priestess, a Wiccan medium, and I’m not exactly sure where I should put Becky.  There’s Wanda, she hates me by the way.  We were stuck together last year, and I found her to be insufferable. Although, I do admire her faith in her religion.  But two mind readers aren’t going to get along because, well, there are some things better left unsaid or, in our case, unread.  I remember walking up to greet her, and she was smiling.  In her mind she was thinking, “Here comes that pap ass.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t thinking papist?”

“Either way, it was an insult,” Father Peter answered.  “I worked three days with that woman. After, I told Honor that I wish to never be paired with her again.”

“What about Triple P?”

“Ah, Pastor Paul Philips, he’s a dear man.  No better representative for his religion.  He is open-minded and a wonderful youth pastor.  He comes from a very diverse family that links back to the Bordens.

Mia gulped. “Lizzy Borden?”

“One and the same.  He has a unique ability.  He can see three minutes into the future.  Don’t ask me how he does it, but it’s been documented.”

“I wonder how he uses it.”

“It can’t help him in a horse race, but it has saved him and a few of his kids from a drive-by shooting.  If he was with you last night, he would have been able to save you the indignity of being dragged off by Sticks.”

“That, sir, was not your fault,” Mia brushed off.

“Still, it was unusual behavior for the demon.  He’s never attacked before.”

Mia kept her mind closed but offered, “Perhaps he was curious about me.”

“Maybe.  Anyway, it gave us some excitement.”

Mia just nodded.

They crossed the street and managed to board the streetcar that was waiting there.  Mia had a pocketful of quarters, enough to cover the fair of a $1.25 each.  She sat down, grateful to be off her sore leg for a while, and watched the people as they journeyed towards their next target.  People got on and off, and each seemed to not be in a hurry.

“I guess this isn’t rush hour for New Orleans,” Mia commented.

“It’s the lifestyle.  No rush, appointments missed can be rescheduled,” Father Peter responded.

“Up north, it’s more of a rat race scenario, except for where I live.”

“Tell me about your home?”

“I live in a restored old farmhouse with my husband, son and the builder of the farmhouse, Stephen Murphy.  Cid, my husband’s boyhood friend, lives in the renovated barn over the PEEPs office.  The farm is situated in a rolling hills area.  Most of the land is forested, and there isn’t another house around for miles.”

“I expect it’s kind of lonely.”

“Not really, always something going on.  I grew up in the neighboring village, and
there
I was lonely.”

“I grew up in the city in a former project area.  The citizens decided to take control of the neighborhood, and they succeeded.  They pushed the gangs and the prostitutes out and began to fix up their properties.  Right now, I couldn’t afford to live there.”  He paused and then asked, “Mia, are you going to do this next year?”

“I don’t think so.  I’m repaying a favor.  The constant crossing over is hard on me.  I prefer to be a team member with PEEPs.  Sometimes my skills are needed, but most times not.  I can enjoy being part of something.  It’s fun.  I met my husband ghost hunting.  Most of my friends are part of the Paranormal Entity Exposure Partners.  It doesn’t make a lot of money, but I find the work rewarding and enjoyable.”

“So you live on the property with the ghost that haunts the property?”

“Yes, he’s my best friend.”

Father Peter shook his head.  “What a world we live in.  When the hunter can be friends with the prey and vice versa.”

“Hey, before I came down here, if you would have told me that a charm you can hold in your hand could become a twenty foot snake named Weebee, I would have suggested you voluntarily commit yourself.  But hey, I’m learning one must have an open mind.”

“Well, this haunt will certainly test your open mind.  According to Honor’s informant, this ghost was an entertainer in life.  It’s chosen to haunt Mrs. Clariborne’s weekly card party.”  Father Peter stood up.  “Here’s our stop.”

They exited the streetcar and walked up to a magnificent, large house.  A uniformed butler answered the door.  Father Peter asked to speak to Mrs. Clariborne.  The butler reluctantly nodded and motioned for Mia and Father Peter to make themselves comfortable in the little parlor at the front of the house.  Mia sat down, taking in the lush fabrics of the furniture and draperies.  Father Peter preferred to stand.  His posture was perfect.  Mia suspected his mother had Peter well in hand before he chose his profession.

A beautiful blonde moved into the room.  Her floral tea dress complimented her complexion.  She raised her hand and disappeared.

The real Mrs. Clariborne arrived seconds later.  “I can see by the expressions on your faces that
my little problem
has already made an appearance.”

“I’m flabbergasted,” Mia said. “If you stood side by side, you would be identical.”

“I take no pride in that,” Mrs. Clariborne huffed.

“I guess we better round her up.”

“Round
him
up,” she said sourly.  “It’s a man.  I’m being haunted by a transvestite.  He’s already caused havoc in the card room.  He’s already impersonated Mrs. Viceroy, Miss Appleton and Mrs. DeLay.”

“Ah, when you said performer, I thought it was a musician or perhaps a singer, but this is a horse of a different color,” Mia said.  “When did his performances begin?”

“We, my sister and I, wanted to have something different to wear to the Mardi Gras ball.  My decorator, Todd Sims, arranged for a trunk of vintage costumes to be sent over for us to look through.  He came with the trunk.”

“Can I see the trunk?” Mia asked.

Mrs. Clariborne turned to her butler.  “That trunk Todd sent over, do we still have it?”

“I believe, Madam, that it’s in the shed.  We thought it was the source of the moth infestation, so I had it removed to there.”

“Show this woman to the shed.  Father, I insist you come in and have a refreshment with the ladies.”

“Go ahead,” Mia said.

The butler waited until the lady of the house was out of the room before instructing, “Follow me, miss.”

Mia didn’t bother to correct him.  If she took time to correct every stranger that assumed she was younger than she was and unmarried, she would have no time to herself.  She followed the man through the kitchen that was teeming with wait staff that were being grilled by the chef.  The man glared at the butler, and the glare was returned.  Mia sensed a territory had been breached.  They walked outside and around the garage where Mia came face-to-face with a darling replica of the large house.

“This is the shed?”

“It used to be Miss Marjorie’s playhouse, but we now use it for storage.”  He unlocked the door and stepped aside.

Mia ducked under the low door and looked around until she found a large antique chest.  She unlatched it and found inside a bevy of flamboyant costumes.  Mia reached in and pulled out a red flamingo dress.  She held it against her body and found the dress to be taller than she was.  “Sir,” she called.

The butler ducked his head in and asked, “Yes, miss?”

“Are all the costumes in here?”

“Yes, I believe they are all accounted for.”

“Could you help me bring this to the driveway?”

“It would be my pleasure.  May I ask why?”

“You can ask, but I prefer to answer you once we have moved it.”

“Fair enough.”  The man inched his way in and took hold of one of the side handles.

Mia took the other, and between the two of them, they managed to extract the trunk from the playhouse.  The butler then waved Mia away, and he picked up the trunk and carried it in the direction of the front of the house.  As they rounded the garage, Mia had an idea.  She ducked her head inside and spotted a few items she may need.  “Better to apologize than ask permission,” she said, taking her pilfered goods to the driveway.

The butler set the trunk down.

“Is that all, miss?”

“I could use a large box of salt.”

“Right away, miss.”

Mia watched the man walk back towards the house.  He stopped and quickly mopped up the sweat he had accumulated and removed any dust or debris from his clothing.  He then entered the building.

Mia heard quite a commotion inside before the butler hastily launched himself out of the kitchen and walked quickly over and handed the salt to Mia.

“The chef wasn’t pleased,” Mia guessed.

“Not at all, miss.”

“You may want to go inside where it’s cooler.”

“I see you have acquired enough materials for a bomb fire,” the butler observed.

“Yes, I have.”

“Do you plan on using said materials?”

“Only as the last resort, sir.”  Mia reached into her pocket, pulled out her cell and texted Father Peter her plan.  She then sat on top of the chest of clothes and waited.

Chapter Fifteen

Father Peter read the text twice.  “She wouldn’t,” he said aloud.

“I beg your pardon, Father. Were you talking to me?” Mrs. Clariborne asked.

“No, just talking to myself.  Would you mind if I made an announcement?”

“Depends on the announcement.”

“I’m going to try to ferret out the impostor amongst these women.”

“Please, announce away!”  Mrs. Clariborne stood up and clapped her hands.  “Ladies, excuse my interruption of your game.  As you know, we’ve been having some problems here with a certain uninvited guest.  I have asked Father Peter and his assistant to help us.  Please give the father your undivided attention.”

Father Peter stood up.  “I only have one announcement.  I would like to inform whom it may concern that Mia is going to burn all your costume dresses in the driveway.  That’s all,” he said and sat down and watched.

One of the women, dressed in a poppy-covered gown, jumped up and left the table, while another woman dressed the same came back from what Father Peter assumed was the bathroom.

Father Peter excused himself and ran after the miscreant.

Mia saw the ghost burst out of the side of the house.  He flew over to Mia and bounced off the salt barrier.

“What are you doing!” he yelled at Mia.

“I’m going to burn your dresses unless…”

“Unless what?”

“You leave this house and stop impersonating the society dames.”

Father Peter approached and smiled as he watched Mia at work.

“But they’re so easy.  Just some spackle and a girdle, and voilà, you have any of them.”

“But they aren’t pleased with what you’re doing.  Your performance is failing to reach your audience.”

“Impossible!  I was the toast of town.  Stiffs and cool cats alike lined up to see me.”

“Who are you?” Mia asked.

“Miss Georgia Peach.”

“That’s a stage name,” Mia argued.  “Your real name.”

“Ernie Simpson.”

Mia swallowed her laughter.  “Well, Ernie, this is the deal.  You’re not on stage here.  This is a private home.  The ladies, whom you are impersonating, aren’t digging your parody.  If you choose to come with me, I’ll leave your costumes alone.  If not, I’ll burn every last one of them.  And when they go, you go too.  Bye bye, Ernie."

“Where are
we
going?” Ernie asked.

Mia looked over at Father Peter.

“Lucky Pierre’s on Bourbon Street,” he declared.

Ernie stood there a moment and scratched himself in the most unfeminine way.  “Okay, it’s a deal.  No tricks.”

“No tricks.”  Mia opened up the chest and brushed away some salt.