Out of Body

by Stella Cameron

  “Pipes took her little girl to stay with her folks,” Bernie said. “She didn’t know about the murder case till I told her.”

  Marley heard the conversation, but there were more important things to deal with. She was getting a not very subtle battering at her mind. Someone was trying to make contact. It had to be Gray.

  Effortlessly, she turned back his probing signals, but before she disengaged completely, she touched an image that held her. An image in his mind. It belonged to him because he was the one seeing bright colors and, for a brief moment, black hair flowing over silk pillows.

  Marley cut herself off from him. The only place he could have gotten such a picture was from her and she didn’t like what that could mean. Only a rogue telepathic power on the hunt would break in and poach an experience that didn’t belong to him. Unless he was invited, or wandered in by accident.

  Or unless he was shown the way.

  “Marley?” Gray said.

  “Yes.” She frowned at him.

  There could be circumstances when one psychic actually allowed another to enter their private world. The circumstances weren’t anything Marley was ready for. When the joining happened between a male and a female subject, it was usually a sign of potent sexual desire.

  “I don’t know why you left Erin with your folks,” Bernie said to Pipes. “You know she’s always welcome here. She’s no trouble. You’re goin’ to miss her and you don’t sing as good as you can when you’re sad.”

  The unspoken exchange between Marley and Gray hadn’t interrupted the conversation, Marley realized. The other two hadn’t noticed anything.

  “I surely will miss her,” Pipes said. “But a room behind a club is no place for a little girl to be for hours and hours.” She sounded as if she had rehearsed the last line.

  “What’s her name?” Marley asked.

  Pipes looked at her a while before she said, “She’s Erin Dupuis. She’s five and smart as can be. Erin knows how to do as she’s told. You learn early when you have to. Good thing, too, bein’ there’s times when it’s easier to just go along. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes.” Did she?

  Gray cleared his throat. “Was it you who reported Pipes missing?” he asked Bernie.

  “Yes,” Bernie said, snickering. “But Pipes is here now and I have never been more relieved to see anyone.”

  Straightening her shoulders, Pipes gave a big smile. “Erin needs to be with the folks for a bit.” She carried on as if she hadn’t heard Gray and Bernie talking. “I don’t have time to teach her some things. Like eatin’ the way she ought to, and speakin’ right. Growin’ up like a lady—stuff like that. She’ll learn quick.”

  “Gray here wants to talk to you,” Bernie Bois said. “You all sit and I’ll bring a pitcher of somethin’.”

  Pipes went straight for a table and slipped into a bamboo chair.

  “Is she okay?” Gray said once the woman was out of hearing.

  Bernie shrugged. “Pipes is Pipes. Who knows how okay she is, but she sure can sing. Who’s your lady here? You afraid to introduce her in case I steal her from you?”

  Marley smiled at that and stuck out a hand. “Marley Millet.”

  He shook and held her hand. “Like the antiques people? On Royal?”

  “That’s us.” She didn’t get out so much. The idea that people who lived in this town knew her family always came as a surprise.

  “That explains the hair,” he said. “My-oh-my, that is red. Never saw redder hair than that. Is it true you all have it—red hair?”

  Marley cleared her throat. “Not quite all.” Bless Sykes for his black mane.

  “And you are all cursed, right?”

  Bernie slapped his thighs and laughed. He laughed till tears trickled from his squeezed-up eyes and ran down his bunched cheeks.

  Bernie didn’t stop laughing until he finally noticed he was making a lot of noise in an otherwise silent room.

  He shut his mouth over all that hilarity a good deal too late for Marley’s liking. She didn’t have a single idea where this man would get secret information about her family, but she hated it.

  “Just kidding,” Bernie said. He coughed into a fist. “Lighten up, all of you. I made a little joke. You know how it is with me, Gray. Folks in the Quarter think I run all the gossip around so they tell me crazy stuff sometimes.”

  “Right,” Gray said.

  He glanced at Marley and her stomach turned. Bernie was protesting too much and too long and Gray knew it.

  “Anyway,” Bernie said, chuckling in little bursts. “What difference would a little curse make among friends?”

  15

  The approach of raised voices broke the tension. A man’s loud voice and quieter responses from a woman.

  “It’s Danny,” Marley said, so grateful for the diversion she swallowed big gulps of air.

  “I was expecting Nat Archer,” Gray told her. “Stay cool.”

  As if she wasn’t already working on that.

  Sidney, the female singer from Scully’s, was with Danny and he wasn’t making any secret about how mad he was at her. She glided ahead into the bar and he strode to keep up with her.

  “It’s a lousy idea, I’m tellin’ you,” he shouted. “And it’s wrong. Why are you in such a goddamn hurry to move on? You think Amber’s dead, don’t you?”

  “No,” Sidney said clearly.

  Danny grabbed and swung her to face him. “Liar,” he said. “Off with the old and on with the new. That’s the kind of friend you are. She’ll not thank you for it when she comes back.”

  “Ah, hell,” Gray muttered. “Angry people never make any sense. I need cool heads.”

  “Uh-huh,” Marley said. “And loose tongues.”

  Gray snorted. “You come up with the damnedest things.”

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  He put an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, you are.”

  Marley turned rigid. He was warm against her side and his hand cupping her shoulder held her there—unless she decided to duck away, which would make her feel foolish. They must look like a couple. She thought about that and suddenly had to stop herself from threading her own arm behind his waist.

  “Relax,” he whispered.

  “I am relaxed.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “What are you two doing here?” Danny said. He came toward them, his hands curled into fists. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  “Watch your mouth,” Gray said. “We were here first, remember?”

  “Did you call them, Bernie?” Danny said. “You did, didn’t you? You’ve got a big mouth, my man. Biggest mouth in town and it needs filling up.” He raised a large hand as if he intended to do just that.

  “Hey, hey,” Gray said. “Simmer down.”

  “You listen to me,” Danny said. “I’ve been stuck in a room with two cops for hours. They asked me questions that aren’t any of their business. I’m goddamn sick of not knowing what’s happened to Amber, and goddamn sick of being treated like I’m the reason she’s gone. And I’m pissed off with you two because I think it’s all your fault.”

  Gray tightened his hold on Marley’s shoulder. He rubbed her upper arm and felt a jolt. Touching her was electric. Under other circumstances, he’d laugh. “That makes a lot of sense, Danny. Listen to yourself run off at the mouth.”

  Danny came a threatening step closer. “You asked a lot of questions last night. Just like the cops. You used to be a cop, Fisher. And her—” he pointed at Marley “—her family’s a bunch of psychics. Or maybe that should be psychos. You’re not the only one who can dig around in other people’s business. The Millets are a strange lot. Why are they mixed up in this? That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Marley set her feet a little wider apart. Intimidation tactics didn’t impress her. Neither did blustering. “Rumors,” she said.

  “Talk to me,” Gray told Danny. “The cops talked to you because you’re Amber’s boyfriend.”
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  “You told them she lives with me.”

  “You should have told them yourself,” Gray pointed out. “Are they on their way here to see Pipes?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Danny said. “Sidney’s the one who told me Pipes was back, not the cops.”

  “She called me,” Sidney said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Gray looked at Danny. “Did you fill Nat Archer in about Amber’s son this time?”

  Nobody said a word for far too long.

  Finally Danny said, “Amber doesn’t have a son.”

  “Really?” Gray shrugged. “If you say so. You’d know, Sidney.”

  Sidney didn’t seem inclined to say a whole lot. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  Marley was struck afresh by the woman’s elegant features. The cream linen jacket and pants she wore looked expensive and fitted her perfectly. She was effortlessly casual—and unnaturally cold.

  Gray shifted beside Marley. “Amber doesn’t have a son named Alan?”

  “She never mentioned him,” Sidney said. “She would have if he was real. Amber tells me everything. Hi, Pipes,” she added, leaning to see past Gray.

  With her arms wrapped around her middle, Pipes bowed her head over the table.

  “Hi, Pipes,” Sidney repeated.

  “Yeah,” Pipes said. “Hi, Sidney.”

  “You said she called you over here because she wants to see you,” Danny said, glaring at Sidney. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

  “Why don’t you go back to Scully’s and cool off,” Sidney told him. “If I hadn’t stopped by there for my stuff you wouldn’t have followed me here. I wish you hadn’t. We’re all upset, not just you.”

  “It’s not stopping you from taking care of business,” Danny said.

  “You did call me, Pipes,” Sidney said. “You said you wanted to talk to me about getting together.”

  Pipes nodded and the ends of her hair rested on the table.

  “I got a pitcher of margaritas here,” Bernie announced in a booming voice. “Sit down, all of you. Holy mama, it’s hot and you’re all gettin’ hot along with the weather.”

  Glasses clinked. He carried them upside down by the stems, a big bunch of them in one hand. In the other hand he held a brimming pitcher.

  “What do you have in mind, Pipes?” Sidney said. She sat at the table with the other woman.

  Bernie filled glasses, but only Danny reached for one.

  “Amber’s gone,” Pipes said. “You don’t have anyone to sing with and you don’t like singing alone so we should get together.”

  A crack made Marley jump. Bernie had come close to dropping his jug on the table. “What d’you mean? You sing alone, Pipes. We’re not payin’ for two singers.”

  “Amber’s coming back, I tell you,” Danny said.

  “I want to sing with Sidney.” Pipes still didn’t raise her head. “It’s sad about Amber. I’ll sing with Sidney. That’s the best thing.”

  “People like you are solo acts,” Bernie said.

  “Tell him, Pipes,” Sidney said.

  “What?” the other singer said, looking up.

  Sidney spread her hands. “About us. About what we’re going to do.”

  “We’ll sing at Scully’s,” Pipes said. “I’ll go get my things.”

  “You can’t.” Bernie looked at each of them.

  “That’s a great idea,” Danny said. His shoulders dropped to normal height and he grinned. He was hearing the plan for the first time. “Welcome to Scully’s,” he told Pipes.

  “So much for wanting to look after Amber’s interests,” Gray said under his breath. “Doesn’t look upset anymore, does he?”

  “Nope,” Marley agreed.

  “Hoo mama,” Bernie said. “I gotta stop this. Pipes, when Amber comes back, she’s gonna want her job. If she comes back.”

  Marley closed her eyes.

  “Don’t talk like that,” Pipes said. “You don’t know. She could—”

  “This is horrible,” Sidney said calmly. “What an awful thing to say. Come on, Pipes, let’s go.”

  Gray stirred beside Marley. “Pipes and I have an appointment,” he said. “I’ll walk her over later. First she’ll have to let NOPD know they can stop looking for her.”

  “They’re turning this town upside down,” Bernie said, pausing in the midst of chewing a strip off a thumbnail. “Everyone I know—in the club scene—they’re all getting questioned. It’s been a couple of years since that string of women went missing and never showed up, but this is bringing that back full force. This wouldn’t be the first time a serial killer went quiet for a period of time, then started up again. Folks are scared.”

  “They ought to be less scared once it’s put out that Pipes is back,” Marley said, hoping for a little reason.

  “Yeah,” Danny said, and guffawed. “Now there’s only two women missing and one dead. That should make ’em feel better.”

  He didn’t, she realized, look too steady on his feet. Bartenders who did a lot of drinking had more than the usual problems.

  “Why don’t they find Amber?” Danny said loudly. “You tell me that.”

  “I know they’re looking for her,” Gray said. “This is a different case than the Shirley Cooper one. This time we’ve got a body.”

  Danny snorted. “One body and you can’t be sure it’s connected to Amber and Liza.”

  Gray felt Marley shudder.

  Sidney clasped one of Pipes’s hands and pulled the woman to her feet. “What were you saying about getting kicked out of your place?”

  “I—” Pipes had her head up finally. Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s right.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sidney said. “You’re staying with me. I live in my folks’ house. There’s loads of room.”

  “They might not like—”

  “I told them and they’re glad,” Sidney said. “We need to rehearse if we’re singing tonight.”

  Marley didn’t like Sidney. What she was doing felt disloyal to her missing partner.

  “Pipes,” Bernie said, but kept his voice level. “At least come back and tell the boys in the band what you’re doing.”

  She shook her head. “It’d make me cry.”

  “So why are you going at all?”

  “I need a change.”

  “Sidney,” Gray said. “Do you have any ideas where we could look for Liza and Amber? Has Amber talked about somewhere she likes to go—to get away?”

  “No.”

  Sidney started to walk away. “You can talk to Pipes and me about the article at the same time,” she said, turning back toward Gray. “Danny’ll let you know our schedule at Scully’s.”

  Bernie poured himself a brimming margarita and sat down. “Thought we were saved when Pipes walked in. Shows what I know.”

  “Plenty more where she came from,” Danny said. Either he wanted bad feelings, or he really was drunk.

  “Time to go,” Gray said to Marley. He checked his watch. “I’d see you back, but I’ve got to get on.”

  “You’re going to see Nat Archer,” Marley told him quietly, not that anyone else was interested in what they might be saying. “I’m coming, too.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I’m only going to back you up about Pipes being around again.”

  “I don’t need backing up.”

  Of course he didn’t, but she had decided to stick to him regardless. “Between us we won’t forget anything the detective will want to know,” she said.

  She wanted to be with him, period.

  Marley liked being with him—too much.

  Leaving a dejected Bernie gazing into his margarita, Gray put a hand at the small of Marley’s back and guided her behind Danny and the two other women.

  “Thanks for nothing, Pipes,” Bernie said behind them.

  Pipes didn’t answer. Marley gave the man a sympathetic smile.

  Outside the front doors, clammy he
at hit them in the face.

  “Whooee,” Gray said. “Too bad we don’t have time for a swim.”

  She was getting used to his unexpected remarks. “It would be if I could swim,” she said. Her mouth remained open. The female Millets couldn’t swim. They didn’t know why, but they couldn’t. But one of their unwritten rules was that they never let anyone else know.

  Gray didn’t say anything. Thank goodness he was preoccupied. She hoped he would forget Bernie’s inconvenient suggestion about a curse.

  Danny hailed a cab, although Marley couldn’t imagine why when Scully’s was so close—unless he didn’t trust himself to walk. She opened her mouth to say as much to Gray.

  “Probably because he’s feeling his liquor,” Gray said.

  Marley squinted against the sun to look up at him. “Yes,” she said. He didn’t show any sign of knowing his ideas weren’t his own.

  “Bye,” Sidney called when she was getting into the taxi. “Talk to you soon, Gray.”

  Pipes waited to follow Sidney into the backseat and Danny lowered himself into the front with the driver.

  Traffic jostled, horns honked, and pedestrians passed on the sidewalk. A guitarist sat on a box at the corner and played, his instrument case open in front of him for tips.

  “It’s all so normal,” Marley said to Gray. “Look around. It’s like there’s nothing wrong with the world.”

  He gave her a long look. “Strange, huh?”

  She nodded.

  Pipes bent to get into the cab. Her shiny blond hair did its pretty, slipping forward thing.

  Two red, swollen welts marred the back of her white neck.

  16

  “There they go,” Gray said. “Shucks. And they barely said goodbye. I’m wounded.”

  “You could try to sound hurt.” Marley gave a nervous little laugh. “Weird, though,” she said. She looked different, distracted.

  The cab carrying Danny and his newly formed singing duo had cut a left at the end of the block.

  Standing there in the sunshine, gold hoops glinting in her ears, Marley attracted all the light to her hair and skin—to her green eyes—or so it seemed to him.