Spirits, Beignets, and a Bayou Biker Gang (Pyper Rayne Book 3)

by Deanna Chase

  He gave me a flat stare. “I’m not enough entertainment for you?”

  I small smile tugged at my lips. “Different kind.”

  Miss Kitty let out a wolf whistle from behind us. “Sounds like you two could use a room. What do you say, Bo? Is there a bed in that cabin?”

  Bo, who was busy tying the airboat to the dock, froze and stared at us like a deer in headlights.

  “Oh hell.” Julius jumped from the boat onto the dock, clearly trying to get as far away from the group as possible.

  I laughed and patted Bo’s arm as I followed Julius. “Don’t worry, she’s just going for shock value.”

  “She’s doing a good job of it.” Bo finished tying off the boat and joined Julius and me on the dock; then he frowned as he studied me. “Do I know you?”

  “Nope,” I said, deciding to not bring up the night before. The other passengers didn’t need to know our guide had been partying less than twelve hours earlier. Besides, if Julius and I were going to continue searching for the key, it was best to keep a low profile. “Not unless you’ve spent time in New Orleans. I manage a café there.”

  He shook his head, his shaggy locks falling into his eyes. “No, ma’am. I was born and raised on this bayou. I’ll probably die here too.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that… as long as it’s what you want.”

  A shadow of uncertainty flashed in his dark blue eyes, but it disappeared just as fast and he nodded. “It is. Where else would I go?”

  “You never know. It’s a big world out there.” I’d grown up in Baton Rouge and settled in New Orleans after college. I’d gone on a couple of trips. To Cancun right after I’d graduated, and a cruise that was more Ghost Hunters than vacation. But other than those two places, I was a Louisiana girl through and through, so I was no one to talk about broadening horizons. But there was something about his lack of enthusiasm that unsettled me. Last night this kid had been just another burned-out teenager, but this morning he was engaging and intelligent. And for some strange reason, I felt compelled to encourage the improved persona. “College is a really good way to test the waters. You got your eye on any out-of-state schools?”

  He snorted. “Out of state? I can’t even afford a local college. No. When I graduate next year, I’ll be working full time here at the sanctuary and probably the local bar if I don’t want to be homeless.”

  “Homeless? What about your parents?” I asked before I could stop myself. I’d always worked as a teenager myself, but there had never been any threat of being homeless, no matter how strapped my mother had been.

  His expression clouded, and anger flashed in his blue eyes. “My parents are out of the picture. My mother died not long after I was born. And my jackass father took off a few years back and left me behind with Emerson Charles. But once school is over, Emerson says I’m on my own. It’s when the foster-care checks run out.” He shrugged as if none of that mattered, like it didn’t bother him at all, but the hunched shoulders, defensive stance, and tough-guy act told a different story.

  Well, wasn’t that big of Mr. Charles. The jackass. What kind of person made it clear to a kid they only kept them around for the state checks? Soulless ones. My heart squeezed at the pain the kid was hiding beneath his tough façade. It was a wonder Bo was as put together as he was.

  “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to pry.” I wanted to say something about financial aid and scholarships, but I’d already crossed a line once. Who was I to try to guide him with major life decisions? I opened my mouth to say something anyway but was cut off by a familiar voice.

  Did someone summon me? I thought I heard something about someone missing me.

  Ida May. I’d know her anywhere. I turned slightly, spotting her glancing around with a scowl on her face.

  What the hell balls are we doing out here in mosquito alley? I mean, I just got back and now I have to tromp around here in the swamp. Whose great idea was this?

  Behind me, I heard Julius mutter an oath under his breath, and I couldn’t help chuckling. He also had the gift to see Ida May, much to his dismay. She was more than a handful most of the time.

  “Something funny?” Bo asked, a hard edge suddenly coloring his tone.

  “What? No. Sorry,” I said, biting back a grimace. He’d thought I was laughing at him. “Not at all. I was just—”

  “Never mind.” He swept past me, heading toward the cabin with the rest of the group.

  “What do you mean you just got back?” I asked Ida May as I turned around to find her hovering near Julius, her hands laced behind her back. Her dark curls were pulled back into a low ponytail, a new look for her. But she was still wearing black thigh-high stockings and a lacy sleeveless nightgown, her lady-of-Storyville outfit she’d perished in back in the early nineteen hundreds.

  I went on a little excursion up north. Saw an old friend. Now I’m back. That’s all.

  The normal sass was missing in her tone, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she looked depressed. But that couldn’t be the case. Ida May was never depressed. Irritated? Annoyed? Frustrated? Sure. She was all those thing. But never depressed. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. Nothing.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing,” I pressed, noting sadness in her expression. “You still upset about Bootlegger?”

  She scoffed. Gods no. What made you think about him?

  It had only been a couple of weeks since we’d been on the cruise ship, and she’d been determined to hook up with the pirate ghost. Only he’d had questionable morals, not that she seemed to particularly care about that, but in the end he’d reunited with his one true love. That was bound to make any ghost a little wistful. “Just wondering what’s got you down.”

  Returning to the café where no one can hear me. Talking to myself sucks.

  “Understandable.”

  Whatever. She waved a hand, dismissing the conversation. Why are you two tromping around in the swamp?

  “We’re looking for someone. Want to do me a favor?”

  She nodded. Sure. Want me to grab someone’s butt? The young guy is pretty hot. I could—

  “No! Jeez. He’s a minor.”

  She shrugged. Whatever. Back in my day as long as they paid—

  “Ida May!” Cripes. You could take the ghost out of Storyville—New Orleans’ red light district during the early nineteen hundreds—but you couldn’t take the Storyville out of the ghost. “Hands off the kid.”

  Fine. Party pooper. Want me to scare the crap out of them instead?

  “Just create a diversion. I need to search the cabin.” I stared at the open door the rest of the group had disappeared through.

  I’m on it.

  “Are you sure that was a good idea?” Julius asked as we made our way up the cabin steps.

  “No. But I’m certain it will be entertaining.”

  “I hope that’s all it’ll be,” he said and held the door open for me.

  Bo was standing in the middle of the room, explaining that the land and cabin had been in the family for over two hundred years, that up until forty years ago most of the family had been born right there in the cabin. I tuned him out and scanned the one room. The weathered wood floors had been refinished recently, but the paint on the walls was starting to peel. The kitchen in the back had old built-in cabinets and a vintage enameled sink.

  The cabinets. I’d search those first. Then the coffee-table-style trunk in the main living area. I leaned into Julius. “You search the bedroom and the bathroom.”

  “Got it.”

  Before long I got antsy, shifting from foot to foot while Bo went on about recent upgrades to the cabin, and I started to wonder if Ida May was ever going to come through for us. She hadn’t even entered the cabin. But then just as I was getting ready to give up on her, the door slammed open, crashing into the wall and startling everyone.

  Bo sprang into action, instantly reaching into a closet and retrieving a rifle.

  “Whoa,” I s
aid stepping back out of the way. Thank the goddess Ida May was an actual ghost.

  “Trespassers,” Bo ground out as he bolted by us, as if that explained everything.

  “It’s like the Wild West,” Miss Kitty said, running after him, already taking pictures with her iPhone.

  “Wait for me!” Velma flew out the door after her.

  The other couple stood stock-still, their faces white.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, trying for the voice of reason.

  “He had a gun,” the woman said, clutching her husband’s hand.

  Crap. Now what?

  “Um, Pyper?” Julius said, standing in the door, pointing outside. “You might want to see this.”

  I moved to his side and my mouth dropped open. Then I fell out laughing.

  Buffy was in front of the house, running around in a perfect figure-eight configuration, with Ida May standing on her back, riding the gator like a surfboard. It was just too bad no one else could see her or hear her yelling, Yeehaw!

  7

  Ride ’em, cowgirl! Ida May cried, pretending to hold on to reins. Then she glanced over at me, her eyes twinkling with her familiar mischief. Hot damn, this is fun.

  She was somehow guiding Buffy through the front terrain, coaxing her to climb over driftwood and even managing to get the alligator to bat her eyes at Bo, who was desperately trying to get her back into the water and away from the guests.

  “Buffy!” He scowled. “What has gotten into you?” The teenager grabbed his phone, took one look at it and cursed. “No signal. Does anyone have a working cell phone? We need to get a tranq dart out here if that gator doesn’t calm down.”

  Neither Julius or I bothered to even look. Buffy wasn’t going to attack anyone. Ida May had her under control.

  “I have one bar.” The other couple stepped forward, the woman holding out her phone. Her hand shook wildly, and I was actually surprised she didn’t drop the phone into the tall grass.

  Bo strode over and grabbed it, dialing quickly.

  “My followers are going to lose their minds,” Miss Kitty said, holding her iPhone perfectly still. “As soon as they see this video, I’m going viral!”

  “Video?” Velma, who’d switched cameras and had just gotten done snapping at least a dozen shots, moved to stand next to her grandmother. She let out an audible gasp. “What the freak is that?”

  “Clearly that gator is on something. I bet she got into a package of nose candy, if you know what I mean.” Miss Kitty tapped her nose and gave her granddaughter a knowing look.

  It wasn’t uncommon to hear about drug runners using the swamps. Not that Buffy’s behavior had anything to do with a found package of cocaine.

  “No,” Velma said. “I mean what is that on the video?” She pointed at Miss Kitty’s iPhone. “It looks like… Oh em gee, is that a ghost riding that alligator?”

  I stiffened. Had Ida May shown up in her video?

  “Go now,” Julius said into my ear. “Search for the key. This is the perfect distraction.”

  He was right. Miss Kitty and Velma were giddy and squealing about capturing a ghost on film while the other couple stood frozen, watching them in fascinated horror. Bo was still on the phone and scowling at all of them.

  I turned and ran back into the cabin. Ida May had certainly come through with her distraction. I’d have to do something nice to thank her. What did a person get a ghost as a thank-you gift? If only I could find her a nice ghostly fireman. A single one. She’d like that.

  It took me no time at all to search the bedroom and bathroom. There was nothing but the bare-bones essentials. A bed, linens, a couple of changes of clothes, and minimal toiletries. Back out in the main room, I headed straight for the trunk. Empty. The last stop was the kitchen pantry.

  Jackpot.

  A rack of keys hung inside the pantry door. Under each key was a label. The first three read: electric panel, boat shed, and storage locker. The fourth one, the only one with the key missing read: Bayou Charles.

  What the heck did that mean? I whipped my phone out and snapped a picture. Then I slipped out the back door, noted the small electrical panel that ran to a generator and a small wooden storage shed, no taller than three feet high with a padlock on it. Mia Trebelle certainly wasn’t living in that thing.

  We weren’t going to find her today. But at least we had a lead. Whatever Bayou Charles was, I was going to find out.

  When I got back to the front of the cabin, I eyed the rotting shed sitting about ten feet from the dock. The door was wide open, and the structure appeared to not be in use anymore. I mentally scratched that off my list and turned my attention to the crazy still unfolding in front of me.

  Buffy had moved back to the dock and was lying right in front of the airboat. Bo stood about three feet from the beast, poking her tail with the end of a shovel and yelling, “Go. Get. Move on.”

  The alligator gave him a bored expression and flicked her gaze to Ida May. The ghost stood next to her with one foot resting on the gator’s back.

  “She’s holding her there. I swear it’s like a circus act,” Miss Kitty said, her voice full of glee.

  Ida May cast me a glance and called out, Can I go now? These people are giving me indigestion.

  I gave her the tiniest nod.

  Thank the swamp gods. This place is more depressing than a whorehouse full of overweight politicians trying to get it up after too much whiskey.

  Julius stifled a laugh.

  Ida May removed her foot from Buffy’s back and said, Thanks, Buff. Appreciate the help.

  Buffy lifted her massive head, nodding once at Ida May. Then she snapped her jaws at Bo, who was still poking her with the dang shovel, right before she slipped back into the water. The gator disappeared almost immediately in the brown water.

  “I can’t believe that just happened!” Miss Kitty shoved her iPhone into Bo’s face. “Look!”

  He was too busy waving us over to pay her any attention. “We need to go. I’ve never seen a gator behave that way before, and I want everyone on the boat before she comes back.”

  “But—” Kitty started.

  “Now, please ma’am,” Bo said.

  “Come on, Mamaw,” Velma said, guiding her grandmother back onto the boat. “We’ve got to get back so we can start posting this stuff. Your fans are going to go crazytown.”

  Of course they were. She had video of a ghost surfing on an alligator. Miss Kitty was about to hit critical mass.

  “Looks like today was sort of a bust,” I said, pushing my empty plate into the middle of the table. After our adventure out in the swamp, I’d been starving and we’d ended up back at Bettie’s Beignets.

  “Ida May was entertaining,” he shot back. “It’s not every day you see a lady of the night surfing on a gator.”

  I snickered. “She does keep things interesting. Though I do wonder where she goes when she leaves us. Off eyeballing men in locker rooms, do you think?”

  It was Julius’s turn to snicker, then he sobered and a mild look of horror crept over his face. “That’s not funny. Can you imagine the running commentary?”

  “Heck, yes.” I laughed. “And for once, that’s something I’d love to see.”

  A small shudder rolled through him. “If she ever follows me to the gym, I’m blaming you. No doubt she’s hovering around, taking notes right now.”

  I glanced around as if I expected to see the dark-haired ghost sitting at a nearby table with a pen in her hand. But the place was empty sans Otis, who was busy wiping down the bar.

  “Can’t you just see her? She’d be looking up the shorts of every guy in the place, trying to get a peek at his manhood.” Julius sucked down the last quarter of his coffee.

  I shook my head. “Nah. Not Ida May. She’s seen more peen than a urologist. She’d be more likely to sit on their laps and ask them to help her with her pelvic thrust.”

  Julius sputtered, spraying a thin sheen of coffee over my plate.


  “Enough of that, missy,” Otis said, plunking another cup of coffee down in front of Julius. “This is a family place. We don’t allow that kind of talk in here.”

  I eyed the grizzled old man, sending him a semiflirty smile that never failed to win him over. “Seriously, Otis? The place is empty. Don’t tell me you never told an off-color joke before.”

  He scowled. “I know what you’re up to. Batting your eyes won’t get you anywhere. So you can just cut it out right now if you want to come back into my establishment. I already told you this is a family place. Keep it clean or keep out.”

  I dropped the smile and nodded solemnly. “I hear you. Sorry. We didn’t mean to offend.”

  Otis nodded once. “Good. Now, do you need anything else? Dessert? Bread pudding?”

  “Cheesecake to go?” I asked.

  “Sure. Key lime or blueberry?”

  “Key lime,” Julius said.

  “Blueberry,” I added, watching him carefully. His face had gone red with anger as he’d chastised us, and although he was acting as if he hadn’t just threatened to toss us out, his tight grip on the pen had turned his knuckles white, and there was a muscle pulsing in his neck. We’d really pushed his buttons.

  Over a silly comment about Ida May? It hadn’t even been that bad. Just a little bit of innuendo.

  “Hey, Otis,” Julius asked, his tone conversational.

  “What?” the man asked without looking up.

  “You know anything about Bayou Charles?”

  Otis stuffed his pen in his pocket and gave Julius his full attention. He drew his brows together and frowned. “You mean the swamp land the Charleses own?”

  “Is that different than the Twin Forks sanctuary?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Emerson Charles owns it. He bought it a few years back. We all thought he was going to add it to the sanctuary, but turns out he just wanted to build himself a place out there.”

  “Really? Does he live out there? Seems a little cut off from civilization. No roads, just boat access, right?” Julius did a good job of appearing like an interested tourist. It was impressive considering Otis had just chastised us.