by CC Dragon
How to speak politically correct to a ghost wasn’t exactly in any of my psych courses. When I encountered the dead they usually had a lot to say. Then again I could usually see them. I was way out of my league here if this one turned out to be an attic escapee.
I watched, but the ladder remained still. Just when I decided they’d left, I heard the sound of fingers snapping twice right behind my right ear. I kept still, fighting the desire to bolt. Seeing ghosts was weird, ones I couldn’t see were even weirder.
But I didn’t feel evil or fear. “Okay. I’ll take that as a yes. If we’re going to communicate this way we need a system. You could always just show yourself and talk to me though. I’m used to it.”
The lack of response told me that wasn’t going to happen. A shy ghost? Odd, but ghosts were people too. Or at least they had been.
“So let’s say two snaps for yes and silence for no. Does that work for you?”
Two snaps sounded and I knew we had an agreement. It was almost like young child therapy. Small steps to trust. Let them lead and get on their level.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
Two snaps sounded and I wondered how I’d get a name from snaps. If the ghost would only talk. It’d be nice to get some questions answered. Gran had yet to reappear.
I felt the ghost move away and heard the ladder rattle again. Looking up, I saw one book fly out of the bookcase and toward me. Had I pushed too far? Would my obituary read Deanna Oscar PhD, born Chicago, Illinois, aged twenty-six years, died in a freak accident buried beneath her grandmother’s mysteriously toppled library?
Instead of attacking me, the book sailed to a nearby table and opened. I approached, not wanting to offend the library ghost. The book was a bible, a very old bible with gold-tipped edges. The rare book collection alone here would pay off all my student loans. Not that any of it was mine or I’d ever sell it.
The bible was in Latin and opened to a hand-painted picture of an ark full of animals. My Latin was rusty but I recognized the story of Noah and the ark. “Noah? Your name is Noah?”
Two snaps confirmed it. The success was exhilarating. I was still curious why he was so shy. It was too early to press for that sort of revelation though.
“Nice to meet you, Noah. Is there anything special in the library I should see?” I eased into a nearby chair and the smell of rosewater wrapped around me.
Two snaps sounded and another book flew off a high shelf and landed on the table next to me.
“Thank you.” I picked up the book while Noah put the bible away. It was weird, things flying around, but to be able to acknowledge what I saw and not hide it felt freeing.
The book in my hands was a handwritten journal by Gran. “Spirits, Hauntings and Humans by Elinor Oscar. Guess I should read this?”
The two snaps were closer now and a candle blinked into ignition on the table next to me.
“Thanks, Noah, but I can’t stay right now. I have a few more questions for Ivy. But I’ll be back.” I wanted to stay but knew I’d get lost in my own world between books and ghosts. Pushing Noah too far might upset him anyway. There was so much to take in that I needed to stay grounded. I’d gotten into a ton of trouble being a daydreamer in school and had the ruler marks to prove it.
Walking down the staircase, a figure in the parlor caught my eye but I headed for the kitchen. I found Ivy applying another layer of lipstick. “How long did you work for Gran?”
Ivy turned. “Just a few years. She needed someone to look in on her. Do the shopping and errands and help her. She needed more as she got weaker.”
“You’re not afraid of this place?” I asked.
“My mother practiced voodoo. Descended from a long line. Nothing surprises me. I don’t have the gifts but I respect the dead.” Ivy gave off an energy of serenity.
“That’s good. Who’s the guy in the parlor?”
“Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
* * * * *
Ivy and I stood in the doorway of the main parlor. The man didn’t get up. He was on some sort of kneeler in front of Gran’s picture and urn of ashes.
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
“Praying.” Ivy dipped a finger in a holy water dispenser screwed to the wall and crossed herself.
The number of crucifixes, saints, and Mary statues in the house was excessive. I followed her in. The parlor currently appeared more like a funeral parlor crossed with a church.
“You know she’s fine,” I informed our devout guest.
Slowly the man turned and got up. Not bad to look at, tall and lean. But I a weird vibe from him.
“Deanna Oscar, my cousin Greg Delacroix. He’s very religious. Studied history and theology.”
“Hence all the praying. I see. Well, pray for a troubled soul, Father. Gran is fine. Talked to her today.” The father crack flew out of my mouth and I had no idea why. I hated when that happened.
“Elinor was a great woman. It was an honor to help her.” Greg was oddly calm. Must run in the Delacroix family.
“Help her?” I asked.
“Greg helped out with her crime-solving, ghost-busting stuff,” Ivy filled in.
“Ghost busting?” I saw Missy enter with my coffee. I took the mug. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
“So, you do see them?” Greg exhaled loudly.
“You don’t?” I sipped my coffee.
Greg gave a curt negative head jerk to my question.
“What good were you? Hard to bust ‘em or help ‘em if you can’t see ‘em.”
“I was the muscle. Sort of. Plus I’ve a great deal of experience with exorcisms.” Greg puffed his chest out.
“You mean like possessions?” I stifled a laugh.
“Exactly.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s easy to cure what doesn’t exist.” I shook my heat.
“You don’t believe in possession?”
“Nope.” I walked the length of the huge parlor with large windows and solid velvet-covered furniture. Not quite my style but it worked in the house.
“You wouldn’t last a week in this house.” Greg folded his arms and gave me a smug smile.
“Sure, I would. I believe in a lot of things and I’ve seen evil at work. I just don’t believe something can take over a human body against their will. I did twelve years of Catholic school, Father. I’ve had my share of theology and church history.”
“The church has believed for centuries.” Ivy shrugged.
“But it doesn’t add up. Possession without your permission violates the concept of free will. On the flip side, if only the willing could be possessed, every depressed attention-hungry teenager would be demonically enhanced. I really don’t think either is a solid argument.”
“Possession is a violation of free will. They demons don’t want the easy ones. They don’t do the host’s bidding.” Greg folded his arms and glared at her.
She’d done more than her share of research. “I’d need serious proof.”
“How do you explain the behaviors? The church requires a great deal of proof before it gets involved.” Greg moved closer.
“There are plenty of psychological reasons for so called possessed behaviors. The symptoms of other legitimate conditions mimic possession. Bipolar, dissociative personality disorder and even simple delusions. A sociopath could fake it. People can want to believe it and convince themselves.”
“She’s a shrink,” Ivy supplied.
“I see. You have the gift and a lot of book knowledge but that’s not enough. You can’t handle this place. Don’t try.” Greg stared me in the eye.
I stared back with a smile. “I could. But I came here for a teaching job, not this. I’m not even sure I’ll end up with either. Don’t know what’s in the will. Gran just paid me a visit and pointed me here.” The debate with Greg was fun. Talking about this stuff and not being shot looks that said I was crazy. But something outside caught my attention. Someone was watching the house. “Excuse me a minute.”
I set my mug down and headed for the front door. It wasn’t an evil feeling but someone was definitely watching the house. Opening the door, I saw an ideally groomed front garden and clear walk. Not a soul—living or dead.
There were statues on the veranda. Looked like Gran had all the saints lining the house. I went to the closest one and wiped off the dust. This house needed all the protection it could get.
As I turned to head in the house, I saw movement at the front gate. A woman in a light pink blouse, white linen skirt and white spike-heeled strappy sandals was walking up the path carrying a large basket. Worse than a ghost, it was a nosy neighbor!
“Good morning,” she called.
“Hi.” I nodded.
“I’m Mrs. Lance Weathers of the historic Garden District Weathers. Next door. Please call me Mary Lou. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” She made it up the steps without losing eye contact or the smallest hint of an ankle wobble in pink heels.
In those shoes, I’d have fallen on my ass if I didn’t watch where I was going. This would be my first encounter with a real Southern belle. I braced myself. “Thanks, I’m Dr. Deanna Oscar.”
“I know. I’m so sorry about your grandmother. A very nice lady.” She gave me a sympathetic look and immediately shifted back to a smile. “This is for you. I do hope you plan to stay. We need more young blood around here.”
I looked at Mrs. Weathers up close. The only way to describe her was Elle Woods from Legally Blonde at about age thirty. Perfectly made-up, polished and not a hint of cattiness about her on the surface.
“Thanks. I’m not sure about my plans, but it’s nice to know Gran will be missed.” The basket was filled with wine, cheese, crackers and a large assortment of muffins. “This is very nice of you.”
“Don’t give it a thought. I won’t keep you by asking a million rude questions now. I’m sure you’re a busy woman. If you ever want the best cup of tea on Carmen Court, and all the truth and rumors about this place, you just walk on down.” She waved and headed back down the path.
“Thank you.” I awkwardly balanced the basket she’d carried with grace and fumbled for the heavy front door.
* * * * *
“A Mary Lou encounter already—chica pobre,” Ivy teased. “The Weathers are old money and New Orleans’ high-society. Mary Lou’s father was middle class but her mother’s family is old socialite stock. Mary Lou was a deb and a beauty pageant winner. That’s all she needed to get into the right family by marriage.” Ivy, Greg, and I sat around the kitchen table with the basket in the middle.
“She said she wanted me to stay. I fit into her plans where?” I asked.
“Old money. Elinor is the direct descendent of some very wealthy businessmen. Lot of imports and exports. The house has been passed down to the eldest daughter generation after generation. You’re not pure Cajun blood by now, of course, but the family line is there.” Ivy sorted through the basket.
“I see.” I really didn’t understand what the big deal was. Blood didn’t mean much in Chicago unless you were related to Oprah or Al Capone. Money I understood but my parents didn’t have much of that anyway.
“You’ve got the blood and you’ll have the money soon enough. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” Greg laughed.
“Sure, romping around Tara in jeans and a t-shirt. I’m not beauty queen or drag queen.” I wasn’t sure how to take the money comment. It felt like everyone knew something I didn’t. “When’s this lawyer coming?”
“Any time.” Ivy shrugged.
“Are you named in the will too?” I asked.
Ivy nodded. “Don’t know what for. She paid me well enough. I certainly don’t expect anything from my clients.”
The doorbell rang and I started to get up.
“Sit. I’ll get it,” Ivy insisted. “Might be another nosy neighbor. Safer this way.”
“Thanks.” I eased back down but felt a knot in my stomach. The will thing sounded official.
“It’s the lawyer,” Ivy announced.
A bald and very round man entered the kitchen. He reached out a sweaty hand. “Dr. Oscar? Just as pretty as your grandmother.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Louie.” I shook his hand and then subtly wiped my palm on my jeans. As lawyers went, he had an honest vibe about him.
“You too. How do you like our city?” He was the type for small talk.
“I haven’t seen much of it. Thought I might do some sightseeing once my interview is done.” I had no intention of touring a town with a killer on the loose. There were bigger problems to deal with but I wasn’t going to advertise that.
“Good idea. Lovely day today.” He hugged his briefcase. “Shall we go over the provisions of the will?”
“Sure. Let’s go into the living room.” I got up and the others followed.
For some reason it felt right to discuss this in the same room with Gran’s ashes. I sat in the large overstuffed chair that felt like a throne at one end of the room. It gave me a little buffer zone from people getting too close. I needed my space from all the new people and their expectations and emotions.
Ivy and the lawyer settled on the large couch while Greg seemed content to stand, ignoring the chair in front of him.
“Now Mrs. Oscar was the sole owner of this house and a very impressive portfolio. Lots of good real estate up in Baton Rouge and Shreveport, plus some stocks for fun. Or so she said. The income from rentals and leases, not to mention the dividends, should keep you quite comfortable, Dr. Oscar. Your grandmother left you no debts.”
“Me? What about my father?”
“Your parents were not named in the will.” The lawyer shrugged.
“My brothers?”
“I’m sorry, no.” He shook his head.
“But Ivy and Greg are?” I didn’t quite get why my brothers were left out.
“Mrs. Oscar did leave to both Ivy and Greg a small token of gratitude. One hundred thousand dollars each.” Mr. Louie wiped his head with a hanky and looked as though he’d prefer if we put out the candles on Gran’s shrine but made no comment.
“That’s very nice.” Not a small token but it had me curious what the rest added up to.
“That’s too much!” Ivy sounded more happy than upset.
“So you don’t object?” Greg asked me.
“Why would I object? It’s her money and she can do what she wants with it.” I looked at the lawyer. “Is that it? Just the three of us?”
“She left a few provisions for local charities. Here’s a list. The gardens around the house are maintained by a service she preferred. The current contract is effective for the next five years. A necessary cost in the area, but if you wanted to change services that would be your decision. There are no other commitments on the funds. This is the net value of the estate and portfolio.” Mr. Louie handed me a piece of paper.
“Good.” I slipped the piece of paper with the value in my pocket without looking and reviewed the list of charities. This was all happening too fast. “What do I need to do?”
“At this point, nothing. I’ll see to it that the checks are cut and all the paperwork is transferred to your name. If you have any plans to sell or make changes I’d be happy to help,” he replied.
The sentence hung in the room like a ghost everyone could see. Three pairs of eyes were on me and didn’t seem to be blinking.
“I have no intention of selling at this time. Finalize the estate and that’ll be enough for me. Thanks” The shock hadn’t even truly set it in. Now wasn’t the time to make changes.
“Wonderful,” Mr. Louis sighed. Greg and Ivy both looked slightly surprised.
“Thanks for coming out. Do I need to sign anything?” It seemed too easy.
“No, not now. A little more paperwork to process and then it’ll be done.” Mr. Louie got to his feet. “I do have another appointment across town. I’ll be going, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course.” I walked him to the door with Greg and I
vy not far behind. “I’ll let you know how to reach me if I have to leave town.”
“A pleasure, Dr. Oscar.” He nodded with his whole torso, somewhere between a bow and some lesser form of acknowledgement. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Once the door closed, I pulled the other piece of paper out of my pocket. I was now worth two hundred and fifty million dollars? For all my psychic abilities, I never saw that coming.
Ivy and Greg stood there smiling at me.
“A lot of money.” Greg hooked a thumb in his jeans pocket.
“It’s crazy.” Reality was sinking in.
“It’s how she solved crimes, found missing children, and never took a penny from anyone,” Ivy added. “You’ll need the income if you do it her way.”
“I think I need a nap. This is all way too sudden. Maybe the jet-lag is kicking in.” I needed to be alone.
“Sure. We’ll get out of your way.” Ivy steered Greg out the door.
Peace and quiet finally—just me and a houseful of ghosts and possessed objects. It was all mine.
Chapter Three
Locking myself in the bedroom, I curled up in the warm sheets and read Gran’s book until I fell asleep with a white candle still flickering on the nightstand.
Sleep didn’t exactly leave me in peace. My dreams were vivid and odd. Weirdest of all, I wasn’t alone. Gran was along. I should’ve known she’d be back.
We were moving. I looked down and my feet didn’t touch the floor. I hoped I’d remember this in the morning. My clothes were the same. I’d fallen asleep in my jeans and sweater. Gran had me by the hand and in the distance I saw my grandfather. Gran’s ex-husband.
Why are we going to see him? My mouth hadn’t moved but I felt like I’d communicated my thoughts.
You need to hear this. Deanna, he isn’t a bad person. Gran’s voice was in my head.
Grandfather was already in front of us.
He was smiling at me.
He never smiled at me.
“Hi.” It was as polite as I could be. He’d never been very nice to me when he was alive. He favored my two younger brothers who didn’t see things.
“I’m sorry,” he said.