A Mansion, A Drag Queen, And A New Job (Deanna Oscar Paranormal Mystery, #1)

by CC Dragon

  “Stuck?”

  I searched for the best way to explain. “Death is kind of like an airplane ride. It can be smooth, or it can have lots of turbulence and detours. Traumatic and unexpected deaths make it harder. Some don’t realize they’re dead at all.” And the men in white coats would be coming for me any time now.

  The judge felt safe to talk to, but I was just waiting to open my mouth to the wrong person. I’d never discussed ghosts or visions this much in the last twenty years combined.

  “Does that make you the stewardess?” He laughed.

  “I hope not. But I’m sure they prefer the term flight attendants. And no jokes about Hooters Air. I’m not qualified. I think you’ve got to be a ‘D’ cup for that.”

  “Sorry, this isn’t funny but it’s...”

  “Weird, I know. At least we know that the girls are okay now. That helps. Tina Price isn’t ready to talk yet, but Little Cel can help. We need to find the third girl and get her some kind of round-the-clock protection.”

  “Any idea when?” the judge asked.

  “He hasn’t found her yet. Which is good. But it’ll be soon. He won’t get the girl, but I can’t tell if we catch him then or when he comes for me.”

  “You sound pretty casual about your own death.” The judge frowned at me.

  “I’m getting more casual about this living and dead thing in general. At least about myself. I can’t see my own future, so I’ve pretty much stopped wondering. Right now, all I want to do is get this guy back in the mental hospital, where he can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “I was thinking the chair myself.” The judge took another look at the doll.

  “He’s not in complete control of what he’s doing.” I knew it was crazy to defend a killer, but prison wouldn’t help. A child killer would end up dead at the hands of another inmate. Killing him and setting his ghost free to haunt people didn’t thrill me either.

  “He was cleared for release by medical professionals. He isn’t even medicated. When we get him, I’m sure the DA will go for the most severe sentence.”

  “That’s up to you guys.” I put the doll back. There was nothing I could say to change the legal system. “But I will want to interview him myself. With his record, an insanity plea won’t be much of a stretch.”

  “Because his brother told him to is not a defense,” the judge argued.

  “No, but if you were a victim of an extreme haunting, I think you’d do some pretty crazy things. Who would believe you anyway?” I challenged.

  “I think you would. What are you doing for dinner, Dr. Oscar?” The judge abruptly changed the subject.

  This was one of those times I wished I were psychic about myself. “Um, I don’t know.”

  “I think we’ve covered what we need to about the case, but I’d like to discuss your credentials in more detail. I have a luncheon, and then I’m back in court or I’d take you to lunch now.”

  “Okay. Dinner is fine.” I got up, feeling confused and frustrated. Another non-date?

  “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t worry, we’ll go somewhere out of the way, just in case Big Bud wants another photo op.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled back politely. “See you tonight. I’ll bring my résumé.”

  I left the judge’s chambers and walked right by Matt who was still flirting with the secretary. They never noticed me, which was fine. I was off balance and didn’t like it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You’re not actually going, are you?” Greg demanded from the doorway of my bedroom.

  It was six-thirty p.m. and I was going no matter what he said. “Yes. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?” I had on my one dress for fun no matter what the purpose of dinner was. It had a peasant blouse feel with a swirly long skirt in cream. The edges were decorated in red and brown stitching. For some reason I felt free in it.

  “You have another girl to find. There’s a killer on the loose. You’re a target.” He’d counted out the reasons on his fingers.

  “I’m just meeting with the judge. And I’m really sick and tired. I need a break. I’m sick and tired of ghosts, death, crime scenes and inquisitions. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for one night to be normal. This is business, but I don’t report to you in any case.”

  “So that afternoon meant nothing?” he whispered.

  “Nothing happened. I had a vision of a body and that stopped everything.” Since that afternoon, Greg and I hadn’t discussed it. I couldn’t explain why but it felt like the right thing to not get that close to Greg.

  “It won’t be like that all the time.”

  “I think there is a reason things got interrupted. I’ll figure it out eventually.” That instinct was too strong. I had to go with it.

  “You have a responsibility, Deanna.” He changed the subject.

  “To the victims, Greg. Not to you, or the police, or anyone else. So let me deal with it anyway.” I slipped on a cute pair of sandals with a small heel. “If one more person tries to tell me how I should or shouldn’t handle my gift, I’ll be on the next plane back to Chicago and lecturing at the U of C in a week.”

  Greg watched me for a second and backed slowly out of my bedroom. “Have it your way.”

  “I intend to.” I threw a bottle of moisturizer at the doorway seconds after he’d left.

  “That’s not nice,” Gran scolded from the bed.

  “What will make him really go away?” I asked Gran.

  “You’re a grown woman. You know how to handle men. He’s a good man. They all get on your nerves.” That was all she ever really said about Greg.

  “So? Because he was nice to you, I’m stuck with him in my house, telling me what to do for the rest of my life?” I turned to face her sitting on my bed.

  “He has some unresolved issues,” she admitted.

  “I know, I’m a psychologist, the signs are hard to miss. But I’ve sort of got my hands full with the dead patients right now. Can we send him somewhere else for therapy?” I rubbed powder into my face.

  “He doesn’t need therapy. You’ll figure it out in time.”

  “Great. Until then, I’m stuck with someone who acts like he’s my brother and my boyfriend at the same time. No thanks.” I sat down next to her and exhaled. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You’re doing fine. Go out tonight. You’ll have fun, and hopefully have more luck with the police than I did. They thought the crazy old lady just got lucky. Except for my friend.” She smiled.

  “You’re going to have to tell me about this friend of yours.” I smiled back.

  “Some things are private, my dear. Matt and the judge can help persuade any doubters to give you more freedom. Assuming you want to stay.”

  I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know what I wanted. I knew I wanted to help these little girls. I liked doing something more than teaching or standard therapy. It felt good to make a difference—but I hadn’t really. Not yet.

  But my father and brothers were calling constantly to get me to come home. I must’ve made the Chicago news. I hadn’t called them back. I was waiting for the day when they all showed up here for an intervention. Fear was the only thing preventing them from coming, for now.

  I knew some day they would. Right now they still had hope that it was just a unique experience and I’ll get tired of it soon.

  I could stay. I had the backbone to get a PhD, in what my father called touchy-feely crap. But part of me was still too afraid to make a real decision, one that would change my life permanently. I was trained to teach psychology not be psychic.

  “Just go and have fun.” Gran faded. I knew I needed not to think for one night.

  I grabbed a wrap and the tote with the doll and went downstairs. Avoiding Ivy and Greg wasn’t too hard in a house this size. I hovered near the front door, hoping the judge would be on time.

  The sound of a car in the driveway made me look out the peephole. It was the judge in a blue SUV this time. That reminded me, once
again, that I needed to find that car soon. I couldn’t keep riding around in that army reject of a Jeep or with the police. I needed my independence and a car that was me.

  I stepped out onto the porch as he got out of the car. “Hi,” we both managed at exactly the same time. Embarrassing, but I found that the living, like the dead, frequently had very bad timing.

  He walked around the passenger side and opened the door for me. It might not be a date, but he was still a gentleman. Not too bad so far.

  “You really are young to be a judge.” I had a blunt streak, which probably wasn’t good for a shrink, but I could control it. When I wanted to.

  “You’re a little young to be a double PhD, right?” he returned. “Call me John.”

  I shrugged. “Twenty-six. I went straight through. No time off for bad behavior. My parents offered to pay for undergrad if I went straight into college.”

  “Good move. Get an education. Is your dad a teacher?”

  I forced myself not to laugh. Not my dad. “Dad worked in a steel plant and wanted his kids to have nice air-conditioned office jobs. So I started college at seventeen. If they were smart, they would’ve ruled out some majors while we were negotiating my full-time college career.”

  “They didn’t like psych?” he asked.

  “Too touchy-feely for them. Plus, to do anything that paid anything with my major, I had to get advanced degrees. That didn’t thrill them. I think they’re still afraid I’ll go back and be a perpetual student.”

  “You won’t?” He smiled.

  “No. I majored in the right thing. My parents want me to start teaching at some fancy university where I can earn tenure. They always go for the security angle. Anything but...”

  “Here?” he supplied.

  “Exactly. It explains why my parents weren’t very positive about Tulane. They’ll accept I had to do the estate stuff. But after the news coverage.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there are a ton of messages from them.”

  “They didn’t come down with you for the funeral?” he asked.

  “Long story, but no.”

  “How about the short version?” He parked the car and we entered the hole in the wall, which was as small as promised. It had character though. Lots of shrunken heads, streets signs and voodoo dolls. Plus a big mural of fairies and leprechauns on the wall. “Best food in the city, I promise.” He held the door for me again.

  The waiter knew him. That made me feel less like I was being hidden from the public, and just a bit special. Almost normal. “Short story about the funeral,” I began once we were alone. “Gran and I are the only two psychics in the family. Which makes us freaks to the family. They moved to Chicago to get away from her before I was even born. I never met her and her own husband divorced her.”

  “So what happened when they found out you had the same gift as your grandmother?”

  “I didn’t even know what it was, because I didn’t know about my grandmother. I thought all imaginary friends were real. They were for me. My parents told me it was in my head, to ignore it. They still showed up, but I had a better handle on it—except in my dreams.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m still learning, but from what I’ve seen so far, talking to ghosts isn’t that far from regular psychotherapy.” I glanced down at the menu.

  “You’re the therapist for the formerly living?” He leaned in. “At least that’s what they called you on the news.”

  I felt my face turn red. “I didn’t hear that one. Ghosts, spirits, whatever. I guess it’s sort of true. They hang around for a reason. Unfinished business. Like our troublemaker who’s torturing his brother, the killer. He wants revenge and he wants his brother back. I don’t know how we’re going to fix it, but he and his brother need help.”

  “I don’t get why you want to help the killer.” John frowned at me and sat back.

  “Maybe if someone helped him before, he wouldn’t be a killer. You can get the killers, but you can’t stop the ghosts from doing what they want. Maybe I can help there. Luckily, most ghosts seem to have less homicidal issues. Nicer reasons to visit.” I sipped my water. Law enforcement wasn’t exactly a comfortable world for me, yet. They all just wanted to catch the guy and thought that solved things.

  “So some visit like my birth mother and some are stuck?” he asked.

  “Depends on the ghost, but yes. They can visit from the Other Side. Some of them are stuck here because they don’t believe, or refuse to believe they’re dead. Or they have something to do here. Like your mother wanted to watch over you until she knew you were safe. It’s not all bad. Most of them aren’t here to hurt the living.”

  “Maybe we should change the subject? Wine?” he asked as the waiter approached.

  “Please.”

  The judge ordered an expensive French white wine. Then the waiter looked expectantly at me. I ordered the blackened catfish on white rice, and made sure I added a Diet Coke in case I didn’t want to drink too much.

  The judge entertained me with tales of him and his brothers growing up until the food arrived. I’d polished off a full glass of wine and decided be to lightweight and go for the Diet Coke, when I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye.

  I blinked and studied the room again. Nothing.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. Sorry. I thought I saw something.” I shook it off.

  “They say this place is full of fairies.”

  “You brought me to a gay restaurant?” I was thoroughly confused.

  “No, little mystical fairies.” He pointed to the mural on the wall.

  I looked around. “I don’t see any little winged creatures. If I do, I’ll let you know.”

  My eyes checked the room again as I lifted a forkful of catfish to my lips. Seeing the familiar squinting grin on a barstool made me drop my fork. “Go away,” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” the judge asked.

  “Warren’s here,” I explained.

  “Here? Are you being stalked by a ghost?”

  “Not exactly a crime we can punish. Warren likes to hang around and annoy me.”

  “Ignore him,” he advised.

  “Can’t. It’s better if I can keep an eye on him.” I stared at Warren who stuck out his tongue.

  “Can you get rid of him?” the judge asked.

  I shook my head and mouthed to Warren. “Behave.”

  Warren just smirked and began moving glasses around the bar. The patrons didn’t seem annoyed but entertained.

  “The fairies are out tonight,” the bartender announced.

  The patrons clapped and Warren seethed. It wasn’t the reaction he wanted.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Warren’s pissed. They think he’s a fairy.”

  Warren kicked some glassware on to the floor but people kept applauding. The little ghost came to my table and folded his arms in a huff.

  “Tell them it’s me.” He stomped.

  “No, it’s better if you’re a fairy. Go entertain us more,” I said.

  “You’re going to die,” he warned.

  “Not tonight.” I shrugged. “Go away, Warren.”

  The judge smiled at me. Warren glared at the judge and back at me. Enraged, he flew up onto the bar and behind the bartender. Warren knocked over a few big bottles and glasses, and then went up through the roof with another round of cheers and applause from the patrons.

  “Sorry, he enjoys threatening my life,” I told the judge.

  “Don’t apologize. Everyone here is happy and no one was hurt. If I could see Warren, I’d strangle him but I think you can handle him.” He sat back, impressed.

  I sat staring at the judge for a few minutes. The dinner could’ve been a disaster thanks to Warren, but it wasn’t. “I like this place. Blame it on the fairies.” I refilled my wineglass. The night wasn’t exactly normal, but I didn’t feel weird about being interrupted by Warren either.

  * * * * *

  The noise fro
m the first floor snapped me awake. Three glasses of wine had left me with a night of blissful, visionless and travel-free, sleep. The noise was no nightmare. For a split second I thought Warren was tearing up my house, but I’d been so focused on him that I knew he couldn’t have slipped by me. This was the work of the living.

  Not bothering with a robe, I padded downstairs in a baby blue tank top and pajama pants to find Ivy had taken over the kitchen and second parlor. Sequined gowns in bold colors and more boxes of shoes than in all of Macy’s made my house look like a Vegas showgirl’s dressing room.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “De, thank God you’re awake. It’s nine-thirty already. I hope you don’t mind, I don’t have enough room at my place. I got booked at the newest, hottest drag club. The Long and Big Easy.” Ivy was bustling in a fuzzy hot pink robe and matching slippers with a towel still wrapped turban style on her head.

  “That’s a terrible name for a club,” I groaned.

  “The point is, it’s the hot club right now. And I got a primetime slot. You’ve got to come!” she insisted.

  “Sure, of course, I’ll come. When is it?” I opened a box and found hot pink platforms.

  “Tonight. Short notice but if I’m great, it could be a regular thing. What should I wear?”

  “If it won’t fit in your apartment where did you get all this stuff?”

  “Friends. I need to really pop tonight.”

  “Maybe I can borrow something? I’ve been wearing the same outfits for days.”

  “None of these are right for you. Right size or style. Go shopping. You’ve got the money coming to you so get a fun wardrobe. I’d take you but I have a million things to do. Rehearsal. Hair, makeup and nails all need to be done. Take Mary Lou. She dresses a bit stuffy, but maybe you can loosen her up.”

  “Nails,” I murmured and looked at mine. It’d been over two weeks since my last appointment. I was in desperate need of a manicure. “Any chance you can get me squeezed in for a manicure?”

  Ivy stopped her hurried wardrobe review to grab my hand and take a look. “Christ, you can’t go to a funeral or a club with those. I know the owner, they’ll fit you in. My appointment is at eleven. Meet me at the Ladylike Salon then. One of them can do you.”