Fugue Macabre: Ghost Dance (Fugue Macabre Trilogy Book 1)

by C. J. Parker

  How was she going to tell Derek that Elizabeth was with Missy? For that matter, how could she explain that Missy was still talking to her after the three-day grace period had lapsed? “God, help me out here.” Could she have been wrong about the day of death? But if she was wrong about that, then how could she have heard Missy talking to her if the girl hadn’t been dead yet? And how could Elizabeth, dead twenty years, be talking to her? She wanted to hate Elizabeth. How would Derek react to Elizabeth’s presence? Would he push Tabatha away?

  “Elizabeth? Are you still there?” Tabatha whispered.

  Yes, I’m here. Elizabeth’s voice drew Tabatha to her. She knew she’d have liked Elizabeth had they known each other. No wonder Derek still loved her. A pain ripped through Tabatha heart. He still loved Elizabeth.

  “Are you going to answer me?” Tabatha dug the butts of her hands against her eyes. “Who killed you?”

  You must not raise my body, Tabatha Gray. It would be too painful for Derek. He needs to let me go.

  Relief forced a breath from Tabatha’s lungs. “I agree, but he’s not going to. Finding your killer has become his life goal. Derek will never let you go until he solves the case.” I’ve got to make her understand. “I love him, Elizabeth, but I’m selfish. I will not share him with your ghost.”

  Who is this Dana you were talking to? What is it you need from her?

  “Information. She probably knows who the head of the Guardians is and where I can find him. Maybe details about the organization that could help me bring it down.” Tabatha straightened on the cushion and leaned back. Her head was about to explode from questions trying to force their way out.

  What do the Guardians have to do with you and Derek?

  Tabatha tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a garbled groan. “They want to kill me and my friends. They think powers like ours come from Satan, and we should be destroyed.”

  You closed Dana out. Can you reverse that? Can you still talk to her?

  Can, but I’m not going to. “Any time within the three days of her death. After that, not usually.”

  Usually?

  “It’s been four days since Missy died, and I can still hear her. Do you have something to do with that?” Tabatha swallowed hard. “And you’ve been gone a lot longer than that.”

  Never mind me. You need to try again. Ask Dana what you need to know. Give her one more chance.

  Elizabeth had avoided her questions again but Tabatha drew in air and lowered the block she’d closed between her and Dana. Silence greeted her at first as the shield opened to the realm of the dead. Tabatha had never done this so often so close together, her head ached and her eyesight blurred. Dana’s sobs drifted across the void of death. “Dana, you’ve got one more chance. Will you talk to me?”

  Dana’s answer held a hint of fear along with her anger. Go away. You can’t help me. You killed me. You can’t change that.

  Tabatha swallowed the bitter taste of guilt. “Who is the leader of the Guardians?”

  Go to Hell, Dana. Elizabeth’s warning tone threw the atmosphere into a cold silence.

  Who is that, Tabatha? Fear chilled Dana’s voice.

  I am Elizabeth Ann Morrie. Answer her questions, Dana.

  Tabatha’s skin broke out in gooseflesh at the hardness of Elizabeth’s voice.

  I’m not falling for that trickm Tabatha. Elizabeth has been dead a long time. I ain’t telling you a damned thing.

  A loud screech of terror filled Tabatha’s head. Her quickened pulse raced in her temples. She jumped to her feet and covered her ears. A foolish move, since the noise was inside her head. “Elizabeth, what was that? What’s going on?”

  Tabatha, make her go away. I don’t know anything. I swear. I don’t know who the leader is. I only know what Dub told me. No names. No. No. Get her away from me.

  “Another dead end.” Tabatha dropped onto the couch. “Hell.”

  Dana, if you’re lying, Tabatha will raise your soulless body and command you to talk. It’s not a good feeling. You’ll have no control over what you do or say. You’ll be her puppet. Now, who is the Lord of the Guardians?

  Tabatha didn’t like the sound of that. A puppet? She didn’t think they could feel anything. They were dead. She believed Dana. She didn’t know anything. She had to stop this. Dana didn’t deserve it.

  Tabatha batted away her pity for Dana. “Leave her alone, Elizabeth. Do you want me to do anything for you, Dana? Anyone you want to say anything to? Any last regrets?”

  There was a long silence before Dana answered. I had no one close enough to care what I’d have to say. And it’s too late to have regrets. God is through with me. No reprieve.

  Tabatha hoped not. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Maybe that is the true purpose of the three-day grace period, Dana. Talk to Him.”

  Dana sighed heavily. She’s gone now. Thank you.

  Tabatha frowned as she scrambled to reconcile the pronoun. Maybe Dana thought of God as a woman? “Who’s gone?”

  Elizabeth. Goodbye, Tabatha. I’m not mad at you anymore. It’s better this way.

  That knocked the breath out of Tabatha. “Why not?”

  I was dying anyway. You just sabed me time and pain. Goodbye, Tabatha. Like turning off the sound on a radio, Dana was gone.

  “Goodbye, Dana. I’m sorry.” Tabatha’s attention returned to the other problem at hand. “Talk to me, Elizabeth. Who killed you?”

  Don’t raise my body, Tabatha. It will do more harm than good. It will be too painful for Derek to know. Love him, and in time he will move on.

  More harm to who, you? “I don’t want to wait.” If Tabatha could reach out and pull Elizabeth into the here and now, she’d do it without a single qualm. “I want him now.”

  “Who are you talking to, Tabatha?” Derek limped into the living room.

  She’s doing it right under your nose, Tabatha. Elizabeth’s voice drifted further away. And Tabatha’s confusion increased.

  A silence only a necromancer could know filled Tabatha’s consciousness when Elizabeth closed the link between them. What had her last comment meant? Who was doing what under her nose?

  “Tabatha? Are you all right?” Derek slowly made his way to her side and sat on the arm of the couch.

  She drew a deep breath and released it in a gush of air. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.” She looked into his concern-lined face and tried to give him her best smile. “Where did you come up with that raggedy robe?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject.” His gaze searched her face. “That was more than tired I saw. Something frightened you, Tabatha. Now, start talking.”

  She almost laughed with relief. Derek meant what had happened outside. He’d not heard her talking to Dana and Elizabeth. “When I threw the file at Frank I saw a photograph I’d not noticed. I thought I’d seen it before.”

  “I can’t believe you gave him the file before I got a look at it.” He scowled at her. “I could skin you alive for that.”

  “I had Bertha make copies.” She smiled at the release of anger from his face. “They’re in the desk. I’m going to go lie down for a few minutes. You need to do the same.” She stood and took his hand. “The doctor made me swear I’d make you rest.”

  A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I will if you join me.”

  Tabatha leaned down and kissed him. “We both can’t fit in that twin bed. And you can’t make it up the stairs yet.” She put her arm around his waist and helped him stand. “Besides, isn’t Shane still in there?”

  Derek nodded. “Sound asleep. That boy needs a daddy.”

  “Well, don’t get any ideas, buster. Rhonda can find him one. I’ll give you all the kids you want.” She smiled knowing by his stunned expression exactly what he was thinking. Kids? Me?

  Bertha stomped into the living room, her fists on her hips. “Mr. Derek, why aren’t you in that bed? Am I gonna have to treat you like a child? Get. Get.” She waved her hands toward the hallway. “Off with
both of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Derek sighed. “A short nap then I want to see that damned file.”

  “Your wish is my desire, master.” Tabatha led him down the hall. “Yeah, right. If it fits into your plans.” He shook his head and grasped her hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you as far as the stairs.”

  As they brushed past Bertha, Derek glared at her. “After this is over, we’re going to get a double bed for that room.”

  Bertha’s laughter trailed behind them.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tabatha stretched across the bed and placed her forearm over her eyes. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. Elizabeth’s warning repeated itself over and over like a mantra. “Under my nose. A hint?” The bed gave with the weight of someone sitting on its edge and Tabatha jerked her arm away from her face. Bertha looked down at her, her brow crinkled.

  Tabatha released a pent-up breath. “Bertha? Something wrong?”

  “Sit up. We need to talk.” Bertha brushed her hands nervously over the skirt of her blue uniform. “You know, I’m nobody’s fool. I know you’re upset about something. Come out with it, baby girl.”

  Not wanting to talk about it, Tabatha used the only thing she could think of to change the subject. “Why are you wearing that uniform?”

  “Your momma threw a hissy fit. Said she wasn’t going to have her servants running around looking like part of the family.”

  Bertha was more family that her mother most of Tabatha’s life. “Dammit. I thought she’d straightened up. I’ll put a stop to this. If you wear that thing again, I’ll fire you.”

  Bertha snorted. “You ain’t been paying me, so trying to fire me would be kinda silly, wouldn’t it?” A deep frown creased her brow. “Now, stop trying to change the subject. What is goin’ on with you?”

  Tabatha swallowed, released her breath and started again. She couldn’t understand why she was on the verge of bawling. “I called my lawyer, he’s sending you back pay and regular checks will come each week. If I’d known you were still working here, I’d have made sure you were being paid.” Tabatha took Bertha’s hand in hers. “He can’t explain what’s happened to Mom’s checks, but he’s reporting their disappearance to the police. He’s taking my word on the fact they’re missing at all.”

  “Tabatha.” Bertha’s tone held a warning. “I’m not talking about money and you know it.”

  Tabatha gave up. When Bertha was onto a scent she didn’t let go. “Elizabeth doesn’t want me to raise her body. She said Derek doesn’t need to know who killed her.”

  Bertha shot up from the bed, her dark chocolate skin fading to milk chocolate tan. “Are you saying you been talking to a woman that’s been dead for a long time?”

  Tabatha nodded not quite understanding what had upset Bertha. “Twenty years gone.”

  The old woman wrung her hands and swept the room with her gaze. “Has this happened before?”

  Tabatha shook her head. Bertha was beginning to frighten her.

  “What this dead woman wantin’ from you?” Bertha glanced at Tabatha but quickly away again as if afraid to look at Tabatha.

  “Just to be left alone. She says it feels bad when a person is raised—like being a puppet, having no control. She said it would hurt Derek if he found out who killed her.”

  “Baby girl, she ain’t restin’.” Bertha began to pace the room. “She roamin’ the earth with no peace. She wantin’ somethin’.”

  Tabatha wasn’t sure she should tell her the rest. “That’s not all.” Bertha raised her chin and clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “Tell me.”

  “Missy has been dead for four days.” Tabatha paused trying to come up with a way to say it without sounding silly. “She’s still talking to me, and Elizabeth’s with her.”

  “Oh, lordy.” Bertha’s lips moved in silence for several moments. “I don’t know what to make of this. You sure it’s been four days?”

  Tabatha reran the time between Derek coming home and telling her Missy was missing, to today. “Positive. Now, I don’t know if I should tell Derek any of this or not.” How had she gotten herself into this mess? Oh, yeah. Rhonda. “How is he going to handle the fact that Elizabeth is talking to me and doesn’t want me to raise her? That she doesn’t want him to know who killed her? Want to hear what I think?”

  Bertha nodded, but said nothing.

  “I think Frank killed her.”

  Bertha groaned. “I wouldn’t want to be in your size sevens.”

  “I thought Frank didn’t like me because of the curse.” Something wasn’t right. Frank had been okay with her at the barbecue. Maybe it had been Mary who had turned him against her. “I didn’t realize he was trying to keep me from finding out the truth.”

  Bertha slapped her on the arm hard enough to sting. “Now, you stop calling your gifts that. God don’t curse people from birth, and you’ve been like this since I’ve known you.”

  “I thought once he saw I was doing good with my... gift, he would start to understand and accept me.” Expecting understanding from Frank was a foolish dream after all that had happened since she’d met him. The thought dropped her mood in the dumpster. “But I’m not so sure now. If Frank killed Elizabeth, could it be he... Oh hell, I don’t know. Maybe I’m going down the wrong skunk hole.”

  “What skunk hole would that be?”

  Tabatha and Bertha screeched, jumping.

  Bertha stomped her foot. “Mr. Derek, you scared the fool out of me. You shouldn’t be up here. How’d you climb those stairs? You pop those stitches, and I’ll whoop you good.”

  Derek’s face was hard, his eyes determined as he stared at Tabatha. “Who do you think killed Elizabeth?”

  Tabatha stood from the bed and readied herself for his backlash. “I’m not saying until I have something to back it up.” She paused before going to his side and helping him to the bed. “Bertha can you find some pillows to put under his leg? Looks like he’ll be staying up here for a while.”

  Bertha and Tabatha’s eyes met, a silent agreement of silence passed between them.

  “I’m sure I can find some.” Bertha left the room, her back ramrod straight.

  Derek sat then raised his leg onto the mattress. “Start talking, Tabatha.” She’d start with the easy part, and see if that would be enough a appease him. “Missy is still talking to me.”

  He started at her in silence for a full minute. “How is that possible? You said three days was the limit. It’s been...”

  “I can count.” Tabatha cringed at the anger in her voice. If she could have gotten her hands on Elizabeth right that moment, she’d have choked her. “I don’t know. Some people refuse to leave. Maybe she won’t let go until she knows the killer is caught.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What’s this got to do with Elizabeth?”

  She wasn’t ready to blurt it out yet. She needed some information, some thread she could use to stitch together this crazy quilt. “Tell me about the wedding day, Derek. Where were you? Where was Elizabeth? Frank was your best man, right?”

  “No.” He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes. “My brother, Garth, was best man.”

  A twinge of sorrow ran a race through her gut. He’d never told her about his family. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  Derek shrugged. “He lives in Dallas, married with four kids.”

  She wasn’t sure why this was important to her, but she wanted to know more about Derek and his family. “Go on.”

  “Frank and I went to the same school, but he was Elizabeth’s friend. That’s how we came to hang together. Seemed every time Elizabeth and I went out, he showed up. It was like a damn threesome.” He laid his arm over his forehead and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “After her death, I guess he clung to me because I reminded him of her. He loved her, too, I guess.”

  Well that’s a big piece of the puzzle. Frank had never really been Derek’s friend, but Elizabeth’s cast off. “But he was a
t the wedding, right?”

  “Yes. I remember seeing him. He was sitting in the back row of chairs. I think he was already half plastered before he got there. The wedding was in Jackson Square.” Derek’s brow crinkled. “It took some doing to get permission to close it off for the private affair. But since it was on a Tuesday, the city gave in and took the money.”

  Tabatha was almost afraid to ask the next question. She swallowed hard. “Who found her?”

  “I did.” He closed his eyes, but not before she saw the gathering a tears there. “There were canopies all along the fence. The food and drinks were being readied in most of them. The others were lined up with tables and chairs. I remember seeing her in the area where they were putting out the cake, giving orders like she always did.” He laughed softly. “I turned to leave when he said something about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. When I glanced back she was gone.”

  Tabatha reached out and squeezed his hand. “I—”

  Bertha returned and tossed four large feather pillows onto the foot of the bed. “I’m going to fix Carla a snack. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.” She pointed her finger at Derek. “I don’t want to see you on that leg again today. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Derek reached for one of the blankets, but Tabatha picked it up and shook it open over him. “Only when I have to go to the can.”

  Bertha snorted. “Don’t get cute with me.” She glared at Tabatha. “Don’t you go keeping him awake all day.”

  Tabatha rose to leave, but Derek grasped her wrist and drew her beside him. “If you want me off my leg, she stays.”

  Tabatha sat on the edge of the bed again and nodded at Bertha. “I’ll make sure he rests.”

  Bertha shook her head but left without an argument.

  Derek settled himself against his pillow. Tabatha thought he’d decided to take a nap and had snuggled beside him when he continued with his story.

  “When it was time for the wedding to start, her father went looking for her. A few minutes later he came back saying he thought Elizabeth had run off. He was joking, but it scared me.” Tabatha wondered if he had known even then that his Elizabeth was gone. “Here we were in the heart of New Orleans. Not a safe place really. But she wanted to be married in the park just like her mom and dad. I went to the car to see if she was there. I checked the portable toilets. I asked everyone if they’d seen her.” He reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and took a long drink. “I started checking all the stands. I noticed something smeared on the drape of the farthest one away from the main group. When I lifted the cloth I found her.” He shivered as if a chill had run the length of his body. “She had been mutilated. Her dress ripped to shreds.”