A Bar a Brother and a Ghost Hunt Read online

  “He has to take charge of his own health and change his habits. I’m not going to slap the butter out of his hand.” That phase of compromise to get through the funeral was done. I dug in and found I was hungry despite being annoyed.

  Frankie returned, and we all ate in silence, which was probably the longest I’d ever heard Ivy not talk. As soon as she’d eaten enough, she started quizzing Frankie on what to do see and what she should wear.

  I went into the washroom and took a moment. A glass of wine wouldn’t hurt now that I had some food in me. Wine would help me relax a bit and get through the day. I needed to get away from the tension of my parents. When Eddie was ill, there had been a distraction, but now, I felt suffocated again. It was time for me to go home where I didn’t have to deal with their scrutiny and opinions. I couldn’t do anything more here.

  Gran caught my eye as she gave me a little wave from the corner.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with Eddie, but I guess it has been a couple of days,” I said.

  “I haven’t seen him.” She shook her head.

  My jaw dropped. I had no words, for once, but lots of questions.

  “You weren’t there waiting for him?” I asked.

  “Of course, I was. He didn’t come through,” she said.

  “He went straight to reorientation. Is that possible?” I didn’t exactly understand the death process in detail, but people still had free will.

  “He bypassed me and your grandfather on purpose?” She frowned. “It’s possible he did that. Then again, some people are very confused when they pass. They don’t realize they are dead. That’s why I’m here. If he didn’t understand he was dead, he’d be here with his family.”

  “Freaking out at me that he’s not dead.” I saw her point. “No, he’s not here. Maybe he’d been facing his death for so long that he did just jump right into the light and reorientation. We talked about that life review thing a bit.”

  She shook her head. “I think I’d know if that’s where he was. He might be avoiding it all.”

  “He’ll have to cross over, won’t he?” I asked.

  The door to the lady’s room opened, and I got the confused look from Great Aunt Maureen.

  “Hi, Auntie Maureen,” I said.

  “I thought I heard talking.” She looked around.

  “Just talking to Eddie.” I covered. “It’s been a rough, long stretch.”

  “You poor dear.” She hugged me and smelled like church incense. “He’s at peace now. You must get on with your life. You’re closing in on forty. You should get married before it’s too late.”

  “Thanks. Weddings are happier than funerals.” I stepped away from her and washed my hands. Gran had disappeared.

  “We need more happy things. Family only sees each other at weddings and funerals.” She carried her little black handbag and went into a stall.

  I agreed, but I needed my own life back. The guilt would come with me, but the urge to book a flight, pack, and be back in NOLA had taken hold of me.

  And I had to keep an eye out for my brother. Ghosts could come back and visit. I had house ghosts who seemed content. I wasn’t one to judge, but Eddie skipping Heaven and hiding didn’t make any sense.

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t feel like celebrating anything, but Ivy’s plan was more of an adventure. I had some guilt having any fun right now. We’d found some parking around Clark and Halsted, and Frankie proceeded to begin the walking tour of Chicago’s Boystown.

  “Are the rainbow flags out all year?” Greg asked.

  “Yep. I was up here on the Northside for one of my PhDs. No better place to party than here. It’s pretty darn safe for a straight girl.”

  “You never got hit on by women?” Frankie teased.

  “Hit on, sure. But women know how to take no for an answer nicely. Men’s egos are an area of study that I really think I could spend two lifetimes on and never crack the power source.” I grinned smugly.

  My brother hugged me as the chilly fall wind whipped my hair.

  We found a bookstore with a café and grabbed some hot drinks. Ivy was lost in the history section while Greg found the secret lives of gays section.

  “I know you and Mary Lou had a bad time, but seriously, there’s a woman out there for you,” I teased.

  “No, it’s the secret clergy. There are actually books that have interviews with clergy who were outed or who answered questions anonymously.” He had three books in his arm and was looking for more.

  “Naughty priests. I’m sure there’s a fetish for that.”

  The guy behind the counter chuckled. “Anything you’d be interested in?”

  “Me? I’ve been mostly in a case studies of demonic possession phase. But thanks,” I said.

  “Actually...” He walked out to a back corner. “You might like some of these. At one point in history, one of the ways they tried to cure gays was through exorcism. Blame the demon inside.”

  “This is an impressive little bookstore.” I picked a couple titles and noticed another. “The Witch’s Hammer in English? You have a dozen copies,” I said.

  The clerk smiled. “That’s very popular. Lesbian reading groups. Feminists love to dissect a book used to systematically suppress and execute women. Grab one if you want it. Fall reading groups will pick up soon.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded and scanned the stack of books.

  Ivy had a few books in her hand and strolled up. “I know you like supporting local businesses. You don’t have to buy anything.”

  “These might be great psychological research into what exorcism does to a non-possessed person. Assuming they give any follow-up. Do you know if Gran had The Witch’s Hammer in English?” I asked.

  “I think hers is Latin,” Ivy replied. “It’s an old copy worth some cash.”

  I grabbed an English one. “Okay, let’s get some coffee.”

  After offloading our books at the car, we spotted a piano bar. Ivy was unstoppable.

  We followed her and grabbed a corner table. We ordered drinks while Ivy sweet-talked the master of ceremonies.

  He warmed up the crowd but, eventually, let Ivy have the mic. Greg looked nervous.

  “I’d like to dedicate this to a young man who was taken far too soon by cancer. Eddie, come and visit us when you can.” She lifted her glass and began singing.

  “Candle in the Wind” was normally reserved for women, but things like that didn’t matter here. Or when it was your own brother. I felt the tears. Frankie and then Greg put an arm around my shoulders.

  “He’ll visit.” I took a drink of wine.

  “It’s okay to grieve. His existence will never be the same,” Greg said.

  “None of ours will be. Being mad at God would piss Mom off, but I don’t know who else to be mad at.” Frankie signaled for another drink.

  “It doesn’t do any good to be mad at anyone. It won’t change anything.” I sighed. “We tried everything to keep him alive with a quality of life.”

  “Eddie wouldn’t want you to be mad or miserable. He’d want you to celebrate his life. Honor him like Ivy is doing,” Greg said.

  She sounded good tonight. Her voice was great, but sometimes, she chose songs out of her range, and that was never a good idea.

  Ivy’s song ended, and we applauded. The whole club did. She made her way to our table.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Ivy sat and did two shots of tequila before a waiter brought another round.

  “We should celebrate him, but it feels weird to be happy.” I tried to straighten my shoulders and posture.

  “There’s a dance floor downstairs with a DJ. We can get some of this excess energy out. All the feels need to go somewhere,” Frankie said.

  We headed down a long staircase. The pounding music and random lights were a total contrast to the rich wood and supple leather on the top floor. There was glitter on the floor and a drag queen in the DJ booth. Scantily clad, hot young guys danced i
n cages suspended above the crowd.

  Greg and I found a corner and let the music take over. Somehow, I lost view of Ivy and Frankie. I figured they went for the shots waiters were selling. Four songs later, I was thirsty. I went looking for the bar, and Greg followed me.

  Frankie and Ivy were dancing with a few guys. Frankie had a couple different lipstick prints on his cheek.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  “Already?” Ivy pouted.

  “You guys go. We’ll grab an Uber. We’ve had too much, anyway,” Frankie said.

  I took the keys and headed for the stairs. Greg followed me. I paid the tab on the first floor and found the front door in the darkness.

  The fresh air felt good. I missed the chill of Chicago in fall. Taking a moment, I stared at the starry sky and inhaled deeply. It felt like Eddie should appear just to say hi and that he was okay. I didn’t need much.

  “You okay?” Greg asked.

  “Why did Eddie have to die so young? I know it’s stupid to ask. I’ll just end up mad,” I said.

  “Everything happens for a reason is no comfort. Why do you have your powers?” Greg asked.

  “All you’re doing is making me want to have a nice debate with God.” I frowned.

  “Do you ever get to see Him? Meet Him? When you visit your Gran in Heaven?” Greg took the keys from me and unlocked the car.

  “No. I’m not allowed near that area. Maybe I’m not strong enough?”

  “Maybe you’re too human still? The supernatural is nothing to mess with. During one exorcism, a priest said the noise when he ejected the demon was so insane. It was like a sonic boom. He couldn’t hear for a week. His ear drums were ruptured. Stay safe; don’t fight with the Almighty.” Greg opened the car door for me.

  I got behind the wheel. I knew Chicago, and Greg would just get lost and refuse to ask for directions. He got in, and I started the car.

  “I don’t want a fight—debating isn’t fighting. I just want answers.” I pulled away from the curb.

  “That’s not how it works. Just wait, and life will give you the answers,” he said.

  “You sure sound a lot more like a priest lately,” I teased.

  “Your Chicago accent has gotten thicker. You need to come back to New Orleans.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll never talk Southern.”

  “Better get your fix of deep dish pizza and Greek soup while you’re here.” He yawned and watched the skyline.

  “I should. Let’s get some soup!” I said.

  “Now? What’s open now?” he asked.

  “This is Chicago, with as much of a nightlife as New Orleans. Everything is open.” I headed for Greektown.

  A week later, I was already missing that soup. I’d sorted my things and gave the fam a bit more time. We’d taken a butt crack of dawn flight because Ivy dealt better with flying if she could take a sleeping pill. All I remembered was peeling off my clothes down to a black tank top and panties then crawling into bed at about six in the morning.

  As I rolled over in my huge canopied bed, I felt like I could breathe. When my brother needed me, my family didn’t feel so oppressive, but once he was gone and the funeral rituals were done, I’d needed my space again.

  The mansion had plenty of room. Even if it wasn’t just me anymore. Ivy and Greg had moved in after Hurricane Katrina when their apartment building flooded. So much still needed to be rebuilt in certain areas that it made me sad. I was grateful they’d moved in. With me flying back and forth, they’d stayed to watch the place. If they left now, being alone in a huge mansion would feel eerie, even with the house ghost.

  Squinting at the bedside clock, I saw it was almost noon. I slid out of bed and made it to the bathroom. It was so nice not to have to share everything or explain why I liked this product over that one because my mother had to nitpick.

  As I dried my long black hair, I studied myself. Older but pretty much the same. I brushed my hair and added some hairspray to keep it from frizzing. Basic makeup was enough, and I dabbed on some lip gloss, but I wanted to get started on my life. Some days, I hadn’t bothered with makeup and had clipped up my wet hair. If all you were doing was sitting in a hospital room, it didn’t feel right to go through all the prettying up. Especially when you saw a lot of people who looked like hell. Doing my hair had seemed like showing off to the cancer patients who didn’t have any.

  That was behind me. I needed to make the effort to feel normal again. Have a schedule and get my nails done. I needed to get up to speed on what cases were urgent, as well.

  I dug through my drawers and found a dark wash pair of boot cut jeans and a black T-shirt that smelled freshly washed. My house ghost, Missy, took good care of me. I liked lavender, and she still used that scented fabric softener and even put lavender fragrance pouches in my drawers.

  There was a knock on the door as I zipped my black boots. “Come in,” I said.

  Ivy entered. “Morning, sunshine. Actually, it’s afternoon.”

  “Yep, I’m ready to go. Not sure where I’m going, but I’m ready.” I grabbed my black bucket purse.

  Ivy sighed. “We need to go shopping. Your clothes are so two seasons ago. Didn’t you ever shop in Chicago?”

  “I did, but I don’t need to be trendy. These might be a bit out of style, but I brought all the rest of my stuff down with me. Just need to wash it and put it away. Missy might get to it before I do, but these are clean.” I grabbed a green amber teardrop necklace from my jewelry box. “Now, I’m accessorized.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Skinny jeans are in. Those are almost as bad as mom jeans.”

  “I object to that! I’m a size twelve; I’m never going to wear skinny jeans. It’ll make me look like a pear balancing on a pin. I have hips and boobs. Deal with it.”

  Ivy smiled. “Same old De. I missed you. It wasn’t the same with you traveling back and forth. We never just hung out and did the girl talk stuff.”

  I hugged her. Right now, she looked more like a he in jeans and a T-shirt that advertised the Long and Big Easy, the gay club I ironically, as a straight woman, owned in the French Quarter. No wig or makeup—it was an odd side of Ivy, but this was her home now, so I’d get to see all levels of dress.

  “You have a lot of nerve criticizing my jeans when you look like any slob guy out there,” I teased.

  “Love you, too. Now that I’m not doing home health care anymore, I don’t have to stay in drag all day. I can be comfy for the boring business stuff, but I always dress for the club. I’d actually put on a dark suit for the funeral, but it felt too depressing. It wasn’t me. I had to be on for that.” She smiled.

  “You can be whatever you want. I can still call you Ivy like this or is it wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m always Ivy in spirit.” She lifted her hand. The nails were fire engine red and long.

  “Love it. I need a new set.” I looked at my reliable French manicure. I was a creature of habit, but there was enough weird stuff in my life that having a routine helped me feel in control.

  Missy peeked in. She usually kept to the kitchen. My house ghost looked like a late 1800s maid. She was mousy and quiet.

  “Hi, Missy. You’re stuck with me for good. Thanks for looking after the place and my guests.” I poked Ivy’s shoulder.

  “She’s a gem,” Ivy added, even though she couldn’t see ghosts.

  Missy smiled and pointed to the suitcases.

  “If you have nothing better to do, have at it. All the clothes need to be washed, everything else just put where it normally goes. Thanks,” I said.

  “We should hit the club. Today is brunch and Drag Queen bingo. You wanted to see that,” Ivy said.

  “Right, I do. Let’s go. Is Greg coming?” I asked.

  “He’s already gone. Had a class to teach at eleven in the morning. Since he and Mary Lou Weathers stopped fooling around, he’s been a monk.” Ivy shuddered.

  “Single women are fine. Married ones, he’s asking for trouble. I’m he
ading downstairs. Get ready, and we’ll go,” I said.

  Greg was a man of extremes. He’d been a priest and left it. He’d helped Gran with her work. He’d helped me. He’d tried to date me, but the ex-priest thing, ick. Sorry, but ick. Still, I never thought he’d have an affair with a married woman.

  Mary Lou was a former Miss Louisiana who’d married well into a rich Garden District family who lived next door. She’d declared herself my friend on my first day in New Orleans and had dragged me into the occasional high society events. She and I were cut from very different cloth. I sympathized with her, but I’d never really understand her. She married a guy she didn’t really love to move up in the world.

  I walked down the epic staircase worthy of Scarlett O’Hara. Gran had made money and invested it well. That funded her helping people without needing to be paid. I’d inherited Gran’s money and her responsibilities of helping people with paranormal problems and assisting the police when possible, and it felt right. This was my purpose.

  In the kitchen, I found cornbread muffins compliments of Missy. I tried one—not the sweet kind most northerners liked. I liked the Southern version, but it made no sense. Southerners over-sweetened their tea but liked their cornbread unsweetened. I indulged in one with butter. I’d never like biscuits and gravy, sweet tea, or chicken fried steak, but somehow, I belonged here...if only for the cornbread.

  Ivy’s heels clicked, and I put my dishes in the sink.

  “Corn muffins,” she said.

  “Not the sweet kind,” I said.

  She smirked. “You have converted to Southern ways.”

  “On this item only. I’m a Yankee, and I like it.” I took in Ivy in all her splendor. It was yellow today. The gown was bright with black lace accents. A blonde wig and black heels completed the look. Her makeup was dramatic, and she had more bracelets on than I owned.

  She twirled. “Like it?”

  “You look great. All that for an afternoon event?” I asked.

  “It’ll flow into the evening. I have a hat.” She winked. “I need my car, so I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay.” I missed my old classic car. I owned an old Jeep, a Hummer, and a classic ‘59 Cadillac.