A Cemetery, a Cannibal, and the Day of the Dead Read online

  “I might be busy this Halloween,” I admitted.

  Chapter Two

  After lunch, I decided to check out the cemetery since Matt was still there with uniformed officers checking for any other signs of defamation.

  The weird part was that Dr. LeBlanc decided to tag along.

  “This really has nothing to do with the clinics,” I said as I approached the entrance of the cemetery. I’d parked outside and walked into the maze of towering mausoleums and memorial statues. The water table in New Orleans was too high for underground burial but that made the cemeteries creepier at night and more beautiful during the day. It was more than just headstones—there were carved stone vaults that were works art.

  “I’m curious about what you actually do,” LeBlanc replied.

  “Right now, I’m missing Chicago where you can be buried and left in peace.” I’d heard all sorts of stories about bodies added to the graves year after year. A whole family worth of bones might be in one vault.

  “You’ll get used to it here,” he said.

  I shot him a look. “We both know how childhoods imprint on people a state of normal. People from the South still use the word y’all long after they’ve moved north and dropped any accent. Habits and expectations form young. They can change but when faced with strange new things, we cling to the familiar.”

  “Agreed. When I was young, Halloween was always big here. But the Day of the Dead was lower key. Only a small percentage observed that,” he said.

  “Any excuse to extend the party.” I walked past the police without question and LeBlanc followed along in surprise.

  “They know you?” he asked.

  “Yep.” I waved at the guys who nodded in return.

  I wandered around and saw some altars set up with candles, pictures, and offerings. “Too early,” I mumbled to myself.

  “I’m sorry?” LeBlanc said.

  “It’s too early. Day of the Dead is November second, after Halloween. The angelitos is the first. That honors dead children. Then the adults the next day. It’s all so commercial now. But idiot kids coming in and disturbing graves and tributes really gets old. Or I’m getting old.” I tromped toward Matt, letting my sixth sense take me to him.

  I heard a band coming toward me and paused out of respect. What I saw made me look twice. It was a bride and groom. I’d come to associate the wandering jazz band with funeral processions. A whole bridal party danced by.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Matt softly.

  “Getting married in a cemetery. Can you believe it? I’ve heard of leaving flowers for dead loved ones who couldn’t make it, but getting married in a graveyard? They don’t even look like stupid Goth kids.” Matt was a previously portly and now merely chubby detective. His family had a mansion near mine in the historic Garden District.

  “Pictures would be weird enough.” I shook my head.

  “Who’s your friend?” Matt asked.

  “Dr. Paul LeBlanc, Detective Matt Weathers. Dr. LeBlanc’s working with me on the clinic project,” I said.

  “Why is he here?” Matt asked as he shook LeBlanc’s hand.

  “Says he wants to see what I do. Kick him out if you want.” I’d worked hard to get the respect of the New Orleans police and was still getting to know LeBlanc. He was pushy and nosy but he was cooperating with me. I had to give him credit for trying.

  “Okay. Well, there’s not much to see. We took pictures of graffiti. Some of the altars were messed up. But this wasn’t localized to graves adorned.” Matt handed me a stack of pictures.

  I flipped through the various grave pictures. Some hate speech. Some skulls. Some Halloween-type slogans. A few graves looked like their lids were shifted.

  “People were trying to get in?” I asked.

  “That happens. Grave robbers sometimes. A real skeleton of bones sounds like fun to drunk teens or college kids. The vaults are locked. It’s not easy to get in them and most give up,” Matt replied.

  “I don’t think these kids are going to give up,” I said.

  “Getting something?” Matt asked.

  I nodded. “Not necessarily kids. It’s a group of some sort. Not sure what they want to do.”

  “We’ll recommend surveillance cameras but most cemeteries won’t do it. They do too many tours and the haunted reputation helps them. If they have video, it ruins the mystique. We’ll increase patrols like we normally do. See if things escalate,” Matt replied.

  “Okay. I’m going to walk around a bit on my own.” I handed the pictures back.

  “Have fun.” Matt seemed bored by the seasonal hijinks.

  Dr. LeBlanc followed as I proceeded to walk around the never-ending cemetery.

  “Is this typical for you?” he asked.

  “This is actually quite dull. I’ve dealt with murderers, cults, dark magic, and Voodoo. Overzealous Halloween tourists and other celebrators isn’t really that serious but I think some take it too far. Like black magic and other ritual demonic things. People don’t realize stuff can be dangerous. They think it’s all fun and games for the holiday.” I read the names ono the headstones and got a feel for the area as I passed. There were truly gorgeous statues with poems carved in the marble.

  “Think someone is trying to raise the dead?” he chuckled.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I had an actual zombie after me not long ago. Not a joke.”

  “Like from The Walking Dead?” he scoffed.

  “No, like a traditionally made Haitian zombie. Scarier. They look normal and can blend in but they do whatever their master says. Freaky.” I nodded.

  He stared at me for a second.

  I stared back. “This is my life. If you just want to stick to the clinics and work there, that’s fine. No one will blame you for not wanting to be friends with the psychic.”

  “But the cops listen to you. I know, I grew up here. I know people believe this stuff. But I never did. It’s all mind tricks. Gypsies and fortune tellers. It’s an old con game. But you’re not,” he said.

  He remembered when I’d told him about his own family in the office when we’d first met. “No, I’m not. I don’t take money for helping people. I’m lucky to be able to but it runs in the family.”

  “Money or your abilities?” he asked.

  “Both.” I walked by one of the graves that had been photographed. It looked like someone had tried to open it with a crowbar. Not far away there were statues of two angels worn and crumbling. I felt protected but the evil wasn’t giving up. It was wearing away at the strongholds.

  I touched the stone of the marked grave and a bunch of jumbled visions flashed in my minds. Funeral homes, coffins, morgues, a different cemetery and a big check. I saw blood in a glass, vampire fangs, and slashes made in human flesh.

  Paul’s hands were on my shoulders. “You okay?” he asked.

  I took in the vision but the images flew by too fast. Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I pulled my other hand from the stone and it vanished.

  “I wish I could explain this crap. Seriously. I just got a flash of visions. It makes no real sense now. I know something more is coming.” I pulled out my phone and texted Matt that this Halloween might be worse. I felt like there was a small group of people out there who wanted to do something more than pranks and tricks.

  “Why don’t we grab some coffee?” Paul suggested.

  “I’ll be fine. That should be enough. I can go home,” I said.

  “I’d feel better if you ate something. I can drive you,” he offered.

  “I don’t need men taking care of me,” I shot back.

  He smirked. “You had that young man around before. Why isn’t he here now?”

  “I don’t need him now. I’m not in danger. He’s more like an assistant. Some of my cases do get dangerous and someone watching my back is useful. I was just checking on Matt and some Halloween pranks.” I should’ve brought Gunnar. Maybe then Paul wouldn’t be so clingy. Men liked to be needed but come on...

  �
��Think of it as a chance for us to get to know each other better. I’m going into business with you. It’s not that weird.” He put his hand on the small of my back and we headed back to the entrance of the cemetery.

  Was this a date? He was attractive but a bit full of himself. I had to watch my step with him.

  Chapter Three

  A straight woman owning a drag club in the French Quarter might seem odd. After Katrina hit, there were some unexpected property opportunities. Only having Ivy around made it a smart move. She had the Long and Big Easy turning a profit and packed every night. The décor changed and now it was decked out for Halloween. Smoky grays and full moons. Neon orange and green lights marked the dancefloor.

  As always, hot shirtless men served drinks. I walked in and found Greg at a corner table staring at the glass bar. Following his line of sight, I saw Gunnar talking with Ivy and a tall handsome man in drag. I’d seen a lot of drag but a black man dressed as a very pretty Marilyn Monroe was a first for me. He pulled it off well.

  Before I was noticed by Ivy, I headed over to Greg. “That’s Brody?”

  He nodded.

  “You don’t like him? Her...what’s her drag name?” I asked.

  “Brandy on the Rocks,” he replied.

  “Okay then. What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

  “I haven’t gone over. Ivy just does this all the time. Half of them she doesn’t bring here. She dates around,” he said.

  “No law against that.” I knew Greg cared about his drag queen cousin. They were quite different but both adults.

  “I worry about her. I want her protected. Another drag queen. In this political climate?” Greg asked.

  “So, her getting married to a big burly guy is better?” I asked.

  “Safer. Brody isn’t weak but lean. I keep looking at them. I think this might be the one.” Greg kept staring at them.

  “Jealous? You can settle down whenever you want. Ex-priest wedding or gay wedding, I’m good with both.” I shrugged.

  He smiled. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Stern outer layer, always-so-tough Greg. Ivy wears her heart on her sleeve. Doesn’t mean she’s weaker than us. Sometimes she’s better at relating to people because she’s not pushing the emotions away.” I watched for a moment and saw what Greg saw.

  The sparkle wasn’t just coming from Ivy. Brandy (aka Brody) stared at Ivy like she was a goddess.

  “How long have they really been dating?” I asked.

  “Gunnar asked around. Sounds like a couple of months at least. No one has a bad word to say about Brody, except an ex-boyfriend who seems bitter. He manages a bridal shop.” Greg sipped from a bottle of water.

  “Sounds pretty normal for Ivy. Good.” I pulled out my phone and texted Ivy to let her know I was there.

  Ivy looked around and I waved. She dragged Brandy over and Gunnar followed.

  “Deanna, Greg, this is Brandy. Brody.” Ivy nodded.

  “Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand.

  Why were drag queen’s nails always so much better than mine? I needed to get to a salon. Her French tips had a pretty golden pattern over the nail.

  “Hi, Greg. You’re Ivy’s cousin?” Brandy asked.

  Her voice was a bit low but drag was about expression, not passing as the opposite sex. Still, it was a little jarring.

  Greg nodded. “Yep. But she’s special and has a lot of friends.”

  Brandy smiled. “The obligatory mess with my cousin and I’ll beat you up’? That’s sweet.”

  Greg cleared his throat. “No. I’m not violent. I figured you’d know I used to be a priest. But she has a lot of friends who look out for her.”

  “Including police,” I tossed in for fun.

  “Be nice, you two.” Ivy smacked Greg’s shoulder.

  “I already warned Brandy about Ivy’s inner circle.” Gunnar smiled.

  My phone chimed and I checked it. A text from LeBlanc.

  Just checking on you from last night. Feeling okay?

  I replied: Fine. That was nothing.

  A minute later my phone chimed. Where are you?

  Was this guy serious? My club.

  “Who are you texting now?” Ivy asked.

  “LeBlanc. I had a vision last night at the cemetery and he got all freaked. He’s just supposed to be part of the clinic stuff. I don’t know why he’s following me around while I work.”

  “He’s interested in you,” Gunnar said.

  “No. He’s confused. Thinks he’s getting into business with a freaky psychic person. It’s fine. I should’ve taken you with me then he’d have left me alone,” I replied.

  “Is he cute?” Brandy asked.

  “Hot. Like reserved, stern Darcy hot.” Gunnar winked.

  “He’s not.” I rolled my eyes.

  “He’s hot.” Ivy took Gunnar’s side, of course.

  I looked to Greg for support.

  “I’m no expert on men’s attractiveness, but he seemed interested in you. More than just work. Or friendship. It’s subtle. He’s not obvious or crude. That’s good,” Greg encouraged.

  Ivy grabbed my phone and started texting.

  “What are you doing? Stop!” I ordered.

  “I’m just giving him the address. He can come by and have a drink with friends. It’s a good test to see how a straight guy does in a gay bar,” Ivy insisted.

  I got my phone back and reread the message. At least there were no crazy cutesy emojis in there.

  Less than an hour later LeBlanc arrived. Gunnar spotted him first and the men shook hands. I was still hiding at the corner table with Greg. We’d both upped our drinking game to margaritas and I was nervously snacking on pretzels.

  Why was I nervous? Paul looked good. Casual yet put together. I did like his confident calmness.

  I pushed the bowl away. “Ivy is in a romance. That doesn’t mean I have to be.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you,” Greg muttered.

  I watched as LeBlanc got a drink from the bar and deflected obvious come-ons by various men and queens alike. He wasn’t rude or dismissive. He wasn’t even that nervous. My vision stuff apparently rattled him more than a drag club.

  “He’s good. Sad but you never know how people are about things until you expose them. Unless they’re an out and out bigot.” Greg was watching him too.

  “What about you? No girlfriends?” I teased him.

  “I never had a problem with the celibacy vow. It was obedience I lacked,” he shot back.

  He was still punishing himself years later. He’d had an affair with Mary Lou, a married neighbor and close friend of mine. That was after he’d left the priesthood but it still made waves in our social circles.

  “You’ve been to confession how many times? If you don’t believe God forgives, who will?” I kicked him under the table.

  He shook his head. “It’s not about me right now. You have to find someone you’re interested in. I haven’t.”

  “You don’t get out much. I’m not interested in him except professionally.” I sipped my drink.

  Greg smirked. “You’re surrounded by men. Me, Matt, Gunnar, and even Ivy—still a guy under all that makeup. Men don’t rattle you.”

  “I had two brothers. I’m used to men,” I pointed out.

  “And yet this guy rubs you wrong at times. Annoys you at others. You barely know him. If that’s not spark, what is?” Greg smiled.

  “Please. If I worked in an office he’d be an annoying colleague,” I replied.

  “It’s chemistry. Don’t fight it.” Greg nodded as LeBlanc approached our table.

  “Hi. Hope I’m not intruding,” he said.

  “Not at all. We were meeting Ivy’s new boyfriend, Brandy. They’re going to sing in a few.” Greg shook LeBlanc’s hand.

  LeBlanc nodded to me and took the seat on my other side. “Sounds good.”

  “I have no idea if Brandy is any good. Ivy usually is with the right song choice.” I focused on the performances currentl
y onstage.

  “I’m no expert on drag performances either way.” He looked at me intently for a moment.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I was going to ask you that. I’m not used to having patients with visions like that,” he said.

  I whipped my head in his direction. “I’m not your patient.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Poor attempt at humor,” he backpedaled.

  “Really? You sure it was a joke? Maybe you think you need to take charge of the project because I suffer from these issues? You think I’m crazy? You think a man needs to be in charge because this woman clearly needs help?” I shot back.

  “That’s a lot of accusations. I’m sure you’ve gotten a raw deal from men in the past but they aren’t me. I’m a doctor. What you suffer from is fascinating and hard to document. People would say you’re...” he trailed off.

  “Schizophrenic,” I filled in. “My family made sure I never told a doctor about my visions or voices because they didn’t want me labeled. I’m not, by the way. That’s why I went into psychology. To prove I’m not crazy or hallucinating.”

  I stormed outside for some fresh air.

  Like the stubborn man he was, he followed me.

  “Explain it to me,” he said.

  “I can’t. Just because you don’t have the ability doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” I said.

  He nodded. “I believe you.”

  I frowned. “That was too easy.”

  “I’m too critical, then I’m too easy. You’re hard to please,” he said.

  “Nope, I need a better answer. Why would you believe me?” I pressed.

  “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it. We accept that people have conditions all the time without medical tests or concrete proof. If you were schizophrenic, your friends would know. It would show in your behavior—even borderline. You’d know. But you function with these voices and visions and you have the trust of the police. That is fascinating.” He stared at my shirt.

  “Okay, that’s a rational deduction. But I’m not your lab rat to be observed or tested.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t staring. What color is your shirt?” he asked.