“And I appreciate that, but as I already said, there’s nothing to help. The detectives will figure this out, Scarlet. There’s nothing we can do to move things along any faster. These types of cases just take time.”
“And if the police show up and want to question you again? What do we do then? It’s going to be a little hard to enjoy a pile of beignets and a historical tour when I’m worried about those detectives popping out from behind a bush and taking you away to the station!”
“I’m going to call the studio. They have a top-dollar legal team who will deal with this. If the detectives want to speak to me again, they’re going to have to go through them. That alone should ensure we can get back to our vacation worry-free. The lawyers aren’t going to let the detectives speak with me unless there’s rock solid evidence that needs explaining. And, as I already told you and them, there won’t be, because I had nothing to do with this.”
I chewed on my lower lip for a moment and then nodded. “All right.”
Lucas reeled me back in and placed his hands on my hips. “We good?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed my forehead. “Good. I’m going to go make a couple of calls. You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Still want to go to the museum?” he asked, letting me go before moving across the room to grab his phone off the dining table. “Those passes I got are good all day.”
I wrapped my arms around myself in his absence, suddenly cold. “Um, yeah, sure.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Lucas stepped into the bedroom of the suite and closed the door behind him. Logically, I knew he wasn’t trying to block me out, but as I flopped down on the couch, I couldn’t help but feel a little rebuffed. All I wanted was to get to the bottom of the whole mess and move on. Getting involved in the murder investigation wasn’t the answer. When we’d helped Rosie figure out the identity of her killer, it had been a twenty-year-old case. The police had filed it away as a cold case and weren’t concerned when a couple civilians asked questions about it. With Kimberly, the newly dead bridezilla, things had been a little stickier, but we’d managed to fly under the radar. In this case, Lucas was a person of interest. Any digging we did would be under a magnifying glass, assuming we could even get close enough to look into things at all.
Unless…
I sat up straight, glancing around the room. The police weren’t going to let Lucas and I skulk around on the property, and certainly not anywhere near the actual crime scene, but there was one surefire way around that.
When Lucas opened the bedroom door a few minutes later, he stopped in his tracks, his expression worried. “What’s with the Cheshire grin?”
“I figured out how we can get information on the investigation without having to actually be there.”
“Scarlet, no.”
“Come on, just hear me out. When we were at the house last night, I met a ghost.”
Lucas swore.
“If there are ghosts in the house, they must know what actually happened to Bart!”
“Even if they did, I don’t think that’s going to help us. Ghost testimony isn’t going to hold up on the witness stand.”
“I know that, but if they tell us what happened, we can use it to push the detectives in the right direction. AKA away from you.”
Lucas stared at me for a long moment.
“What?” I asked. “It’s better than sitting around here waiting for the next move, isn’t it?”
“We aren’t, remember? We’re going to the museum,” he said, holding up two tickets. “The legal team wants me to stay as far away from this as possible. I have to listen to them, Scarlet. I can’t afford to hire a pack of suits on my own, so I need to do what these ones tell me to. All right?”
I sighed, deflated, but nodded. “You’re right. I just got carried away … I guess.”
“Come on,” he said, slipping the tickets back into his pocket. “Let’s get out of here. Some fresh air will help.”
Sadly, neither the fresh air nor all the beauty contained within the New Orleans Museum of Art was enough to fully distract either of us from the situation. We went through the motions, walking reverently through the various displays, occasionally stopping to comment on different pieces. We didn’t bring up the murder or anything about the Saint Charles property, but a strange tension pulsed between us that only seemed to strengthen the harder we tried to ignore it.
A few hours later, we left the museum and wandered aimlessly through the sprawling city park adjacent to it and then went up another couple of blocks to a well-renowned café for a late lunch. The tense undercurrent loosened its hold as we ate together, and I started to relax.
When our plates were empty, Lucas shot a sideways glance at the dessert menu propped up against the exposed brick wall. He looked back at me and flashed a wicked grin. “That torte looks pretty good. You want to split one?”
I smiled. “As a general rule, I never say no to chocolate.”
Lucas laughed and went to the counter to place the order. He returned a few minutes later with a couple of cinnamon-dusted cappuccinos and right behind him, a server carried a plate with a generous slice of the chocolate torte.
“I can see leggings in my immediate future,” I teased, as the server set the plate in the center of the table. She smiled at me and then scurried back to the counter where a short line of customers waited.
“Man, I hope the show doesn’t pack it in early. I doubt Topeka has anything to rival this,” Lucas said, gesturing his fork at the torte.
I dabbed my napkin at my lips. “Pack it in early? Is that even possible?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised. The police have the set locked down while they conclude their investigation. I have no idea how long that will take, and in the meantime, the renovations have screeched to a halt. On top of that, the story hit the media, so now this property is going to be tainted by the murder story. The studio might want to sit on it and cycle it in next season or maybe even can the entire thing.”
“I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity?” I said, grinning. “Besides, didn’t you say the house alone was over a million dollars? Plus the existing work they’ve put in. They’d really walk away from all of that money?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I can’t say for sure. We’re in uncharted waters. But to the studio, a couple million dollars isn’t really that much, and they could easily finish the work and sell the home privately.”
“Hmm.” I dragged my fork through the creamy chocolate filling. It was so dark and rich, it was impossible to rush. As soon as it touched my tongue, it melted in slow motion, dancing over every taste bud, igniting a symphony of pleasure alone the way.
“I’ll make sure I can stay here until you fly back home,” Lucas said. “So, don’t worry about that. Sam can go on ahead if needed.”
My fork stilled as a ribbon of sadness twisted through my chest.
“Scar, you okay?” Lucas asked.
I looked up at him and nodded, but my forced smile threatened to rebel, the edges quivering. “I’m fine. I was just thinking that after I go home, I won’t know when I’ll see you again.”
Lucas set his fork down and reached for my free hand. He squeezed it tight. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll have a break in another six weeks. I can fly out your way.”
Six weeks.
Ugh. When had I gotten so clingy?
I gave my head a shake, tossing my hair back over my shoulders, and tried the smile again. “That sounds great.”
Lucas considered me for a long moment, and I feared he was seeing right though my cover. I pulled my hand back and reached for my ceramic mug.
He smiled and glanced down at the plate. “Should we thumb wrestle for who gets the last bite?” he asked, rotating his fork like a circling shark around the morsel of crumbs and cream.
I snickered into my cappuccino and ended up blowing cinnamon across the white linen tablecloth. Oops.
>
“Can’t take me anywhere, huh?” I said, wincing as Lucas tried to swipe it away but only managed to spread it further.
He glanced up, his eyes shimmering. “There might be less dead bodies that way,” he teased.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m the angel of death. Hilarious.”
“You do have a little bit of a streak going, that’s for sure.” He snorted and gave up cleaning the tablecloth, discarding his napkin off to one side. “Seriously though, even with this whole mess, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how damn happy I am that you’re here with me.”
Warmth wrapped around my heart, driving out any lingering melancholy. “I’m really happy to be here, too.”
Lucas’s phone buzzed on the corner of the table. He pulled a face and reached over to silence it. I swooped in and nabbed the last bite of the torte while he was distracted.
He chuckled when I scooped up the bite. “Watch out folks, she plays dirty.”
I laughed and then popped it into my mouth. “What can I say? Chocolate brings out my inner ninja.”
Lucas didn’t appear to hear the joke. His expression soured as his phone kicked back on again, vibrating against the tabletop. “I think it’s someone from the studio,” he said. “But I don’t recognize the extension.”
“Better answer it,” I told him. “I’m going to pop into the ladies’ room while you do.”
He nodded as he stood, raising the phone to his ear.
I stacked the plate and half-drunk coffee cups in the center of the table and reached into my purse for my wallet. We’d paid for the meal at the register, but I wanted to leave a few dollars for the server. Lucas left the cafe as I fished out a ten-dollar bill and pinned it down with one of the mugs.
When I emerged from the restroom, Lucas was still on the phone, pacing the sidewalk in front of the cafe. His jawline was tense as he listened to whoever was on the other end. I recognized the look and it sent my stomach plummeting as I hurried outside to join him.
“—supposed to keep me out of this whole circus!”
Fire blazed in his eyes when they found mine.
I wrapped my arms around myself and waited, trying to fight back the worst-case-scenario monster that started charging through my mind.
“I understand that, but I—” Lucas started and stopped, his eyes going a shade darker as he was cut off mid-sentence.
He listened for another minute and then jerked his head. “Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Without waiting, he clicked off the call. “The studio sent two of their lawyers down from New York. They just landed at the airport and want me to accompany them to the police station. Apparently, my statement this morning wasn’t good enough.”
My mouth flapped open and closed as I struggled to find something to say that wasn’t four letters and colorful.
“Did they find something else? Maybe they just want to get information on another suspect. I mean, who better to ask about what was going on around that set than you?”
I was reaching. Big time. But the reality that the detectives wanted to sit down with Lucas on their home turf, with a couple of big time lawyers … well, it didn’t sound good. I needed another explanation. One that didn’t involve Lucas ending up in an orange jumpsuit.
Lucas looked past me at the cafe and absently reached for his wallet. “I should go leave a—”
“I took care of the tip,” I said, waving him off.
He pushed the wallet back into his pocket and then slipped the phone in beside it. He ran both hands over his head and then refocused on me. “You’re probably right. Maybe they have questions about the security footage or something.”
It was razor thin, but we both grabbed onto it for dear life.
“I’m sure that’s it,” I agreed.
Lucas looked up and down the street and muttered something under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“No taxies. I miss the days when you could flag one down.” He retrieved his phone and tapped at the screen. Thirty seconds later, he announced a ride was on the way, and about twenty seconds after that, it appeared.
“Faster than a magic carpet,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Lucas tried a smile, but it fell flat.
We didn’t need a magic carpet ride, we needed a lamp and a genie if we were going to get out of this mess in one piece.
Chapter 8
I stayed awake as long as I could, waiting for Lucas to return, but by two-thirty in the morning, my body rebelled and I crashed out on the couch in our hotel suite. Before falling asleep, I’d called Holly, pacing frantically as I told her what had happened. She’d assured me everything would turn out fine—and offered to hex the detectives, an offer I turned down. Begrudgingly.
Voices dragged me from a fitful sleep.
“I say we let her sleep. She’s been through hell.”
“Normally, I’d concur with you my dear, but what about young, Lucas? He needs our assistance and Lady Scarlet is the one who can tell us how best to help.”
“I think you’ve got your cravat on a little too tight. It’s cutting off the oxygen to your brain. We’re not here for Lucas. We’re here for Scar.”
No…this can’t be real. I’m probably still dreaming.
Slowly, I opened one eye and then closed it again. “What are you doing here?” I asked through clenched teeth.
I groaned and sat up. Flapjack was still there, sitting at my feet, when I opened my eyes again. He swished his tail casually as he lifted a paw to groom. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind him, Gwen and Hayward swooped into view, their eyes alight. “You’re awake!”
“Finally,” Flapjack added.
“I can’t believe you guys are really here,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I frowned at my fingertips when they came back smudged with the previous day’s mascara.
“You can thank us later, Scar,” Flapjack said. “Right now, it’s time to get up, take a shower, get something to eat.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
Hayward answered, “Just past eleven, Lady Scarlet.”
“Eleven!”
I jumped off the couch and combed my fingers through my tangled hair, pinning it out of my face as I searched for my phone.
“See!” Hayward said. “I told you she’d want us to wake her.”
“What are you guys doing here? How did you even get here?” I asked, plunging a hand between the couch cushions to find my phone.
“Holly sent us,” Gwen answered. “She came to the flower shop yesterday afternoon. She said you’d called, and that Lucas was in trouble.”
“But … how did you get here so fast? Ghosts can’t go on airplanes.”
“Holly took us through the portal into the Seattle Haven,” Gwen replied. “From there, we were able to use some kind of … supernatural highway, I guess. We walked through a doorway and when it opened, we were in the New Orleans Haven. We crossed into the human side and well … here we are.”
My fingertips brushed against the rubbery case I kept on my phone, and I pried it free from the couch. “Great!” I snapped. “My battery died! Lucas could have been trying to reach me this whole time.”
I flew across the suite and ducked into the bedroom. I jabbed the charger into the bottom of the device and tapped my finger against the power button every three seconds, waiting for it to power up again.
The ghosts joined me in the bathroom, sliding through the wall in unison, like a troupe of synchronized swimmers. “Lady Scarlet, we’re here to help. What can we do?” Hayward asked, his expression earnest.
I pressed the power button on my phone and the screen lit up. “I—uh—I don’t know. One sec.”
They waited as I typed in my password and waited for my messages to pop up.
Except, there weren’t any.
“That can’t be right,” I muttered, scrolling frantically for any sign of a notification. “It’s been hours. They can’t still be k
eeping him at the police station.”
“You want us to go over there and see?” Flapjack asked, hopping up onto the counter. He sat down next to my make-up bag and looked up at me, his silver eyes bright. “Any idea where the station is?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He left here yesterday and went to the set. The studio’s lawyers were supposed to meet him there and accompany him to the interview. Or interrogation. Whatever it was.” I threw the phone down a little harder than necessary and it bounced off the counter. The power cable kept it from hitting the floor, and I cursed at my own stupidity while I reeled it back in and set it beside the sink.
The ghosts exchanged a meaningful look, which was probably intended to be sympathetic, but it only sent my blood pressure another notch higher. “What?” I snapped.
“Scarlet, honey, we’re on your side here,” Gwen said. “We care for Lucas, too.”
Flapjack scoffed. “Speak for yourself, blondie.”
Gwen waved a hand at him. “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding, and it will get cleared up soon.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s exactly what Lucas said, right before they carted him off to the police station and now—” I stopped short, a dark wave of panic washing over me. “Now, I don’t know where he is. He could be in a jail cell for all I know.”
“Which,” Flapjack cut in, “is why we’re volunteering to go see what’s up.”
I dragged in a shaky breath and bobbed my head. “I’m sorry, you guys. This whole thing is just such a nightmare. I’m not myself right now.”
“We understand, Lady Scarlet,” Hayward said. “Think nothing of it.”
I took a glass from the tray in the corner of the vanity and filled it with tap water. At least I wasn’t alone anymore.
Guilt charged through me and I peeked up at my friends. “I can’t believe you’re all here, after the way I snapped at you before I left.”
Gwen flashed a watery smile. “Of course we’re here. You’re our friend, Scarlet. We’d do anything for you.”
Hayward nodded encouragingly. “Quite right, Lady Scarlet.”
Flapjack swished his tail. “Besides, what else were we doing? It’s not like you were tearing us away from anything important.”
When Good Ghosts Get the Blues Page 6
