Love & Ghosts: Crescent City Ghost Tours

by Pulkinen, Carrie

  “There’s really nothing more to say. I need to get home.”

  He looked at her. “Please? Give me five minutes? It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

  “Sean?” Eric again.

  She gestured for him to go.

  “I’ll be right back. Please.” He looked both ways before crossing the street this time. Eric met him on the curb. “This better be important.”

  Eric glanced across the road, and Sean followed his gaze. Emily still stood there, her arms crossed, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “The presentation froze.” Eric shoved the iPad in his face. “It won’t restart.”

  “This happens occasionally.” He turned to address the group. “Sorry, folks. We’re having a bit of technical difficulty.” He lowered his voice to Eric. “Hold these two buttons down until it restarts. Then everyone will have to rescan the QR code to get back in sync with the presentation. Didn’t Sydney teach you this?”

  Redness spread across Eric’s cheeks. “Right. Reset, rescan. I’m sorry, my mind blanked. I really am ready to do this on my own.”

  “I know you are. You’re doing a great job.” He patted him on the shoulder and started across the street, but Emily was already gone.

  * * *

  Emily flung open her door and trudged into her bedroom. What was she thinking going on a ghost tour? She knew they’d present the stories as if they were real, but she didn’t expect so many people to buy it. She’d seen firsthand how a belief in the supernatural could turn into a deadly obsession, and she wanted nothing more to do with it.

  Just stop engaging. That’s what she’d have to do. Smile and nod and let people believe what they wanted to believe. Just because her sister went nuts trying to prove ghosts existed, it didn’t mean everyone would. And it wasn’t her responsibility if they did.

  No more arguing. Especially not with hot guys like the one she met tonight. She yanked the cord to turn on her ceiling fan and climbed into bed. On her hands and knees, she traced her gaze along the line of salt surrounding her bed.

  When she’d lived with Phillip, she’d learned the hard way the trail had to be complete to keep the nightmares at bay. He had a tendency to step on the salt when he climbed into bed, breaking her circle of protection. She’d tried filling a water hose with the granules and wrapping that around the bed, but the gory nightmare that left her gasping for breath proved that experiment a failure. It seemed the only way the salt would work was if she applied it directly to the floor.

  Luckily, the low speed of the fan didn’t stir up enough wind to disturb the granules. The line was intact, so she could rest easy tonight.

  If she could get her mind off that gorgeous hunk of a man called Sean. If she could’ve kept her mouth shut about the “evidence,” he might have asked her out. He seemed interested, anyway. His dark brown eyes smoldered when he looked at her, and his crooked smile reminded her of her mystery man from the ball.

  For a moment, she thought it was him, but their similarities began and ended with the smile. Westley had a mustache, and Sean’s face was smooth. His dark hair was thick and wavy, and Westley had to be a blond. Sean couldn’t have been Westley, anyway. Surely he would’ve said so if he was. If she tried hard enough, she could think of a thousand reasons why they had to be different men, the most important one being she didn’t want them to be the same.

  Embarrassing herself in front of Sean was enough. She couldn’t allow the memory of her night with the mysterious Westley to be tarnished too.

  She pulled the covers up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. It didn’t matter if it was the same man or not. She’d never see either of them again. Sean had asked her to wait while he talked to the tour guide, but she was too humiliated to hang around. Had she been aware he knew the guide, she might have held her tongue instead of condemning the supposed evidence. As it was, she’d made an ass of herself, and the best way for her to save face was to walk away.

  One of these days she’d learn to keep her mouth shut and not embarrass herself in front of every good-looking guy she saw. In her defense, she was exhausted, and it had been two and a half years since she’d been on the dating scene. She’d forgotten what it was like to be single. The awkwardness of meeting someone new.

  There was one way to get over that. Next time she met a man who made her heart race, she was going to ask him out. Why not? She was a strong, independent woman. If she wanted a man, she should be able to go after him. No more rules. No silly games. She was going to do things her way.

  Chapter Four

  “So, everyone’s good with the schedule for the rest of the month?” Sean turned his laptop around to show his employees the screen. Their weekly lunch meeting at Dat Dog on Frenchman Street was one of the highlights of his week. There was nothing better than an alligator sausage hot dog smothered in crawfish etouffee, and a “work meeting” was the perfect excuse to have them on a regular basis.

  “And everyone works Halloween. The only reason you can call in sick is if you’re on your death bed or you lose a leg. Understood?” He narrowed his eyes at his employees.

  “What about an arm?” Eric grinned as his leg bounced up and down.

  “You can still walk without your arms.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sydney gave him a mock salute.

  Eric sat up straighter. “I’ll be there.”

  “So, Junior’s going to work out after all?” Jason mussed Eric’s hair, and Eric knocked his hand away and punched him on the shoulder.

  “Shut up, man. I’m only four years younger than you.”

  “I’m kidding. We’re glad to have you aboard, assuming you’re going to stick around.” Jason stole a French fry from Sydney’s plate, and she slapped his hand.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Eric said. “This is my dream job.” He grabbed the last fry off Sydney’s plate.

  “Hey! I was going to eat that!”

  “Sorry.” Eric held the half-eaten fry toward her, and she snatched it from his fingers.

  Sean closed his laptop. “Gentlemen…”

  Sydney cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

  “And lady. Can we focus, please? I have somewhere to be at three o’clock.” He tapped his Rolex and shook his head.

  “You have a date with that redhead from the other night?” Eric wiggled his eyebrows. “She was smokin’.”

  “Redhead? Y’all went out to pick up chicks without me?” Jason crossed his arms.

  Sydney straightened her spine and gave him a quizzical look.

  Sean dragged a hand down his face. How did this work meeting morph into a discussion about his personal life? “No, not the redhead.” Only in his dreams.

  “Someone else, then?” Eric asked. This kid fit in with the crew like he’d worked there for years. That wasn’t such a good thing at the moment.

  “Yes. I have a hot date with a pit bull named Roxy. I’m walking her through the Quarter to advertise an adoption special at the shelter. Satisfied?”

  “So you’re using the dog to pick up chicks?” Resting his hands on the table, Eric leaned forward like he was seriously interested in Sean’s dating techniques.

  “I’m not trying to pick up chicks.” His voice sounded exasperated, even to him. This meeting had gone way off track.

  “Calm down, guys.” Sydney tossed her trash in the can behind their table and patted Sean on the arm. “You know Sean doesn’t date.”

  “I do date. I just…” He closed his eyes for a long blink. “C’mon, Syd. You too?” He’d known Sydney his entire life. She’d known Courtney and everything he went through when she died. He didn’t need this shit from her too.

  He let out a heavy sigh and looked her in the eyes. “You know I’m trying.”

  “I know.” She focused on her hands and picked at her fingernails. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.” Eric punched his shoulder. “The way she was looking at you during the tour, I thought surely you were going to hook up.”
r />   “Well, we didn’t. Can we move on now?”

  His employees nodded.

  “So we all work on the thirty-first, and immediately after the eight o’clock tour, you need to gather up your gear and meet me in the lobby of the Maison Des Fleurs. I managed to secure the ballroom for the evening, and we’re going to have a little Halloween investigation.”

  “Awesome,” Sydney sang. “I can’t wait to try out my new spirit box.”

  “Count me in.” Jason grinned, and they all stared at Eric.

  “Wait…I’m invited too? I thought I was just a tour guide.”

  Sean shoved his laptop into his bag. “You’re one of us now. Consider it your initiation. Welcome to the team.” He rose from the table and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a date with a pretty little pit bull, and if I’m lucky, she just might kiss me.”

  * * *

  Trish clutched Emily’s arm with a freshly manicured hand and led her out of the salon. “How’s the fresh start going? Anything exciting happen since the ball?”

  “Ugh. Not good.” They walked up Royal Street, and she stopped to admire a black and red vintage-style dress in a boutique window. “I’ve been working so much. I haven’t had much time.”

  “What’d you do yesterday, then? You had the whole day to yourself.”

  They ambled farther up the street and stepped into an art gallery. “Laundry. Cleaned my apartment. Went to the gym.”

  “Em…” Her voice held a disappointed tone. “I’m going to have to see about rearranging my schedule so we can have more time off together. We need to sync up our shifts so I can help you live.”

  “I am trying, okay? I went on a ghost tour Tuesday night.” She clutched her purse strap on her shoulder and stared at a giant painting of a cartoonish blue dog.

  Trish raised her eyebrows. “How did that go?”

  “Horribly.” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I made an ass of myself in front of this really hot guy. I insulted his friend.”

  “But you got his number, right?”

  “What? No, I didn’t get his number. C’mon.” She jerked her head toward the exit and led her friend out onto the street. “I was so embarrassed I ran away. Besides, what happened to not getting serious with the first guy I meet?”

  Trish shrugged. “This wasn’t the first guy. He was the second. Why’d you run away?”

  “I told him the company was spreading lies and all their evidence was faked. I didn’t know he was friends with the tour guide.”

  “Ouch. I guess he didn’t take it well?”

  “I don’t know. He wanted to talk to me more, but I ran away while he was distracted. I was too mortified to face him.”

  They walked in silence toward her apartment, and she mulled over the conversation in her mind. With his heated gaze and the way his lips lingered near her ear when he whispered to her, he’d seemed genuinely interested. At least, she assumed that was the way a man would act if he were interested in a woman. It had been so long since she’d been on the dating scene, she’d forgotten how to flirt. She shook her head. Apparently, she’d forgotten how to talk to men altogether. When was she going to learn to keep her mouth shut?

  Trish sighed and wrapped her arm around Emily’s shoulder. “Babe, we’re going to have to work on your dating skills.”

  “I know. I suck.”

  “You don’t suck. You’re just getting warmed up. Did you at least get a name this time?”

  “Sean.” A tiny sigh escaped her lips with the name, and a warm shiver ran down her spine. “It’s such a sexy name, don’t you think? Sean.”

  “Very sensual.”

  “It just rolls off your tongue like a melody. Sean. Hello, Sean.”

  Trish laughed. “Oh, Sean. Right there. Oh, yes. Oh, Sean.”

  She glared at her friend. “It sounds better when I say it.”

  “Relax.” She rolled her eyes and swung open the door to the bakery downstairs from Emily’s apartment. “What’s he look like?”

  “He’s about six foot two, wavy dark hair, dark brown eyes, sexy smile. You know…his smile reminded me so much of the Dread Pirate from the ball, I almost asked if he was him.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “It couldn’t have been him. He would have said something, don’t you think? I mean, my costume wasn’t that much of a disguise.” She shuffled forward as the line moved toward the counter. “Anyway, with the amount of alcohol I drank that night, maybe I’m not even remembering him right.”

  “True. What do you want?”

  “Chicken salad on a croissant. And anyway, Sean didn’t look anything like how I imagined the guy from the ball looking without his mask and head cover.”

  Trish ordered the sandwiches and handed her a paper cup. “No one can compete with your imagination. That’s not fair.”

  “Actually, Sean was better. All that wavy dark hair…” Heat crept up her cheeks, and she fanned herself with a napkin.

  “And let me guess: when you fell off the curb, he caught you in his arms and held you as he gazed into your eyes.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin and batted her lashes.

  The heat in Emily’s cheeks spread to her ears. “How did you know that?”

  Trish giggled. “You always turn into a klutz around hot guys, and they have to catch you when you fall. It’s kinda your thing.”

  “It is not my thing.”

  “Anyway…you ran away from him.” She handed her the sandwich.

  “Like I said, I suck. Let’s go upstairs to eat these.” She led her friend out of the bakery and up the side stairway to her apartment above.

  Trish followed her onto the landing. “Living so close to a bakery this good could wreak havoc on your waistline.”

  “Tell me about it. And my apartment smells like fresh-baked bread every morning. It’s amazing.” She bent down to look at the label on a large box sitting outside her door.

  “What did you order?”

  “I don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s addressed to me.” She handed her food to Trish and pushed open the door. Lifting the box, she stumbled inside. “Jeez, this is heavy.”

  She slid the package onto the table and peered at the return address. No name. The address wasn’t familiar, but the box had come from Houston.

  Trish plopped into a chair and unwrapped her sandwich. “Who’s it from?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Open it.”

  Her stomach tightened. She hesitated as a wave of wariness rolled through her system. “I don’t know. It’s kinda creepy.”

  “It’s just a box.” Trish took a bite of her lunch.

  “You’re right. I’m being silly.” She grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer and cut through the tape. The flaps popped open, and a packing peanut floated to the floor. She brushed a layer of Styrofoam aside and reached her hands into the package, sliding her fingers down a smooth piece of wood. “It feels like another box.”

  “A box inside a box. How mysterious.”

  She lifted the object from the package, and packing peanuts rained onto the table and all over the floor. “I hate these things.” She tossed a few into the carton and peered at the box she received.

  Her heart gave a thud. She recognized the two-foot rectangular cherry-wood chest instantly. It belonged to her sister. She ran her hand across the lid, feeling the contrast of the smooth wood against the rough carvings etched into the top. They were letters, though she didn’t recognize the language. And as far as she knew, her sister never figured out what it said either. She lifted the lid, but it didn’t budge. A copper keyhole nestled in the center of the front panel kept it locked tight.

  “Is there a key in there?” She nodded toward the packaging, and Trish dug through the peanuts.

  “I don’t see one. What is it, Em? Where’d it come from?”

  She slid her hands across the top and tried the lid again. Still locked. Of course. “It belonged to J
essica. She bought it at an estate sale a few months before she died.” Pressure mounted in the back of her eyes. She hadn’t cried over her sister’s death in months. She wasn’t about to start now.

  “Maybe Robert sent it to you?”

  “Maybe. Is there anything else in the box?” She fished her hand through the Styrofoam and found an envelope in the bottom of the package. Pressing it to her chest, she squeezed the paper, hoping to feel a key inside. Aside from the letter, it was empty. Her disappointment must have been evident in her eyes because Trish put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to be alone?”

  “No.” Being alone was the last thing she wanted right now. If she were alone, the tears might fall, and she was through crying over a woman who chose to take her own life—even if she was partially to blame.

  “Do you want me to read the letter to you?”

  She nodded and passed the note to her friend.

  Trish pulled the single sheet of paper from the envelope and scanned the contents. “It’s from Robert. You ready?”

  She inhaled a deep breath and lowered herself into a chair. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  “‘Dear Emily, I hope this package finds you well. I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken. I’ve met someone. And, well, it’s been more than a year. I hope you don’t mind that I’m moving on. I was going through Jessica’s things, and I found this box. She didn’t have it long, but she was very attached to it. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out, but I also don’t feel right taking it into my new home. I think she would’ve wanted you to have it.’”

  Trish looked up from the letter. “Sure you’re okay?”

  A heaviness settled in her chest, the most weighted emptiness she’d ever felt. “I’m fine. Does it say anything else?”

  Trish reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “There’s a little more. It says, ‘I know she had a key for it. I locked it myself after she passed, but I’ve misplaced it. If I find it, I’ll send it your way. I hope you’re enjoying New Orleans. Your mom said you moved there for a fresh start. I hope you understand that’s what I’m doing too. Take care, Robert.’”