Die Again (The Bayou Hauntings Book 6)

by Bill Thompson

  He lamented, "She couldn't escape the siren's call of the building, and she lost her life over something that happened two hundred years ago."

  Cate and Landry also wept for their friends. She'd made a sacrifice, but Jack was facing one too.

  More tears flowed when he learned who was behind his release. "Your father would do that for me? He hardly knows me. No one's ever done something like that, not even my parents. How can I ever repay him?"

  "You may be mowing his yard for the next hundred years," Landry quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "For now, there's no time to wallow in misery. You're free; you still have your job at the station and your room at the motel. I need you to be strong. You know your problem, so if you have the slightest inkling of doubt about drinking, you must call me. It's critical now, because there's no room for mistakes. No matter what time, day or night, I'll answer your call and I'll come wherever you are. Now let's look forward. We have a mountain to climb, and I don't even know where to start."

  He dropped Jack off to shower and change clothes. They'd meet back at the station. Pamela Sacriste touched base with Landry, telling him she'd be ready whenever he had something to report. This case was his to win, and there was little she could do to prepare for it. If he had good news, she'd represent Jack with everything in her arsenal. If not, she'd do whatever she could to shorten his sentence.

  Landry went to see Shawn Leary and ask approval for another session in the courtyard. He expected the attorney to ask about Tiffany's death, but instead Leary wondered if Landry had learned anything more about the man who had called himself Empyrion Richard.

  Because he was here for permission, he sidestepped the truth. "After speaking with you, I realized I was mistaken. It couldn't have been him."

  "Did you ask anyone else where he lived?"

  Landry was puzzled. What is this line of questioning about?

  Does this guy know we went to the LaPiere plantation?

  Once again telling the truth but not the whole truth, Landry answered, "You told me he died in the eighteen hundreds. In that case, there'd be no reason to keep trying to find him."

  "Have you learned anything else at all about him?"

  What the hell is he getting at?

  "My mission of late has been to help Jack Blair, and I'm here to ask for permission to have one more hypnosis session in the building."

  A flash of understanding crossed Leary's face. "Mr. Blair is the man accused of murdering your other hypnosis subject in our building. Is that right?"

  "Yes. He's out on bond, and —"

  "And nothing, Mr. Drake. You can't be serious. Did you think I'd allow another session after your first subject was murdered — allegedly murdered, I should say — by the person who will be your next subject? It was audacious of you to ask. And by the way, I'm taking the building off the market for now. Thanks to you and your friends, there's been too much negative publicity." He stood and asked Landry to leave.

  Back at the station, Landry told Jack about his visit. "What do we do next?" he wondered, and Landry said it looked like the session — if Jack still wanted to do it — would occur somewhere else. That could defeat the purpose, but they wouldn't know that until it happened.

  Around four, the receptionist announced a visitor. Landry walked to the lobby and was astonished to see Empyrion Richard, dressed up as usual. They went to a nearby conference room, where the man rested his walking stick against the table and took a seat. Landry sat opposite him.

  "There's a lot we need to talk about," Landry said.

  "So I hear. I understand your friend Mr. Blair is in a quandary."

  "You have a penchant for understatement," Landry snapped. "But that's not what I mean. My questions go far deeper than that. Let's start with who you are."

  "I understand the girl you hypnotized died inside my building. What motive would Mr. Blair have to kill her, do you think?"

  "I asked you a question, dammit! Who are you? You're damned sure not Empyrion Richard. Who are you, and why are you here?"

  "I was in the neighborhood, so to speak. The police finished their investigation, and I wanted to be sure my building was secure."

  "Your building? It's not your building. It's administered by a trustee."

  "You're correct, of course. A law firm handles my affairs. They have for years."

  "Empyrion Richard lived more than a hundred years ago, and there are no other people by that name. That makes you an impostor. What is it you're after?"

  The man stood and adjusted his suit jacket. He took his walking stick and said, "I apologize for bothering you, Mr. Drake. I thought perhaps I might be of help. You want to conduct another hypnosis in my building, and I came to discuss your request. But it appears I have offended you, so now I shall take my leave."

  "Wait. Wait a minute," Landry sputtered. "You...how do you know I want to do another session?"

  "It's true, isn't it? And wouldn't my permission help you accomplish your goal?"

  "You can't give me permission. The trustee turned me down."

  Empyrion put on his hat. "All right, then. It's been a pleasure speaking with you again. I apologize for my lack of hospitality at my house the other afternoon. I'm afraid your unannounced visit caught me off guard, and I was disrespectful." He turned toward the door.

  "Please stay," Landry said, knowing he had to play along with this to find out more. The man took his seat again and flashed that infernal smile.

  "Yes, I want to do another session, but are you really Empyrion Richard? My boss won't let us do this if I can’t get permission from the person authorized to give it."

  "Who better to grant your request than he who owns the building?"

  "The owner is a trust."

  Richard looked at him and shook his head as if he was weary from beating a dead horse. "The owner is a trust. On the deed is the signature of Empyrion Richard, the trustee. There is a successor trustee now, but I swear that sitting before you is Empyrion Richard."

  But if there was only one Empyrion Richard, was he saying —

  "One and the same?"

  "The one who can give you the permission you require, Mr. Drake. Now tell me about the girl's murder. It was distressing to learn such an unfortunate event happened in the building after all these years."

  "You mean since the other murders? The ones back in 1832 and 1837?"

  Empyrion replied without emotion. "I asked you to tell me about her murder."

  In uncertain waters, Landry had to keep things moving in a positive direction to learn more. He talked about what had transpired since he first visited the building.

  He said, "It's tragic about Tiffany's death, but Jack Blair had nothing to do with it. I hope to prove his innocence. I believe that your building really is haunted. Stories about it have circulated for years, but now we're finding out for ourselves that they're true. Some horrible things happened there a long time ago. You know what I'm referring to. Prosperine LaPiere killed at least four people there. You were present for Tiffany's hypnosis. She regressed to become Caprice, a house servant who witnessed Prosperine's crimes. It's Jack's contention that Prosperine killed her too."

  The black man winced almost imperceptibly. "It's true I have a haunted building. If a ghost or two were its only issue, it wouldn't matter, as you say. But this recent murder raises one's eyebrows."

  Landry pushed back. "Even more so when you consider the killer died — let's see, what was the date on her gravestone? Oh yes, I remember. She died in 1865."

  Richard smiled just a fraction. "Is it your professional opinion that a woman who died in the eighteenth century committed a murder in the twenty-first, Mr. Drake? Isn't that a bit of bizarre thinking, even for a man in your profession?"

  "Here's what happened that night. Jack called me when he found Tiffany. Cate and I were at the scene before the police. Jack says he walked into your building in a trance and saw Prosperine and Tiffany — who in his trance was Caprice — on the balcony. Prosperine call
ed him Lucas and blamed him for forcing her to commit the other murders. Then she threw Caprice over the railing. When Jack ran down to help the girl, the trance ended. It was Tiffany and not Caprice who lay dead on the pavement, and there was no balcony. It was there during her hypnosis — you saw it — so you know Jack isn't lying."

  "I know nothing of the sort. You told me what he claimed happened, but neither of us knows if he's lying."

  Landry sighed. "I want to help him, Mr. Richard, or whoever you are. To do that, there has to be another hypnotic session, and it has to happen in the courtyard."

  The man rubbed his chin for a moment and said, "You say Prosperine called him Lucas. I'm sure you appreciate the significance of that statement."

  "I think so. The scenes that play out in the courtyard are driven by tormented spirits trapped in the building. The dominant figure is Prosperine, the scorned wife and serial killer. Two people were supernaturally drawn to the building — Tiffany, who in a past life was the servant girl and spy Caprice; and Jack Blair, who was Lucas, Prosperine's philandering husband. The scene Jack saw was from 1837, the year we know Caprice died.

  "I promised Jack I'd do everything in my power to help him. I have a sympathetic ear inside NOPD, and if Dr. Little can recreate the true story, it'll prove his innocence."

  The man leaned back in his chair. "Your proposal is fraught with danger. There is a fatal consequence to Mr. Blair if your hypnotist doesn't handle the regression with the precision of a surgeon's knife. Let me explain."

  He departed ten minutes later, leaving Landry with his mind reeling. A man who couldn't be the person he claimed had not only given Landry permission to proceed at his own risk, he'd given him much more to consider. Empyrion's concerns and the possibility of losing everything including Jack were frightening.

  Which was less formidable — the prospect of spending decades in prison or the possibility of dying two hundred years in the past? That decision was Jack's to make.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Landry sat alone in the conference room, berating himself for falling into the same old trap. Once more he faced his Achilles’ heel — his fatal flaw — his unbridled optimism. If an idea had a chance of succeeding, nothing else mattered. He’d push ahead, ignoring the pitfalls to himself and others, and with sometimes disastrous results. There were times he’d gotten himself and Cate into serious trouble by taking foolish risks. He blindly forged ahead if he believed he was onto something big, dragging everyone down into the pit with him.

  It’s up to Jack, Landry told himself before admitting even now he wasn’t facing the truth. Landry was obligated to explain things impartially, even though this story was becoming more exciting by the minute. Jack had to weigh his options without Landry’s tipping the scales. Only then would it really be Jack’s decision.

  Jack was working at his computer when Landry returned. When he thanked him again, Landry shushed him.

  “What Cate’s father did was a blessing, but the burden is on us now. You’re facing enormous obstacles; your lawyer can delay things for a while, but we have to prove your innocence. Let me tell you who I just met with.”

  Landry left nothing out. He described the frustrating way the man evaded answers about himself, and how concerned he was about the risks of another hypnosis session. He continued, “Then, after almost walking out on me twice, he told me we could conduct the session in ‘his’ building.”

  “Am I missing something? The trustee has refused to allow the session. Now this guy appears, he somehow knows you want to hypnotize me at the building, and he says okay. We don’t even know who this guy is. Isn’t the trustee’s decision what counts?”

  “I have an out-of-the-box thought about that, but first I want to talk more about the risks. Empyrion — let’s call him that for now — Empyrion pointed out a few important things. There are dangerous aspects to hypnotizing you, and I want to make sure you are fully aware of them before you agree.”

  “Sounds ominous,” Jack said with a grin, but Landry wasn’t laughing.

  “It is. Empyrion compared Dr. Little’s regressive therapy to a surgeon performing a delicate operation. He must be precise in the regression. He has to watch the times of day down to the minute, and that’s touchy because no one knows the exact times the crucial events happened.

  “Tiffany survived her past life regression because Dr. Little took her to the very day when Prosperine killed the others. She watched and recounted the murders. There was a problem bringing her back, but everything turned out okay that time. I think it’s because she watched other murders, but not her own. That’s the critical part. She died later because she went back to the building and somehow regressed herself to the day of her own death, which was in 1837. That’s what the doctor must avoid. He must not take a subject back to the moment he himself died in a past life.”

  “Is this what you and Empyrion discussed?”

  “Yes, and here’s the important part. You say Prosperine called you Lucas. That means in a past life you were her philandering husband. Dr. Little took Tiffany back to February 2, 1832. If he took you back to that day and time — that precise moment — we would see Prosperine push her husband over the railing. He — who is you — would hit the flagstones and die. Mr. Richard thinks you — Jack Blair — would die at that moment, just like Tiffany did when Prosperine LaPiere killed Caprice.”

  “I don’t get the logic,” Jack said. “Let’s say I was Lucas LaPiere. I lived and then I died, and now I am Jack Blair in the year 2020. If I apply Empyrion Richard’s logic, then I died long ago and therefore I can’t be alive today. None of this makes sense, but if it’s true, then Tiffany and I didn’t die when Caprice and Lucas died. We passed into some kind of void, where we remained until we were born. Or reborn, I guess you’d say.”

  Landry shook his head. “That doesn’t work. You saw Caprice fall, and you saw Tiffany die on the pavement where she fell.”

  “Okay then, you explain it.”

  “I can’t, but that’s what Empyrion warned me about. Don’t regress back to the exact moment of your death in a past life. If you do, you too will die.”

  “How does he know that?”

  “I don’t know, but I intend to find out. All we need now is to be sure Dr. Little doesn’t get to the exact moment Lucas LaPiere died. We have to get close. Dangerously close. The whole point is to recreate what we’ve already seen, when a servant named Caprice witnessed Prosperine’s acts. That will require us to be seconds away from Lucas’s death without going all the way. The slave girl Elberta died moments before Lucas. Dr. Little would have to pinpoint it that precisely. We need to watch her die, but he must bring you back just seconds later.”

  “And how does that help my case?”

  “By showing everyone in the courtyard that Prosperine is a murderer. Once she kills Elberta, Dr. Little takes you to 1837, where you saw her kill Caprice. That was when she called you Lucas, said you were buried in the courtyard, and told you to go back to hell. If we can recreate that scene, it proves she murdered Tiffany. I know it’s supernatural proof, and many people won’t believe it, but if I can get Detective Young to attend the session, I think he’d be on our side.”

  “That’s a long shot, Landry. Detective or not, no jury will buy into past life regression. I can’t get my arms around it myself, and my life depends on it.”

  “It’s not a long shot, Jack. It’s your only shot. There’s no other way to prove your innocence.”

  “Or kill me,” Jack muttered.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Fingers crossed, Landry called Detective Young and asked what time he was off duty tonight.

  “Seven. Are you asking me out on a date?”

  They both laughed. “You got it. Can I buy you a drink? I promise I won’t beg for favors this time. I’d like to talk to you about something you’ll find hard to believe.”

  “You, the ghost hunter, talking about something hard to believe? Who’d have thought?”

/>   The solitude of Patrick’s Bar had served Landry well two weeks ago when all this was just beginning, so he chose it again. He was nursing a cocktail at the same corner table when the cop joined him, placed his order and asked what was up.

  He described Tiffany’s hypnosis and how not only were the bizarre events of that day witnessed by several people, they got it all on video. “Here’s a copy,” he said, handing Young a flash drive.

  Landry said Tiffany’s brutal death was at the hands not of a twenty-first-century murderer, but a vicious madwoman in 1837. “Like Tiffany did, Jack has a powerful connection to the building. He witnessed her murder, but he wasn’t the perpetrator. The DA’s case against him is very strong, but he’s innocent and I think I can prove it. I’m working on another hypnosis session at the building — Jack’s this time. I’d appreciate it if you would be there.”

  He omitted Jack’s vision of Tiffany’s death, where Madam LaPiere called him Lucas and blamed his infidelity for her crimes. That made little sense now, but it would be impactful if past life regression revealed it.

  Landry finished and Detective Young spoke. “I didn’t get this case for a reason. My boss assigned someone else because he knows you and I are friends. I can be objective while still realizing that things you delve into are real, but we cops are trained to be skeptics. No offense, but everyone else at headquarters thinks Bayou Hauntings is entertainment created by altering video and audio footage. Don’t get me wrong. All the folks watch your shows, but nobody believes they’re real.”

  Landry said, “Good thing I’m thick-skinned. That’s the second time today I’ve heard that my shows are bogus. But on the other thing — does your boss think you’re too close to me to be objective?”

  “I think so, and you can see why. The story you just told me is fascinating. That’s why I came when you called — every time I’m around you, I get goosebumps. I’ll watch the video, although I’ve seen lots of altered videos. Seeing it in person is what will convince me. Maybe the captain will assign me to the case; regardless, I’ll attend the session and report whatever I see with my own eyes. My experience may help your friend, and it may not. Is that good enough for you?”