Die Again (The Bayou Hauntings Book 6)

by Bill Thompson

  “That’s all I ask.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Jack came to work the next morning brimming with confidence and self-assurance. He’d gone to two meetings after work yesterday, prayed for guidance, and concluded that his life was worth nothing if he didn’t try hypnosis. Inevitably, he would serve decades in prison and perhaps even die there. What kind of life was it compared to the glimmer of hope that Landry’s plan held? The options were obvious, and so was Jack’s conviction that hypnotherapy was his only chance.

  The plan for today was to return to the LaPiere mansion, since going there was the only way Landry knew how to contact the enigmatic Empyrion Richard. They drove onto the property, saw him standing by the cemetery, and stopped.

  He walked to the Jeep and asked, “What day would you like to hold the session?”

  “How do you know that’s why we’re here?”

  He smiled. “Why else? In your mind, a chance to exonerate your friend here far outweighs the dangers.”

  Landry suggested the day after tomorrow, knowing both Fred Little and Doc were ready to move. That suited Empyrion, and Landry asked who would open the building now that the lockbox was gone.

  “It will be fine,” he replied. “I’ll meet you there at seven.”

  With nothing to lose, Landry asked if they could see the house again. He wanted to compare it to the parish clerk’s pictures.

  “Why do you want to do that?”

  “It’s like a time capsule. The period pieces are fascinating, and I’d enjoy another look around.”

  Regardless of his reasons, it didn’t happen. Empyrion said today wasn’t convenient.

  Landry called Detective Young to advise the day and time, and on the afternoon prior, as was now their custom, Doc, Cate and the psychologist arrived and everyone, including Henri Duchamp, met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. Jack and Dr. Little sat in the lobby while the others went to Doc’s table. Jack knew nothing about what to expect tomorrow. He’d seen only a fraction of Tiffany’s hypnosis, and even that was when he was in a trance as well. He was uneasy about how things would go, and the psychologist explained every step.

  Since the part about past life regression worried Jack most, he asked if Dr. Little agreed with Landry that it might prove his innocence.

  “It’s all we have to work with, if you ask me. If you agree, most of the session will be in the distant past.”

  “Will it work?”

  “I wish I could say yes, but there’s no way to know without going there. I’ve only witnessed a few past life regression cases in my career, and each of them was fascinating. Yours is different because we’re trying to prove you didn’t kill someone by showing another person did, almost two hundred years ago. I doubt any hypnotherapist has faced a case like this one, and I’m confident we can go to the right place in time. I just hope the events will play out before us while you’re there.”

  “I just want to know you can bring me back.”

  “All I can say is I’ve never failed yet. I’ll do everything I can to take care of you.”

  The dinner was a somber one. Each had his own worries about tomorrow, and no one seemed in a mood to chat. Jack said he was exhausted, and Landry asked him to be at the building by nine. He bid the group good night and left.

  After he left, Landry asked Dr. Little about his talk with Jack.

  “It went well, all things considered. I’d describe his mood as resigned. When a hypnotic session is the only thing a person has to be positive about, he’s undoubtedly struggling to maintain his sanity.”

  Landry said, “I worry about his drinking. Maybe I should have had him stay at the apartment tonight.”

  “I thought of that too,” the psychologist admitted. “Although Jack’s demons are formidable, he seems to be a strong individual. He thinks a great deal of you, Landry, and I believe he’d do just about anything to avoid disappointing you.”

  At the end of the evening Landry recapped the timetable. Empyrion would open the building for Landry and his crew at seven, and everyone else would be on site by nine. The session would begin at nine thirty. With that, the party broke up.

  Landry’s alarm dinged at five and he lay in bed, wishing he wasn’t hearing the patter of rain on the roof of his third-floor apartment. His director’s fallback plan was to move everything into a first-floor room along the corridor. But for Jack’s sake, Landry hoped they could use the courtyard that offered the best chance of success.

  Dark clouds hung low in the skies over the French Quarter as Landry and Cate walked to Toulouse Street, but the rain had stopped for now. Empyrion Richard stood waiting on the sidewalk, a WCCY van was parked on the street, and the building was padlocked. Landry’s director, Phil Vandegriff and the crew emerged from the van when they saw him.

  “Good morning,” Empyrion cried. “It appears we are locked out.”

  Stunned, Landry said, “Are you serious? You told me you’d meet me here at seven and unlock the building.”

  “I believe my exact words were ‘it will be fine.’ And it will be as soon as someone breaks the lock.”

  “Break the lock? What are you talking about?”

  “Your people here have a vehicle filled with tools and equipment. A simple hasp should be no impediment for one of these brawny fellows and a claw hammer.”

  The director looked to Landry for guidance. No one had expected to have to break into the building, but anymore, nothing involving Empyrion Richard seemed out of the ordinary.

  As Landry ordered, “Do it,” Cate shot him a surprised look. She hoped this inauspicious start didn’t portend a morning of trouble.

  Muttering, “It’s your funeral,” the director grabbed a hammer and jerked the hasp loose from the gate. The WCCY team entered and went to work, talking among themselves about what had just happened.

  The same clerk set up her table at the front door, assisted by a uniformed security guard. If anything went wrong this time, the young woman would have help. As the crew assembled equipment in the courtyard, Landry conferred with his director and cameraman. Since today’s shoot would be a carbon copy of Tiffany’s, there was little new to discuss.

  Detective Young and another cop signed in at the door. Landry had to give his okay since only Young was on the list. “Boss’s orders,” he told Landry, who showed them to the seating area.

  Empyrion Richard took a seat after wiping it down with a pocket handkerchief. He removed his hat and perched it atop his walking stick.

  As the bell in St. Louis Cathedral tolled nine, the remaining cast members — Dr. Little, Cate’s dad, Henri, Ted and Jack — took their respective places. The players were ready, final equipment tests were complete, and once again it was showtime in the courtyard.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Dr. Little quickly put Jack into a deep sleep and began the regression through his childhood. Since today’s emphasis was on a past life, he made few stops, instead going to the day and time of Jack’s birth.

  Just as he was ready to attempt the leap further back into Jack’s past, there arose a commotion at the front door.

  “Landry! Landry, I need your help,” the clerk yelled as the security guard blocked the way of two individuals for a moment, then stepped aside to let them pass. As the men walked down the hallway, Landry went to see what was happening. Dr. Little instructed his subject to remain asleep as an irate Shawn Leary and a police officer stepped into the courtyard. Detective Young came forward and took the cop aside.

  “Mr. Drake,” the furious attorney exclaimed, “I demand to know what you think you’re doing. I specifically denied you permission to use this building, and I installed cameras in the corridor because I felt certain you’d defy that order. This officer’s going to arrest all of you for breaking and entering.”

  A voice from across the patio said, “Mr. Leary, I’m afraid your issues are with me, not Mr. Drake.”

  The lawyer looked around and saw the nattily dressed individual approaching.
He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  Landry said, “Mr. Leary, this is the man I told you about. He says he’s Empyrion Richard.” He expected that revelation to come as a complete shock to the attorney, given the man’s assurance earlier that Richard was long-since dead and gone. But it didn’t happen that way.

  “He knows who I am, don’t you, Mr. Leary?”

  “No, sir. Uh, no, sir. I don’t know who you are.”

  Empyrion said, “It’s all right. He knows who I am.”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “I give you permission —"

  The lawyer was flushed and agitated. “I signed the...uh, well, you know what I mean. This is highly irregular, Mr....uh, sir.”

  Aghast, Landry said, “You do know him! You lied to me. You told me —"

  Empyrion held up a hand. “Mr. Leary was merely following instructions. He has never met me, so he was not lying.”

  To the lawyer he said, “Thank you for coming, and I apologize for the inconvenience. You too, officer. You both may take your leave now. There is important work going on here.”

  And to Landry’s astonishment, they left without another word.

  Landry turned to Empyrion Richard and snapped, “You and I are going to have a talk when this is over. Don’t disappear on me like last time. I want some answers.” He gave a wave of his hand toward Dr. Little, Empyrion took his seat, and the session resumed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Once things were quiet in the courtyard, Dr. Little regressed Jack to the moment of his birth. Like Tiffany, he assumed the fetal position. The hypnotist took him further and Jack stretched his body and laid his arms by his side. Relaxed, he appeared to be asleep.

  Without a flicker of response from the subject, they traversed the second half of the nineteenth century. Dr. Little took him to February 2, 1832. He knew from Tiffany’s case that Lucas and Elberta went to his bedroom around ten, just after Lucas’s wife Prosperine went to the Place d’Armes. She would kill them an hour later.

  He started with seven a.m. “Who are you?” he asked, and in a haughty tone Jack answered, “Lucas LaPiere. You know who I am. Everyone knows.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In my bedroom, opening the doors onto the balcony to allow in the morning breeze.”

  After a few more questions that established beyond doubt they were in this very building, Dr. Little moved him to ten thirty and asked what was going on around him. The response should have surprised no one — they knew from before that Madam left the house and the lovers rushed to the bedroom for a quickie — but it amused those observing the hypnosis.

  There was heavy breathing and panting as Jack’s body writhed on the recliner. He wrapped his arms around his invisible lover, smooching and caressing just as if he were in the throes of lovemaking. Like before, it was humorous, but everyone knew the risk of taking Jack too close to the time he would die.

  The next stop was eleven a.m. and the dangerous part of the session. Landry crossed his fingers in hopes the scene from last time would appear, and he got his wish. The same filmy mist enveloped the courtyard, and a balcony emerged above the guests. The tall doors stood open, but the bedroom was dark. There came the clanking sounds of shoes on metal. Lucas’s wife was on her way upstairs.

  Landry glanced behind him and jumped in surprise. His cameraman Phil looked back too and turned a camera on the windows of the servant quarters. A terrified black girl stood in the window, watching the scene unfold upstairs. Caprice was there, just as Tiffany had described her.

  “What do you see now, Lucas?”

  Jack whispered, “Hush, Elberta, she’s coming! Get over there in the corner!” He sat up and looked straight ahead. “Prosperine, you’re home early.” A pause, and then, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My clothes? I was just — Prosperine! Leave her alone. It’s not her fault. Stop it! Stop hitting her, I tell you!”

  The same beautiful woman in a white camisole emerged onto the balcony, and everything happened as before. Prosperine shouted, “Die, you hellion!” and pushed the girl over the railing.

  Landry and the group tensed because they knew what would happen next. Dr. Little had less than sixty seconds to move Jack from this time and place into a safe place. This part required surgical precision.

  While Jack remained in the recliner, the person he was playing — Lucas LaPiere — appeared on the balcony and screamed, “Prosperine, you killed Elberta, you crazy bitch! You’ll hang for this!”

  Just then a deep, commanding voice boomed, “How dare you call your wife a bitch, you philandering son of a whore!”

  Empyrion Richard stood with his right arm raised in defiance. He cursed again at Jack in the voice that was not his own.

  Landry shouted his name, but the man heard nothing. He was another person in a time long ago.

  Empyrion yelled, “Kill him, Prosperine! You’ve suffered enough!”

  “Dr. Little!” Landry screamed. “Get Jack out of here now or he’ll die!”

  As the psychologist leaned in toward his subject and started the process, Prosperine moved toward Lucas, grabbed his coat and gave him a shove. He toppled over the railing and she screamed, “I have rid my life of those two at last!”

  “It’s what they deserved!” Empyrion’s deep voice echoed off the walls.

  The scene faded as quickly as the mist had appeared. Empyrion Richard seemed bewildered, looking around as if he’d committed an indiscretion and hoped no one noticed.

  Dr. Little shouted, “Jack disappeared! When she pushed him, I looked up at the window. Now he isn’t here!”

  Cate cried, “Look! The windows are still open. Jack! Jack, can you hear me?”

  Landry grabbed Empyrion. “How do you get to the second floor?”

  “Through a door in the entresol’s ceiling.”

  “Where? I couldn’t find it.”

  “That’s because you didn’t look in the right place. Why on earth do you want to go up there?”

  “What? Jack’s up there. We have to go help him!”

  The tall man knitted his brows. “Jack? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  You yelled for Prosperine to kill him!”

  “Ah, I see,” he muttered. “Jack is her husband, Lucas, of course. It’s really Lucas you’re looking for. Did she kill him?”

  “You saw what she did! His body’s not here, so he’s still up there somewhere. Help me, dammit! How do I get to the second floor?”

  “There is a wooden staircase in the back corner of the entresol behind the clutter and debris. That’s the only way up now that the outside stairs are gone.”

  Accustomed to split-second changes, Jack’s director sent Phil and his camera scurrying down the hallway behind Landry, who tore open the closet door. They scrambled up the ladder and crawled on hands and knees through the dusty, cramped storage area. Behind boxes at the far end he found the stairs leading to a trapdoor.

  Landry emerged into a gloomy sitting room filled with ancient furniture. Thick dust covered every surface and dirt caked the windows. He called for Jack but heard nothing.

  Rays of light shone through a door that led into a bedroom. The tall windows he’d seen from below were wide open and he could hear the people downstairs. There was a commotion behind him — Jack rushed across the bedroom toward him with Empyrion Richard at his heels.

  “I’ll kill you myself this time!” Empyrion’s deep voice resounded as he pushed Jack toward the window. Stumbling, Jack hit Landry and they toppled out the window. As the horrified onlookers watched, they fell.

  There was sheer pandemonium. Landry landed squarely on top of his boss Ted Carpenter, sending them both crashing to the ground. Jack was less fortunate; he bounced off Landry, slammed against the stone fountain and lay motionless.

  Doc knelt beside Jack. Once he was certain Ted had suffered nothing more than a rough tumble to the pavement, Landry leaned in beside Cate’s father.

  “Tell me he’s goin
g to live. This is all my fault. Please tell me he’ll be okay.”

  A few minutes later Jack awoke to find his shirt ripped apart and Doc probing his chest. “What happened?” he mumbled, and Landry told him.

  “You may have broken some ribs,” Doc said, “but overall, you both were very lucky.”

  Wincing in pain, Jack sat up and said, “Did you get everything we needed, Landry? Is it enough?”

  He said, “No time to talk now,” and shouted to Detective Young, “Find Empyrion! He threw us out the window!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Cate showed Young and the other cop the way upstairs. They found the back stairway, drew their weapons, and went through the opening into the living area.

  In the courtyard, Jack pleaded to continue the session. “It’s my life at stake. We can’t stop now. It’s the only thing that can save me. If Dr. Little doesn’t take me to 1837, I can’t prove I’m innocent. Please, Landry. Please keep going for my sake. I have nothing to lose. If not for me, do it for Tiffany.” Tears trickled down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around his aching torso.

  The psychotherapist was adamant. “This is unthinkable. The stress he’s been through, the mental issues that could arise if I do this again so soon — I refuse to be a part of it.”

  Landry said, “I understand, but it is his only chance. Is there any way —"

  His question would go unfinished as another scene erupted at the front door. Four policemen with weapons drawn flew down the corridor and into the courtyard. “Hands in the air, everybody!” a sergeant yelled.

  Landry took a step forward. “I can explain —" But in a flash he was staring into four gun barrels.

  “Stay where you are!” The cop took his radio and said, “Detective, we’re on the scene. Where are you? Over.”