A Mansion, A Drag Queen, And A New Job (Deanna Oscar Paranormal Mystery, #1)

by CC Dragon

“Nice to meet you.”

  “Mama Bud, this is Deanna Oscar. Elinor’s granddaughter.”

  Mama Bud’s eyebrow arched. She looked me over more intently this time. “It’s nice to have more real blood around here. Not that we don’t love the tourists for the money.” She sighed and sashayed off.

  We sat down and I frowned. “What’s with the Bud thing?”

  “Big Bud’s father is the original Bud. Actually named Francis Fester Frolen. Everyone called him Bud. It just sort of stuck and spread to his wife and son. Mama Bud and Big Bud.”

  “Frank wouldn’t be that bad? Why Fester?” And I thought I was picked on as a kid.

  “Guess he didn’t like Frank. Bud’s mother was a big fan of the Addams Family show, which got him Fester. Can you blame him for going with Bud?” Greg smiled.

  “No, I guess not.” I was ready for food. “So no menus back here?”

  “Don’t need them.”

  Before I could ask why not, Mama Bud appeared at the table with two beers and set them down. “Food’ll be up in a minute.”

  I studied the beer for a moment. If this were a date, Greg would be in a shitload of trouble. Boyfriend pet peeve, daring to order for your date was an automatic dumping offense.

  However, since I knew little about local food, I rationalized that this was the experience I should have. I might’ve ordered the safest thing. Alcohol, however, wasn’t a good idea if I wanted more input from the killer.

  Greg noticed I wasn’t drinking. “You don’t like beer?”

  “It’s not that. Alcohol tends to affect.” I tapped my temple.

  “I think you deserve a night off. Besides, you don’t have to drink it all. Just take the edge off. It goes better with the food. Mama Bud will bring you something else if you want. One of these days I’ll take you out for oysters.” Greg sipped his beer.

  I just fingered the large mug for now. Food first, I decided. I really hoped our mystery dinner would be cooked. Oysters? Yuck! “Are you trying to make me lose my appetite? Stop this oyster talk.”

  “Come on.”

  “Oysters, raw oysters? I don’t eat anything that isn’t cooked. Nope, not going to happen. I’ll try anything else but not into raw.” I tapped one of my nails on the table.

  My argument against raw food was interrupted when I felt a shadow looming over me. I looked up to see Big Bud smiling down on me. I was very grateful this blouse showed zero cleavage.

  “Now, Miss, you’ve gotta try ‘em oysters.” Big Bud pulled up a chair and spilled over the sides without breaking it. He extended a large rough hand. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”

  “Deanna Oscar.” I shook his hand politely as the Big Bud sized me up.

  He nodded in approval. “Good genes. Too bad your daddy went Yankee on his mama.” Big Bud’s thick fist slammed on the table, rattling our glasses. “Good Cajun boys don’t walk out on their mamas.”

  “I never said my father was good, Cajun or not. Of course, not everyone wants to deal with the other stuff in the Oscar family gene pool.”

  “You talk so funny, Miss Deanna, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you weren’t a drop of coonass.”

  “I’m sorry?” That was a new description. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. I was sitting so he hadn’t even seen my ass.

  “Slang for bayou and local.” Greg shot a look at Big Bud. “Be nice.”

  “It’s not an insult, Miss. Just because you’re Garden District doesn’t mean you’re not a daughter of the bayou too. Oscars have Cajun blood even if your dad married a Yank.” He winked at me.

  Big Bud was definitely not gay. Too bad. I’d feel much better if he were flirting with Greg. Luckily, the men started talking faster, which meant I had no hope of following a Cajun word. So I took in the atmosphere.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little transparent hand on the table only inches from the wall. Then a pair of brown eyes peered just over the table and little fingers held on to the edge. When she saw me looking at her, her eyes widened. She ducked down under the table like a frightened mouse. I knew those eyes.

  Little Cel.

  “Excuse me.” I ducked under the table.

  The girl sat there hugging her knees and wiggling her bare toes. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been looking for you.”

  She didn’t say a word, just stared at me intently.

  “I know you’re scared but I need your help. You’ll be okay. I promise no one will hurt you ever again. You have to help me.”

  She shook her head.

  “My name is Deanna. I know you’re Little Cel. Your grandmother talked about you when I rode in her cab. She had a picture of you.” I had her attention but she moved one of her large braids to her mouth and began chewing on it.

  “I know your mom and grandma are very sad but you’re going to be fine.” Every instinct was telling me to hug the frightened little girl. Unfortunately my touch would pass straight through her, which made my comforting words feel hollow.

  “You can help me. Will you help me stop the man who did this?” I scooted a bit closer.

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t have to see him again. Just tell me who he is. Show me what he looks like. Take me to him. Anything.”

  She shook her head harder.

  “You don’t want him to hurt anyone else, do you?” This was harder than I thought.

  Again, she just shook her head at me.

  “My grandmother is on your side. I know it’s hard. But maybe if you go find her she can help you?” It was the best I could come up with at the moment.

  Her eyes jumped around as though analyzing the idea.

  “A loud bar is no place for a little girl. Why don’t you go back to my house? Missy will take care of you. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  The girl simply crawled through the wall out of sight. I wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no to my suggestion, but at least she wasn’t hanging around drunken Cajuns anymore. Ghost or not, she still looked like a scared little girl to me.

  I slipped back into my chair, which earned me funny looks from both Greg and his friend.

  “All that time under the table and neither of us are any happier,” Big Bud laughed. “I thought Yankees girls were more forward than that. Take what you want, honey.”

  Big Bud really didn’t have the best timing. I was trying to solve a murder and help a little dead girl and he was being a horny creep. If he wanted to mess with a Yankee girl, he’d picked the right one to get himself a reaction.

  I glanced down. Big Bud’s fat fell mostly to the sides, revealing his little bud, which was not only little but saluting. I grabbed my full frosty mug of beer and dumped it right in his lap.

  Sweet Southern girl I was not.

  Chapter Six

  Yelping, Big Bud jumped up. “Yankee girls are all the same.”

  “What? Not interested in you?” In my professional opinion—Big Bud needed a massive ego reduction.

  “What in the hell’s going on back here?” Mama Bud appeared from the back room.

  “Your son has the manners of a pimp.” I put my hands on my hips. “I had to teach him a lesson.”

  Mama Bud didn’t look a bit surprised. Setting down two plates of food, she used the empty tray to whack her son in the back of the head. “Get back to work and quit harassing the women or I’ll make you start paying rent.”

  Big Bud trudged back to the band, looking scolded like the mama’s boy he was proud to be. The women clamoring for more music seemed to cheer him up quickly.

  “Sorry about him. A mother’s always got one trouble child. He’s a good musician but that life comes with a roving eye and cocky attitude built in their DNA. I’ll get you another beer.” She grabbed the empty mug.

  “That’d be great, thanks. And a glass of water, please.” I wanted the beer now and the plate of crawdads, faces still attached, didn’t even look so bad. I sampled the rice first. “Deli
cious.”

  “What the hell was with the table thing?” he asked.

  Greg hadn’t forgotten. Damn!

  “What was with Big Bud wanting a blowjob? Yankee girls are all sluts?” I returned.

  “He’s half drunk and a musician. They get groupies but real women of substance don’t look at him twice. He even hit on Ivy once. You took care of yourself. But you were acting really odd. What was going on down there?” He cracked the shell of the crawdad and fished out the meat.

  I copied the motion. The meat was tender and tasty. My drinks arrived and I downed the glass of ice water. Then I sipped at the beer until I got a little more food in me. Hopefully, I’d see Little Cel later.

  “I’m waiting.” Greg snapped the head off another little crawdad.

  I didn’t want to talk about it. How else could I explain going under a table with two men at it? I couldn’t think of a better reason. I was down there too long to have lost an earring or contact. The truth was all I had. “Fine. It was Little Cel.”

  “I don’t understand.” He stopped eating and leaned in closer.

  “I’ve been looking for her ghost. She found me. What a little girl is doing here, I’m not sure, but maybe it’s a good sign.”

  Greg looked under the table but of course saw nothing. “Is she following you?”

  I gave him a palms-up answer. “I hope that’s it but I don’t know. That’s the first I saw of her. She wouldn’t say a word. Looked terrified, poor thing. I don’t know what to do next.”

  “So, she was no help then?”

  “None yet.” I continued to eat and sip the cold beer. “But if I can get her to trust me, she might be able to help. If she saw her killer it might be a lead. I asked her to go back to the mansion for now.”

  “Child ghosts? Unless it was someone she knew, how are you going to get anything?”

  “No idea. I’ll ask Gran the next time she shows up. Maybe I can get her to help out a bit. At least with the girl.” I shoveled rice in my mouth in the most unladylike fashion. Which reminded me this was not only not a date, but I was supposed to be charming the truth out of Greg about his preferences.

  It was worth a shot. “I’m guessing you get a lot more girls than Big Bud over there.” I leaned in and fingered a button on my blouse.

  “Musicians actually do okay but he’s a bit of a mama’s boy.” Greg shrugged. “Not much of a charmer.”

  He hadn’t answered the question. “Have you got a girlfriend or not?” I let the button casually fall open.

  Nothing. He wasn’t looking.

  “No.” He waved off the idea. “We should get over to the club if we want to see Ivy before she’s under the table.”

  I took a last swallow of beer and we were off again. Snaking through the crowd, I heard Greg tell Mama Bud to put it on his tab and finally my lungs got fresh air. The pace here made me feel more at home, but no one seemed serious about being in a hurry. Rush didn’t mean pressure, it meant the next good time.

  Soon we were at a drag club a few blocks away. “Greg!” Several of the queens were very happy to see him.

  “Where’s Ivy?” he asked.

  A tall black queen dressed in a white sequined gown pointed to the bar. We squeezed our way through the crowd to the long bar manned by boy toys without shirts and queens with beehive wigs.

  Ivy was at the end nearest the stage.

  “Hi, Ivy!” It was safer here. Odds of getting hit on by overgrown drunken Cajun men—zero. Not that I couldn’t defend myself, but Little Cel proved my mind wasn’t just on the evening out.

  “Hi, sweetie!” Ivy hugged me hard and then hugged Greg. “I’m so glad you came. I filled in for someone but you missed it. One day I’ll be the headliner. We can still have fun though.”

  Greg grabbed a couple of stools and I sat next to Ivy. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Greg wrapped in a feather boa. When the boa cleared, a big red lip imprint was on his cheek.

  “Get a room.” I rolled my eyes. Regular in a gay bar, looks like I was right about Greg. He wasn’t fighting it.

  He turned bright red while Ivy laughed until she fell off her stool. She jumped right back up but I didn’t like what I was seeing.

  “We should get her home,” I told Greg.

  “She’s always like this.” Greg waved it off. “I’ve tried before. We’ve all got our demons.”

  “Have a drink.” Ivy pushed a glass in my hand.

  At first I wanted to give it back, however I was pretty sure Ivy would down it plus the one she had. I wasn’t normally a mom type or anti-partying but somehow I felt responsible for the people Gran had left behind. I turned back to Greg. “I don’t think this is good for her.”

  “She won’t go home yet. If you want, we can leave.” He got off the stool and motioned for me to follow. Ivy was in a close-up conversation with another queen, so I figured it was safe to leave. I put the drink on the bar and headed for the door.

  When we were almost outside I heard a scream. “That’s Ivy.”

  We shoved our way through the crowd to find Ivy in a fistfight with the queen she’d just been talking with. Greg jumped in and pulled Ivy out.

  “Lip-syncing trash,” Ivy spat over Greg’s shoulder.

  I grabbed Ivy. “Calm down. Greg, look out.” Too late.

  Greg turned and got a fist in the face.

  Recovering fast, Greg punched back. The queen got up and screamed like a little girl. Apparently, the fight was over.

  “Let’s go.” I started half walking, half dragging Ivy toward the door with Greg not far behind.

  “I think you’re banned from that bar.” I tried to cheer up Ivy.

  “No, it’ll blow over by tomorrow.” Greg grabbed the other side of Ivy. She promptly passed out.

  Between the two of us, we managed to get her in the backseat. I leaned against the car with a sigh. “That was fun.”

  “Usually bar hopping with Ivy isn’t that eventful.” He grinned then winced. “If you start out with her, she won’t get as plastered. You make sure she eats first and it’s a good time.”

  “You’ll have a nice shiner.” I could see the beginnings of swelling around his reddish eye. “And that lipstick color is very good on you. Looks expensive to me. High-quality drag queens after you?”

  “What? Oh that.” He smeared it with the back of his hand.

  “You’re pretty popular with all the queens.”

  “They’re always trying to turn me.” He picked a feather out of his collar and checked for more. “The family loves Ivy but I’m the only one who will go to the clubs with her. See her shows.”

  “Turn you?” I froze. “You mean you’re not?”

  Greg’s face went to that stern formation I’d seen the first night. “You thought I was gay?”

  My eyes hit the ground. Guilty. “Well, you’ve got to admit it all added up pretty clearly.”

  “How exactly?” He got closer, until my back was against the side of the car.

  “Complete lack of flirtation. Very professional behavior with me. Kissing drag queens in a gay bar. Oh and the very important, this is not a date disclaimer you gave this afternoon.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “What else could I think?”

  “I see. So a guy doesn’t hit on you and he’s gay?”

  “Not automatically. But that first night, I thought there was—I don’t know—chemistry. Maybe it was just annoyance. All this psychic triggering has my wires crossed.” I shrugged, trying to ignore his warm body pressing against mine and the hard feel of the car on my back. I was almost pinned but didn’t feel trapped at all. “You were pretty out of line telling me what I can’t handle.”

  “You must bring it out in me.” He grinned. His hand was on the back of my neck. Not slow by any means, his mouth was on mine in under a second. His mouth was strong.

  My fingers moved to brace against something and dug into the fabric of his shirt. The washboard abs were evident against my knuckles and I felt a jolt. I kissed him b
ack, straining in my flats to make up for the height difference.

  It’d been awhile since I’d had a man on my radar. It felt nice. Even better because I hadn’t over-thought or over-planned it. The rush of an actual surprise.

  A strange sound from inside the car broke up the fun. We turned to see Ivy attempt to get up, moan, and pass out all over again. “You better get her home.” I pushed him back a bit.

  Greg opened the car door for me. I slipped in the front while he went around to the driver’s side. Turning on the air conditioner full blast, Greg drove me home. Then took off with Ivy—still out cold.

  No chance for fun tonight. But my stay wasn’t over. At least I knew where I stood with Greg and had spotted Little Cel.

  * * * * *

  When I walked in the door, my mind switched from Greg to Little Cel. Where was she now? I could feel she wasn’t in the house. Would she talk to me? How do I make her feel safe to come in with all the activity here? This wasn’t hide and seek.

  Missy was nowhere to be found so I went upstairs and traded my nice, non-date, clothes for a lavender stretchy t-shirt with purple and sea foam striped super-soft lounge pants.

  For lack of a better idea, I sat against the mass of pillows on the bed. I took Gran’s book out of the nightstand and flipped around futilely. It might take forever to find an answer in here. “Little Cel, it’d really help if you’d show up and talk to me.”

  I was talking to an empty room and felt stupid.

  “Gran, what the hell am I supposed to do now?” I didn’t actually expect an answer.

  But amazingly enough, I got one.

  Gran appeared, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Little Cel can’t come around just now. I’m afraid you can’t do much on that front.”

  “Why? I just saw her a couple of hours ago. What’s wrong with her?” I was relieved to see Gran and startled at the same time. Had she been watching me at the club? “Little Cel was in the restaurant with me.”

  “She slipped away from reorientation to see you. She’s back now. It’s more organized than you think, Deanna. Little Cel can’t come back until she’s better acclimated.”

  “Reorientation? To Heaven? Seriously?” I had a lot to learn but I resisted laughing. “How long? Is that a two-week course or what?”