by CC Dragon
“Thanks. And relax, I know you’ll be great.” I headed back upstairs to do the bathing and grooming thing then I dialed Mary Lou’s number.
“Weathers’ residence,” a maid answered.
“Can I speak to Mary Lou, please?” I checked myself in the mirror. Black jeans, boots and the white t-shirt I was shocked hadn’t worn out yet.
“Hello?” Mary Lou answered.
“Feel like shopping?” I asked.
“Deanna, I thought you’d never ask. Let me know when.” She sounded thrilled.
“Ten minutes? Or are you busy today?”
“I’ll be right over. Bye.” She hung up.
Back downstairs, Ivy was stunning in a halter-top gown patterned in large diamonds of bright pink, peach and yellow trimmed in silver. “Nice. See you at the salon later.”
“Bye.” Ivy remained engrossed in studying her image in the mirror.
I left the house and found Mary Lou already waiting in her white Jag.
“Thanks for doing this!” I settled into the luxury car. “I’ve been living out of a suitcase.”
“You saved me from another dull day with Lolly and my routine. I know where all of the high-end stuff is. Top of the line for your new fortune. What are we shopping for?” she asked.
“Essentials, and I have a funeral and a drag show to go to today. Nothing high-end, just the mall please. I need some more stuff. Plus, I’m getting my nails done at eleven.”
“Interesting schedule. Definitely power shopping. The mall if you insist. We better get going.” Mary Lou slid on her Chanel sunglasses as she eased away from the curb.
Nothing felt as civilizing and normalizing as a good trip to the mall. I hit a shelf of V-neck t-shirts first. One of every color and a couple pairs of jeans. That covered crime scene and slob wear. “I guess my black suit is best for a funeral.”
“Whose funeral?” Mary Lou asked.
“Little Cel’s. First victim. Her grandmother came to see me and invited me.”
“Oh well, I wouldn’t wear black to that.” Mary Lou shook her head.
“Why not?” What else did someone wear to a funeral? Navy blue and gray were acceptable but why bother?
“I read the piece in the paper. I’m pretty sure it’ll be a black jazz funeral. You don’t want to be depressing.” She pulled a pair of white slacks and a white scoop-neck top with navy horizontal stripes on it. “This is better.”
“What’s the different between a normal funeral and a black jazz funeral?” I asked.
“A mini-parade to the cemetery led by a band mainly. Wearing black would be okay but not the best. You’d look like a tourist. Now what to wear to a drag club? I’ve never been to one.” She headed for the dresses.
I found a little black dress and a little red one. Not as showy as Ivy’s, but I didn’t want to take attention away from the performers. “I’m not sure I’ll wear either tonight but I should have a couple of dresses, just in case I have to have dinner with Lolly again,” I teased.
“She’s impossible. But if you keep spending time with the judge, you might see more of her. I heard you two had dinner.” Mary Lou grinned as though she were picking out invitations and planning a shower.
“More business than anything. And of course a ghost decided to cause trouble on top of it. I never got a moment of peace.”
“You don’t like him?” Mary Lou sounded offended.
“I like John fine. It’s just complicated. With a killer on the loose and Greg. And ghosts everywhere.”
“What about Greg?” Mary Lou pressed.
“I almost slept with him. I’m so confused.” For some strange reason I’d become comfortable sharing with Mary Lou and Ivy. Normally I didn’t bond this fast but under weird circumstances people did weird things.
For now the solution was shoes. I headed for that department.
“Eww. You didn’t.” Mary Lou was right behind me.
“No, we got interrupted. Something’s off about him. I can’t seem to figure it out though.” I pushed it out of my head.
“How about he’s an ex-priest.” Mary Lou smirked.
I dropped the box of red sandals. “He was a what?”
Mary Lou’s eyes hit the floor. “Sorry, I thought you knew. It wouldn’t be a big deal but there’s a lot of Catholics around here.”
“I was raised one myself. That’s so gross.” But it made sense. His familiar tone and manner. Nothing could stop him from being an attractive man, but that put a whole new spin on things.
“He’s still a man.” Mary Lou winked.
“Not to a recovering Catholic schoolgirl. How creepy. Can you imagine if I’d slept with him? That’s guilt and rosaries I can’t even process. That jerk. The worst part is he didn’t tell me.”
“Maybe he assumed you knew. You pick up a lot of things with that gift of yours. Or Ivy could’ve told you. Or even your grandmother.” Mary Lou was clearly a peacemaker.
“I don’t get every detail of a person’s life the second I speak to them, Mary Lou. I’m psychic but it’s not like an automatic background check when I see a person. I’d go crazy being a mind reader. He’s going to pay.” I tapped my foot with a surge of energy.
“You already didn’t sleep with him. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“We’ll see. First, I need more retail therapy.” I grabbed another pair of shoes.
“Is that shrink humor?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s true. And if I’m going to stay here much longer, I’ll need more of a wardrobe. Gran can afford it.”
“It’s your money now but it’ll have to wait. It’s almost ten-thirty.” Mary Lou led the way for me to pay for my mass of clothes.
Fifteen minutes later we were parked in front of the Ladylike Salon on the edge of the French Quarter.
“Are you sure you want to go here, I have a very nice, and luxurious, salon you can try.” Mary Lou didn’t look convinced about this place.
“You don’t have to come in. Ivy can take me back to the house.” I started to get out of the car.
“No, I’ll go,” Mary Lou insisted.
I walked into the salon and knew why Ivy liked it. It was instantly clear that Mary Lou and I were the only original women in the room.
“I got them to squeeze you in,” Ivy shouted from under a dryer. She waved her long red nails to get my attention. “Have fun shopping?”
I moved closer and sat next to her. “Yes. Thanks. No wig?”
“I’m as authentic as I can be. I use all my own hair. Well, maybe a few extensions but I only do wigs so I don’t have to dye my hair for effect. Tonight it’s all natural. I want to set a higher standard.” She looked Mary Lou up and down, focusing on her stuffy outfit. Ivy’s cheeks flushed. “What’s she doing here?”
“We were still shopping. Why?” Mary Lou’s fashion wasn’t exactly bold but I wouldn’t trade with Ivy either. I could be friends with both of them.
Ivy shrugged, picking up a nearby copy of Vogue.
“Dr. Oscar?” A large drag queen with black hair and light blue nails held out a cocked wrist.
I shook her hand. “Deanna.”
“I’m Violet. Just nails today?” she asked.
“Yes. I appreciate your squeezing me in. It’s been over two weeks since my last appointment,” I confessed.
Following Violet, I motioned for Mary Lou to quit hugging the door. If she was going to be here, she couldn’t act like it was a freak show.
“If you ever need a trim or any waxing, we’re full service.” Violet sat at her nails station and pulled up an extra seat for Mary Lou.
“Maybe I’ll make an appointment for a bikini wax next time,” I teased.
Violet frowned. “That you might want to go to a different salon for, doll. We’re equipped but I’m not sure our techs... Most of our clients aren’t the post-op variety.”
“I understand. This is great. Fully staffed by drag queens?” I asked.
“Most of us need a day job
. Only the big names earn enough money to live off performing.” Violet got down to business and examined my hands. “Don’t usually get your kind in here. Tiny hands, I’d kill for these.”
“It’s hard to find a good nail place.” So far I liked Violet.
“Your friend could use a better color on her nails. Uptight pink is out this season.” Violet glared at Mary Lou.
“Oh, I’m just here to keep Deanna company,” Mary Lou said.
“Just as well, we’re booked today.” Violet got to work.
Chapter Eighteen
Mary Lou had been right about the funeral. This was a new experience for me. In Chicago, funerals were respectful and solemn occasions. Even my mother’s side behaved at the church and cemetery. I’ll admit some of the wakes included after parties of drunken Irishmen and women toasting the deceased and telling stories to celebrate their life. But nothing topped the spectacle of a New Orleans jazz funeral.
I found out from Ivy the parade would start at the family’s home and stationed myself a few blocks from the cemetery they’d end at. A funeral procession wasn’t weird, but the fact that I could hear the music of the band playing from blocks away filled me with dread.
I did my best to blend into the tourists and other lookers-on as the parade approached. Everyone was dressed in white and a full band lead the procession. Lots of horns blaring music that was upbeat. The mourners clapped and moved to the music. All were respectful but seemed to be celebrating life rather than grieving.
I spotted Cecelia who looked as though her spirit wasn’t in it. Then I noticed her daughter, pretty obvious who the junkie was. Skinny as a rail, hair that looked like she was attempting dreads but not succeeding and a glassy-eyed stare.
Between them was a tall dark man who clapped but was calm. The boyfriend? No, this guy would have more sense than to date a junkie. He was dressed in khaki pants and a crisp white shirt open at the collar and rolled up to just under his elbows. His eyes kept sliding over to Cel. I guessed his identity to be her son or other close relation. He was handsome and had a look of strength about him that made me curious.
I followed along on the sidewalk until it ran out and then tagged along at the very end of the procession and stayed back. Why they wanted me to be at the burial when I’d predicted the death. Who the hell knew! I shouldn’t be here. I’d only upset people but she’d asked me to come. I had to respect her wishes.
One interesting thing about New Orleans was the water table was so high that they buried people above ground. The tombs gave me more cover to watch and not intrude than a simple headstone like up North. The service began and I felt someone standing next to me.
“Did I miss the parade?” Ivy huffed.
“Sorry, yeah. I didn’t know you wanted to come,” I whispered. “Did you know them?”
“No, I’m just a sucker for a good funeral. I thought you’d need moral support. Plus, I really needed a distraction before tonight. I’m so nervous, I’m sick. How do I look?”
I studied her out of the corner of my eye. The pale blue cocktail dress lacked sequins and any decorative bows, so I guessed it was the most conservative outfit Ivy owned. Definitely not for tonight. “Great,” I lied.
Her dark hair was elaborately piled on her head and dark oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. I checked the shoes, white stilettos of course, which at the moment were sinking into the grass. In truth, she looked like an extra from Rocky Horror. Halfway didn’t work. Gown or casual, Ivy needed to learn where and when to put on a cocktail dress.
I looked down at my own outfit. I’d stuck with what Mary Lou picked out and it blended. I’d blown off the idea of heels and went with thick sandals. I was clumsy enough to know better than to wear heels on wet grass.
“Aren’t they gorgeous?” Ivy eyed the band.
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“Got a thing for musicians?”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “What’s your fetish?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” I frowned. “Most of the guys I dated thought I was weird. College curse, I’ve never really done the long-term thing.”
“Oh because of the...” She tapped her temple and nodded. “But you’ve got to have a type.”
I ran through the mental list of guys I’d dated, ignoring the one-nighters because they couldn’t count. I came to a conclusion I didn’t like, but I can’t say was a big surprise. “Yuck. All bossy and arrogant. I’ve got to change that but they were the ones I couldn’t just ignore or brush off.”
“I never knew my dad. Maybe that’s a good thing.” She shrugged.
A lecture I’d sat through about the psychological ramifications of our growing fatherless society rambled through my head. It was actually nice having Ivy here as a distraction. My opinion on father or no father depended entirely on the father.
“My dad wasn’t so terrible really. Your standard mill rat in a steel plant on Chicago’s south side, but we had a decent house, food, clothes, toys, Catholic school, and a stay-at-home mom. Vacations were a White Sox game or Brookfield Zoo. Not exactly Disney World, but I don’t like roller coasters anyway.”
“Doesn’t sound that bad,” she agreed.
“Guess I need to find a guy who isn’t full of himself.” Greg fit that mold before I found out about his previous occupation.
“You’ve got a better chance of finding a big-ass diamond buried in the backyard. Better to look for a man who can keep you happy in bed. If the sex is hot, the rest will work itself out.”
Interesting advice. Not quite funeral conversation but interesting. The service was over and our conversation faded as we watched the people disperse. When it was just the three, Cel, daughter and the guy—Ivy’s eyes fell on him.
“Is it me, or does he look like Denzel and Will Smith had a kid?” Ivy was practically drooling.
“It’s a funeral, Ivy.”
“Introduce me.” She poked me in the ribs.
“I don’t know him. I only know Cel, the grandmother, and that’s only because she drove the cab from the airport. You’ll get plenty of men when you’re on stage.”
“It’s not just about the man. You should still pay your respects.” Ivy wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “You can’t help it that you saw the death. You warned her. What else can anyone expect?”
I stood my ground as Ivy tugged at my arm. While Ivy dressed and acted like a woman, she still had the biological muscles of a man, and I was pulled off balance. It was leave my hiding spot or fall.
I went halfway and stumbled into view just as Cel and company were coming our way. “Hi,” I managed.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Cel’s eyes fell on me with relief.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to intrude.” I kept my eyes on the ground.
“You didn’t.” Cel sniffed. “I told you, I don’t blame you. I’m mad at this one. Leaving a little girl home alone.” She pointed to her daughter who seemed completely distracted looking at her nails. “Brandy, look at me when I’m talking to you. This is the woman who could’ve saved Little Cel, if you’d have listened to me and kept your dumb ass at home.”
“I gotta go find Mule.” Brandy started to wander off and Cel followed her.
“You’re Deanna Oscar?” the man asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Dr. Deanna Oscar.” Ivy was turning into one of the best girlfriends I’d ever had, if she weren’t actually flirting at a funeral.
“I’m sorry, this is Ivy. She came with me.”
“I’m Dan, Cel’s son.”
“I’m sorry about your loss. Is your sister okay?” I was keeping one eye on Brandy and Cel’s argument just in case.
“Thank you. Brandy has some big problems. I’m a doctor and I haven’t been able to help.” He seemed totally unfazed by the screaming match going on behind him.
“You’re an MD? Good, ‘cause it looks like one of them might need some stitches soon.” Ivy pointed at the mothe
r-daughter argument.
“It’s complicated. The cops offered her a choice. Detox in a ninety-day inpatient treatment and probation, or charge her with neglect and take her chances with a judge. Mule is Brandy’s boyfriend and dealer. He wants her to take her chances with the judge but the family wants her to go to detox.” He glanced back momentarily. “What kind of doctor are you, Deanna?”
I looked up and turned red. I flashed a glare at Ivy. “Psychology, PhD.”
“Maybe Brandy should talk to you.”
“I don’t have much experience with substance abuse. You’re better off with an established detox center.”
“I hope she takes the deal. The drugs won’t bring back Little Cel.”
“She’s okay. I’ve seen her since she died. She’s happy.” It was the best comfort I could offer.
“Good. You’re going to find this guy. Right? Momma is convinced you’re the only one who can. I mean, you found her body and it meant everything to Momma to be able to bury Little Cel. You’ve got to be able to find the guy that did this.”
“I’m doing everything I can. Unfortunately, being psychic isn’t an exact science.” I gave a weak, but somewhat reassuring, smile.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Then I know you’ll find him.”
“Hopefully, before any more deaths.” I shifted my weight nervously. I couldn’t promise anything.
“I heard about the second one. You’re sure it’s the same guy?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“If I can do anything for you, let me know.” He handed me his card as the screaming behind him got louder. “I better go before they wake the dead, literally.”
“Thanks.” I waved the card and slipped it in my pocket for safekeeping.
Dan walked one way, while Ivy and I went another. “He gave you his number. Just my luck, he’s a doctor and he’s straight,” Ivy whispered.
“He gave me his card. It’s strictly business. If the cops catch the killer, I’ll give him a courtesy call. If I need a doctor, at least I have a name. This isn’t the way I wanted to meet people in New Orleans.”
“Honey, he’s the best-looking thing I’ve seen in a long time, and believe me I’ve looked. If I were you, I’d fall down and break something right now.” Ivy glanced over her shoulder at the feuding family.
