by CC Dragon
“Do you have a name?” she pressed.
“No.” I repeated the description I got. “I think he’s in uniform,” I blurted and didn’t know why.
“A cop?” she asked.
“No, not a cop. Sorry, that’s all I get right now. If anything else turns up, I’ll let you know. We can try when it gets close.”
“At least he’s out there. Thanks!” She looked relieved. “Go on in.”
I walked into Matt’s office and found him looking over the dolls. All four lined up.
“Thinking of starting a collection?” I teased.
“Trying to figure out what to do with them. They’re not evidence on an active case anymore. I’m not sure I want haunted dolls in the old evidence room.” He put them back in the bag and wiped off his hands like it was catching. Matt would grow more used to this sort of thing, I predicted.
“Cecelia wanted to bury theirs with Little Cel. They aren’t haunted anymore. Warren decided to go over now that Darren is with him. That’s one good thing. How they get judged, that’s over my head. Can I give the first one back?” I sat down in the black plastic guest chair.
“Sure. But how do you know the twins won’t be back?” he asked.
“I don’t think they’re out to hurt anyone anymore. They have what they want so there’s no point. Some things I just know.”
“Can you do anything with these dolls?” he asked.
“One of them was locked in my storeroom. I can lock up the other three back there if you want.” I took the bags.
“So you’re sure they’ll be safe?” He seemed hesitant to believe me.
“I’m sure.” I set the papers on his desk. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t take the job. It’s important to me to be impartial. I’d be happy to consult on cases but I have to be independent.”
Matt nodded as though he’d been expecting that answer. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you busy with or without you on the payroll. We’ll pay you for whatever hours you work. If you have a conflict, we’ll work something out.”
“No money. I’m not taking cash for helping people. Call me a psychic detective or whatever. But I say what cases I take. Anything else?” I was relieved enough to do anything.
“Your choice. Actually, I need a little help. The press has been after us to talk to you. Get an official statement. Since the suicide, well, things are getting more heated,” Matt said.
“No one is bothering me.” I’d been relieved to feel like a just another psychic in New Orleans for a change.
“The judge kind of made it known through unofficial channels that anyone harassing you or trespassing on your property would receive the harshest punishment allowed by law and a few that weren’t. He’s personally made sure they’d have a hard time getting any story if they bug you. So, I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay at home. But they want to hear from you.”
I had to remember to thank John later. It certainly didn’t hurt to have friends in high places. Of course I wasn’t totally off the hook. “You want me to talk to them?”
“Not too much. You did fine on the spot at the second girl’s home. Just give the basics, the guy was disturbed and so on. Okay?” he asked.
“Sure, when?” The people deserved to hear from me, I supposed. My name was already out there thanks to Big Bud. Too late to hide now. I needed to come up with something that sounded just right.
“Now.” He shifted his weight uneasily.
“Now?” I looked down at my black jeans and kiwi green t-shirt. “You want me to talk to reporters dressed like this without a prepared statement?”
“You look fine. And you don’t need a prepared statement. The press can smell those a mile away. Just get up there and be professional. That’s what the people need to see. Strength. We’ve got it covered. You’re just helping.”
I felt my heart race. I had no fear of public speaking. Teaching had cured me of any such phobia. But this wasn’t about psychology texts. I was under the microscope.
“You okay?” Matt asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”
Matt led me to a small room filled to the brim with people. It felt as though guys with cameras were crawling on me. They were at least three feet away, but the flashes never seemed to stop. Matt was saying a few words that I wasn’t listening to. Then he stepped aside.
I stepped up to the microphone and put on my best professional face. This wouldn’t kill me.
“The good news is we captured the killer and the third targeted victim is safe. The bad news is that before any further in-depth psychological tests could be conducted, the killer committed suicide in his cell. I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”
“Dr. Oscar, were you brought in strictly as a psychic or as a psychologist as well?” One reporter shouted.
“I had a vision and pushed myself in as a psychic. My other credentials are an asset, but the killer was interviewed by psychologists independent of the investigation after he was arrested.”
“Was there any way to save the second victim? The one who died not long after you were brought onto the case?” another report asked.
“I’m sorry to say there wasn’t. The killer, a former mental patient, had serious psychological problems. It was a unique challenge to determine his pattern in selecting victims. He also knew the terrain much better and was able to elude police even after we’d identified him.”
“Why did he kill himself?” A third reporter jumped in.
“Again, he had a long history of psychological problems, which stemmed from his brother’s early death. It was a deep childhood trauma he’d never recovered from. The most we can surmise is that the killer preferred death to returning to a mental facility or prison.”
“Didn’t you see the suicide coming in your psychic visions?”
“If I knew everything, I could stop all the crimes before they happen. But I’d also be insane myself. No one can see it all. Darren had no history of suicide attempts in all of his years at the mental hospital. The police had no reason to believe he was a danger to himself. I saw no indications of it either. It was likely a snap decision on the killer’s part when he saw the opportunity and realized his fate. The human mind can be very unpredictable.”
There were murmurs in the room and the flashes continued. No one shouted any more questions so I decided to say something I’d wanted to since the beginning. “I’m only a tool. I tried to help the police locate the killer and protect the victims. They are the ones who brought him in. Hopefully, I can use whatever gifts I have to continue to help.” I took a slow deep breath after the statement. It was all true. It felt good to admit that I wasn’t perfect and no one should expect me to be. Even with my weird gift, I wasn’t always right.
I stepped away from the mic and Matt stepped up. “Dr. Oscar will be helping us when needed. The use of psychic detectives may be controversial but I can assure you, she was both accurate and cooperative. Dr. Oscar was given no hints or help of any kind. We have full confidence in her as with any outside expert we utilize. Thank you.”
We left the room and I felt oddly validated. Tough but fair questions. The police support. Not too bad. Much better than Big Bud’s impromptu press conference on the lawn. “Anything else?” I asked Matt.
“Nope, nothing too weird today. The cops can handle it.”
“Glad to hear it. Well then, I’ll take the dolls away and lock them up. Call me, when you need me.” As I headed out, I saw the desk sergeant leaning over the UPS guy and showing a lot of cleavage. He fit the general description but he wasn’t the man I saw. She gave me a little nod, looking hopeful.
I just shook my head. “Not him,” I mouthed.
She shrugged and kept right on flirting as I left. I dumped the dolls in the huge trunk. The inside of the car had room, but I didn’t need one of them staring at me. I believed they were harmless now. But they’d caused enough fear for one lifetime.
I walked into the house and felt better instan
tly. The living room no longer reminded me of a church as much. It hit me that I’d asked Ivy to take down the shrine. That made a huge difference.
Gran was dead, and visiting whenever she liked. I didn’t really need the candles causing a daily fire hazard, or the feeling of mourning making the house depressing. If I was going to live here, I was going enjoy it.
Instead of closed drapes and candlelight, I had sunlight. I didn’t know or want to know how Ivy had managed it all. I was just relieved.
Gran’s picture and ashes rested on the mantel. My house no longer looked like a gothic tribute, but as normal as any other parlor in any mansion in New Orleans.
I contemplated my house and the dolls.
There was a huge fireplace. I could burn them. The plastic faces would make the house smell gross and probably be very toxic.
Part of me wanted the dolls out of the house. I couldn’t risk a child actually getting them. They gave me the creeps. That was hard to do now. They weren’t happy toys anymore.
There was only one logical thing to do. Like it or not, they had to stay in the storeroom. If I knew where they were, at least I could sleep.
After throwing them into the storeroom and resealing the door, I walked across the thick carpet to the mantel and took down Gran’s urn. I unscrewed the top and peeked inside. I pulled my head away and sneezed from the dust that had escaped. What had I expected? Fairies?
The point of keeping an urn full of dust and ash in the house was what exactly? Another ghost or object could get loose in the house and tip the urn over. Then all of Gran’s earthly remains would end up in a Hoover and eventually in the landfill for eternity.
Gran didn’t care what happened to her ashes. They say funerals are for the living. I believed it now. Gran had told me that she didn’t care about her ashes. I couldn’t help it, I did.
So where to scatter them?
Chapter Twenty-Six
I arrived at the swamp with a sense of calm. Holy water, salt, white candle, matches, a complete change of clothing, jumper cables and a full-size spare were all in my trunk. I’d add to it as I learned of other things a girl like me might need in New Orleans with ghosts on the loose. It was my emergency kit of sorts and it gave me a sense of being prepared for anything.
John had suggested a gun, and considering Greg’s snake incident I’d added a large shotgun from Uncle Meep’s. A handgun was still preferable but backup was always good.
I got out of the car and reached into the huge backseat. I carried the heavy urn to the edge of safe sand. Luckily, the wind was coming from behind. I removed the lid and scattered the ashes. The wind took them farther than my weak arms could.
“Hope you don’t mind it out here, Gran.” I put the empty urn and lid back on the floor of the backseat before brushing the inevitable residue off my clothes. “It’s as real Louisiana as I can get without being too close to snakes or alligators.”
Climbing onto the top of the backseat of my new car that could double as a boat, I looked up at the stars over the marshy water. Gran’s ashes were where they belonged and so were the dolls. It wasn’t exactly as I’d hoped. “It’s nice that I get to know you now, but it’d be nice to have you on the same side as me, Gran.”
On cue, she showed up sitting next to me. “It’s a lovely spot. I did love this city, Deanna. And don’t worry, you’ll be on the Other Side with me soon enough.”
I looked at her and looked back at the stars. Rethinking my statement. “I’m really not in that big of a hurry for a permanent change, thanks.”
She laughed at me. “Don’t worry, you’ve got a long life ahead of you. Lots of people for you to help here. Time is a very relative thing.”
“Good. Things sound better on your side, but I’m just getting the hang of this world. One step at a time, please.” Not that I believed she’d really tell me if my number was up any time soon. That was probably against the rules.
“And now that things are settled—you can make an effort to go to The Third Eye.”
“I’ve been emailing the owner. I’ve got a list of their upcoming events and meetings. It’ll feel a lot more real in person. Other people who go through what I do. People who get it. And once I get all of my stuff out of storage, including my laptop, I’ll be able to communicate with them a lot easier.” Ivy was getting the house Internet access set up now that I was staying. Not that the ghosts couldn’t meddle with the signal, but I needed TV and connections.
“That’s right. You belong here, Deanna. I forget that you’re not moved yet. That it’s so new to you. Time is very relative on my side of things.” Gran nodded serenely.
I ran a hand over the side of the car. Things were starting to fall into place for me here. Haunting consultant, therapist to the formerly living, or everyday psychic detective—Ivy had been keeping tabs on what the press was calling me and listing them on the fridge in case I missed one. None of those titles made me cringe or get nervous anymore.
That was progress!
“Your grandfather had a car just like this while we were still married. I hated it. I could never park it straight. Guess you have a bit of him in you after all. Between this car and your fondness for guns.” Gran grinned.
“Don’t start in about him now. I’m not ready to forgive any of the family yet for hiding you from me, or keeping me in the dark. Think how many people I could’ve helped if I’d known this to begin with? Oh. That reminds me.” I fished my new cell phone out of my pocket.
I dialed my parents’ house. I felt only the slightest twinge of nerves and a lot more excitement.
“Hello?” Dad answered.
“Hi, Dad. How are you?” I sounded so nice and normal compared to the other times we’d spoken.
“Fine. Deanna, you finally sound like yourself. Your brothers and I were debating if we should come down. Talk some sense into you.” He sounded happy to hear from me. That’d be over soon.
“No need. I’m just fine.” I winked at Gran.
“Good, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Which job did you take? Where are you going to live?” The relief in his voice was going to be gone really fast.
“I’m going to be consulting down here for a while. Freelance psychic detective.” I smiled as Gran nodded in approval.
I waited for the reaction.
“A what? That’s not even a real job. Deanna, that’s dangerous, crazy and sounds like you have no benefits or health plan. You can’t stay there anyway. You can’t be near that house.” His voice wasn’t so happy anymore.
“You know where to find me, Dad. 1300 Carmen Court. Just don’t come down unless you’re going to be nice about this place and my job, or I’ll release the ghost dogs on you.” I hung up on him before he got in another word.
“You do realize that ghosts of dogs aren’t vicious at all, Deanna. Not that you have a kennel of them anyway. Where do you come up with this stuff?” Gran folded her arms, disapproving of my threat.
“I know that, you know that. But Dad doesn’t know that. He couldn’t see them if I did have them.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Come on, Gran, want to go for a ride in my new car?”
“I’m beyond needing a car for transportation, thank you.” She eyed it with distrust.
“It’s still fun. Humor me? If you’re good, maybe next time I’ll let you bring Grandpa. I might even be nice to him.” I hopped in the front seat and the V8 engine roared as I turned the key.
“Okay, but no speeding,” she said.
“Please, I know where all the speed traps are. And what cop would give me a ticket? Sometimes it’s good to be a psychic.” I threw the car into gear and it kicked up sand until I was back on the road.
“That is not why you were given this gift.”
“It’s a fringe benefit. Besides, this car has more crumple zones than a Hummer. I couldn’t be safer. Now stop arguing and enjoy the ride, Gran.” I smiled as she stuck with me.
New Orleans wasn’t where I’d seen myself ending up, but I ha
d a pretty good feeling about my future here. There were plenty of people to help, living and dead.
And here, I was normal—relatively speaking.
About the Author
A loyal Chicago girl who loves deep dish pizza, the Cubs, and The Lake! CC Dragon is fascinated by the metaphysical and paranormal. Loves creating characters, especially amateur sleuths who solve mysteries. Coffee and chocolate addict who loves fast cars. Still look for a hero who likes to cook and clean...so she can write more!
Keep in touch:
Website: www.ccdragon.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ccdragonauthor
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/752998138081518/
Google +: http://tinyurl.com/ccdragong
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorccdragon
Blog: http://ccdragon.blogspot.com/
If you like hot stories of erotic romance...check out CC’s evil twin: www.cheryldragon.com
Want More?
Grab the next Deanna Oscar Paranormal Mystery:
Coming February 2015
A Club, An Imposter, and A Competition
A Deanna Oscar Paranormal Mystery (Book 2)
Deanna Oscar and friends are back again—having survived Katrina, what could go wrong now? A murder, a visit from her family, and a fake psychic trying to manipulate the vulnerable citizens of New Orleans, to name a few. Add a nosy reporter who pits De against the imposter to solve the murder and De's life is as crazy as ever.
She does her best to avoid publicity while trying to solve the murder and keep her family out of danger. The family wants her back in Chicago where it's safe. De is determined to set down roots in the Big Easy and buys a drag club to prove it. Boring and average just isn’t her style!
www.ccdragon.com
