French Quarter Clues

by Eva Pohler

  “Do you see a mark on the bone?” Tanya called.

  Ellen noticed an “x” marked on the edge of one side. “Yes.”

  Isabel stood up and crossed the courtyard. “Then it’s face up and important.” Holding the snake on her head with one hand, she pointed at the trash on the ground. “What does that paper say?”

  Ellen picked up the trash. It was a brochure from a local ghost touring company. The bone had landed on a photo of the house Tanya had taken her and Sue to see just a short while ago.

  “It says Lalaurie Mansion,” Ellen finally said, with a lump in her throat.

  The priestess’s eyes grew wide. “Then you have your answer.”

  Sue stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Does this demon expect us to go snooping around someone else’s property?”

  “That’s all I have time for today,” Priestess Isabel said, as she returned the python to its aquarium. “Pay my assistant for three readings and make an appointment for tomorrow.”

  Ellen, Sue, and Tanya took a cab back to the Inn on Ursulines to rest and to think of what to do next. On the way, the driver asked if they’d heard about the dead body on Chartres Street.

  It smelled like a dead body in the cab. Ellen wondered if it was the cab, or if Tanya had brought the odor in with her.

  “No,” Sue said. “What happened?”

  “Some guy was found dead in a bathtub.”

  “Did he drown himself?” Ellen asked.

  “No water in the tub, just the dude in his birthday suit.”

  Ellen glanced at her friends, her eyes wide.

  “Where on Chartres?” Tanya asked.

  “Just a few blocks over,” the cabby said. “A real estate agent found him this morning.”

  “Was it the house for sale near Ursulines?” Ellen asked.

  “I think so,” the cabby said.

  Ellen gasped. She noticed Sue was trembling.

  “Who was the victim?” Sue asked.

  “They don’t know yet,” the driver said. “No ID with the body. The police are treating it like a homicide, since the dude’s clothes were missing.”

  “Do they have any suspects?” Ellen asked.

  “That’s all I heard,” the man said. “Probably just a hobo who overdosed.”

  Once they were back in their room, Sue turned on the television, searching for the local news, and then sat in the one upholstered chair in the corner of the room, shaking like a leaf as she searched for news on her phone.

  “Sue?” Ellen asked. “You okay?”

  “If we’d called that agent, or even the police, that man might still be alive,” Sue said.

  Ellen’s stomach formed a knot. Her friend was right.

  “We thought we were helping him by minding our own business,” Tanya pointed out.

  Sue put her face in her hands. “What if the police find our fingerprints, and we become suspects?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Ellen said, trying to console her friend. “We didn’t touch anything, did we?”

  Tanya shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I did,” Sue said. “I touched the back door when I opened it. I touched the railing on the stairs.”

  “I may have touched the railing,” Tanya said. “I can’t remember.”

  “I’m sure I did,” Sue said.

  “We’ve got no motive,” Ellen said, though she sounded more confident than she felt. “We didn’t even know the guy. Let’s try not to worry about it. The cab driver was probably right. The guy OD-ed, end of story. An autopsy will prove it.”

  “But what if the guy was murdered?” Tanya said.

  “And what if the murderer saw us there?” Sue said suddenly.

  Ellen sat on one of two queen-sized beds with her back against the pillows and headboard. She stretched her legs out, trying to get comfortable. Not having slept for days, she was so very tired. “Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”

  “At least we know that this demon attached to Tanya isn’t necessarily evil,” Sue said. “But evil or not, Tanya’s life is in danger, if we can’t give him what he wants.”

  Tanya, who sat on the other queen bed with her legs crossed, yoga style, leaned over her phone. “I’m searching up the Lalaurie Mansion. You won’t believe what took place there.”

  “Is this you talking? Or your friend?” Sue asked.

  “That’s not funny, Sue,” Ellen chastised.

  “Sometimes when you’re terrified out of your wits, humor is all you have left,” Sue said.

  Ignoring them, Tanya read, “‘On April 10th, 1834, a fire broke out at the mansion, destroying part of it and revealing that at least seven slaves had been chained, starved, and tortured in the attic. The slaves were taken to the Cabildo Prison, where they were on display. When the town heard of what Delphine Lalaurie had done, a mob gathered. It is believed that she fled to France.’ And listen to this: ‘When the mansion was rebuilt by its next owner, workmen uncovered numerous human skeletons beneath the house. The authorities speculated that the remains belonged to former slaves of the Lalaurie family.’”

  “Do you think there are more bones to be found beneath Lalaurie Mansion?” Ellen asked Tanya.

  “I think so,” Tanya said. “I think that’s why we’re here.”

  “We should go and buy another Ouija Board,” Sue said. “Maybe Tanya’s friend will give us more information.”

  “No need.” Ellen crossed the room to her suitcase. “I brought one with me, along with all my paranormal investigation equipment.” She’d begun to take it everywhere. “We are serious paranormal investigators now, aren’t we?”

  Ellen took out the board and planchette and brought it over to Tanya’s bed. Then she helped Sue carry the one chair over. Once they’d muted the television and were settled, with Ellen on the bed beside Tanya and their fingers touching the planchette, they began.

  Sue spoke first. “I’m addressing the ghost attached to Tanya. We mean you no harm. Are you here with us?”

  The bedside lamp flickered as the planchette moved to “Yes.”

  Then, the planchette circled around and spelled out, “H-E-L-P-M-E.”

  Sue glanced at Ellen, with a look of concern on her face.

  “What’s your name?” Ellen asked.

  They watched as the plastic indicator moved, and Sue said the letters, one at a time, “C-O-R-N-E-L-I-U-S-N-U-N-N-E-R-Y.”

  “Cornelius Nunnery,” Tanya said.

  “That’s a mouthful,” Ellen whispered.

  “What should we ask next?” Sue asked.

  “When did he die?” Ellen suggested.

  Before anyone else could say anything, the planchette moved to “2-0-0-5.”

  “That’s more recent than I thought,” Ellen murmured.

  “How old were you when you died?” Sue asked.

  The television and bedside lamp both flickered as the planchette spelled out “1-6.”

  “Sixteen?” Tanya asked. “You were only sixteen years old?”

  The planchette flew across the board to “Yes.”

  Ellen frowned. “He was a child.”

  “How did you die, Cornelius?” Sue asked.

  The television turned off and didn’t turn back on. The lamp flickered as the planchette spelled out, “K-A-T-R-I-N-A.”

  “Hurricane Katrina?” Tanya asked.

  The planchette moved to “Yes.”

  “How did a ghost from Hurricane Katrina attach to Tanya?” Ellen wondered out loud.

  The planchette moved, spelling out, “M-E-M-O-R-I-A-L-H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L.”

  “Memorial Hospital in Houston!” Tanya cried. “That’s where I had my surgery a few months ago.”

  “So, Cornelius must have died there,” Ellen speculated.

  “It’s strange that a ghost from 2005 would attach to a person thirteen years later,” Sue said.

  “And what does this have to do with Lalaurie Mansion?” Ellen wondered.

  The bedside lamp
flickered off, and they were left in darkness.

  Ellen used the flashlight on her phone to turn on a second lamp before returning to the board.

  Then Sue asked, “Is someone you love buried at Lalaurie Mansion?”

  The three friends waited, but the planchette did not move.

  “Cornelius?” Sue asked. “Are you there?”

  “I don’t feel so good,” Tanya said, her face pale again.

  “Maybe we should take a break.” Ellen studied Tanya’s face. The dark circles had returned.

  “Priestess Isabel said it was a loved one,” Sue said. “But I doubt people were still burying remains beneath the Lalaurie Mansion in 2005.”

  Ellen took up her phone. “Which means it must be an ancestor, right?” She Googled “Cornelius Nunnery 2005.”

  “That’s my guess,” Sue said. “What do you think, Tanya?”

  When they looked at their friend, they saw her eyes were closed, and her head was hanging to the side.

  Ellen touched her shoulder. “Tanya?”

  She opened her eyes. “Huh?”

  “Nothing,” Ellen said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I guess this means we aren’t going out to dinner tonight,” Sue said with a tinge of disappointment.

  “Why don’t you order something for delivery while I search up Cornelius?” Ellen suggested. “Order whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Ellen was able to find Cornelius’s 2005 obituary in the Houston Chronicle, but it gave her no leads into the possible ancestor that might be buried beneath Lalaurie Mansion.

  The obituary read:

  Cornelius Jamar Nunnery, born July 12, 1989, died on September 20, 2005 at the young age of sixteen from injuries sustained during Hurricane Katrina. He is preceded in death by his father, Jamar Collin Nunnery, who died on August 30th when his New Orleans home was destroyed in the same hurricane that fatally injured his son. Cornelius is survived by his mother, Maria, and his sister, Cecilia. A bright and happy boy, a lover of music, and an excellent saxophonist in the Alfred Lawless High School Band, Cornelius also sang and played a major role in his high school musical last year. He will be missed by family and friends.

  Ellen fingered the gris-gris bag she wore around her neck. The spirit attached to Tanya did not sound like a demon. The boy must be desperate. Ellen was determined to help Tanya be free of him, but she also felt a responsibility to help Cornelius find peace.

  Chapter Six: Marie Laveau

  The following afternoon, Ellen and Sue sat on the pavers of the raised garden bed in the courtyard of the Voodoo Spiritual Temple, wiping sweat off their brow, as Tanya sat opposite Priestess Isabel at the table. The priestess wore her snake, Henry, coiled on her head, as she had the previous day. Ellen had just finished recounting all they’d learned the night before using the Ouija Board and Google.

  Ellen also told her that Carrie French had no memory of recommending their visit to the priestess. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

  “No wonder I couldn’t remember her,” the priestess said. “I usually remember people.”

  “If that wasn’t Carrie who spoke with us in Tulsa, who was it?” Sue asked.

  “The boy’s ghost isn’t strong enough to create an illusion or to possess someone while attached to someone else,” Isabel said. “Someone more powerful is working with him.”

  “Who?” Tanya asked.

  Isabel poured her bag of bones into Tanya’s hands. “Shake the bones and ask.”

  Tanya’s hands were trembling as she shook the bones and scattered them across the fiber mat.

  The priestess leaned over the table and removed some of bones from the spread. “Since they landed face down, we don’t consider these. Okay, let’s see what we’re looking at.”

  Ellen moved closer to the table, to get a better view.

  “This bone says it’s someone of great power from the other side,” Isabel said. “Maybe a Loa.”

  “What’s a Loa?” Tanya asked.

  “A spirit guide,” Isabel said. “Like a saint. Saint Jude and Saint Francis are two of my favorites.”

  “So, a saint could be helping Cornelius?” Tanya asked.

  “It’s possible,” the priestess said.

  Ellen wrinkled her brow. She doubted a saint would allow a spirit to threaten Tanya’s life.

  “Is there any way you can get a name?” Sue asked. “Or some clue to point us in the right direction?”

  “The spirits decide how much to tell us,” the priestess said. “Yesterday we were lucky to get the name of Lalaurie Mansion.”

  When Isabel blinked, only the whites of her eyes appeared. Ellen gasped in surprise and glanced over at Tanya and Sue, who also wore looks of concern on their faces.

  “My name is Marie Laveau,” Isabel said in a gravelly voice. “Find the devil child and consecrate his bones in my family tomb. The diary of Delphine Lalaurie will guide you.”

  “Diary?” Sue repeated. “Where is it?”

  “Beneath the tub where the dead man lay.”

  Ellen gawked. “Do you mean the vacant house on Chartres Street?”

  Ellen flinched when the limp body of the python fell from the priestess’s head and landed with a heavy thud at her feet.

  Isabel shrieked, her eyes no longer white but wide with despair. “Henry?”

  “What happened?” Tanya asked.

  Full of tears, the Voodoo queen crouched on the ground beside her beloved snake, lifting its limp body toward her bosom as she kissed its head. “Henry was a gift from my late husband. And now he’s gone.”

  “How did this happen?” Tanya asked.

  “I’m so sorry.” Sue climbed to her feet. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Just go,” Isabel said. “Leave me to mourn in peace.”

  Feeling terrible, Ellen and her friends paid for three readings and three Voodoo dolls inside the gift shop before walking onto North Rampart Street into the hot, sticky air.

  “I feel so bad for Isabel,” Tanya said. “Maybe we should buy her some flowers and make a donation…something.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ellen said.

  Sue started walking. “First, we need to call Lionel, the realtor.”

  “I guess we need to walk over to the house to get his number from that sign,” Ellen said, following Sue.

  Tanya quickly took the lead. “Do you think Henry died so that Marie Laveau could speak to us?”

  Ellen stopped in her tracks. “Oh, my gosh. I just thought of something.” Goosebumps spread across her arms, even though she was nearly sick with heat exhaustion. “The night Sue and I met Carrie in Tulsa, someone died of a heart attack. Do you think that was Marie Laveau’s doing, too?”

  “Sacrificing a snake is one thing,” Sue said. “But a human being?”

  “The man in the bathtub,” Tanya began. “He asked if Marie Laveau had sent us, remember?”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Ellen cried.

  “You think she killed him?” Sue asked.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Ellen admitted.

  Sue put her hand on her hip. “What do we know about Marie Laveau, anyway? Let me Google her.”

  As they walked toward the house on Chartres Street, Sue read them what she could find on the most famous Voodoo queen of New Orleans. “‘Marie Laveau was a New Orleans Voodoo practitioner who lived from September 10, 1794 to June 16, 1881. She was born to a wealthy plantation owner, Charles Laveau, and his mistress, Marguerite, who was a free woman of color of Native American, African, and French descent. Marie was educated and raised in both the Catholic faith and in the principles of Voodoo by her maternal grandmother, Catherine.’”

  Sue handed the phone over to Tanya. “I’m running out of breath with all this walking. Maybe you should read it.”

  Tanya picked up where Sue had left off. “‘In 1819, Marie married Jacques Paris, a carpenter and free person of color from Haiti, just after the Haitian Revolution, when many refugees c
ame to Louisiana and contributed to the Voodoo culture. After Paris went missing and was presumed dead in 1824, Marie became a hair dresser for the wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. She also did charitable works as a midwife, nurse, and prison minister.’

  “‘In 1826, Marie moved in with a free man of color named Glapion and bore fifteen children to him, only one of which lived into adulthood. Under Doctor John Bayou’s tutelage, Marie became a Voodoo queen by 1830, merging, as she always had, her Voodoo and Catholic faiths.’

  “‘The social contacts she made as a hairdresser for the wealthy and as a nurse to the sick may have given her an advantage over other Voodoo practitioners, because she was privy to inside information, which was useful as an oracle in making predictions and instilling fear in others. This, combined with her beauty, her charisma, and her numerous charitable works, quickly made her the queen of Voodoo queens. Even today, people visit her tomb and leave her offerings.’” Tanya turned back to Ellen and Sue, who were working hard to keep up with her. “She doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would sacrifice innocent people and animals.”

  “Sounds to me like she could have had something to do with her husband’s disappearance,” Sue said.

  “Sue!” Ellen chastised. “There’s nothing…”

  “And she may have sacrificed fourteen of her fifteen babies,” Sue added.

  “Oh my God.” Ellen shook her head. “Tell me you’re teasing.”

  Sue shrugged. “What do we really know about this woman except that she might have killed two people and a snake to communicate with us?”

  “The article said she did numerous charitable works,” Ellen pointed out. “Maybe she’s desperate, like Cornelius.”

  “Or maybe those people weren’t innocent,” Sue offered. “Maybe Marie Laveau only sacrificed bad people and babies that cried too much.”

  Ellen rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

  “Or maybe the woman in Tulsa and the man in the bathtub, and maybe even the snake, volunteered as tributes to Marie Laveau” Sue said.

  “You sure have an active imagination,” Tanya said.

  They walked another few blocks in silence, so Ellen and Sue could focus on breathing, before they finally arrived at the house. Sue phoned Lionel, the realtor, and was told he could meet them there in an hour. So, they strolled over to the bakery and sandwich shop a block away and had a snack and read more about Marie Laveau.