French Quarter Clues

by Eva Pohler

  “Have you ever seen this man before?” the officer asked.

  Ellen wanted to lie. She wondered if Sue and Tanya had lied. She didn’t want to get them into trouble if they had. She wanted to lie, but she couldn’t. It just wasn’t in her. “Yes.”

  “Under what circumstances?”

  Ellen couldn’t hide her trembling. “Should I have a lawyer present?”

  “That’s up to you. You haven’t been charged with anything. You aren’t under arrest. We’re just gathering information right now. But if you have something to hide…”

  “I do, but I won’t.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Two days ago, my friends and I went into the house…”

  “The house on Chartres Street? Where we found you tonight?”

  Ellen nodded.

  “Were you with a real estate agent?”

  “No. The back door was unlocked. We called out, in case people still lived there, and, when no one answered, we went inside to look around.”

  “You trespassed on private property?”

  “Yes.” Ellen felt blood rush to her cheeks. “When we were looking around upstairs, we saw a man naked as a jay bird in the bathtub. We thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. He talked to us.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked if we were the cops. I shook my head. Then he asked if Marie Laveau had sent us. I shook my head again.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “We left. And he was alive when we left.”

  “Did he seem drunk or high on drugs? Could you smell liquor or drugs of any kind in the vicinity?”

  “He seemed sleepy,” Ellen said. “He smelled of body odor. I can’t recall if I smelled alcohol or anything else.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might want to do harm to this man?”

  “I’d never seen him before. I knew nothing about him. I don’t know of anyone that would want to harm him, except…” Ellen dropped off, not wanting to mention that a dead Voodoo queen could be responsible.

  “Except who?”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Just answer the question, please.”

  “Marie Laveau.”

  “The Voodoo queen who died in the late eighteen-hundreds?”

  “Like I said, it sounds crazy. My friends and I are paranormal investigators, and after hearing what happened to the man, considering that he’d asked us if Marie Laveau had sent us, we came to suspect that maybe she used his death to invoke the energy she needed to communicate with us.”

  “You believe that’s possible?”

  If Ellen had been asked the question two years ago, she would have laughed and had said it was a ridiculous notion, but now she was dead serious when she said, “Yes.”

  “And why would the Voodoo queen want to communicate with you?”

  “She wants us to find her devil child,” Ellen admitted. “To consecrate his bones to her tomb.”

  “You just lost me right there,” the officer said with a laugh. “Now you’ve gone too far.”

  Ellen wanted to explain that the child wasn’t of the devil. She wanted to say that “the devil child” was just a name given to an innocent baby that had been born with a serious condition. But she didn’t have the chance. The officer stood and said, “Come with me.”

  She led Ellen to another interrogation room where Sue and Tanya were already sitting across the table from the other officer—the one with the wiry beard.

  “Have a seat, Mrs. Mohr.” The officer with the beard motioned to a chair next to Sue. “I’d like to get your opinion on something, if you don’t mind.”

  Wondering if the real estate agents had already been released, Ellen took her seat. “I don’t understand.”

  “The owners of the house on Chartres installed surveillance cameras throughout the property,” the female officer said. “Including one in the bathroom, where the victim died.”

  “Did you see what happened?” Ellen asked.

  “Not long after you and Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Sanchez left the premises, the victim passed away,” the officer with the wiry beard explained. “The surveillance doesn’t show how, but an autopsy may. We’re waiting on the report.”

  So, the police had known that she and her friends had seen the victim before his death. Ellen was glad she hadn’t lied—not that she was capable of it. She wondered if Sue and Tanya had also been truthful, or if they’d only admitted to being there after the officers told them about the cameras.

  “I don’t understand how my opinion can be helpful to you,” Ellen said to the officers. “I’ve told you all that I know.”

  “Once we found the cameras, our tech guy fed them to our monitors,” the female officer explained. “We want to show you some recent surveillance to see what you make of it.”

  “The sooner you stop asking questions, Ellen,” Sue mumbled, “the sooner we can get started.”

  “Sorry.” Ellen felt her face grow hot.

  Sue patted her leg, to let her know she was only teasing her.

  The officer played back the footage on the television that was mounted in the corner of the room, near the ceiling. Ellen covered her mouth in shock when she saw the quiet woman from the Voodoo Spiritual Temple enter the bathroom with a hammer, which she used to pry up the floorboards beneath and around the bathtub. After half an hour, the sound of footsteps from the floor below alerted the woman. She stood up with her hammer and fled the scene.

  “Cameras located in other areas on the property reveal that the trespasser eventually left through the courtyard,” the officer with the wiry beard said as he turned off the television. “Do you ladies have any idea who this person is and what she was doing there at the scene of the crime?”

  Ellen glanced at Sue and Tanya, relieved to learn that the diary hadn’t been taken; however, she was also alarmed. Had Priestess Isabel sent the would-be thief, or had the young woman acted of her own accord?

  “She works at the Voodoo Spiritual Temple,” Sue said.

  “We don’t know her name,” Tanya added. “But she works for Priestess Isabel.”

  “And why was she there?” the female officer asked.

  Ellen fidgeted in her chair, wishing she could be the kind of person who could lie—or, at the very least, who could withhold the truth. “She may have been searching for the diary of Delphine Lalaurie.”

  A few minutes after they’d walked out of the police station on Royal St. to meet their cabby, Hank, Ellen received a call from Lionel. She put him on speaker as they climbed into the second and third seats of the van.

  “The seller is still considering both offers but wanted me to ask each potential buyer a question before he makes his decision.”

  “Okay,” Ellen said into the phone. “Go ahead.”

  “What are your intentions for the property?” he asked. “Will it be a vacation home? A rental property? Both? Or do you plan to renovate and resell?”

  “We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet,” Sue said, “but after what you told us about the locals getting squeezed out and the city losing its character, I was going to propose that we turn the mansion into three condos for long-term rental only. We could also hire someone locally to manage the condos for us, and we could house that manager in the guesthouse. This would also provide someone local with a job, in addition to providing long-term housing to three local families.”

  Ellen lifted her brows. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Sue. I think that’s a sweet idea.”

  “I agree,” Tanya said. “But how will the seller feel about it, Lionel? Do you think he’s looking for a different answer?”

  “He’s here on conference call with us,” Lionel said. “I’ll let him answer for himself.”

  “Hello, ladies,” the voice of an older gentleman sounded through the phone.

  “Hello,” they all three said at once, as Hank pulled up in front of the Inn at Ursulines.
/>   “I’m pleased to hear of your intentions,” the older man said, “and am also pleased to accept your offer.”

  Ellen covered her mouth to stifle her squeal of joy. “Thank you!”

  “Great news!” Sue said.

  Tanya smiled with relief and looked like she was about to faint.

  Lionel said he would call soon with a date and time for closing and wished them a goodnight.

  After they hung up, they paid and thanked Hank, and then climbed out of the cab into the dark night.

  “Thank goodness!” Ellen cried as they walked toward the inn. “I can’t recall ever feeling so relieved.”

  “Tanya? Are you okay?” Sue asked her.

  Before Tanya could reply, she collapsed and would have fallen face-first on the sidewalk if Ellen and Sue hadn’t broken her fall.

  Chapter Eleven: The Search

  Three weeks after their offer was accepted by the owner of the Chartres mansion, Ellen, Tanya, and Sue returned to New Orleans from San Antonio to sign the closing papers and to accept the keys.

  While in San Antonio, Tanya had received medical care from her regular doctor and was now feeling much improved. Her health problems had distracted her husband, Dave, from the frustration felt by Sue and Ellen’s husbands, Tom and Paul, over the investment of millions of dollars on what appeared to them to be an impulsive whim.

  It was a miserable three weeks at home with Paul in San Antonio, so Ellen was glad to get away in mid-September from the stone-cold stares and awkward silence to the vibrant French Quarter to begin the search for Delphine Lalaurie’s diary.

  They returned to the Inn on Ursulines, this time sharing connecting rooms so each had her own bed. But their stay would be short, because they planned to move into the guesthouse as soon as possible.

  And that, of course, meant shopping.

  But before they could enjoy shopping for new beds and pretty furniture, drapes, and linens, they had to finish what the quiet woman from the Voodoo Spiritual Temple had begun and pry up every last floorboard beneath the bathtub where the dead man had been found.

  It had been a relief when the autopsy had confirmed the cause of death to be an overdose and the case had been closed. The quiet woman from the temple had been charged a five-hundred-dollar fine for breaking and entering and vandalism. Ellen, Tanya, and Sue were anxious to learn if she still worked at the temple or if the scandal had lost her the job.

  They met with Lionel and the title company representative on Tuesday morning to complete the paperwork, hand over a cashier’s check for 2.7 million, another for title, license, and fees, and receive the keys. After a delicious celebratory lunch of shrimp po-boys and fries, they drove to the house on Chartres.

  Carrying the shiny, new crowbars they’d recently purchased at a local hardware store, Ellen followed Sue and Tanya through the the courtyard of their new house. One thing they’d learned as new homeowners in the French Quarter was that the side of the house that faced the street was usually considered the back, and the side facing the courtyard was the front. This explained why so many of the houses looked plain along the sidewalk, and why garbage could often be seen in cans by the doors. Most people drove their vehicles into a bay area that led into the courtyard. Sue had parked their rental in the bay attached to the mansion. Ellen had been relieved to see that there was room for two more vehicles. This meant their three future renters would have parking spaces, but the manager, who would stay in the guesthouse, would have to park on the street.

  Ellen had forgotten how lovely the courtyard was. Thanks to the company the previous owners had hired to maintain it, it was lush and beautifully manicured. She couldn’t wait to fill the fountain with water and listen to its rustling flow while sitting beneath the canopy of vines and palms on a cool evening.

  Sue led them into the living room of the main house and flipped on the lights. “Can you believe it’s finally ours?”

  “I’m glad the previous owner had the house professionally cleaned,” Tanya said. “What a difference.”

  “Now if only your ghost will continue to behave himself and not stink up the place.”

  Tanya blushed.

  “She’s teasing you,” Ellen said with a laugh. “Just think: It’s going to be so much fun fixing this place up. I can’t wait to get started. If only we had the Property Brothers here to help us.”

  Tanya chuckled. “Yeah, but first things first.”

  “Of course.” Sue led them to the stairs.

  “I can’t believe no one came to remove this.” Ellen pulled at the crime scene tape and rolled it into a ball before following the others upstairs.

  Tanya wasted no time getting on her hands and knees near the tub and pulling up boards. Ellen and Sue quickly joined her. The boards that had been previously removed had been neatly stacked in one corner of the room. Ellen was glad, because she’d been hoping to reuse them.

  Fortunately, the previous owner had kept the electricity and utilities on during the fifteen years that he’d never visited, and central air conditioning had been added in the eighties. Otherwise, the three friends might have fainted from heat exhaustion as they crouched on the floor, putting the crowbars to good use. However, there was still no sign of a diary.

  After fifteen minutes, Sue said, “Why don’t you two keep searching while I take the rental and get us some refreshments?”

  Ellen, who’d been surprised to get even fifteen minutes of hard labor from Sue, laughed and said, “Refreshments sound good. Why don’t you stock up the fridge and pantry in the guesthouse?”

  “Oh, I was just going to swing by the bakery for cupcakes and iced tea,” Sue said. “Why don’t we do the major shopping together?”

  Tanya gave Ellen a knowing glance before saying, “Okay, missy. But then you have to help here. You can’t just stand there and supervise.”

  Sue scoffed. “I know that. What kind of cupcakes do you like?”

  Sue took their order and left. Ellen and Tanya kept at it. But even after prying up every floorboard in the bathroom, they came up empty.

  “What now?” Tanya asked.

  “I’m at a loss,” Ellen admitted. “But those boards are still in good condition, so let’s not throw them out. I think all of the floors can be refinished, don’t you?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest.”

  Ellen felt guilty for thinking beyond finding the diary. Naturally, her friend, whose life was in jeopardy, hadn’t thought about refinishing the floors. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I appreciate all you and Sue are doing to help me.”

  When Sue returned, they took a break out in the courtyard. It was hot, but at least there were places to sit—the brick pavers that lined the raised gardens, like those at the Voodoo Spiritual Temple.

  “If the diary isn’t under the tub, why did Marie Laveau say it was?” Tanya wondered out loud before taking a bite of her cupcake.

  Ellen took a sip of her tea. “Do you think it could have been an act?”

  “You think her snake’s still alive?” Sue asked. “Because if her snake died, I doubt it was an act.”

  “Unless the death of the snake was Karma,” Ellen said.

  “Why would she, though?” Sue licked icing from her finger.

  Ellen shrugged. “Maybe to seem to be more powerful than she is?”

  “But she didn’t know about the dead man in the bathtub, did she?” Tanya asked.

  “Maybe she heard it on the news,” Ellen said.

  “She kept saying she was just an old woman who paid her bills,” Sue pointed out. “She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would create a ruse to seem more powerful.”

  “Why don’t we pay her a visit?” Tanya suggested. “We can find out if that quiet woman—what was her name?”

  “Julie, I think,” Sue said.

  “We can find out if Julie still works there and whether she was sent by Isabel or was working
on her own,” Tanya said.

  “I doubt Isabel would admit to it, if she was in on it.” Ellen finished off her cupcake, wishing it had lasted longer.

  “We need to furnish the guesthouse,” Sue said, “so we have a comfortable place to rest while we’re working on this house.”

  “And it would be nice to save in hotel costs,” Tanya said. “I hate throwing money away.”

  “Speaking of which,” Sue began, “the longer we go without renting this place out, the more money we lose. We need to get the architect started on some plans as soon as possible.”

  Ellen agreed, so it was decided that they would fit out the guesthouse with furniture and groceries and meet with the architect before seeking an interview with Priestess Isabel.

  That night, they gathered in Ellen and Tanya’s hotel room at the Inn on Ursulines after dinner to discuss their plans, but before they talked about furniture and linens, Sue wanted to read them more information she’d found about Delphine Lalaurie.

  “Listen to this,” Sue said. “‘Madame Delphine Lalaurie was born Marie Delphine McCarty in 1787 and was thrice widowed, though the cause of death of her late husbands was never documented, nor were their bodies ever found. Many believe Delphine Lalaurie to have been a notorious serial killer who married wealthy and killed her husbands for their money while tormenting her many slaves as she lived a lavish life-style in the public eye. Before the 1834 fire that destroyed most of her home on Royal Street, Delphine was viewed as a high-society lady who threw luxurious parties and was loved and envied by other Creole aristocrats. But her private life was sadistic, twisted, brutal, and perverse.’”

  “Oh my God,” Tanya said.

  Sue looked up. “It gets worse. Listen to this: ‘Because her last husband, Dr. Louis Lalaurie, was rarely at home, most people believe that she was solely responsible for the mistreatment of the slaves, which came to light that fateful day of April 10, 1834. Although she showed kindness to them in the public eye, even requesting that two of her slaves be freed when they reached middle age, behind closed doors, she tortured them for her own pleasure. One slave girl not twelve years old jumped from the second-floor balcony to her death to escape Delphine’s cruelty. It’s also believed that the old cook, Rachel, chained to the stove so she couldn’t flee, was the one responsible for starting the fire that finally revealed Delphine’s wicked secrets.’”