French Quarter Clues

by Eva Pohler

  Ellen noticed a kid about nine or ten years of age slide a gris-gris bag into his pocket.

  “Are you going to buy that?” Ellen asked.

  The kid turned red and put it back.

  His mother narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  The boy started crying.

  About that time, someone pushed through the crowd from the front door. It was Isabel. She was early.

  “Well, well, well,” she said. “Look at all these folks. How are y’all doin’ today? Where are y’all from?”

  The redhead rushed to Isabel’s side. “Chuck died, Mama Isabel. Please come and bless him with the rite of reclamation before his soul is lost forever.” The woman covered her face with her hands and sobbed again.

  “When did he die, Sylvia?” Isabel asked.

  “Not an hour ago. Doris is with him, and she wants you to come.”

  “Tell Doris we have time,” Isabel said. “You go home and be with her, and I’ll be by in a few hours, okay? Wash his body and prepare the govi, you understand?”

  “Thank you, Mama Isabel,” the redhead said before she ran from the shop.

  Isabel turned to the crowd. “Why don’t you all buy yourself a gris-gris bag or a Voodoo doll, and then make your way outside to the courtyard. I’ll be happy to answer your questions out there, where there’s more room.”

  Then Isabel walked over to Tanya and said in a quieter voice. “I’ll take over from here, thank you.”

  “How’s the baby?” Ellen asked.

  “The doctors are running tests. We won’t know for a few more days.”

  Tanya pointed to the booklet. “Why didn’t you tell us about the Anvwa Mo ritual?”

  Isabel sighed. “That should only be done as a last resort.”

  “You could have mentioned it, though,” Sue accused.

  “It’s dangerous,” the priestess said. “Not everyone survives it. It’s better to cooperate with the spirit than to shun it. Safer for everyone involved.”

  “But what if we don’t find the devil child?” Ellen asked. “What if we can’t give the spirit what it wants?”

  “Only then should we consider the Anvwa Mo,” Isabel said.

  “You still should have told us,” Tanya said.

  One of the tourists approached the counter with a Voodoo doll and a twenty-dollar-bill. Isabel helped the customer and then turned back to Ellen. “Why did you come here today?”

  “We were hoping you’d try to communicate with Marie Laveau again,” Sue said.

  Isabel shook her head. “Without Henry as a conduit…”

  “We have something else,” Ellen whispered, close to Isabel. “We have something that once belonged to Marie Laveau.”

  “Are you sure?” Isabel asked.

  Another customer approached the counter, and Isabel helped them as Ellen and her friends waited.

  “Pretty sure,” Ellen said, once the transaction was completed.

  “That ain’t good enough,” Isabel said.

  “What if we go to a place where Marie Laveau once lived?” Sue suggested.

  “People ain’t allowed to do that no more,” Isabel said. “That house on St. Anne’s, you mean? It ain’t allowed.”

  “Not there,” Ellen said. “We bought a house where Marie Laveau is said to have lived when she delivered the devil baby.”

  Isabel sighed again. “So many stories and legends. You can’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Will you at least give it a try?” Tanya asked. “I don’t want to die.”

  A third customer approached the counter.

  Isabel turned to Tanya. “Write down the address. I’ll meet you there tonight, when I’m done with the widow’s husband.”

  Chapter Fifteen: A Paranormal Investigation

  Because Priestess Isabel hadn’t been clear on what time she would arrive at the house on Chartres, Ellen, Sue, and Tanya returned after lunch, having checked out of the Inn at Ursulines, to await the delivery of their new furniture, to wash the linens, and to prepare for the evening. Ellen was relieved to find Michael Rouchell gone.

  The hour was approaching seven o’clock when Ellen, who was removing the last load of sheets from the dryer in the laundry room of the main house, heard a knock at the door in the parlor facing the street.

  Ellen balled up the sheets in one arm opened the door with the other. “Priestess Isabel. You came.”

  “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “Thank you. We really appreciate it. Please, come in.”

  Isabel stepped into the parlor. “It’s been a long day, and I haven’t sat down once.”

  “Would you like to rest for a bit? Maybe have a bite to eat?”

  “I want to get this over with, so I can go home.”

  “At least, let me get you something to drink. Let’s go to the guesthouse and discuss how we want to do this.”

  Ellen led Isabel across the courtyard to the guesthouse, where Sue was making sandwiches in the kitchen and laying them out on a platter she had picked out at Home Goods. Sue had rearranged the furniture and Tanya had hung the drapes. Although it needed new paint and a kitchen makeover, the guesthouse already looked much improved.

  “You’re here!” Sue cried.

  “Why is that so surprising?” Isabel said.

  “Would you like a sandwich?” Sue asked, as way of apology.

  “Since they’re already made.” Isabel lifted one of the halves and took a bite. “This is good. Thank you.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Tanya asked. “Some iced tea or soda?”

  “Iced tea sounds nice,” Isabel replied.

  Ellen had quickly folded the clean linens and had draped them over the stairwell banister.

  “Come have a seat.” Ellen offered the priestess the new upholstered chair.

  As Isabel crossed the room to sit down, she said, “So what is this thing you believe was once owned by Marie Laveau?”

  Ellen went to her purse on the kitchen counter and pulled out the African head wrap.

  Isabel gasped. “You either stole that, or someone sold you a fake.”

  “I stole it,” Ellen admitted.

  “Borrowed,” Sue corrected. “We have every intention of returning it when we’re finished with it.”

  “Marie Laveau’s daughter told us we needed it,” Tanya explained as she delivered a glass of iced tea to the priestess.

  “What makes you think you communicated with Marie Laveau’s daughter?”

  Ellen recounted what had happened with the Ouija Board. “We looked up her name online—Philomene Legendre. It matches the name of one of her daughters.”

  “Did you look up that name before or after you consulted the Ouija Board?” Isabel asked.

  “After,” Sue said.

  Ellen didn’t blame the priestess for being skeptical.

  Then Sue said, “Is Julie no longer working for you?”

  “I fired her, on account of what she done.”

  “Why did she do it?” Tanya asked.

  Isabel took a sip of her tea. “She says she wanted to sell the diary to a touring company. She needs money, poor thing. I feel sorry for her, but I can’t trust her no more.”

  “Did you have any idea what she was up to?” Sue asked.

  “Of course not.” Isabel climbed to her feet. “Maybe I should go. I’m tired.”

  “Wait, please!” Tanya cried. “We didn’t mean to insult you. We had to ask, only because we don’t know you.”

  “Please stay and help us,” Ellen said. “We’ll compensate you for your time.”

  “Add insult to injury,” Isabel said with disdain.

  Ellen glanced at her friends as her face grew hot. “I’m sorry. I thought you meant to be paid.”

  “That’s to be discussed after. That’s not how it’s done.”

  “Forgive me,” Ellen muttered, afraid to say anything more, lest she make a bad situation worse.

  “It must
be frustrating working with ignorant people like us,” Sue said. “Can I bring you another sandwich?”

  Isabel returned to her seat and accepted another sandwich. It was decided that it would be best to hold the session in the main house, so, while Isabel rested, Ellen and Tanya set up their investigative equipment in the library.

  Ellen’s equipment included her EMF detector, EVP recorder, motion sensors, geophone vibration sensor, infrared camera, infrared thermometer, dousing rods, Ouija Board, and pendulum. Having learned from Carrie French and her team, Ellen and Tanya took temperature recordings and made other observations about the room in Ellen’s notebook.

  Sue and Isabel soon joined them. Sue created a circle of protection around them using common table salt and candles lit at each of the cardinal points. Isabel added a sandwich on a white napkin to the center of the circle—an offering to the spirits.

  Ellen knew Isabel was in a hurry to get home, so she wasted no time getting started. Sue and Ellen sat in the circle in camping chairs. Ellen offered the third chair to Isabel. She went to the chair but didn’t sit in it. The priestess held the turban from the Historic Voodoo Museum in both hands as she closed her eyes. Ellen pointed her camera at her. Sue monitored the thermometer while Tanya held the dousing rods.

  Priestess Isabel began to stomp her feet in a pattern—slow…fast, fast, slow…fast, fast. She nodded her head, as she clung to the bright-colored fabric of the turban, which fell in folds over her arms.

  “St. Peter, open the door, and let me in,” Isabel said as she continued to stomp her feet—slow…fast, fast, slow…fast, fast. “St. Peter, open the door, and let me in.”

  Ellen felt a chill in the air as the candles flickered and one went out.

  Then Isabel’s eyes opened, but only the whites showed. She shouted something Ellen couldn’t understand. The priestess seemed to be speaking in tongues. She repeated the same line, urgently, before her body convulsed, and she collapsed in her chair.

  “Isabel?” Sue asked. “Are you okay?”

  Ellen continued to record with her video camera as Isabel opened her eyes and asked, “What happened?”

  “You spoke in tongues,” Sue said. “Do you know what you said?”

  Isabel shook her head.

  “It was French,” Tanya said. “Creuser plus profond. It means ‘dig deeper.’”

  Isabel’s eyes widened in surprise. “That hasn’t happened to me in a very long time. This head wrap must be Marie Laveau’s. You are going to take it back, aren’t you?”

  “We promise,” Sue insisted.

  “What do you suppose the spirit is trying to tell us?” Tanya asked. “How do we dig deeper? Does it mean literally or figuratively? I don’t understand.”

  “If literally, does the spirit mean for us to dig under the house?” Sue wondered.

  “I know you’re tired, Priestess Isabel,” Ellen said. “Would you like me to help you out to your car?”

  “I don’t have a car. I took a cab.”

  “Then let us drive you home,” Sue said. “And we need to pay you. How much do you charge for this kind of thing?”

  “You pay what you think I deserve,” the priestess said.

  Ellen mouthed, “Five hundred dollars,” to her friends while Isabel wasn’t looking.

  Sue and Tanya nodded.

  “Can I help you out to the car?” Ellen asked Isabel.

  Isabel’s eyes had closed. “Let me just sit here for a while, okay?”

  “Sure.” Ellen picked up her camera. “Is it okay with you if we continue our investigation while you rest?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Ellen pointed her camera at Sue and Tanya. “Sue? Tanya? Y’all ready?”

  The girls nodded.

  “Spirits of the other realm,” Ellen said. “We mean you no harm. We call on you to help us. Is anyone here?”

  The chill in the air became cooler. To Ellen, the room seemed at least five degrees cooler than it had been previously. The overhead light flickered, and a second candle blew out.

  “Spirits of the other realm,” Ellen said again. “We’re looking for the diary of Delphine Lalaurie.”

  Ellen felt something brush up against the back of her leg. She flinched. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “I felt something,” Ellen said. “Something touched my leg. I’m trying not to freak out.”

  “It’s freezing in here,” Tanya muttered with a shiver.

  “It’s sixty-one degrees,” Sue said, reading the thermometer. “Down from seventy-two.”

  Ellen swallowed hard. “That’s a big drop.”

  “Someone’s here with us,” Isabel said.

  Ellen heard a very subtle scratching sound coming from behind Tanya.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered to the others.

  Tanya and Isabel nodded.

  “We mean you no harm,” Sue said. “We want only to help.”

  The overhead light flickered and then turned off. The only remaining light in the room came from two candles and the French door to the street. It was dusk outside, but there was enough light to see by.

  “It’s fifty-eight degrees,” Sue said. “Make that fifty-five and dropping.”

  Ellen shuddered, wishing she’d worn a jacket.

  One of the books on the desk fell to the floor with a thud. All four of them jumped.

  “Shit,” Ellen whispered. Then she said. “Excuse my French.”

  “We’re looking for the diary of Delphine Lalaurie, so we can help Cornelius Nunnery and Marie Laveau,” Tanya said. “We want to help the devil child find peace. Please help us, if you can. Is this Cornelius? Marie Laveau?”

  “Or Philomene?” Sue asked.

  Ellen said, “Tanya, try to use the dousing rods.”

  “That curtain moved,” Sue said, pointing to the drapes around the French door that faced the street.

  Ellen pointed the camera in that direction, in case it could pick up anything. Then she moved the camera back to Tanya.

  Tanya stood up, holding the rods out from her body parallel to one another. Ellen could tell her friend was frightened, because her arms trembled uncontrollably. Ellen understood the feeling. She could sense something there with them, something other than Cornelius.

  She hoped and prayed that Marie Laveau wouldn’t sacrifice one of them to get her message understood.

  “Spirits of the other realm,” Tanya began, “as I move, please use these rods to point me in the direction of Delphine Lalaurie’s diary. If I’m going toward the diary, please point the rods toward one another, like this.” Tanya touched the rod tips together. “If I’m moving away from the diary, please pull the rod tips apart, like this.” Tanya spread her arms out. Then she returned the rods to a parallel position, her hands trembling uncontrollably. “Spirits of the other realm, help us to locate the diary of Delphine Lalaurie using the rods.”

  Tanya moved around the room, but the rods remained parallel.

  Tanya dropped her arms to her sides. “It’s not working.”

  Another one of the candles went out, leaving only the one at the northern point alight.

  “Try saying it in French,” Isabel suggested.

  “Good idea.” Tanya repeated her directions in French. Then she slowly turned around. When she faced the door leading out into the hall, the rods moved closer together.

  “It’s working!” Tanya whispered.

  “The temperature is now forty-two degrees,” Sue commented.

  Tanya crossed the room. Ellen followed her with the camera, with Sue and Isabel at her heels. As they stepped outside of the circle of protection, a chill crept down Ellen’s back.

  “Please don’t be evil,” she whispered.

  Tanya crossed the parlor and went toward the front door. The rods moved apart. She turned toward the fireplace, and the rods moved slightly together.

  She walked around the fireplace to the dining room. The rods moved closer together. She pointed the rods toward the g
round below the upstairs bathtub, but the rods pushed apart.

  “Huh?” Tanya mumbled. “I was sure this would be where the diary would be.”

  “Try pointing them up,” Sue suggested.

  Tanya lifted the rods above her head, and the tips flew together.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Ellen whispered, full of excitement.

  Tanya led the way, the rod tips moving closer together as they ascended the stairs. Ellen felt something brush the back of her other leg, causing her to nearly miss her step.

  “You okay?” Sue asked from behind.

  “Something touched me again.”

  Another chill moved through Ellen.

  “Please don’t be evil,” she whispered again.

  “Energy is energy,” Isabel repeated from behind. “As long as we do what they want, all will be well.”

  Ellen wanted to say, “Tell that to Henry,” but she held her tongue.

  Although she had her infrared camera, which could switch modes automatically, Ellen flipped the light-switch on as soon as they reached the top floor. Within seconds of turning on, the light flickered out.

  It was darker upstairs, where less light came in through the windows, and colder. Sue confirmed this when she announced that it was thirty-nine degrees. It was September in New Orleans before nightfall, and the room was thirty-nine degrees?

  When they reached the claw-foot bathtub, where the man had been found dead, the rods pointed toward the floor and crossed tips.

  “We already pulled up all the floors,” Sue said with furrowed brows.

  Isabel tilted her head to the side. “What about the subfloor? You didn’t look beneath the plywood.”

  “Huh?” Tanya’s eyes brightened. “I thought this was the ceiling of the lower level. If we make a hole…”

  “No, it’s not,” Isabel said. “There’s at least six inches between the subfloor and the drywall below it—enough room to hide a book.”

  “Why didn’t we know that?” Ellen said. “We’re HGTV junkies, and we didn’t know that?”

  Tanya dropped the rods and ran downstairs to get one of the crowbars that had been left in the dining room. She returned and used the crowbar like an axe, but it wasn’t working.

  “I need a better tool,” Tanya said. “What can we use?”