Page 26 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
"Harper," she said, as if materializing in someone's kitchen uninvited was perfectly normal. "I hope you don't mind me just walking in. The front door was unlocked, and I was so worried about you being all alone in this big house."
My heart was still pounding from the whispering voices, but I tried to keep my tone casual. "Ginger, hi. Sorry. I just wasn't expecting anyone."
"Of course not, poor thing. You've been through such a trauma." She glided into the kitchen, her flowing black robes making her look like she was en route to a funeral. "I brought you some protective herbs. Sage, rosemary, a little vervain to ward off negative energies."
She pulled a small cloth bundle from her oversized purse and set it on my counter. The bag gave off a strong, medicinal scent that made my nose wrinkle.
"That's very thoughtful," I said, "but really not necessary. I'm doing fine." Though I realized that I needed to ask Hollis about Delia’s family and any sort of funeral plans. Attending a service was the least I could do.
"Are you, though?" Ginger's green eyes were sharp, studying my face intently. "Because I have to tell you, the spiritual atmosphere in this house has become quite turbulent since poor Delia's passing. I can feel it the moment I walk through the door."
As if to prove her point, the lights flickered again.
Ginger smiled knowingly. "You see? The veil is particularly thin right now. Spirits are drawn to places of recent death, especially when there are unresolved questions."
I really needed to research this whole veil thing because it kept coming up. "What kind of unresolved questions?"
"Oh, the usual. Why did she really come back to New Orleans? What was she hoping to accomplish with that séance? Who did she think she could trust?" Ginger moved closer to me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've been thinking about something she said that night. About knowing who killed Francine Darrow."
I tried to keep my expression neutral. "She told you about that?”
Ginger nodded. “When I arrived for the séance.”
“Do you think she was telling the truth about that? That she actually knew something?"
"Delia was many things. She was dramatic, attention-seeking, and a shameless self-promoter, but she wasn't a liar. Not about the work. If she said she knew something, she knew something." Ginger paused, studying my reaction. "The question is, who else knew that she knew?"
Before I could respond, Teddy suddenly darted between us and ran toward the back door, chittering urgently.
"What's wrong with him?" Ginger asked. She looked like she wanted to stomp on Teddy like he was a bug.
Her expression made me cool toward Ginger. I was suspicious of anyone who didn’t like Teddy.
I followed Teddy to the door and peered out into the courtyard. At first, I didn't see anything unusual. Then I noticed that the small pile of gardenias I'd found under the crepe myrtle tree had doubled in size. Fresh white blooms scattered across the brick pathway like fallen stars.
"More gardenias," I said softly.
Ginger appeared at my shoulder. "Francine's flowers. She's trying to communicate."
"Or someone's trying to make me think she is."
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Ginger's eyebrows rose.
"You don't believe in spirits, do you, Harper?"
"I believe in a lot of things. I'm just not sure all of them are supernatural."
"Hmm." Ginger stepped back, and something in her expression had changed. Less concerned friend, more calculating adversary. "You know, Delia mentioned that your great-aunt used to keep detailed records of all the spiritual activity in this house. Journals, correspondences, séance transcripts. Have you found any of those yet?"
The question was casual, but there was an edge to it that made my internal warning bells start chiming.
"Why would you be interested in Aunt Odette's old papers?"
"Historical curiosity. This house has quite a reputation in our community. Odette was a legend among New Orleans mediums." Ginger's smile was bright and sharp. "I'd love to see how she documented her work. For research purposes, of course."
"Of course," I echoed, not believing a word of it.
If they were just great comrades-in-spiritual-arms why had I never seen her hanging out with my aunt? Or at her funeral?
