Page 43 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
"How do I know you're not the one I shouldn't trust?"
Though I realized immediately that was a silly question. She could be lying to me. But then she would also lie to me about lying to me.
Lucien gave me a genuine smile. "Because, my dear, I'm the one person in this entire mess who has nothing left to lose. I'm seventy-three years old, Harper. I don't care about my reputation or my safety anymore. I only care about justice."
She reached into her purse and pulled out a manila envelope. "This contains copies of everything that’s been collected over the years. Financial records, witness statements, copies of police reports that were supposed to be destroyed. It's not enough to prosecute anyone. Too much time has passed, too many witnesses are dead. But it's enough to expose the truth."
I took the envelope with trembling hands. "Why me? Why not take this to the media, or to Detective Broussard, or?—"
"Because you're Odette's heir. Because you live in the house where it all started. Because you have resources and connections that we don't with that podcast of yours." Lucien stood up again, this time moving toward the door. "And because Francine's spirit has been trying to communicate with you since the day you moved into that house."
"I don't know if that’s true or not."
"You don't have to believe in spirits for them to believe in you." She paused with her hand on the doorknob.
It was obviously time for me to leave. I stood up as well.
"Francine is buried somewhere on your property, Harper. Odette knew it, Delia suspected it, and now Ginger is fighting for her life because she was getting too close to finding the exact location."
"The hospital said she was stable." I knew that didn’t really mean anything though. It could turn for the worse at any time.
Lucien's expression darkened. "Someone tried to get into her room last night."
My blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
"A man in scrubs, claiming to be a respiratory therapist. The nurses didn't recognize him, and when they tried to verify his credentials, he disappeared." She opened the door. "Ginger's been moved to a secure wing under police protection, but that won't stop someone who's already killed twice."
"Twice?"
"Delia and Francine. And now they're trying for a third."
Voices rose down the hallway, heading toward the back of the bar. They were low, male.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “You should go. Some ghosts don’t want to be found. And the men who made them? They’re still very much alive.”
I shoved the manila envelope into my cross body bag and left. The bartender didn’t glance up when I moved past the bar. Two men had sat down and she was smiling and flipping her hair in their direction.
As I left the Dungeon, blinking against the bright afternoon sun, I tried to process everything I'd learned.
Ginger wasn't just a rival psychic with professional jealousy. She was Francine's younger sister, a woman who'd spent forty years seeking justice for her family.
The Bergeron Circle hadn't just been a group of women playing with séances.
And allegedly hanging around on my property, Francine Darrow was waiting for someone to finally tell her story.
Gardenias.
They had just started appearing in my yard. A clue from the living or from the dead?
It had almost sounded like Lucien thought Francine was still on my property.
I really didn’t love the idea of a murder victim being buried in my yard.
I shuddered as I walked quickly.
Plunking myself down on the steps of the courthouse a few minutes later, I opened the envelope and began to read. The documents painted a picture of corruption that went far beyond what I'd imagined. Financial records showing payments from Pelican Development Group to various city officials. Witness statements describing threats and intimidation. Police reports that had been buried or destroyed.
And at the bottom of the stack, there was a map.
