Page 65 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
My hands were shaking as I video called Maggie.
"That's impossible," Maggie said, studying the card as I held it up for her. "Arthur had Delia's tarot deck when they arrested him. This should be in evidence. Hollis told us at the station."
"Unless it never was part of Delia's deck."
We looked at each other in the fading later afternoon light streaming through the stained glass windows.
"You think Francine...?" Maggie started.
"I think this house has been trying to tell us something for weeks. The gardenias, the whispers, the lights flickering. Maybe now that Arthur's been caught, she can finally rest."
Teddy emerged from the kitchen, waddling over with professional interest. He sniffed my leg once, then sat back on his haunches and gave a sound of approval.
"Even Teddy thinks the supernatural explanation makes sense," I said.
"Or he's just happy the scary man is gone." Maggie said. "Either way, this is going to make one hell of a podcast episode."
"Speaking of which..." I glanced at the antique clock, still frozen at 2:13. "Want to record the episode here? In the parlor where it all started?"
"Are you sure? After everything that's happened?"
I looked around the foyer—my foyer—at the house that had been home to four generations of Bergeron women. At the stairs where Delia had climbed to her death, at the parlor where we'd held hands and called to spirits, at the kitchen where Aunt Odette had hidden a clue to forty years' worth of secrets.
"This is home," I said simply. "And this story belongs here."
Two days later, we were seated at the same round table where Delia had conducted her final séance. Maggie had her recording equipment set up, and I'd made a fresh pot of coffee. The morning light slanted through the windows, casting rainbow patterns across the hardwood floors.
"You ready?" Maggie asked, adjusting her headphones.
I settled into my chair, Teddy curled at my feet. "Ready."
Maggie hit record and shifted into her professional voice. "Welcome to a very special episode of Gumbo and Gris Gris: Crime in the Crescent City. I'm Murder Maggie."
"And I'm Harper, recording today from the parlor of Midnight House, where just over a week ago, a woman named Delia DuMont lost her life."
"Now, our regular listeners know we typically focus on cold cases. Crimes that happened years or even decades ago. But today, we're breaking that rule to tell you about a murder that happened right here, in Harper's own bed-and-breakfast."
I took a sip of coffee, organizing my thoughts. "Delia DuMont came to New Orleans for what she claimed was to attend a well-known paranormal convention. But as we discovered, she had a much darker purpose. She was here to expose a forty-year-old murder conspiracy that reached into the highest levels of New Orleans society."
"Let's start at the beginning, Harper. Tell our listeners about the night Delia died."
I described that evening. The séance, the flickering lights, the voice that claimed no one would believe her. The way Delia had simply vanished from the circle, only to be found minutes later in a bathtub full of scalding water.
It felt oddly like therapy to share it all. Take our listeners through it step by step.
We went through it all, giving names and a voice to the victims from the 80s, but steering clear of anything that might interfere with Arthur’s court case, which likely wouldn’t happen for a year or more.
I thought about Arthur's confession at the cemetery, the casual way he'd dismissed the lives of the women he'd helped silence. "Women who got too close to the truth about corrupt property deals, missing persons reports that got buried, and a network of powerful men who saw human lives as acceptable collateral damage."
"A group of fierce women was trying to solve cases the police wouldn't touch. Young, missing women. They were using séances and spiritual practices, but they were also doing real detective work. Gathering evidence, interviewing witnesses, documenting patterns."
Maggie's voice grew more intense. "And that's what makes this case so tragic. These women were doing the work that law enforcement should have been doing. They were fighting for justice for victims nobody else cared about. And they were silenced for it."
"Francine Darrow died because she wouldn't stop asking questions. Delia DuMont died because she wouldn't let Francine's murder be forgotten."
"But Harper, there's something else our listeners need to hear about."
I glanced down at Teddy, who looked up at me with his dark, knowing eyes. "When I returned to Midnight House after leaving the cemetery, I found something that shouldn't exist. A tarot card. The same Tower card that had been found the night Delia died. But this one had a message: 'Thank you.'"
