Harrison Investigations 2 Ghost Walk (30 page)

"Go home, boy," Huey said. "They ain't coming tonight."

"All right. But I'll be back. And I won't be so late," Brent promised.

As he headed for the easiest place to jump out, he hesitated, turning back. "Hey, Huey, have you had any purse snatchers in here lately?"

"Purse snatchers?" Huey said. "Boy, them are drug runners in here now."

"Right. But that doesn't mean a purse snatcher couldn't come in here, too."

Huey shook his head. "Haven't seen any such thing lately. Maybe out on the streets, but in here… no. There's always suspicious folks around, some of 'em I could swear I see walking around the streets, just like you and me, and them thinking they're all different, masquerading when they pull off their shit in the cemetery."

"Who?" Brent demanded. "You have a description for me?"

"Some cops are good and some ain't!"

"Massey? Joulette?"

"When I know something, I'll be telling you."

"Huey—"

"When I got something, I'll tell you. Right now… just a feeling in my bones. Or… well, hell, where I used to have bones."

"All right. Thanks, Huey."

"You be back here, you hear?"

"You bet, Huey."

Brent started back the way that he had come along the streets, where people still wandered, just not as thickly as they did during the day.

A saxophone played a sad lament.

A drum beat out the rhythm of a rock tune.

On the corner, the girl still played her flute, the tune plaintive and beautiful.

He started down Nikki's street. And stopped.

He was suddenly certain that he had been followed. He turned around slowly.

There were discarded flyers for the contenders in the day's political debate strewn on the ground. Cleanup crews hadn't gotten around to picking them up yet. The wind picked up a piece of paper, and cast it back down again. A group of giggling young women went by, talking about the next club they were heading to.

No one seemed to be following him.

But New Orleans was full of shadows.

He started walking again, senses heightened. Had he heard footsteps? Real footsteps, set down by the living?

Or…

He heard the sound again. The footsteps had been real. He spun around. No one there.

The girls had moved on. He was well past the flute player. A middle-aged couple, arm in arm, was coming toward him. They smiled and wished him a pleasant evening.

He wished them the same.

He had been followed. He was sure of it.

He walked back in the same direction he'd come from, cut over a block and kept walking. He listened, waited.

But no one was behind him now.

Unease filled him. He had been almost back to Nikki's. Now she was there alone. He quickly turned and headed back toward her place.

He began to run.

When he reached the old house, he saw that all her lights were on. He quickly opened the gate and hurried to her door. Without bothering with the key, he slammed on the door, hard.

"Nikki! Nikki, it's me. Brent. I'm back. Let me in!"

For a moment there was nothing. He felt fear cloud his heart. Then the door opened.

He let out a sigh of relief when Nikki opened the door. She was in the long flannel robe she had donned before he had left. She stared at him in silence. She was pale, and her eyes seemed far too wide.

"Nikki?" he said, worried, and he grabbed her shoulders, ready to push past her, determined to meet whatever might have threatened her from within.

She touched his face then, quickly. "I'm all right," she told him.

"Then, what… ?"

She caught his hand, clasping it warmly in her own, then taking the time to close and lock the door behind him before she started for the living room.

She wasn't alone.

There was a beautiful young woman, or the essence of a young woman, seated on the couch.

Dark and lovely, she stared at him like a frightened doe.

Her hand flew to her throat.

She started to rise, started to fade.

"No, no, Andy, don't go. Please don't go," Nikki said. "I want to introduce the two of you properly. Brent, this is Andy, Andrea Ciello. Andy, this is Brent, and there's no reason to be afraid of him. I've been telling you all about him."

Brent's heart thundered. He stepped forward, offering his hand. He felt the touch of mist. The slightest sensation as Andy offered her hand.

She stopped fading and managed a grin for Brent.

"How do you do—wow, Nikki. He's something," she said.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said softly.

"Well… " Nikki said, "We could all sit down, I guess."

"I should leave," Andy said quickly, giving them a subtly knowing look.

"Don't you dare leave," Nikki said.

"Please… you have to tell us what happened," Brent said.

Andy let out a sigh. "No, you have to tell
me
what happened," she said firmly.

But she sat.

And it was evident that she intended to stay.

 

"You have to believe me," Andy told Brent. "I
was
a junkie, but I'm not a junkie now. I was a junkie. Well, I'm not anything now, am I?" she murmured bitterly. "But I was clean when I was killed."

Nikki couldn't believe that she was sitting in her living room, in the dead of night—no pun intended, she told herself—listening to Andy's ghost try to explain herself to Brent.

It was cold, she realized. Ice cold with Andy here. Had she noticed that before?

Walking the streets, feeling ghosts, getting a sense of the past… no, she had never realized before that it got icy cold in a room with a ghost.

She felt as if she were dreaming, playing a part in some kind of theater of the absurd.

At the same time, she was proud of herself.

Andy had appeared again.

She hadn't had a heart attack. She hadn't even screamed. She had talked to Andy, and convinced her to wait for Brent to return.

She had learned some things about ghosts, as well. Sometimes Andy could concentrate and be where she wanted to be.

It was easiest to be in the cemetery, and it was fairly easy to be in Nikki's apartment, except that unexpected noises made her evaporate. She was still afraid, very afraid, and not at all sure how she could be a ghost and still be afraid.

After all, she was already dead.

"Andy, you don't have to convince me," Brent told her seriously. "Nikki has told me about you. I believe that you were murdered."

"Oh, God," Andy said with a little sob. "Murdered."

"But you've known that," Brent reminded her gently.

"Yes, I just don't like hearing it. It makes it so… real."

"Nikki tells me that you're here because of the man, the bum. And he's dead, too," Andy said.

Brent nodded, never taking his eyes off Andy.

"I saw him, you know. I saw him wandering the streets. I tried to get here, you see. I knew Nikki believed in me. I knew she would help me."

Pain seared into Nikki's heart.

She hadn't been able to help her friend at all.

"Andy," Brent said, "we both want to help you now. And
we
need
your
help. Desperately."

Andy's beautiful eyes widened, appearing deeply troubled. "I don't know how I can help you. I don't know what happened. And there are times now… it's like learning to walk again. Sometimes Nikki's able to see me, hear me… and now you can see me, too. Sometimes I want to be with her, but I can't. Sometimes I can talk. I try to lift things, move things… but I'm not real, am I? Sometimes," she said wistfully, "I wonder just where I'm supposed to be. I need to leave, but I don't know where I'm going, and I need to be here because… what happened to me was wrong."

"We need your help, Andy," Brent repeated. "You're here now, so tell me, please, do you remember leaving the bar, leaving your friends, that night?" Brent asked her.

"Yes."

"What else do you remember?"

She shook her head. "I made it home."

"Okay. So you made it home. Did anyone follow you?" Brent asked.

Andy rolled her eyes. "A herd of rhinos could have followed me home and I wouldn't have known it," she said with a sigh.

"Okay, but you didn't notice anyone."

"Like I said… "

"Okay, how about at the bar. Did you see anyone watching you there?"

Andy shook her head.

Nikki sighed. "Everyone was watching her. She's very attractive."

"I was kind of cute, huh?" Andy asked Nikki wistfully.

"Gorgeous, actually," Nikki assured her.

"Stunning," Brent agreed. "Did you notice anyone weird at all that day?" he asked. "Do anything weird?"

She laughed. "Well, we went to a voodoo shop. But this is New Orleans. I guess that makes Contessa normal."

"I know the shop," Brent murmured.

Nikki felt a twinge of guilt. She still hadn't mentioned her own strange visit to the shop or what Contessa had said. And she wasn't going to say anything. Not right now.

"The bum," Andy said. "The way he ran into the two of us at Madame's… that was weird. And that was it."

"Do you remember if you locked your apartment door?" Brent asked.

She lifted her shoulders. "I'm not sure."

"Andy," Brent said tensely, "this could be important. Really important. Think back for me.
Did you lock your apartment door
?"

"I don't know… I… yes. Yes, I think I did."

Brent sat back thoughtfully.

"What are you looking for?" Nikki demanded.

"You're just going to get mad when I tell you."

"Tell me anyway."

"All right. Andy locked her door. There was no sign of breaking and entering when she was found. That means someone else had a key. Who else had your key, Andy?"

Andy gave him a grim smile. "Only Nikki."

"And I didn't give it to anyone," Nikki told him firmly.

"No, of course not, I don't believe you did," he agreed.

"Then… ?" Nikki asked.

"It's obvious. Someone borrowed it from you without your knowing it."

"Don't start on that again," Nikki snapped. She instantly regretted her words.

Andy began to fade.

"Wait, Andy, please," she said softly.

"Oh, Nikki, I'm sorry… I'm not a very good ghost. Yet… "

As the sound of Andy's "yet" faded away, so did she.

Nikki hopped to her feet. "There, you've done it. She's gone."

He didn't even respond to her anger. He was deep in thought once again. "She'll be back," he said. He looked up at her. "Don't get angry. There's a connection somewhere. You know there has to be."

Nikki shook her head. "It wasn't one of my friends."

"Nikki, don't get mad," he said.

"I
am
mad."

But he ignored her. She wanted to fight it out. He wasn't going to be baited. He was deep in thought again, not looking at her.

Nikki shook her head, exasperated, and started for the stairs. She really needed some sleep. Maybe that was it…

She was sleep deprived, living in a world she had created in her own mind.

Nikki dropped her robe and slipped into bed. She closed her eyes and thought how remarkable it was that she really wasn't afraid now.