“Okay, I’ll make the appointment, and then I’ll call Lynn and tell her the bad news. We have to let her know.”

  Ben sat quietly and said nothing.

  Rowanne stood up and left the room. “I need a minute.”

  Ben frowned. “Rowanne is sad for her, Daddy. He hurt me, and I’m not sad for him. Is that wrong?”

  Luke shook his head. “No, buddy. Everybody gets to feel how they feel. Being sad for Rowanne is enough.”

  Feeling the weight of his brother’s tragedy, Luke trudged up to his room, sat down at his desk and scanned through the funeral home options in Baton Rouge. He’d never been to any of them, so made a random choice and picked one not far from Sam’s house. Weston and Broome.

  He made the appointment for the following day, then picked up his cell and dialed. “Lynn, this is Luke Hyslop.”

  “Luke, hi, I’m glad you called. I’ve called Sam’s cell a couple of times but can’t get him. We parted on bad terms, and I wanted to… I don’t know what I wanted. I just didn’t like the way things were left between us.”

  “I’m sorry things ended that way, Lynn, but I have more bad news to tell you, I’m afraid. Sam is dead.”

  “Oh, no. Was it his heart?”

  “It could have been in the end, but he was in the state forest and was attacked by a bear.”

  Lynn sucked in a breath. “That’s terrible. Was he alone?”

  “The details are sketchy. No one is sure why he was there or how he died.”

  Lynn sniffled. “I yelled at him the day we broke up and made it crystal clear I couldn’t tolerate how he treated Ben and Rowanne. I hope I didn’t trigger something.”

  “You’re not to blame, Lynn, in any way. I called to say Rowanne and I are coming to Baton Rouge tomorrow to plan Sam’s funeral. Once everything is in place, I’ll call and give you the details.”

  “Would you, please? How is Rowanne? Sam upset her so much, and that was most of the trouble between us. The way he was treating the children. I couldn’t abide it.”

  “Sam was a strong-willed man and wanted everyone to see things from his point of view. Rowanne is also strong-willed, her father’s daughter, and saw things differently. My brother made a lot of mistakes.”

  Lynn stifled a sob. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Thank you, Luke.”

  Seventeen Saint Gillian Street.

  Josiah flew through the kitchen window and invisibly joined Oscar and Fern as they paced and waited for her spell reversal to work. “It doesn’t look like the rats are going anywhere, Ferny. Are you sure your spell is going to work?”

  “Fairly sure. I did everything the internet said.”

  Oscar chuckled. “I’ve seen a lot of DIY extermination solutions on the net that weren’t worth a damn, Ferny. The net is filled with bullshit.”

  Fern took a stance with her hands on her hips. “This will work, Oscar. I have faith in my power. I’m not giving up yet.”

  Oscar held up a hand. “Okay, give it another hour.” He glanced into the empty living room. “Do you think you should blow out those candles before you burn the house down?”

  “I’m supposed to let them burn down to make sure the spell works. I can’t blow them out.”

  Oscar set down his beer and frowned. “Listen? What’s that noise? Sounds like the rats are getting worked up.” He stepped into the front hall to see what all the commotion was. “Jeeze, Louise, look at that. It’s a rat stampede.”

  Fern came running to see what Oscar was hollering about and let out a scream that almost deafened him. “Snakes. Snakes are eating the rats.”

  Oscar stood back and watched. “You said you wanted to get rid of the rats, Ferny. You got your wish.”

  “Not with snakes.” Tears rolled down Fern’s cheeks. “I hate snakes. Kill them, Oscar. Kill the fuckin snakes.”

  “How?” Oscar retrieved his beer and chugged what was left. “Tell me exactly how I’m supposed to kill them, Ferny.”

  “You’re the exterminator wizard,” Fern hissed. “You brag about how great you are. You must know how to get rid of a snake infestation.”

  “I don’t know if these boys are poisonous or not. I’ll have to look up their markings to be sure.”

  “By the time you look them up, you useless dickwad, they’ll all be dead.”

  Fern ran into the kitchen and returned at top speed with a meat cleaver in her hand. Whack—she dove down and chopped the head off one of the snakes as he slithered by. “Take that, you slithery bastard.”

  The snake disappeared, and two more took its place right in front of her eyes. She screamed, and Oscar edged closer, his eyes bulging out of his head.

  “Would you look at that. That’s something I ain’t seen before.”

  “That’s magick,” screamed Fern. “It’s her. She’s doing this. These snakes aren’t real.”

  “Look real to me. We better get on over to my house until we think of a plan.”

  “Get rid of them, Oscar. Get rid of the snakes, or our booty deal is off. Canceled. Finished.” Fern was red in the face and screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Miss Fern. Our deal is good as long as there is one rat in this house, and there are still hundreds of them. Look around you.”

  “I can’t stay here. I’m moving back to Florida.”

  Oscar grabbed her arm. “We’re getting out of here. Things will look better tomorrow.”

  Nine Saint Gillian Street.

  When Josiah returned home, everyone was gathered in the sitting room, anxiously awaiting his report.

  “Well, Daddy?” asked Misty. “Did the snakes arrive?”

  Josiah chucked, and it was an eerie sound that sent shivers through many of the living. “They arrived all right, my child. Number seventeen is bedlam. Snakes eating rats and Miss Fern screaming at the exterminator man. She mentioned moving back to Florida.”

  “That’s the best place for her,” said Luke. “She’s not a good person to have as a neighbor.”

  “Perhaps you should check on them in the morning, dear,” said Claire. “We should be apprised of their plans.”

  “Miss Fern doesn’t seem to be grieving for her sister,” said Josiah.

  “Perhaps, you should go to the old Broadmoor graveyard tonight and have a chat with Miss Marigold,” said Luke. “She may want to pay her sister a visit.”

  “What a splendid idea, son,” said Josiah. “I had nothing planned for later.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Saturday, November 2nd.

  Old Broadmoor Cemetery.

  After his family were sleeping peacefully in their beds, Josiah LeJeune paid a visit to Marigold Rose’s second grave at Old Broadmoor. Josiah had several friends resting in that graveyard, and he visited quite often in the dead of night.

  “Let’s see,” said Josiah, as he darted around, “I believe Luke said the back corner under the tree.”

  He flew over the tombstones, soaring high and diving down, making a few figure eights in the air, just because he could. A wonderful night for aviation.

  In the back corner, he hovered over the freshly dug grave and gave Marigold a should out. “Marigold Rose, can you hear me?” Josiah heard a muffled noise, and he waited.

  A moment later, a head, oddly tilted to the left, popped up out of the dirt. “Your head is on a funny angle. Did you break your neck?”

  “I fell down the stairs.” Her essence wiggled out of the dirt a little more, and Josiah could see her dirt-covered orange pajamas. “Poor, Ferny. She must be so upset.”

  “About your sister, dear. She doesn’t seem to be missing you much. It’s not right. Perhaps we should pay her a visit.”

  Marigold laughed. “You want me to haunt her?”

  “Only a suggestion, dear. I can’t tell you what to do with your time on this side of the veil, but I enjoy my days.”

  “I have been bored,” said Marigold. “It might be fun to go home and scare the crap out of Fern. She scared me every single day when I was alive. She thrived on it.”

  “There you go. Time for a little payback for Miss Fern. I’ll see that you get there safely.”

  “Would you? I’m new at this.”

  “But, of course. Follow me.”

  Seventeen Saint Gillian Street.

  With a little prompting from Josiah, Marigold flew in through Fern’s bedroom window and hovered above her bed. “How should I wake her up?”

  “Swirl around, and the cold wind will get her attention.”

  Marigold flew around the room like an aerialist in a Circe De Soleil spectacular. She’d never been so graceful, and she giggled the whole time. “This is fun.”

  Fern woke with a start and screamed when she saw her sister, Marigold, close to the ceiling above her bed. “You can’t be here, Mari. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Too bad. I’m here, and I’m staying. This is my house too. Besides, I miss my cats.”

  “No. I won’t live with you as a ghost. The rats and the snakes were bad enough. Now you come back to haunt me?” Fern launched out of bed, grabbed a suitcase from the closet and filled it full of clothes. She zipped it up, ran downstairs, and grabbed her laptop from the kitchen table.

  “Goodbye, Marigold. Have the whole house to yourself.” Fern ran out the front door and slammed it behind her so hard two burning candles fell from the mantle and landed on the living room hardwood floor.

  Weston and Broome. Baton Rouge.

  Rowanne and Ben sat next to Luke in the funeral director’s office. Ben sat stiff and frozen in the presence of the ominous-looking funeral director.

  Rowanne looked through brochures at pictures of coffins trying to decide which one would be right for her father’s head. It seemed ludicrous to pay for a casket just for a head. They were so expensive. She couldn’t believe the prices printed on the brochure.

  “I think Daddy should be cremated. We’ll have a service with the urn.”

  Luke nodded. “Good decision, Rowanne. Fine with me.”

  “I’ll pick an urn,” said Rowanne, and Mr. Weston handed her a different catalog. She browsed through the choices and pointed at a tall, sleek black one. “This one is fine. Is it possible to have the service tomorrow?”

  The funeral director frowned and shook his gray head. “The ashes won’t be ready for tomorrow, I’m afraid. And tomorrow is Sunday.”

  “How about Monday, and we’ll have the service with just the urn,” said Rowanne. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, and Ben looked like he might cry too.

  “Of course, we could hold the service in memorial with the empty urn on Monday afternoon. I can fit you in at three.”

  Rowanne looked to Luke, and he nodded. “Three is fine. I’ll make some calls when we get home.”

  After shaking hands with all three of them, the funeral director showed them to the door.

  “I didn’t like him,” said Ben as he jumped into the back seat of the truck. “He had lier eyes. He pretended to be sad, but he wasn’t sad.”

  “He was okay,” said Rowanne. “It’s his job to appear sympathetic.”

  Sam Hyslop’s Residence. Baton Rouge.

  Luke stood in the kitchen with Rowanne and Ben and glanced around. The whole place reminded him of Sam.

  “There’s a lot of work to do here,” said Rowanne. “I want all of my things out of my room upstairs, but after that, almost all the rest of it can be sold.”

  “You might want some of the newer furniture for Gran’s house,” said Luke. “Her furniture is old and well-worn.”

  “Good thought, Uncle Luke. I’ll need time to sort it out.”

  “We’ll have an agent come and appraise the property,” said Luke. “I’ll have to look into the mortgage and Sam’s will, and the legal end of things, but the house does belong to you, Rowanne. You’re Sam’s only heir.”

  “It makes me sad to think Daddy will never come back here. We had some good times here when Mommy was alive.” Her green eyes welled up, and Luke pulled her in for a hug.

  “This is the house where you grew up, Row. Of course, it’s full of memories. Take your time and put lots of thought into every decision. You don’t have to hurry.”

  “Gran’s house on the bayou will be best for Ben, and she wants us to live there, but that house belongs to you now, Uncle Luke. You have the last say on what happens there.”

  “Uh-huh. It is mine, and I agree with Gran. It is the best possible place for Ben. I want the two of you to live there and be happy.”

  “Thank you.” Rowanne hugged him. “Let’s lock up and go home.”

  Nine Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  Luke parked in the lane behind the house, and when he jumped out of the truck, he smelled smoke.

  Rowanne smelled it to and pointed. “Down there, Uncle Luke, where the mean sisters live. There’s a fire.”

  “I’ll run out the front and make sure the firemen are on site,” said Luke. He tore in the back door, down the long hallway, and out the front door. From the porch, he saw a couple of fire trucks, an ambulance, and three police cruisers. “Yep, well taken care of. Wonder what started that fire?”

  Luke ran back inside, and Misty hurried from the kitchen to hug him. She kissed him, squeezed him tight, and giggled. “It feels like forever since I’ve been able to get this close to you, sugar.”

  “This is the kind of greeting I like. Where’s my boy?”

  “He’s the center of attention in the sitting room. He barely gets a chance to whimper before someone scoops him up.”

  “Did your father happen to see how number seventeen caught on fire?” asked Luke.

  Misty giggled. “Daddy has turned into the neighborhood watch. He said candles fell from the mantelpiece and set the floor on fire.”

  “Fire might be the perfect solution to their rat and snake problem,” said Luke.

  “Daddy said Fern moved next door to the exterminator’s house.”

  “Good luck to the exterminator,” said Luke. “I’m still wondering whether the police would believe me if I told them Fern moved her sister’s body to Old Broadmoor.”

  “Let it go, sweetheart. You’re not responsible for solving every crime in N’Orlean.

  Luke laughed. “It just feels like I am.”

  “Rowanne said the funeral is all set for Monday?”

  Luke nodded. “I have to make some calls to Sam’s work colleagues and Lynn. Give me an hour, and we’ll catch up before dinner.”

  Fifteen Saint Gillian Street.

  Fern and Oscar stood on the walkway in front of Oscar’s house watching number seventeen blaze merrily. Most of the wood portions of the Rose’s money pit were over a hundred years old and tinder dry. Sparks and detritus shot into the air as the firefighters fought for control of the blaze.

  The Fire Chief approached Oscar and yelled above the noise of the hoses, “Mr. Tuck, you’ll have to move your truck out of your driveway, and it would be best if you evacuated your premises for the time being. The fire is spreading, and we’re hoping to save your house and the neighbor on the other side, but there are no guarantees.”

  Oscar frowned. “I don’t want to lose my house. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Move your truck for starters before your tires melt, sir.”

  “Doing it now. Come with me, Fern. We’ll get drive-thru burgers and coffee. See what the situation is like when we come back.” Oscar pulled his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and jumped headed toward the van.

  Reality hit Fern hard, and she sprinted off in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, you can’t go back there,” the Fire Chief hollered.

  Ignoring him, Fern ran down the narrow space between the two houses and around the back of number seventeen.

  Mother’s cash box. The money inside it was all she had left. She told Mari to put it in a safe place but never asked her where she stashed it. Would it be in her room?

  “Don’t go in there, lady,” hollered one of the firefighters spraying water at the back of the house. “You can’t go in there. It’s a death trap.”

  Fern turned a deaf ear, ran through the waterfall, and into the house where the back door used to be. She ran up the back stairs to Marigold’s room and couldn’t see for smoke.

  With her eyes running and her lungs struggling for oxygen, Fern grabbed the knob on Mari’s closet and screamed. The metal was so hot it was almost molten.

  The heat seared the skin off her hand.

  She wailed in pain as she dropped to her knees and crawled to see if the metal lockbox was under her sister’s bed. She could see the shape of it.

  It was there, but she couldn’t reach it.

  Meow.

  Mari’s three cats were huddled under the bed hiding from the fire. “I have to get you guys out.” Fern grabbed hold of Endor, stood up, and fired him out the smashed window to a fireman down below. “Two more coming,” she shouted.

  Unable to see, the smoke was so thick, Fern reached under the bed and grabbed Cassandra. Cassie was scared and didn’t want to come out. She clawed Fern as she grabbed her tail and pulled her out from under.

  She fired cat number two out the window. “One more.”

  Gasping for breath, her throat burning and raw, Fern crawled on her belly, trying to reach Morgan. She touched one of his front paws and pulled him towards her.

  Meow.

  He hissed and pulled back, but she was stronger. She managed to get a firm hold on him, but when she pulled him out from under the bed, she was too weak to stand. Her lungs felt like they were charcoal pits.

  Fern reached over the burning window sill and hurled Morgan into the air. She thought she heard a fireman say got him before she collapsed on the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Monday, November 4th.

  Weston and Broome Funeral Home. Baton Rouge.

  Rowanne and Ben sat in the front pew next to Luke and Misty. Claire sat in the row behind with Michele, Charlotte, and Diana. Angelique had opted to stay home with the baby. He was too young to be out in the world and exposed to all its germs and hazards.

 

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