Sisterly Screams (The Dead-End Drive-In Series Book 1) Page 6

  At the end of the hallway they knew was the doorway to the two holding cells, rooms that were almost certain to be vacant.

  “Morning, Dan,” Belle greeted him, stepping in.

  “Oh, hi sweetheart. Hello, Anna,” he nodded at them.

  He made no comment or sign that he even recognized another person was there.

  “How are you feeling, Anna? No side effects from yesterday?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing like that.”

  “Good,” he smiled widely, his whole face brightening up. “I should have some results on that stuff in the next few days, I think.”

  “Sound good,” Anna nodded, making an obvious gesture to look right at Harlem and back at the police chief.

  “He can’t see me either.” He waved a hand in the air, making himself more obvious.

  Dan didn’t even flinch. “So, what can I do for you girls then?”

  “Uh,” Belle mumbled slightly. “We found this bag on the side of the road. We think it may have something to do with the body you found.” She passed the bag across the desk.

  “The body? What makes you think that?”

  Anna looked at her sister with a raised eyebrow scolding her lack of tact.

  “J-Just a gut feeling,” she responded.

  “A gut feeling, huh?” He shrugged. “Well, let’s have a look at what’s in here.”

  Opening the bag, he began shuffling through the contents, pulling them out one at a time and setting them on the desk. Anna noticed Harlem keeping careful watch on each item as it was released as if he were hoping that one of the things contained inside would help jog his memory about how he’d gotten the way he was.

  “Ah, here’s something,” Dan noted gruffly, removing the wallet. “Maybe there’s an ID.”

  “That’s what we had hoped,” Belle added with a smile.

  Anna couldn’t help but feel her sister was acting a little too eager.

  Flipping open the wallet, he squinted at the image on the ID. “I’ll need my glasses, I think,” he commented, opening the desk drawer, creating a symphony of clutter as all the miscellaneous items inside shifted back and forth.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harlem complained.

  Anna gave him a scolding stare.

  “What? If he can’t see me, I doubt he can hear me.”

  The older sister rolled her eyes. Sometimes she felt like the only person there with any common sense.

  “Here they are,” Dan finally sighed, lifting the glasses and examining them. Sliding them onto his face, he took another look at the ID.

  “Well?” Belle asked eagerly, getting stereotypically impatient for an answer.

  “I’d say that’s him all right.”

  “No,” Harlem groaned. “Is he sure?”

  “Are you sure?” Belle added.

  Dan wiggled his bushy black mustache as he looked one more time. “Yep. I’d bet my badge on it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Anna whispered to the ghost.

  “Sorry?” the chief asked.

  Anna realized she slipped up talking to Harlem. “S-Sorry that he died.”

  “Oh,” Dan nodded. “Of course. But this is good news. You girls helped me out immensely in identifying the man. Now I can call the State Police and tell them who he is and to come pick him up.”

  “Ask him to go through the rest of the bag,” Harlem urged.

  “Can you look through what else is in the bag?” Belle asked.

  Dan shrugged, “don’t see why not, I suppose. The more info I have on this guy to give to the police down in New Orleans, the better it looks for me.” He smiled proudly.

  Dan continued with his system of pulling the contents out one by one and setting them on the desk.

  Eagerly, the ghost kept his eye on each item as it came out.

  After a minute or so, Dan put his hand back in the bag one more time and pulled it out empty. “Looks like that’s everything.”

  “Anything?” Belle whispered to Harlem.

  “Nothing,” Harlem groaned. “I can’t remember how this happened.” His image flickered slightly, as if the “film” were wearing out. “I’m dead, I’m trapped in some strange limbo, and I have no idea how I became like this.”

  Anna hated to admit, but she was starting to feel sorry for him.

  “Looks like it’s mostly just his wallet and a bunch of voodoo stuff,” Dan noted. “Nothing worth sneezing at.”

  “Voodoo,” Harlem exclaimed. “That’s right.”

  “Will you excuse us?” Belle nodded.

  “Sure thing, ladies, and thanks for bringing this in. It was a great help.”

  “Sure thing,” Belle nodded, pushing her sister toward the door.

  “I’ll call you about the lab results on that powder,” he added as they left, closing the office door behind themselves.

  “I have an idea,” Harlem blurted out excitedly once they were alone.

  “What is it?” Belle whispered.

  “My voodoo shop. Maybe if we go there I can remember what happened,” he suggested.

  “In New Orleans?” Anna asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Anna admitted. “Aren’t you re-opening your drive-in tonight? Shouldn’t you be getting things ready?”

  Belle shook her head. “What could be more important than helping someone remember how they died? Don’t you want to help him cross over?”

  “Cross over?”

  “Of course, that’s what always happens in the movies, anyway. Once the unfinished business has been completed, the ghost moves on.”

  “But, Belle,” she argued. “This isn’t one of your movies.”

  The younger sister raised a knowing eyebrow and motioned toward Harlem.

  Anna looked from her sister, to the ghost, and back at her sister again. “Darn it, Belle. You know what I mean.”

  “It’s still early morning,” Belle argued. “We could easily drive down to New Orleans and be back in time for the showing tonight. I’ll just call Val and tell her I had some emergency errands to run. She’ll have everything up and running by the time I get back.”

  “That isn’t very fair to Val.”

  “Sure it is,” she smiled widely at her older sister. “Valerie is my assistant manager after all. It’s her job.”

  Rolling her eyes, Anna followed her sister out to the car.

  CHAPTER 14

  They arrived in the French Quarter of New Orleans around twelve in the afternoon. As usual, the downtown area was busy with all manner of people—locals and tourists alike—who were going about their business.

  “You’ll want to take the first parking spot you find,” Anna reminded her sister.

  “I know that,” she shot back. “I’ve been to New Orleans way more than you in the past two years.”

  “I just don’t want us getting stuck in all of the traffic down here. It’s easier to walk.”

  “Who was the one who came down here almost every weekend for six months while I purchased decorations and other items for the restaurant and drive-in?”

  “I wasn’t here for all that, remember?”

  “My point exactly,” Belle retorted, a little too rudely. She instantly regretted her tone of voice, awkwardly clearing her throat. “I’m just saying, sis, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Well, can we at least roll down the windows? It’s sweltering in here.”

  “It isn’t even summer yet. What are you going to do when that happens?”

  “I don’t know, sit inside a well air-conditioned room all day long?”

  “Sheesh, I’m sorry my car doesn’t have air-conditioning.”

  “Ladies,” Harlem interrupted, putting up both hands in a gesture of peace. “Can we focus on the matter at hand, please?” Belle couldn’t help but notice that the combination of Harlem’s deep voice with Frederick Loren’s face and body made him appear overly suave and cocky.

  She had to stifle a laugh.
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  Finally spotting an open parking space along the side of the road, she pulled over. “This is only an hour parking area, so we’ll have to be quick.”

  Getting out, the trio moved along the sidewalk with the swarm of other people. The smell of various Creole and deep-fried foods hung in the air, and the distant sound of a street side jazz band made its way to their ears. Belle noted how strange it was to see people all over the street constantly walking right through Harlem.

  Each time someone did, his image fizzled.

  “Why can we see him, but no one else can?” Anna asked, her mind clearly on the same train of thought as her younger sister’s.

  “I have no idea,” she shrugged. “Let’s focus on finding out how he died first.”

  “Do you think maybe he was,” she made a slitting mark across her neck. “You know?”

  “Murdered?”

  “Shh.”

  Belle could only shrug. “That was the first thing I asked when Val told me about the body. She said Dan didn’t think so.”

  Anna tilted her head to one side. “But Dan isn’t a homicide detective. The most dangerous thing he’s ever done is push an alligator back into the bayou with a stick.”

  “What are you two ladies mumbling about back there?” Harlem asked with one raised eyebrow.

  “Nothing,” they both blurted.

  “How come I get the feeling it was about me?” He shook his head and then turned down a small alleyway. The further they ventured between the brick buildings, the dimmer the sound of the streets became.

  “Well this isn’t eerie at all,” Anna complained.

  Soon, they came to a back stairwell that led down into the basement of the building. The door had a large glass window with the words The Black Mamba printed on it.

  “This is your shop?” Belle asked.

  “The very one,” he affirmed. “More of a tourist attraction than an actual voodoo shop, but we all have to make a living somehow.”

  Stepping down the concrete stairs, she tried the door. “It’s locked.”

  “Look in that crack there,” he motioned toward the corner where the concrete met the wall. A thin black space showed through.

  Reaching her small fingers in, Belle pulled out the key. “Found it,” she announced, slipping it into the lock and turning it open. Stepping inside, Anna close behind, they were greeted by the stench of strange herbs, incense, and dust.

  The tiny shop was crowded with painted wooden shelves with all manner of bottles, statues, and trinkets on them. Cobwebs covered parts of the room—even encasing skulls and candles in their grasp.

  “Did you ever dust?” Anna asked.

  Belle gave her sister a knowing look that said, don’t be rude.

  “Most of these cobwebs are fake,” he admitted. “It’s a tourist shop, so it’s got to look the part.”

  “Makes sense,” Belle agreed. “Is any of this ringing any bells?”

  “Not yet,” he sighed. “The merchandise in here is always changing.”

  “Just keep trying,” she urged.

  “There is so much in here,” Anna complained. “This could take ages.”

  Harlem paused and held up one finger. “Maybe not,” he noted.

  “Did you remember something?” Belle squeaked excitedly.

  “Not yet, but I have an idea.” Walking through a red beaded curtain behind the checkout counter, he stepped into the back room.

  The girls quickly followed him in.

  “In here I have my private altar.”

  “Private altar?” Anna asked, looking around the little storeroom.

  Boxes of merchandise and other items necessary to run the store sat on the old shelves, but one smaller shelf near the back of the room—just below a window—had a few special looking items all set out in a very ceremonial manner.

  “Here, I keep stuff for my own practice,” he informed them, kneeling down.

  “You practice voodoo?”

  “Not exactly. I guess you could call it Hoodoo instead. But I do rituals and magic.”

  “Hoodoo?”

  “It’s a magical practice.”

  Candles sat atop a decorative cloth. The lower shelves held various bottles of powders and liquids.

  “Hey, check that out,” Belle noted, pointing at an empty spot near the back of one of the shelves.

  “What about it?” Anna shrugged.

  “Well, it looks like there used to be something there,” she responded. “There isn’t any dust there.”

  “Like something was removed.”

  Crouching lower to see exactly what she was pointing at, Harlem’s eyes widened with acknowledgment. “Of course,” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “What? Did you remember something?” Belle shouted, clapping her hands eagerly.

  “My soul totem,” he replied. “It’s gone.”

  “That’s excellent,” she replied. There was a pause as she considered this new fact. “Wait, what does that mean?”

  “A soul totem is a sacred vessel that can hold the spirit—or soul—of one living creature for a short time. In some versions of voodoo and hoodoo, people will use these when a loved one has recently died to keep their soul in the world of the living for a little while longer while they say goodbye.”

  “But what does that have to do with your death?”

  “Well, as with any type of magical practice, this can be dangerous. In the wrong hands, someone could try and trap the soul of the deceased unwillingly—keep them from crossing into the next world.”

  “That sounds horrible,” Belle agreed.

  “But, that still doesn’t explain why it’s connected to your death.”

  He shook his head. “My mind is still a little foggy, but I vaguely remember an encounter with a customer the other day. A man I think. He wanted one of these, but I wouldn’t sell it to him. That was my only one,” he admitted, “and its crafted specifically for me.”

  “For you?”

  He nodded. “If and when I die, I wanted a soul totem so I could stay a little longer in this world.”

  “And this man wanted your totem?” Anna asked.

  “Right.”

  “You think he had something to do with your murder?” she pressed.

  “I have no idea, but it’s one of the last things I can remember before I ended up at your drive-in.”

  “Can you remember anything else about the customer?”

  He shook his head. “No, my memory still feels so foggy.”

  “Well, that doesn’t help us,” Anna groaned. “We don’t even have any idea if this person had anything to do with your death at all.”

  “No, it’s true,” Harlem agreed. “However, there may be someone else who can help us figure it out.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “The customer stormed out, saying that if I wouldn’t help him that he’d find someone who would,” Harlem explained while they walked down one of the backstreets of the city. “I figured he might end up visiting my friend Hondi, so I gave her a call to warn her.”

  “Hondi?” Anna asked.

  “She’s a fellow shop owner. She’s always wanted my shop space because it was closer to the hub of the major tourist traffic.”

  “That tiny place at the end of the alleyway?”

  “If you advertise well, people find you,” he noted. “And tourists love feeling like they’ve found some creepy little secluded shop. It helps add to the whole experience for them. I always thought Hondi’s shop was better overall. She had more room and more merchandise to sell.”

  “Hence why this mystery customer might head there next,” Belle confirmed.

  “Right.”

  They came to stand in front of a low stoop with a door. “Here it is, he announced.”

  “Let’s go,” Belle said, opening the door.

  Stepping inside, she could tell that this was a larger store than Harlem’s. In front of a window near the front of the shop was a lush sitting area w
ith plush chairs, a decorative rug, and cloth tapestries.

  Farther in were well organized shelves of merchandise. Worry dolls, necklaces, trinkets, bottles, incense, and so much more were neatly set in rows.

  “Hello, my beauties,” came the charmed sound of a woman’s voice. Emerging from the back room was a stout woman with a red silk scarf tied in her hair. “In what way can I assist you two ladies on this wonderful day?”

  “That’s her. That’s Hondi,” he pointed out.

  “Hondi?” Belle asked.

  The woman’s features slightly changed, indicating confusion. “Yes? Do we know each other?”

  “Actually,” Anna stepped in. “We’re friends of Harlem. He told us you were a fellow shop owner.”

  “Oh, that old boy,” the woman smirked. “I wouldn’t put my trust in him, ladies.”

  “Why not?” Belle asked.

  “He may try and sell you things for far too much money.”

  “Well, that’s why he sent us to you,” the younger sister smiled. “He told us you had a better shop.”

  “He was always a terrible liar,” she shook her head. “But if he’s fool enough to send his customers to me, I’ll gladly steal them.”

  “Actually,” Anna said. “We aren’t really here to shop.”

  “Oh?” Hondi raised an eyebrow, looking less amused. “He sent you to spy?”

  “Not exactly,” she admitted. “He told us that a troublesome customer came into his shop the other day, and that he called you to warn about him, just in case he visited.”

  Hondi tapped the side of her nose with her finger, as if thinking the situation through. “Now, I don’t remember that at all, and I haven’t had any troublesome customers recently.”

  “She’s lying,” Harlem noted. “She always taps her nose like that when she lies.”

  Both sisters looked at him with smirks on their faces. They found this woman’s “tell” very humorous.

  He shrugged, “it’s a nervous habit of hers.”

  Anna turned back toward the woman. “Are you sure no one came in? That you didn’t even get Harlem’s phone call?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “She talked to me. She got the call,” Harlem informed them.