When Billie Jo made her way downstairs toward the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen she was surprised to see Leroy sitting at the table, half asleep over a steaming cup of strong coffee. He'd, as he put it, 'liaised' with the local NO cops the night before, which meant spending the night drinking. She'd been more sensible and gone back to Mama's and turned in.

Leroy peeped out at her through one slitted eye and groaned. "Don't say it, okay?"

Mama and Tante Helene, putting breakfast together just grinned.

Billie Jo grinned as well.  "Does this mean Mama doesn't love you enough to fix you a little pick me up, a little something for the morning after?"

"I tried, Cher'. He say he doesn't want to drink my potions. You think I'd try to put ground toad scrotum in his coffee," Mama said sadly.

Leroy turned rather greenish.

Billie Jo laughed aloud and poured herself a cup of coffee.  "So everything's hunky dory with the local cops?  You weren't the only thing that got lubed last night, right?"

"Oh gods," he groaned. "These boys can drink me under the table. They're probably fine.  But they know we're in town and will give us lots of leeway. I hope."

She patted him firmly on the back.  "Good job.  But you know, sugar, Ah think maybe ah'll handle the driving today."

"Okay by me, Billie. I'd really rather just crawl back into bed." he moaned.

"No you don'," Mama said, sharing a look with her friend Tante Helene. "We fix you up with a good breakfast, no ground scrotum I promise, and you feel better, Leroy. Oh, and Angelique she call to say the archaeologist will be der today so you meet him."

"Yeah," Billie Jo said.  "Got to earn your keep, honey.  Though ah'm inclined to think the real problem is that you just don't know your limit.  Ah find that surprising, you know, a good ole boy like yourself.  But a good breakfast will fix you right up.  Especially seeing as how you've such a special relationship with food."

"I do?" Leroy managed to ask, although he looked rather worried after he asked it.

"Well yes.  Everybody's feeding you all the time and you just take to it like a duck to water.  Ah've never seen you," she said, wrinkling her nose, "at least ah don't think I've ever seen you turn down food.  Why my mama saw that 'bout you right away, and these lovely ladies sure seem to think you need feeding too."

"Well, a guy's gotta eat," Leroy replied indignantly, forgetting his headache for a moment. "Not to mention it's rude."

"Ah know that darlin' and truthfully ah'm just the tiniest bit jealous of your ability to eat and keep that manly figure of yours.  Ah sure don't have that gift."

He groaned. "Don't you turn that honey chile voice loose on me," he growled.

"Here," Tante Helene said. "Ya'll just make yo mouths full of this omelet. Ya'll can argue on the way to Tante Angelique's."

"We aren't arguing, now are we Leroy.  Just a little friendly chatter over breakfast.  And don't it look good," Billie Jo said, reaching for the hot sauce.  "Want some seasoning honey.  Ah could add it for ya'll if'n you aren't up to it since you're doing poorly this mornin' as anyone looking at ya'll could see.  But ah promise ya'll this'll fix ya'll right up.  Mah daddy swears by it."

"Yeah, your daddy," Leroy moaned.  Then he seemed to find some energy and managed despite being hung-over to put away a good deal of hot-sauced up omelet. He was looking a lot less green when, Billie Jo driving, they set off for Tante Angelique's.)
Billie Jo took pity on him and covered the distance from Mama's house over to Tante Angelique's in silence.  She even went so far as to leave the radio off.  She parked the rental car and looked over at him leaning his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.  "Sweetie, ah'm sorry to bother ya'll but we're here.  If'n ya'll want me to handle this all by mah lonesome ah'll understand."

"You take lead, I'll, uhm, just, you know..." Leroy agreed. When he got out of the car he carefully closed his own door, but jumped when she slammed hers, casting a look of hurt her way.

"Ah'm so sorry honey, ah jus wasn't thinking."  She flashed him a bright smile and led the way over to where Tante Angelique was standing waving at them.

"Oh, good." Angelique said.  "I was hoping you'd come early.  Dr. Klein is already here."

Billie Jo nodded.  "Bright and early, Tante Angelique, that's Leroy's motto, isn't it?"

A faint groan was all Leroy managed by way of response.

"Oh honey, you been down on Bourbon with them local boys, ain't ya?" Angelique said looking at Leroy worriedly.

"I'm fine," Leroy muttered.

A friendly looking male, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows came around the corner then. He brushed his too long hair of his forehead leaving a smear of dirt there. "These the folks you were telling me about, Angelique?" he asked. "Hey, I'm Joe Klein. How can I help?"

Billie Jo smiled and held out her hand.  "Billie Jo Dubois and this here gentleman with me is Leroy Saunders.  Ah'm sure pleased to meet you."

Joe smiled at her. "And I'm delighted to meet you."

Leroy groaned, Joe ignored him. "You're here to help find my assistant, right?" Joe asked. "I'm very worried about her."

Billie Jo ignored Leroy as well.  "Yes.  Tante Angelique's also been telling us that there've been some unusual going's on around here too," she said, falling in beside him as he turned back towards the excavation.  "And that it all started with finding some bones?"

"Well, yeah, these graves were exposed by the flooding. But really, this is Nawlins. There's stories of weird goings on and ghosts and voodoo curses and things told all over the city. Pick an old building and someone will start telling you some story.  You don't buy into all that do you?"

"Ah like evidence," she said.  "Still stories sometimes lead somewhere.  But being an archaeologist and all ah'm sure you know that, dealing with your share of legends and tales."

"True. Legends and tales fascinate me, I confess. But that's a bit different than considering them actual or possible events.  I've yet to run into a real ghost, despite having worked in quite a few 'haunted' buildings."

Billie Jo avoided Leroy's eyes and just nodded.  "Ah know what you mean, honey," she said, her dimples peeking out.  She laid a friendly hand on his arm.  "Ah know folks who tell me they have a personal relationship with a ghost or two."

"I'm not surprised," he replied with a sigh. "It's rampant down here, that attitude."

Leroy was frowning at Billie Jo who hadn't taken her hand off Klein's arm, and Klein seemed to have no objection to its placement at all.

"Well, still, it's what makes life interesting ah think," she said.  "So what have folks been saying is happening around here exactly?" she asked.  "And ah'd just love to see what ya'll are doin' here."

"Sure, come on back, I'll show you the excavation, such as it is. It's pretty simple really. We've already extracted the bodies, and the .. well, let's call them shrouds.  Angelique hasn't really explained to me what she thinks is going on. She's talked about well, kinda weird wind and rustling in the leaves, and well, that's about it so far as I can tell."

"Atmosphere," Billie Jo translated.  "But what do you mean shrouds?"

"Well, there was no evidence of coffins. Looks like they were wrapped in sheets and dumped into the graves. But it's hard to say because of the flood. The bones were disturbed so no telling really. But it looked like a hurried sort of burial.  Especially for the time period.  And no evidence of a stone or anything to mark the graves."

"Time period?"

"1800s. About the time of the attack on the city by the British. No fighting around here, so it wasn't from that.  This area was mainly for courtesans of the time, though. Some were slaves. Could have been slaves who'd been killed by an angry master."

"But why would that mean they needed to be buried in a hurry?  No one cared about slaves being killed back then," Billie Jo asked.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe they were just dropped into the nearest hole and forgotten there."

"Maybe," Billie Jo said.  "Still it is strange."  She smiled at him again and looked around.  "So tell me about your assistant."

He frowned. "I don't know her very well. She's a grad student, and just wanted to try a dig, and she got stuck with me. Sweet kid. Kinda mousy and quiet. Fairly smart."

"So when was the last time you saw her?"

He gave it some thought. "Well, I guess it was three days ago. It was the end of the day's work, and she headed back to her apartment. She didn't show up the next morning. I figured she had a class or something and didn't think any more about it.  When she didn't turn up the next day, well, I called her and got no answer.  Then that afternoon I went to her apartment and knocked on the door and well, that was when we reported her missing."

Billie Jo leaned back against the improvised work bench.  She pushed her hair back from her face and looked around the site, her survey lingering over the back of the garden and the invisible remains of the wall.  From where she stood she thought she could see the breeze playing it was left of the grass.   She looked around the rest of the lot and wasn't unduely surprised to see that everywhere else it looked there was no breeze at all.  "Does she have a boyfriend around here?  Or family?  Close friends?" 

"No idea. She and I didn't talk about personal stuff."

"Well, the local police will know," she said.  "What sort of person was she?" she asked as she pushed herself away from the bench and started to stroll towards the back of the garden.   She glanced over at Joe and stopped.  "I mean was she stable?  Flighty?  Did she ever disappear before?"

"No, she didn't strike me as flighty. She was, if anything, the opposite. Focused on her studies from what I saw. Although..."

"Although?" she prompted, catching Leroy's eye and then looking back at the grass moving with a wind that was only blowing there.

"Well," Joe replied. "I don't mean to sound full of myself, but she seemed to have a crush on me. Not unheard of, of course.  She might have felt the same way about other professors too, I guess."

Leroy snorted.

Billie Jo grinned.  "Entirely understandable from where ah stand," she said.  She was about to say more when the wind suddenly picked up, pushing hard against her back, turning her hair into wild, blowing gold thread and sending her stumbling a few paces towards Joe.  She put out a quick hand that landed against his chest as she tried to regain her balance.  "Oh, ah'm so sorry," she said as he steadied her.  "Thank you."

He held onto her a beat or two longer than he needed to, meeting her eyes. Then, finally, he said, "You're welcome."

"I'm goin' to talk to Angelique," Leroy muttered and stalked off.

"You and your partner an item?" Joe asked.

"No, just friends," she said, watching him walk away.  "He's not feeling well today is all."

"It's going around. Usually caught on Bourbon Street."

She laughed.  "That would be about right.  So other than bones and shrouds, what have you found here?"

"Uhm, who'd you say you were again?  What agency?"

"Feds," she said, smiling up at him.  "We're the folks the local police love to hate."

"Hard to believe anybody could find such a pretty and sweet lady someone to hate. So are you locals?"

She smiled.  "Why thank you, that's real nice of you to say that.  Though it may be that us being from DC might change your mind about folks hating us."

He grinned. "I don't have anything against DC at the moment. You know... I know a really nice restaurant. Quiet. Locals only, so you don't have to put up with the tourists. They've got a nice wine list. And the blackened redfish is to die for."

"That sounds wonderful," she said.  "If that's an invitation I'd love to have dinner with you.  If not," she said, shrugging, her eyes dancing with laughter, "I hope you're going to at least share the address."

"Of course that's an invitation to dinner.  I'll pick you up at 8. Now let me show you all the details of the site."

Leroy wandered into Angelique's kitchen. "So, Tante Angelique. Tell me about the weird goings on? I'm not really getting the whole picture here."

Angelique turned from the tiny stove that was all the trailer could hold.  "Coffee?  I just made a fresh pot, with chicory."  When he nodded and took a seat she turned back to the stove, pouring him a cup, while she watched Joe and Billie Jo out the window.  Shaking her head almost imperceptibly she carried the coffee to the table along with a plate of fresh rolls.  "I can see you're not a believer," she said, passing him some jam.  "But the spirits of this place, the spirits of my family, there has always been a tension you understand, a sense of the past not being finished yet."  Her eyes shifted from his to the picture album she'd had out and hadn't put away.  "Death isn't always the end.  Sometimes it's just the beginning."

"You might be surprised what I believe, Tante Angelique. I'm listening."

She stirred some cream into her coffee, real cream, turning it a warm gold.  "A quadroon woman, she is one of the most beautiful of all God's creatures, or so it was thought.  The Negro blood in her gave her skin a glow that nothing else could.  Then there were the eyes, sometimes the bottomless brown-black of the African, sometimes tiger eyes and sometimes blue or hazel or even green...those were the rarest. Put them with the skin and the long rich mahogany hair, they were exquisite.  And, like I tole you yesterday, they were raised to the life, to be courtesans, trained from an early age like their mothers and grandmothers to please a man.  Some gentle and pliant, others spirited and proud, some in between."  She sighed and looked over at the album again.  "It was like, in those days, almost as if it were an unspoken thing, what each one gave and what each one got."

"And you think maybe one of the bodies was Desiree?" Leroy asked. "Makes sense."

"Yes," she said.  "Desiree, she had four children by Josephe, or so I was told by my grandmother who was told by hers and on back you understand, to Desiree's daughter.  My grandmother, she also told me, like her grandmother told her, that no one ever knew what happened to Desiree and Josephe or the other three children."

"Ah, so, listen. Since you are a direct descendant, can I have a sample of your DNA? We've got a lab that can get us tests run real fast. I'm thinking I'll get samples from the two bodies, and then compare them to yours. If the one is Desiree we'll be able to know that for sure. Has Dr Klein asked you for a DNA sample too?"

She plucked at the wisps of silver-gray hair that had escaped her chignon and handed a few hairs to Leroy.  "Dr. Klein, he's never asked me for anything.  He's never rude, mind you, but he seems to be avoiding me lately."

Leroy carefully put the hairs into a small evidence bag he pulled out of his pocket and zipped it shut, putting it away after writing a word on it.

"Why's he avoiding you, do you know?"

Her eyes started twinkling again, pixie-like mischief plain in the copper glints.  "He thinks I'm hot for him."

"Are you?" he asked, grinning. "My partner seems to think he's pretty hot."

"Pshaw!  That one, he's all skin and no stuffin'."

Leroy laughed aloud then was immediately sorry for it since it made his head hurt again. "I'll let Billie Jo know you said that," he couldn't resist adding.

Angelique looked out the window of the trailer and shook her head.  "It's probably too late for that cherie, but it never hurts to try."

Leroy frowned. "Maybe I better get out there. We're staying with Mama La Tourneau. If you need anything call me, or yell for her." Leroy handed her his card. "Especially if, you know, anything odd happens. I'd be interested in seeing it."

"You're a good boy cherie.  I wouldn't worry if I were you."

"Right. See you, Tante Angelique," Leroy called out as he headed out the door.

Billie Jo had agreed to meet Joe Klein at the restaurant. It was in the old Brewery which was maybe a mile down the road, and that way she could saunter along and enjoy Bourbon Street.

And Bourbon Street didn't disappoint.  As it was on the weekends, the street was closed to traffic, so only pedestrians sauntered along it. One guy preaching the End of the World leaned against an old painted metal post that stuck up in one of the street corners. Cops riding horses clopped by. Snatches of jazz tunes drifted on the cool early spring breeze from out of lit-up night spots. The scroll work balconies were populated by couples sitting at tiny tables, enjoying the ambiance.  The daiquiri bars and other bars that served the pedestrians, who carried their drinks with them as they walked, lit the night with neonic slashes of brilliant light.

The old brewery was near the wharfs where the paddle wheelers docked. It was mostly full of tourist shops and one of the more famous cooking schools. A couple of restaurants shared the building but the one she was looking for had an entirely understated entrance, indoors, so you had to walk past the tourist stalls. The menu was up in a glassed in box next to the door. The doors (double doors) were old and painted a deep green. The brass handles and kick-plates were shined up and reflected the lights in the ceilings. Windows in the doors were the old fashioned kind with flaws and marks in them which made the candlelight she could see inside the restaurant dance as it was distorted in the glass.

She pulled open the door and someone was standing there. "Reservations only," he said, not sounding the least bit welcoming.

Billie Jo smiled her most winsome smile.  "Ah understand sugah.  Mah name's Billie Jo Dubois and ah'm meetin' a gentleman here for dinner.  His name's Dr. Klein.  Dr. Joe Klein."

The man suddenly smiled down at her. "Oh, right this way, Miss. Sorry. We get lots of tourists trying to come in without reservations. You know how annoying that can be. They can go line up at the usual places. We don't want a line here."

He led the way toward the back of the restaurant to a table near the windows, windows which looked out on the now dark river, whose movements reflected the lights along the wharf and the walkways that marked a park along the river.

Joe was there already and stood up when he saw her approaching. His smile widened as he ran his eye from her feet up to her face. "You look lovely, Billie Jo. I'm so glad you could join me."

"I'm glad you asked me," she said, letting him hold her chair for her.  She conducted her own scrutiny as he sat down opposite her and liked what she saw, from the lock of dark brown hair that fell forward onto his face making her fingers itch to push it back just to find out if it was as silky as it looked, to the glint of humor and something else much more intriguing lurking in the depths of his gray eyes.  She also liked what she heard in the tenor notes of his voice emphasized by the hint of bass in the under tone that registered in her ears as sound and on her spine as a tingle.  More important to her though was the fact that he didn't seem overwhelmed by her looks or intimidated by her job, or what he thought was her job.  Now, seeing him through the candlelight, she could understand why his missing grad student might have had a crush on him.  "I've been looking forward to it all day."

"Me too," he replied. "Students... I don't get a chance to dig as often as I like. Was stuck in class most of the day, and dreaming of a nice dinner with you. And some kids today... Sheesh. Well, enough about work. The food here is excellent and cooked for your preferences. It's spicy, though, I warn you up front," he added with a grin.

"I enjoy spicy and hot," she said, grinning back.

"Where's that accent from?" he asked. "You and Leroy aren't from the same area, I can tell."

"No we're not.  Leroy's from Little Rock and I'm from Charleston.  But you're from around here, aren't you?" she asked, leaning her chin on her palm.  "I can hear the Creole influence."

He laughed.  "Can you now. And here I've been trying to erase that accent most of my life. I went to school up north, you see. They made fun of the accent. But yeah, the family is from the area. We've got one of those monstrous Victorians on St Charles Avenue, in the Garden District. Not far from where Anne Rice lives, actually, unfortunately. The trolley goes by and the tourists tend to gape."

She laughed.  "Rosegate.  And now she's writing biographies of Jesus Christ.  Either she's had a conversion experience or she's ahead of the curve on the next wave of mainstream ...lordy, what genre does she write?  But then ghost stories abound in New Orleans, or so I've heard." 

"Oh yeah. Lots of them. It's a place with the sort of history that cries out to the romantic in all of us. Do you know, for instance, that the sort of houses found in much of New Orleans are referred to as shotguns?  What a word choice. Because the lots are narrow, and so are the houses. Still.... Shotguns.   And what with our interest in Mardi Gras and the political pull the krewes have, well, it does seem pretty romantic." He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm sort of  fascinated by the whole thing myself, and tend to get a bit carried away."

"Oh no, please," she said, letting the waiter set her drink down.  She dimpled at the waiter and then Joe.  "I love ghost stories and that shivery, breathless feeling of suspense and anticipation, you know? I've been listening to Tante Angelique tell stories about her house and how it's been in her family for centuries, since the early eighteen hundreds."

"Yeah, we're running some tests on the bones we dug up. She's pretty nosey about them. Not that I blame her, but I don't want to get her hopes up, you know?  As for her ghost stories, well, it's not real wise, professionally, to admit to much in the way of the supernatural stuff. I mean, most of the folks who get our funding, are not going to be enamoured of any of their faculty getting quoted as believing in ghosts."

"Well honey, I promise not to tell, cross my heart," she told him, underlining the words by drawing a cross over her breast...a gesture she watched him watch. 

"You're surprisingly interested in the supernatural. I wouldn't have thought you Feds would waste much time or resources on that aspect of things."

"It's a hobby of mine," she said.  "Charleston has its share of ghost stories and the like.  My mama used to tell them to me and my sisters when we were little...bedtime stories."

"Ah. Well between Angelique and Bella La Tourneau you'll get an earful that's for certain. What other kinds of hobbies do you have?"

She shrugged.  "I'm pretty dull, I expect.  I like to garden, to knit and read.  And I enjoy the usual things...music, shows, movies, dancing.  How about you?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know. The usual things I guess. Do you like jazz?"

"What I've heard of it....the complexity and depth of it.  The way it elicits a whole different sort of movement when you dance to it."

"If you like, after dinner, we might drop by The Circle Bar. It's small and intimate. And wonderful."

"I'd like that a lot," she said.  She used the pause as they were served to study him again.  She slipped a piece of redfish on her fork and saluted him with it.  "To die for as I recall you saying," she reminded him and then tasted it.  After she'd savored the flavor on her tongue she nodded.  "And you didn't mislead me."

"Ah, but give me time," he replied with a grin.

After dinner and coffee, spicy rich stuff, not the usual American kind, they walked arm in arm through the pleasant night to his car. "The Circle Bar is west of here on St Charles."

"Does this mean," she asked, a teasing note in her voice, "We can gawk at Anne Rice's house on the way or that I'm going to get to see yours?"

He laughed. "We can gawk at Anne Rice's for sure. The family's house isn't, strictly speaking, mine, but yeah, I can show it to you if you like."

"Of course.  I mean, I am investigating you and so I want all the background I can get," she quipped. 

"Oh, well then, that's all right," he replied, smiling. "You might even want to see my drawings then. Try to get inside my head, and all that."

"Ooo, yeah I hadn't thought of that.  Are they revealing and psychologically suggestive?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely," he said with a leer.

He drove out of the Quarter and it was only a few blocks before they passed The Circle Bar. He saw her notice it. "Well, you wanted to gawk at Rosegate so I thought I'd take you down St Charles a ways and then circle back to the Bar, if that's okay."

"Sure," she said, watching the mansions go past.  "It's such a beautiful part of the city."

St Charles Avenue was wide and lined with big old trees that cast pools of black shadow along the roadway. Streetcar tracks ran along with them, and the centre of the avenue was lush with grass and yet more trees. Joe took a turn and went down first. "Here's where she lived most of the time. Rosegate. It's the house she had in mind when she wrote the Witching Hour, I'm told. Looks spooky enough at night, anyway. I hear she's living in Metairie. Or at least that's the last I heard. She was always, kinda out there, if you know what I mean. And to be out there in Nawlins, well, that's sayin' something."

He looped around and got back on St Charles, travelling down the street some ways. "There's the family homestead," he said, and nodded at a gently decaying old Victorian with a round turret in one corner. "Expensive as hell to keep up, as you can imagine. Most of the neighbors have broken them up into apartments or B&B's as you see. My family is a bit slow to change."

"So your parents still live there?  Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"Yeah, I've got an older brother who thankfully will be stuck with everything. Otherwise I'd be running the family business. Ah, here's the club. You said you like to dance..."

"Yep," she said, turning to look at him or rather the shadowy him that was visible in the darkness.  He seemed such a mix to her, one minute willing to flirt or engage at a somewhat personal level and the next minute backing off again even if only the smallest distance.  "I hope you do as well."

"Oh, I do indeed," he said, as he opened her car door for her and led her into a small unremarkable bar, but one that had fabulous music playing. He was known here, and waved at a few of the employees. The bartender nodded, and a server came right over to them as they found a small table stuck over in a corner. "Hey, Joe. There'll be  table up front opening up soon if you want to move.  What can I get your friend?" she asked smiling at Billie Jo.

"A glass of the house white," Billie Jo said, smiling back.

Joe was already tapping to the music as he looked avidly at the musicians. "Aren't they great?" he asked.

"They are.  Do you know them?  Or," she asked, watching his hands, "You play something don't you, some instrument?"

"Yeah, I do. And yeah, I know them. Want to dance?"

She grinned.  "Yeah, I do," she said, letting him take her hand and draw her out to the dance floor.  "What instrument?"

"Horn. I'm not very good," he said.  He was a good dancer though, with a good feel for the music and an appreciation of the romance of the music. She relaxed into his arms and let herself melt into the music. She came out of the sort of trance she was in when she realized he really was kissing her.  It puzzled her for an instant but then she lost the thread of the thought as she succumbed to the blandishments of his mouth tempting hers into a response.  She was a sucker for a guy who knew how to kiss and this guy definitely knew.

"Hey," he said softly when the kiss finally ended and he escorted her back to their table. His hand was low on her back, almost down to her buttocks. He sat her down and then kissed the back of her neck, before sitting across from her at the tiny table that barely separated them.  She barely repressed the shiver the feel of his lips on her nape caused and sought refuge in a large sip of wine.  Then she took a second one.  Her eyes met his as she set the glass down.  He didn't need to flirt, she realized.  All he had to do was kiss.  Flirting would have been overkill. 

"Thank you for the dance," she said, smiling at him, the sort of smile that acknowledged her response and his success, while deprecating the obviousness of it.  "You're very good,"  she added, leaving open what she thought he was good at.  She didn't need to say it, she knew he knew what he'd done...what he was doing to her now and the ease with which he accomplished it.

"I'm.. I'm sorry. I really am. I got kind of carried away," he said. "And you're lovely and you dance beautifully."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked.  "I'm not."

He grinned. "Oh, good. I thought for a minute there you were. Should I take you home?"

"Unfortunately, you probably should," she said.

He got the bill and escorted her out to the car, his hand on the small of her back again. A little bit higher up. He held her door and then got in on the driver's side. The drive into the Vieux Carre was quiet and at this time of night parking was surprisingly easy to find. He pulled up in front of Mama's doorstep, the entrance to her house, next to the shop. 

"Thanks for letting me show you a little of New Orleans. I love the place, despite everything."

She turned to him - a full turn from the waist not a half turn from the neck - so she could see his face, back lit by the street lights, his eyes glinting in the darkness.  The night around them seemed to enclose them in a kind of balmy cotton wool, accented with the scent of damp earth and the small sounds, rustling and whispering of the night creatures.  All of it creating the sort of feeling that made her aware of a faint yearning, a longing for something that wasn't desire, not sexual desire anyway, but of some other sort, more intense and encompassing, and striking deeper into the heart of her, clear through to the place where she lived.  Something she wanted and wasn't sure she should or that she could have. "It's easy to love," she said softly.  "Thank you for showing me."

He reached out a hand to cup the side of her face, ever so gently.. "My pleasure. I'd like to see you again."

"I'd like that," she said.  "A lot."

He leaned over to plant a kiss on her lips. He hesitated only a moment when she leant into it.  He deepened it.  She followed him willingly, sighing into it, a murmur of approval and encouragement.  His arms went around her, drawing her to him across the distance between them, until she was half draped over the front seat, supported by the seat backs as much as by his chest.  She threaded her hands into his hair, savoring the silkiness of it and arched toward him, tempting him with the pliant bowing of her back and the tangling sweep of her tongue over his to close the distances between them.

The passenger side door suddenly opened. "Hey there, Joe. Thanks for bringing her home. Did y'all have a good time?"

Billie Jo stiffened and struggled to reengage the wits she'd been actively tossing to the wind.  She pushed back on Joe's chest trying to right herself physically, thinking perhaps that would aid in reorienting herself mentally.  It didn't, at least not much, but by the time she was upright again she had Leroy's eyes trapped like a rabbit's by hers and the flush on her cheeks had finished covering the spectrum from one sort of arousal to another diametrically opposed to it.  All those years of reading novels and she now knew what it meant to fume.  "Leroy, just what do you think you're doing?"

"I just was coming home and saw you two trading spit. Thought I'd just, you know... only bother Mama once to unlock the door. What? I interrupt something?" Leroy was blinking innocently.

Joe was sitting back looking a bit shocked, his eyes going from Billie Jo and then to Leroy, then back again.  "So, dinner tomorrow night?" he asked.

"I'd love to!" Leroy replied.

"He didn't mean you, fool.  Now go away." Billie Jo ordered.  Then she turned back to Joe and smiled ruefully.  "I'm sorry about that.  But I'd love to have dinner with you tomorrow night."

"Great. I'll pick you up at 8," Joe replied and bussed her efficiently on the cheek despite Leroy still leaning down and looking into the car.

"Perfect," she said and kissed him back lightly before getting out of the car.  She watched him drive off and then turned her attention towards the man waiting beside her and how exactly to fillet him, while inflicting the maximum amount of pain and deriving an equal measure of satisfaction from his torments.

"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know you had your tongue down a suspect's throat?" Leroy commented, doing his best to look innocent.

Billie Jo made a noise low in her throat, disbelief and outrage mingled, and punched him the stomach. 

"Ooooof," exploded from Leroy's mouth as he bent over, his hands going protectively to his stomach. She ignored it and headed for the front door to Mama's house.   "You coming?" she tossed over her shoulder.  "We don't wanna make Mama unlock the door twice."

"Uh... Gimme a sec..." He was trying to stand up as the door opened before Billie Jo reached it. 

"Cher' you all right?" Mama asked worriedly. "T'row up outside, cher'."

"Evening, Mama Belle," Billie Jo said.  "Really pretty night isn't it?"

"Dat it is, honey, dat it is. Poor Leroy been out drinkin' again, I see. He had dis problem long?"

"No Mama, I don't think so and I have to say," she continued, sweetness dripping in gobs from her voice, "I think he might be getting over it, aren't you Leroy?"

Leroy was breathing heavily. "I'm okay. Don't nobody worry about me or nothin'."

"Den get that ass inside, boy!" Mama called.  Leroy limped along and entered just after Billie Jo while Mama closed and locked the door.

Billie Jo followed Mama into the kitchen where she grinned at her and dropped a resounding kiss on her cheek.  "Ah do like New Orleans.  Oh yes ah do," she said, her smile bubbling over.

Leroy, almost able to stand up, limped in behind her. "So I gathered," he muttered.

The phone ran while Mama and Billie Jo were talking. Leroy was sitting looking a bit glum, keeping his trap shut.  Mama answered the phone and listened for a bit.  "Right. I'll put him on, Angelique."

Mama handed the phone to Leroy.  "It's for you, cher'. She like you."

Leroy took the phone and put it to his ear a bit reluctantly. "Hello?"

"Cherie?  You know you said to call if anything odd happens?  Well, you'd best get over here right away and...and maybe you should bring Bella with ya'll," Angelique said, hesitating over the words.

"Okay, Angelique. We'll get there as soon as we can. With Bella if she'll come. Hang."  Leroy hung up the phone. "The ghosts are acting up," Leroy explained. "She wants you to come with us, Mama."

Billie Jo nodded.  "Two seconds," she said and was back in under a minute in clothes more suited to field work.

Mama nodded she was ready too and began to head toward the door, when instead Leroy said, "Wait. We'll go the faster way." He touched Mama and Billie Jo and zapped the three of them to the front stoop at Angelique's.

"Ah," Bella said, as Leroy reached out to knock on the door.

Angelique opened the door wide, fast enough to suggest she'd been standing there with her hand on the knob.  "I sure appreciate ya'll coming."  She stood back to let them enter.  "Bella, I've never seen them like this before."

"In the back garden?" Bella asked.

When Angelique nodded the four of them headed back into the darkness, Leroy producing a strong flashlight from somewhere, which he used to make sure they didn't step into a hole.  Angelique didn't need to lead them far. 

Billie Jo had been speaking the truth when she said it was a pretty night.  It was a clear night, balmy, and with just the slightest whisper of a breeze spreading the perfume of the early blooming azaleas and wisteria.  In Angelique's garden the wind had given up whispering and was speaking aloud, directing its whole attention to the tent Joe Klein had pitched on the site to house their equipment, tools and a makeshift desk.  The tent was collapsing from all the attention.  As they stood there gust of wind blew through it and beat one of the center poles over to an eighty degree angle and belled the canvas to the snapping point.  Everything else in the garden was still, and settled in for the night.

"They've been at it for about half an hour now.  They'll have it down before long."  Angelique shook her head.  "They're angry 'bout something and they won't talk to me."

Leroy shined the flashlight around then surprised Angelique and Mama by stepping forward. 'Yo, Ghost dude. You got our attention already. Instead of ripping up the tent, how about you let us know what it is you're upset about?"

The wind, interrupted in its conversation with the canvas, spoke back with a gust strong enough to make the four of them stagger back a step in surprise.

"Oh, please. I know smarter ghosts who have the good sense to stop the theatrics and answer me!"

"Is it Desiree do you think Tante Angelique?" Billie Jo held her hair back out of her face and took a step towards the tent.  "Or someone else?"

Tante Angelique's hands moved in an encompassing gesture.  "The spirits here, they are all my family.  Many are friends, but they don't talk to me now, not since this all started.  So I don't know.  But if not Desiree than I suspect it is Josephe.  There is anger here, and resentment.  Mama and I have tried and they haven't spoken to us."

"Yo Joe!  There's a lot of Joe's around here ain't there. So what do you want? We can't give it to you if you don't tell us, you know. Wrecking the stupid tent gives you exactly nothing. Tell me what you want."  Leroy was using the flashlight to examine the wreckage of the tent.

"Well, there's always the satisfaction of a job well done," Billie Jo said.  The trees in back rustled at her words as if in endorsement.

Angelique just sighed.  "Come inside," she said.  "I have tea made.  They have gone for now, you can feel it."

Leroy shivered. "Yeah. Stupid ghosts. Come on, honey," he added, taking Billie Jo's arm. "So, how you doin' after all that shagging?  You okay?"

She shoved her elbow in his ribs, though not as hard as she punched him.  "Ah'm doing jus' fine, sugah."

"So did you shag him?" he asked leaning in to ask the question.  "Or did I arrive in the nick of time?"

She resisted the urge grind her teeth.  "Do you want to have children someday, sugah?"

His eyes narrowed. "Are you propositioning me?"

"No honey, that would be playing where ah work and ah make it a firm rule never to do that.  Ah'm just thinking that ah should warn ya'll that if ya'll keep goin' on like ya been doin' you won't ever have no children 'cause ah'll fix it so ya'll can't do what it takes to have 'em."  She smiled at him.  "Ah just think it's only fair, ya know, to warn ya'll?"

"Seriously, Billie Jo. It's not a good idea."

"What's not a good idea?  Warning you or making good on the promise?"

"Forget it," Leroy said with a sigh as they reached Angelique's trailer. 

Angelique led the way inside.  She stopped short when she got inside.  "Oh my stars and garters," she whispered, her hand going to her throat.

Leroy peered over her shoulder while Billie Jo squeezed forward to see too. 

A languid arm covered in the finest of lawn waved them forward.  The body it was attached to shimmered and became more substantial, the hand at its end ending the gesture by coming to rest on a thigh clad in breeches that hadn't been there before, at least not as anything more than a smoky suggestion of a shape.  "Do forgive us, but we thought since you wanted to speak with us it would be more comfortable here."

The woman with him shifted a bit closer, moving the skirts of her dress to make room for someone else on the built in seating.  "As you no doubt know I'm Desiree Benoit and this is Josephe, Josephe Menard," she said, indicating him with unconsciously seductive grace.

"Hey," Leroy said. "Nice to meet you. You are just as beautiful as Angelique said you were, ma'am. What can I do for you?" 

"It was you who wished to speak with us, I believe."

"Well, yeah, true enough. Cuz, you know, it doesn't make much sense to make a mess when it doesn't get you anywhere, so I wondered if there was something in particular you wanted that we could do for you. Like maybe find your killer?"  Leroy ignored Billie Jo, when she poked him.

Josephe and Desiree laughed.  "That is very kind of you, I'm sure.  But unnecessary.  What you need to do is put it back," Desiree said.

"Put what back?" Leroy asked, still ignoring Billie Jo.

"The box, oui?  And the money.  Disturbing it was most unwise," Josephe said.  "We are tied together, it and I.  A blood tie."

"What money?" Leroy asked as Mama La Tourneau moved forward to take a seat. "Tied together?  A curse?"

"Oui," Josephe said.  "And without the box..." He shrugged, an eloquent movement expressing many things.  "It is not a matter of chicken's blood and banana trees, with roosters pecking corn."

Angelique nodded slowly.  "It was you, wasn't it?" she said, looking at Desiree.

"Oui, child.  I learned many things from my mama, like you learned from yours and from my grandmama, too."

"What does she mean?" Billie Jo asked, sliding around Leroy and moving to sit across from the couple.

"It is what is called, crudely, voodoo," Angelique said, looking at Mama Bella.  "Many of the quadroons were brought up to it, were voodoo queens, taught by their mothers and grandmothers, just as they were taught the seductive arts, the ways to please a man.  It was passed on, one generation to the next, the...art...often specific to the line it descended along, or so I believe.  Bella could explain better."

"It is merely a way to manipulate the world," Bella added. "Just as Leroy brought us here. A way to bend reality to our needs and our desires. We pay for such things. In energy, in personal power, in other ways which are not always clear. I will attempt to lift this curse," she added, looking at the two ghosts, "if that is now your wish."

Desiree smiled sadly.  "Of course," she said.  "Then it was a matter of justice, the only justice open to not just a creole woman of color, a quadroon woman but to a woman at all.  Nothing was mine, not even my children.  But Madame, even as powerful as you are, it is not that simple.  Even with the box it is not possible.  I was angry, so angry and I meant him to suffer for ever, as long as time lasted.  I wanted him to know something of the despair he had visited upon me.  But as you say, we pay.  We have both paid.  It is enough."

"So tell me about the box," Leroy put in a bit impatiently. "We can't do anything without it, right?  Where is it, do you know?  Who took it?"

"It's a box, filled with money.  And it's gone."  Desiree looked at Josephe.

"You must tell them mignonne, n'est ce pas?  It is too long ago to matter anymore to anyone but us.  Even without the curse you have your wish."

Desiree looked at the others, her gaze coming to rest on Angelique.  "You are the last of us, and when you pass on there will be none left.  So perhaps he is right, and it's time that the truth is told."

Angelique smiled, her eyes gentle.  "There is some we have guessed at, I think.  That somehow you killed each other and it had something to do with the disappearance of your children?  Your daughter, Natalee, grandmother of my grandmothers grandmothers grandmother, she was only three when you disappeared.  She went to live with your sisters and your mother.  But the other three were never found, your two sons and your other daughter."

"They would not have been," Josephe said,  "I sold them down river, as it was called then.  To a planter from Mississippi.  I needed the money and they seemed to me to be a...disposable asset."

"You sold your children?" Leroy asked, his mouth falling open as he fell silent.

Bella laid a hand on his arm. "Different times, cher'."

"Yeah but.." Leroy replied whispering. "So we need to find the box, and what, bring it back here, with its gold?  Then what?  We try to erase the spell and that's it?"

Desiree sighed.  "It was not just any curse, that is what Josephe tried to explain.  It was very specific. A blood curse.  My blood and Josephe's.  His is in the box.  I filled the box with it, covered the money he'd been paid for them with it.  I made it with the magic what it was, blood money.  Then I cursed it and him as he was dying.  I opened my wrists and with every drop that fell on him I said the words."

"But that wasn't the end of it was it?" Angelique said.  "The story that my grandmama told, she said that everyone thought there'd been another man, a friend of Josephe's, a Frenchman."

"Oui, Alec Vinton.  But not like they thought.  He loved me and I used him.  He tried to stop it and I wouldn't.  I made him promise to bury us and to seal the box in the garden wall where he buried us, tying us both to this place forever and to the box.  Josephe's blood is in the box.  But not mine.  None of mine is left."

"Okay, so how can we erase a blood curse with no blood from Desiree, then?" Leroy asked.

"You let me worry about that," Bella replied. "You find the box and the gold."

"Well, I'm bettin' the missing student found it and took off with it," Leroy said. "I'll check on that in the morning. And then we need to find out what happened to this Alec Vinton guy."