Ian was on his laptop taking care of some business, Betty Jo was sitting at the small lady's desk that Ian had made to appear in his study for her use. It had a leather inset edged with gold scrollwork.  The legs were elegant, thin and curved, gilt scrollwork on them as well. It was rosewood and was, no doubt, antique and very expensive.  Betty Jo was jotting down things she need right away, and other things she needed to handle regarding a move to another country. Well, perhaps not all of them were necessary?

She was interrupted in her musings, when a knock came on the study door. Ian, without even looking up, called, "Come."

It was Edwards who stuck his reassuringly normal English face in through the door. "Madam. Might I have a word?"

Ian looked up at that.

"Certainly, Edwards," she said.

He came into the room and stood near her desk, smiling down at her. "Is that desk all right there? I could move it if you'd prefer it away from the windows. But I thought perhaps you'd like the look of the garden once it begins to look up, miss.  And is it big enough? There's a very nice secretary desk we could bring down out of one of the guest rooms. But I always thought that was such a beautiful desk, it needed more use, if you don't mind me saying so, miss."

"I think it's perfectly lovely, and I'm looking forward to the view.  It was very kind of you to think of it and to go to all that trouble," she said, giving him a dazzling smile.

"No trouble at all miss. I've also re-arranged the closets in Lord Avery's bedroom so you might have some to use, and arranged the adjoining bedroom for your use if you wish it. It makes a very nice boudoir, if you close off the double doors to Lord Avery's room, miss, and you can put your feet up at the fireplace when it's cold again, miss. Also, if you can look at the closets, so's you know if that and the closets in the adjoining room are convenient for you, I'd appreciate it, miss. And if you like, I can go back and help you with the packing to bring your things."

Ian was frowning fiercely, but decided it was far better to let Betty Jo handle Edwards.

"Oh, and luncheon will be on the half hour. Supposing that Mr. Saunders arrives on time."

"Let's hope he is, so Cook isn't upset.  I'd be happy to look at the closets whenever is convenient for you and Lord Avery.  I don't wish to be any trouble to either of you and here you are, spoiling me."  She glanced at Ian and returned her attention to Edwards.  "I was going to pack this afternoon, if that doesn't interfere with your duties here," she said, the implied question delicately addressed to both men equally.

"It's a good idea, actually," Ian replied. "By all means, take Edwards with you. By the way, would you like me to hire a lady's maid for you?"

She stopped her jaw from dropping, but only just.  "A maid?  Why would I need a maid?"

"Oh, miss, yes you should! She could look after your clothes and help you with your hair and make quite certain you are comfortable. Much as I do for Lord Avery."

Ian's lips were twitching.

Betty Jo eyed Ian for a moment.  "Well Edwards," she said slowly, turning back to him, "if you think that would be best then of course that's what we should do.  I am quite relying on you make sure I know how to go on so that these changes aren't disruptive to the household or Lord Avery."

"We'll consider it, Edwards. Thank you for the suggestion," Ian managed. "Oh, and you and Ms DuBois can settle the closets as you like. I'm sure it will be fine."

"Yes, thank you Edwards.  For everything."

"Oh, miss. And Cook would like a word at your convenience. She wants to know your preferences so she can be sure not to make things you won't like, and to have what you do like in the house."  Edwards, his eye on his boss, dipped his head and left them in peace.

Ian waited until the door was firmly shut and a huge grin escaped. He did manage to swallow the guffaw that nearly got away from him.

"You are an evil, wicked, unfeeling man to tease him.  He's just trying to be welcoming," she said, trying not to laugh.

"Haven't even officially moved in and you've figured me out. If you don't want a maid, feel free to say no. I wonder if Tsura has one? Perhaps you and she should have a chat on dealing with uppity servants. I'm no good at all at it. I tend to let them have their way."

"I imagine she does, actually.  I'll have to call her when things are settled.  On the whole, I think a maid is a small price to pay to keep Edwards happy and he did seem very taken with the idea.  Would he like to pick her out?"  She thought for a moment.  "And that way you could tell Daddy you were doing your all to take care of me properly," she added, her lips quivering again.

"Why do I need to talk to your Daddy at all," Ian complained. "You're a big girl."

"True, but I don't think he sees it that way.  Still, Mama's working on him so it will probably all be just fine.  So I wouldn't do anything unless he gets in touch."

"Ah, well, good then."

The door opened and Withers, who'd been brought up from the manor to help with everything, let Leroy in. Leroy was staring at the stooped old fellow. "Man, can't you give your servants a good retirement package, Ian?"

Betty Jo burst out laughing.  "Yeah Ian, can't you?"

"Oh, do stop it," Ian replied grinning. "Hullo, Leroy. How are things?"

Leroy's smile faded. "Okay, I guess."

So did Betty Jo's.  "I talked to Bobbie, she told me what happened and then we both tried.  I'm so sorry Leroy.  She's just not listening right now.  She gets like that, and the more you try to push her the more stubborn she gets."

"Yeah, well, she's got reason to be mad at me, I guess," Leroy replied, frowning down at his chucks.

"I don't see why.  You're just not willing to help her get hurt."

Ian looked totally baffled. Then the light dawned. "Oh, right. You didn't take her back for her date?  Have you since?"

"I've been avoiding her, staying here in London. I've no idea if she's flown back to New orleans or not, but last I heard she was still in DC."

"She hasn't.  But she's planning to this weekend if you still aren't back," Betty Jo said.  "Are you any closer to getting this settled?"'

"I think so. I'm hoping... I've got an appointment at the British Museum tomorrow. The guy I need to talk to is out today. They've got something in their archives that might be helpful," Leroy replied.

A knock on the door announced that luncheon was ready so the three of them made their way to the dining room where they took their seats.

Betty Jo waited until they'd been served.  Then she tasted her soup before saying, "Leroy have you found an apartment yet?  Or are you fixed at the Refuge indefinitely?"

"No I haven't really had time to look for an apartment. I better though. I keep having to change diapers."

"Would you be interested in mine?  Furnished and all?"

"Uh, I might have been. But maybe not so much now."  Leroy looked down at his soup. "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Well would you consider sort of apartment sitting until I can find a tenant?" she suggested. 

"I guess. I'll try to avoid her. I mean, it'd be perfect for me permanently but I don't want to make Billie uncomfortable."

Betty Jo nodded.  "I understand.  I don't think you would, actually.  I appreciate you saying yes, though."

"Oh, yeah, I would," Leroy replied. "It's really not a good idea."

"So other than looking for clues, what have you been doing in London?  Are you staying over or commuting?" she asked.

"I'm going back to the Refuge at night. Not doing much here, other than wearing my eyes out, really. Haven't had much time to see anything."

"Honey, what can we do to help?" she said, reaching over to pat his hand.

"You could maybe talk to Billie," he suggested.

"Ah, I see," Ian said thoughtfully.

"No you don't," Leroy replied, looking over at him.

"Oh I think I do. The immune one is bitten."

Leroy looked back down at his soup.

"I tried once.  But I'll try again if you want.  Or is there something else you want me to talk to her about?"

"God no!" Leroy yelped, looking at her, and looking a bit panicked.

"That wasn't what I meant," she said.  "I wouldn't do that."

The fish was brought in sparing Leroy from a reply.

Once they were alone again, Leroy asked, "So like you two are really gonna do it, huh?  What's Rimes think of it? Not to mention Blackheath?"

"I haven't told Blackheath," Ian replied with a shrug. "I'm sure they'll find out on their own."

"Rimes just wanted to know if I was changing cell phone numbers," Betty Jo said.  "And suggested I cultivate the relationship with Blackheath."

Leroy grinned. "Good old Rimes. Everything's an opportunity."

"He's big on networking, anyway.  I'm going to be back at the apartment this afternoon, packing.  If you're free it might be a good time to come by and I can show you where everything is, you can let me know if there's anything you need to apartment sit or anything you'd rather I just stored."

"You don't think Billie'll be there do you?"

"Edwards will be along to provide you protection," Ian put in dead-pan.

"No, I don't think so," she said, ignoring Ian.

"Yeah, all right. I can duck behind Edwards, I guess," he added, making a face at Ian.

Ian grinned and sipped his wine.  "Come back, I'll take you to Piccadilly tonight. Turn you loose with the paint ballers. There's always a game at the arcade there."

Leroy made a face.

Betty Jo laughed.  "Go on, honey, it'll do you good to have some fun."

"We'll see. If I survive DC."  With that the main meal arrived.

When luncheon was over, Edwards got himself together and Ian kissed Betty Jo good bye.  Betty Jo, Leroy and Edwards, looking as if he were feeling odd dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, translated themselves to the hallway in front of Betty Jo's apartment.  She grinned at them and opened the door.  "Edwards, I'm counting on you because otherwise I'd turn this into chaos."

"Not to worry, miss. I pack up Lord Avery's things quite often. You see that Mr. Saunders understands everything and leave the packing up to me. You just show me what you want."

Leroy looked at the hallway worriedly and hurried on in.

Betty Jo nodded and led Edwards into the bedroom.  When she had him settled she went back to find Leroy staring morosely out the window.  "Oh honey," she said, rubbing his back.  "Would you like a beer?  Or something else."

"Sure. Why not. Man, I really screwed up, you know? How can I lecture her when... I know she won't even give me a glance. She doesn't, you know, do things with folks she works with, and besides... I mean, she'd never even give me the time of day if I weren't well, if I wasn't, you know, Awakened."

Betty Jo handed him a beer and shoved him down in a chair.  "Now, you're as wrong as you can be about her only giving you the time of day because you're Awakened.  So stop being an idiot.  You're the kind of guy any of us would go out with and be glad to do it."

"Yeah. I know she's not an airhead or anything, but still.  I got nothin'.  I don't even have an apartment."

"Leroy stop it, stop it right now.  You hear me, honey."

He sipped his beer. Edwards was happily whistling in the bedroom.

Betty Jo eyed him, chewing on her lip.  Right this minute, if she were there, it would have given her a great deal of pleasure to smack her sister silly.  But then Billie was clearly oblivious to what was going on; oblivious to everything but this man in New Orleans.  "Okay, let me explain how it works here.  The three of us own the house and did the conversion.   Billie's on the top floor and Bobbie's on the second.  We share the basement for storage and that's where the laundry room is.  I'm only taking my personal stuff, so you should have everything you need. There's a cleaning lady who comes in on Tuesdays and I'll let her know you're here but that she should keep coming.  You'll like her.  Her name's Hilda and if there's anything special you need done just leave her a note."

"Okay. I'll try to pick up my dirty drawers and socks before she gets here. Wouldn't want to shock her or nothing.  So, uhm, I really hope you and Ian work out okay."

"I do too, honey.  Thanks.  And you aren't going to shock Hilda.  She's got eight kids, all boys between nine and twenty and she cleans houses so she can afford them."

"Oh. Well, I guess it'll be all right then. So, if I zap in and out I'm unlikely to run into Billie, right? I'll just need to avoid her at work."

"What am I gonna do with you?"

Leroy grinned. "I'm good. Honest. I'm just... I'm worried about her, you know. I don't like Joe. I don't think it's just jealousy either."

"I respect your instincts.  And I'm worried about her too."  She stopped at the sound of the back door opening.  "That must be Bobbie.  She said she was going to come down and help me pack."

Leroy leaned back and sipped his beer, far too cowardly to offer to help with that.

Betty Jo laughed.  "You're such a guy," she said as the kitchen door opened.  She looked over and the hello on her lips died.  "Oh, Billie," she said weakly.

Leroy jumped to his feet. "Oh, hi Billie. I, uhm, stopped by for a minute."

"He came to help me pack," Betty Jo said.  "I thought you were Bobbie.  She said she was coming down."

Billie Jo nodded.  "She is, but she's on the phone with Mama."  She paused for a moment and then said, "Hi Leroy.  How's  London?"

"I think I got a lead. I'm meeting with a guy at the BM tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed."  He tried a sort of half-ass grin.

"Oh good.  I haven't found anything on the American end.  The New Orleans police got a report though of someone seeing Gayle leaving her apartment with someone the night she disappeared.  They're tracking it down."

"Oh great. I sure hope she's somewhere alive," he added.  "It still seems odd to me though. She doesn't strike me as the type.  Well, from what little we've been able to learn of her."

"As the type to take the box and run off?  Or the type to just disappear?" Billie asked.

"Either, from what I saw," Leroy replied. "She's close to her family, she studies hard, so the education is important to her. I just don't see it."

"Well it's possible," Betty said, "from what you've told me that she didn't disappear willingly."

"Yeah, so if we learn who she left her apartment with... Well, that should give us something to work with." Leroy was sounding hopeful for the first time in quite a few days. "And if I get something useful at the Museum.... Well, maybe we can figure this whole thing out and put the ghosts to rest."

Billie Jo nodded.  "Soon, I hope."

"Anyway," Betty Jo said, "Leroy's going to apartment sit until we can find a tenant we all like."

"Oh good," Billie said, smiling at him.  "That'll be nice."

"Really? You don't mind?"

"No, why in the world would I?  I think it's great."

"Oh. Well, last time we talked you were pretty mad at me."

"So?  I'm still not happy about all that, but what does it have to do with you taking Betty's apartment?  Don't friends get mad at each other sometimes?  Does that stop them being friends?"

Leroy grinned. "Oh. Cool.  So if I move in instead of just apartment sitting you wouldn't mind?"

Billie put her hands on her hips.  "Of course not.  I'd rather you did than anyone else, especially a stranger.  We all would, even Mama and Daddy."

"Okay, so Betty Jo, I'll take it."

She laughed.  "Great.  So you can settle in and then let me know what you want left here and what you want me to put into storage, okay?"

Leroy laughed with what Betty Jo recognized as relief. "Sure."

Edwards came out of the bedroom, toting a couple of bulging suitcases. "All set, miss."

"Thank you Edwards.  I assume the rest of the bags will be sent on after us, as it were?" she asked, fighting not to smile.

"Yes, madam, er, miss. Don't you worry."

"Thank you."  She hugged Billie.  "I'll see you and Bobbie at work tomorrow.  Leroy, the keys are on the sideboard and there's a spare set in the knife drawer in the kitchen."

"Okay, great. You want I should go back with you?" Leroy asked Betty, casting a furtive glance Billie's way.

"If you want, you can help carry the bags, but it's up to you."

Billie laughed.  "I have stuff to take care of, if you're all set Betty.  I'll see you all later."  She hugged her sister, grinned at Leroy and left.

"I'll leave you to poke around in peace and settle in.  If you need anything just let me know or ask Bobbie or Billie."

"Okay. Hey, thanks."

She hugged him.  "It's gonna be fine, honey, you just wait and see."  Then she kissed him on the cheek and she and Edwards were gone.
*****
Leroy woke up with a start, confused there for a minute where the hell he was. Not that he sometimes didn't wake up in some woman's bedroom but he thought he'd remember if he'd gotten some the night before and he sure as hell didn't.  He groaned then and fell back down onto the bed. Right. he was either apartment-sitting or moving into Betty Jo's apartment; he wasn't entirely sure which.

He stumbled to the bathroom, drowned himself for a bit in the shower, stumbled back into the bedroom and felt around for some clothes. Oh, yeah, there was the duffel he'd brought from the Refuge.  He threw clothes around until he came up with clean jockeys and a pair of socks. Finding jeans and a tee shirt, over which he pulled a sweater was easier. He looked at the watch on his wrist (which, most of the time, he even wore in the shower) and cursed. He was due at the British Museum at 1330 local which was, he hurriedly did the math, like in 10 minutes. shit!  He didn't have time to shave, so he brushed his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair, which seemed to be the fashion these days luckily for him, and he pulled on his Chucks.  He found his gun and holster where he'd left them, thought for a moment, and decided to leave them, grabbed his wallet and the key to the place and zapped out to an alley he'd found near the BM where he could zap in fairly unnoticed. He scared a bunch of pigeons and one rather startled old lady. He grinned at her, and gave her a half ass salute, and sauntered around the corner to where ... what the hell... There were tons of folks in the courtyard. Oh, right, he figured it out. Tourist groups going on tours. He shuffled his way through the crowd and up to the guard at the door, fished out his ID and told the guard he had an appointment with  Charles Turcoat, who was some sort of official with the Americas collection of the British Library. The guard wasn't any too impressed with Leroy's brains, but then he was working on no caffeine and was feeling it.

He fell into step, having gone through the metal detectors successfully (thanking his lucky stars he'd left his pistol home) and unsettled the guard (admittedly purposefully) by asking a whole lot of questions. Not all of them dumb either, half of which the guard couldn't answer, which made Leroy struggle to hide his grin. 'There, take that you snobby Brit,' he was thinking, suddenly discovering new respect for Ian who'd never once came across as snobby with him.

Leroy was shown upstairs to the staff area and dumped in a waiting area, which had the blessings of a coffee pot, that he quickly assaulted.  He had a mouthful of hot coffee when he heard someone come into the room to join him.

"I'm Dr. Turcoat, curator of the Americas collection.  You must be Mr. Sanders?" the man said, his voice nasal and squeaky and entirely suited to physique.

"Saunders," Leroy corrected. "Call me Leroy, everybody does. So, I've been investigating a murder in New Orleans," talking about a murder always got you higher priority than say, looking into ghosts.  "And we've got some stolen valuables involved too, which, uhm, seem to maybe have belonged to this guy, Alec Vinton. I've been trying to trace down who he is and what he was, and you told me, when I called the other day, or maybe it was someone else, but someone here told me you guys might have something about him in your Americas collection.  That right?"  Leroy figured getting right down to business was best since this guy might fall over passed out at any moment.

"Do you have a date span?"

"A what? Oh, about what time he lived? Yeah. He was in New Orleans around the time of the 1812 war. We thought he was French at first, now we're thinkin' he was maybe a British or American spy. Nothing from the American angle so, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

Turcoat sniffed.  "Indeed, so I should imagine.  Our collection is extensive and highly regarded.  It is possible that the Alec Vinton you are referring to was actually Jonathon Rupert Alexander Vinton, then Viscount Estray, later the fourth earl of Charlbury, who acted as an intelligencier for his Majesty's government before and during the Battle of New Orleans."

"Did he work with the Earl of Avery by chance?" Leroy quipped.

Turcoat frowned.  "To my knowledge he never did."

"How interesting. I'll ask the current one when I see him later. But yeah, it could be your Vinton guy. Whatcha got on him?"

"When the earl passed away, most tragically in 1821 of a riding accident, his will stipulated that his journals be unread and immediately sealed and given to the museum. They were to remain sealed until one hundred and fifty years after his death."

"Oh great. Can I see 'em? Not all of 'em if there are a whole lot. Just for the time he was in New Orleans, or maybe right after that, if he came back to England right after the war."

Turcoat surveyed him, his nostrils pinching together as his eyes rested on Leroy's unshaven face and jeans.  "This is in regard to a murder?  And property that may at one time have been his lordship's?"

"Quite possible," Leroy lied.  "It was stolen from an archaeological site in New Orleans, from a place owned by a friend of his, Josephe Menard."

Turcoat nodded.  "There is extensive mention of Mr. Menard in the journals covering the spring of 1815 to the summer of 1816 when he returned to England.  If you will have a seat," he said pointing towards one of the study carrels, "I will bring the volume to you."

"Outstanding! I bet you did your doctoral dissertation on Alec Vinton didn't you? Pretty impressive how much you know off the top of your head."

"It is my responsibility to be completely cognizant of the holdings in the collection.  Now if you will excuse me I will be back with the volume shortly."  He paused, sniffing again.  "And gloves for you to use to protect the volume."

"Oh I wouldn't think about grubbing up your collection. Well, unless I have to take fingerprints or something off of them."

"Hey," Leroy called out to Turcoat before he could quite get away. "is there a current Earl of what'd you say, Earl of Charlbury?"

"Yes, the ninth earl."

"Thanks," Leroy replied and reached for his phone. By the time Turcoat got back with the journals, Leroy had rung up Ian's place, talked to Edwards, and gotten the current Earl's address in London. Couldn't hurt to drop in to see if he knew anything beyond what was in the journals.

"That was quick, Chuck. Thanks a lot.  Don't worry, I'll use the gloves," Leroy added at Turcoat's scandalized look.

Turcoat hesitated and then set the journals down.  "If you have any questions have the attendant call me.  When you are finished let him know and I will come get them.  You may not eat or drink when you are working with them and you may not write in them.  If you wish to copy any part of them the attendant will handle it and there is a release you will have to sign.  Any questions?"

"Nope, think you've got it covered. I'll shout if I need you." Leroy gave Turcoat his most trustworthy smile.  He kept an eye on Turcoat until the man was well and truly gone and then delved into the journals.

It was several hours later, Leroy having totally lost track of the time when he whistled quietly, almost under his breath.  He zapped up a notebook, jotted down a bunch of notes and, looking over the pages that got his attention, zapped up copies of each of them.

He went back through everything, to make sure he had it all, well, all the relevant bits anyway, and then sauntered over to the desk where the attendant sat. "If you'd get Dr. Turcoat for me, I'm done with the Vinton journals. Is that pub on the corner just beyond the gates any good? I'm starving."

"Yes sir, it is palatable.  If you wish you may leave the material with me and I will ensure it is returned to Dr. Turcoat."

"Oh I'd like to but old Chuck would have my nuts. He said to return it to him personally."

"Very good sir," he said and picked up his phone.  "Dr. Turcoat will be here momentarily, sir."

Leroy greeted his friend Chuck effusively, squeezed his hand nearly off, and promised that all future British/American political relations would go far more smoothly due to his assistance, then sauntered out of the Museum.

Dr. Turcoat sniffed and gathered up the journals, cradling them in his arms and left the reading room.

Leroy was tucking into a shepherd's pie at the pub when he called Billie Jo to let her know he'd found something at last. "I'm going to go see if I can catch the current Earl of whoever at home as soon as I'm done here. Maybe he'll know something or give us a bit more, but I'm thinkin' we're ready to get with Angelique and Mama and see where we're at.  There's a spell listed in the journal and I'll tell you all about what else was interesting in there tonight."

"When and where do you want to meet?" she asked.

"I'll pick you up at your apartment, say," he looked at his watch and figured out the time difference, "say 6 o'clock? Let Angelique and Mama know we're coming, okay?"

"I'll call Mama right now," she promised.  "See you at six.  You want some dinner when you get here?"

"Hey, that'd be great, thanks!"

Leroy rang off, bolted down the rest of his meal, and his ugh, warm beer, and exited the pub to find a taxi. Traffic was horrible, as usual, but finally he got to the current Earl of Charlbury's residence and was pleasantly surprised to find the Earl in, and, better yet, to be invited in. Good old Ian.

Leroy was shown into a fancy drawing room and cooled his heels for about 15 minutes before his host joined him.  "Hey, thanks a lot for seeing me. I need to get back to the states tonight so, I won't keep you. Uhm, we're investigating a theft from an archaeological dig in New Orleans and I was just at the Museum going over Alec Vinton's journals. I was hoping maybe you had something you could tell me, maybe from family history or something, that might give us just a bit more info about his life in New Orleans."

The Earl smiled.  "That was comprehensive.  Why don't we start with which Alec Vinton are you referring to?  I assume the fourth but it never helps to assume."

Leroy stifled a sigh. This was gonna take longer than he'd hoped. He sank into the chair the Earl motioned to.  "Yeah, the Fourth. If that's the one that was the spy in 1812 and died in an accident in 1821."

"Yes, the fourth.  He worked as a spy, a rather disreputable occupation for a man of honor in those days, throughout the Napoleonic wars and was for a time, just prior to the battle of Waterloo, during the Congress of Vienna in fact, on an errand for the government in New Orleans.  His mother was a French émigré you see."

"Ah, was she?  What was her name?" Leroy asked as he fished his notebook out of his pocket and found his pen.

"Gabriella Helena Victorie Beauchamp, Countess Sainte Venirie."  He spelled the last for Leroy.  "And Countess of Charlbury after her marriage."

"Ah, okay. And what do you know about her son's friendship with Josephe Menard when he was in New Orleans."

"It is the source of much speculation amongst those who know of it; less now that the journals are unsealed.  In his wife's journals she repeatedly asserts that his ghost haunted -- hounded is the word she often used -- the fourth earl into his grave."

Leroy sat up a bit straighter to that. "Oh? Do you wonder if his accident was, uhm, really an accident? That somehow, be it real or otherwise, this haunting caused the Earl to maybe lose concentration or something and tumble to his death? He was riding I think, right, and did a header over the horse's head? Or do I not have that right."

"It is an interesting story.  The horse was approaching a hedge jump.  It presented no difficulty to any adequate rider, certainly not to a rider or a horse that had been over it many times.  The horse balked and reared for no apparent reason, throwing the earl.  He hit his head on a stone and died of cerebral hemorrhage."  The current earl paused for a moment.  "May I offer you a drink?" he asked, rising to pour himself one.

"Sure, that'd be great. Scotch is good.  So, were there any additional hauntings after the old fellow croaked, er, died I mean?"

The earl handed Leroy a glass and resumed his seat.  "His wife recorded that before he died, in his delirium, he was begging Josephe Menard to forgive him, speaking to him as if he were present and conversing with her husband.  Other than that there was nothing that I know of."

Leroy frowned as he thought it over. "There have been reports of hauntings at the house Josephe owned in New Orleans. But, then, it _is_ New Orleans, and there are lots of folks there who believe in ghosts and voodoo and stuff like that. I confess I'm surprised a guy like your ancestor would buy into it.  Was he considered kind of, uhm, odd with regard to that?  What did his wife think about it, do you know?"

"His wife was a woman typical of her time in many ways.  She is clear in her journals when it first began that she thought her husband mad.  Later there is a sense of an evolving opinion if you will.  If you have read the earl's journals then you no doubt know that he was terrified towards the end of his life and wondered himself if he were going mad."

"Yeah, I did read that. I also read about something he kept that he thought of as a sort of, I dunno, talisman or amulet, that he'd brought back from New Orleans. You don't know what that was, do you? He never described it in the journals. Well, why would he. He knew what it was."

The current earl smiled.  "It was, and is, a blood-soaked chemise."

"Odd, don't you think?" Leroy replied, frowning. Thinking about what the ghosts had told them. Alec had never really said he'd killed Josephe in his journals. It was there to be read if you wanted to but he'd never out and out said it. But why keep a bloody chemise, then?  It had to be Desiree's.

"Very.  Yet his will specified that it be kept intact in perpetuity."

"Wow. I don't suppose you'd let me see it."

"I've no objection," he said and led the way to long gallery.  "My ancestors," he said gesturing to the portraits that lined the wall.  Then he pointed to one and said, "that is the fourth earl.  It was painted shortly after his return to London in 1816.  The chemise is in the case below it."

"Handsome devil except for the scar," Leroy commented, but then he knelt down to get a closer look at the chemise which was rather macabrely displayed right there for the world to see. It was saturated in blood. Blood now long rusty and fully dried. Leroy wondered if Marc or Dinah might be able to get a reading on exactly whose it was.  But how the hell could he get his hands on it. So far as he could see, only one way.  Under cover of taking notes, he checked to see if there were alarms on the case.

"Thanks, that's really, uhm, interesting."

"Indeed."

"So listen. I gotta run. Thanks so much for your time. I'll tell Ian to send you a bottle of his best brandy or something as a thank you," Leroy added with a grin.

"It was my pleasure to be able to assist you.   Ian may keep his brandy.  He knows mine is better."

Leroy laughed. "I'll let you know how it goes. Especially if something turns up on your ancestor, if you like."

"I would be grateful.  It is chapter in the family history that is very intriguing."

"It is indeed," Leroy replied, shaking hands with the current Earl and waving bye as he stepped out into the London night. He walked a ways away from the Earl's front door and zapped himself to the Brownstone, only 5 minutes late for dinner.  He knocked on Billie's door. "Honey, I'm home!"

"In here sugar," she called.  "How did it go?"

Leroy sauntered into the kitchen grinning. "I got a lot to tell you."  He gave her the rundown as she put the finishing touches on dinner. He excused himself to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Crap. He'd never shaved. He was kind of surprised she hadn't pointed it out. He cleaned himself up as best he could and rejoined her.

"So, the only way I know to get hold of that chemise is to steal it. I figure if I took it to Dinah and Marc they could do the DNA maybe. I know it's old but ... do you think it's worth the risk of me zapping into the guy's house twice? Maybe we don't need it that bad."

"Why don't we wait to decide until after we talk to Mama and Tante Angelique."  She handed him a bowl of mashed potatoes and one of beans and pointed to the table before picking up the pot roast and following him.  "Did I forget anything," she asked, looking at the table.  "There's beer, or coffee or..."

"Water's good. Looks like everything else is set. Thanks for inviting me. I thought maybe, you know, you'd go to dinner with Joe afterwards."

"It's no problem.  I like to cook and he's got a graduate seminar.  Won't be done until about nine."  She handed him his water and sat down.  "So you did great today."

"I don't suppose the NOPD has anything for us on Gayle," he asked, trying to hide the fact his heart had sunk into his stomach. He suddenly wasn't so hungry.  But he was not gonna give her grief.

"They're still trying to track down the person her neighbor saw her leave with.  A man, and the that's about all they know."

He put pot roast and beans and mashed potatoes on his plate and said, "So, what's your Daddy said about Betty Jo moving in with Ian?" He figured that should be a relatively safe topic.

She grinned.  "Mama said it was unrepeatable but had a lot to do with how he better treat her and what would happen if he made her unhappy.  Daddy has never put up with men making us unhappy.  Not since we were first dating.  Fortunately Mama can usually get him to behave."

"Hah! Lucky for Ian then. She seems pretty happy right now. I hope it lasts. And not just cuz of your Daddy."

"I think it might.  She's working really hard on it and she usually gets what she wants when she does," she said, adding a bit of salt to her potatoes.  "Betty has always been really particular who she gets involved with, more so than me or Bobbie."

"Bobbie hardly ever dates," he replied. "The pot roast is terrific, by the way. Just like my mama used to make it."

"Thanks, I'm glad you like it.  Bobbie?  Yeah, I know.  It's funny, cause she goes out a lot, but she usually does group things.  She says fewer people get upset that way.  But I think, and Betty does too, that she's in love with someone who isn't interested in her."

"Wow, that's kinda hard to believe. I mean, you guys are like... I wonder who?"

She laughed.  "Leroy being beautiful doesn't guarantee anything at all except people think you won't go out with them or that you're always fending off hordes of men.  I mean Betty, you know she asked Ian out because she knew if she didn't he never would.  Then she had to practically hit him over the head with it."

"Yeah, but well, I don't think he dated much. So it isn't like, you know, he asked a lot of women out. So.. that's true for you too? But Joe asked you out, didn't he?"

"Yes.  It's one of the things that I really like about him.  He didn't assume I'd say no because of how I look."

"Oh," Leroy replied. "I'll try to keep it in mind. Maybe I should ask Bobbie out."

"You should if that's what you want to do.  Besides, she's the nicest one of us.  Want some more potatoes?" she asked.

"No thanks, I'm good." He got up to help her clean the table and put things away. "So you're okay with me living downstairs, right?"

"I told you I was.  Why wouldn't I be?  We all like you.  And we trust you.  I'm glad about it."

"Ah. well that's something then. So, you ready to head out? Where we meeting everyone. At Mama's or at Angelique's?"

"Mama's.  Just let me get a jacket and I'm ready.  Thanks for helping, by the way," she said, on her way to the back of the apartment.  She was back in almost right away.  "Ready, honey."

He touched her arm and zapped them both to Mama's.

Mama smiled at them when they walked back through the shop into the kitchen.  Angelique was there already. "Hey you two. I found this spell in Alec's journal. Mama, maybe you and Angelique can undo it?"

Without further ado, Leroy gave the two of them the copies of the journal entries he'd made.  Who's Baron Samedi?"

Mama looked up, wide-eyed.  "I cannot say I'm surprised that is who she invoked, oui, Angelique? He stands at de crossroads, between da livin' and da dead."

"Oui. She wouldn't have cared anymore, I suppose.  So there was nothing to stop her from paying what he asked."

The two of them, their heads together read the spell, but not out loud. "Do not say dis outloud, you understand?" A cool breeze rushed through the room. "We don' want him comin' here."

"Can you lift the spell?" Billie Jo asked.

Mama and Angelique shared a look. "Maybe," Mama replied. "But I think we need a séance first. To be sure."

"A séance?  To talk to who?" Billie Jo asked.  "I mean, are you sure?"

The two women looked at one another. "We'll study dis curse, and arrange for da seance. Tomorrow night. In da garden."

"Okay, but who do you want to talk to?" Billie Jo asked again.

"Whoever comes," Mama replied.

"Oh.  Well who do you want here for it?"

"You two and we two. Dat's all."