Out in the backwoods of Louisiana, Marie was fast asleep in her childhood bed as Camille brought a glass of iced tea out into the living room to a visibly shaken Tony.
"So boy, just what kind of bullshit you got my daughter into now eh?" she snapped as she handed him the tall cool glass.
"I don't know what happened Mamma." He replied, referring to her as Mamma like everyone else in the parish did. "This all was a big mistake. It was just a joke that went too far."
"Joke? What Joke boy!" she growled as she sat down. Camille Duchamp was imposing as she stood over him with her arms crossed across her chest. Despite being only five foot two and almost as wide as she was tall, she was a striking figure and inspired real respect and worry in Tony. A powerful Mambo Priestess in Voodoo, few if any crossed her, and Tony had always been very intimidated by her. Knowing that she seriously disapproved of what he did for a living, and now that her daughter was obviously stricken he stuttered and stammered under her icy stare.
"You two been fucking with the dead haven't you?" she glowered as she sat down. "I done warned her and warned her not to mess with things she doesn't know anything about. Her problem is she knows just enough to be dangerous but not enough to be effective. So, tell Mamma everything. Where did this happen? She obviously was trying to speak to the dead but bit off more than she could chew. Don't make things worse on everyone by lying about it."
Gulping hard, Tony began to speak.
"It all happened at a friend's house of mine. Frankly, it was just a lark, and we didn't even really mean to do it. It, it just kind of came up at a party and for God's sake I wish we had never messed around."
"No doubt. So...who was the friend and where did this happen? This ain't no ordinary spirit that got onto her. This is something far worse, so tell me everything." Beading her eyes close together she leaned forward and stared into his eyes in an icy stare. "And don't you fucking dare leave anything out! You two done fucked up enough already, don't make it worse by lying."
"I am not going to lie." Tony said as he nodded. "There did not seem to be anything weird about the house at all really. Just a big old house up in the garden district that belongs to a friend of mine. He just bought it and we were all sitting around talking at a party and the subject of..."
"Garden district?" she interrupted, her face growing ashen. "This house would not happen to have a name would it? Like one of those old plantation houses from olden times?"
"Yes it does. Magnolia Grove. It's funny but from the outside it looked..."
"OH JESUS JESUS JESUS!!!" Camile shrieked as her worst fears were confirmed. "You two done fucked up big now!"
Back in the quarter Jasmine drunk down her second Brandy Alexander quickly as she listened intently to Lorraine and Ed. Doug was obviously morbidly fascinated about hearing of murders and death surrounding the house, and if they had been forthcoming with information she would probably have been less nervous. The fact that they seemed pensive at his questions and purposefully evasive only made her anxiety level grow higher. Each time he or Zeke asked questions they were gently rebuffed but both Ed and Lorraine kept coming back to her.
"Do you want to try him again dear?" Lorraine asked as Jasmine once again pulled out her cellphone.
"Sure, but it sure is odd. He always has his phone on him and no matter how many times I try to call or text the call keeps getting dropped."
Lorraine's slightly concerned glance over at Ed caused Jasmine to feel slightly sick. Obviously her inability to get Gus on the phone told them something sinister, but what.
"Look Jasmine, maybe the reception is bad in here. Why don't you try calling him on the landline at the bar. I know you youngsters can't live without your iwhatevers, but sometimes old tech is the best tech."
Laughing, Ed nodded and added "Good idea Jasmine. It really is important that we talk to Gus as soon as possible. Not to alarm you or anything, but it really is very VERY important and his safety might be at risk."
Standing up quickly as her blood ran cold, Jasmine walked to the bar and picked up Zeke's phone. Looking down at her cellphone she wrote down Gus's number, smiling to herself that she was obviously so dependent on the device that she did not even know his number, always calling him from her contact list. As the phone rang the hiss and pop of the static caused her hold the phone out from her ear. Ringing five or six times she was surprised that either Gus had not picked up nor had his message turned on. Shrugging she put down the phone and walked back to the table.
"He doesn't pick up."
"Keep trying dear." Lorraine said gravely. "It is extremely important."
Meanwhile down on Canal Street, Margaret's car pulled up out front of Rubenstein's Menswear shop. Rubenstein's was a New Orleans institution, dressing the elite males of the Crescent city for over one hundred years. Margaret had insisted that her husband shop there, and being the fashion plate in the family, and knowing better than trying to win an argument with his headstrong wife, he agreed. Standing in the doorway to meet her was Abe Rubenstein, the fourth generation owner of the establishment and looking every bit the part of a successfully very fashionable clothier. Dressed to the nines, his thick wavy silver hair shone in the early afternoon light and matched his cool seersucker perfectly tailored suit. Seeing Mrs. Landrieu emerge from her car, he rushed to greet her, knowing full well that pleasing a future First Lady of the state would only increase the prestige of his shop. Having dressed her husband for years, he was very familiar with the demanding nature of Margaret Landrieu.
"Mrs. Landrieu! What a pleasure as always to see you." He exclaimed in his broad warm southern accent. Kissing her hand genteelly he began ushering her into his shop. "And where is this young man you wish us to clothe today?"
Standing on the curb, looking more like a drunken frat boy than the brother of the future First Lady stood Gus. Smiling, as he saw the look of restrained horror come across Abe's face he spoke. "That would be me Mr. Rubenstein. And as should be painfully obvious to you now, I have never set foot in here before."
