Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt carry. I am still working on the fantasy story where the heroine can talk to spirits.

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A woman stood in front of the old courthouse that Lu knew used to be the U.S. Customs House and Post Office when it was first built.

The woman in front of it was dressed as if she was from the early 1920s. She wore a a blue dress that appeared brown in spots which Lu recognized as dried blood. One side of the lady’s head was caved in. Lu couldn’t see the back of it to determine if she’d landed on her side or back when she took her fatal jump from the fourth floor of the building she stood before.

Molly joined them as they walked across the crowded street. Some of the Mardi Gras partiers seemed to be determined to make a night of it even though the parade was over.

Barkley stepped over to the woman. “This is the lady I told you about who is helping the local police force. She wanted a word.”

Lu glanced around at the crowd. “Can we go over to the little alcove on the side of the building? Being here on the main road where the bars and restaurants are is dangerous for me to carry on a conversation since I’m the only one—besides Aneto—who anyone can see. I’ll look like a lunatic standing here talking to myself.”

“All right. I saw that person who is killing people,” the woman said.

“Not yet. Back there,” Lu used her left index finger to point subtly toward the side of the building where the city usually put up a life size gingerbread cottage at Christmas.

When they got around the corner, only one guy was there and he was in the corner puking up all the beer or whatever he’d imbibed during the course of the day.

“He won’t mind us,” Lu said. “And even if he did, he’d probably think he was hallucinating if he saw any of you or wondered who I was speaking with.”

The woman glared. “You do not seem to be taking me seriously.” She burst into tears. “Just like when I was alive, no one listens to me.”

This was exactly what Lu had feared about the lady. That she was saying she saw the murderer so she could get some attention. There were quite a number of spirits in this old city that had been settled for many hundreds of years. It seems this lady wanted to be the center of attention of their world for a little while.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt careful. I am still working on my mystery where the heroine can talk to spirits. She just got a hot tip from another spirit about a boy spirit witness.

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When she got to the house and told Malcolm what George told her, he immediately wanted to walk down there as she knew he would.

He went and fetched Aneto’s leash and they set off to find the boy.

At the curb in front of her house, she tripped on the root at the foot of the big oak that had to have been there at least three hundred years.

As she staggered to maintain her balance, she said, “Good grief, that’s about the nine thousandth time I’ve done that. You’d think I’d learn to be more careful.”

Malcolm grabbed her elbow to help steady her. “You’re always so eager to get going, your feet sometimes have a hard time keeping up with you.”

“Yeah. That’s it. It’s not that I’m a klutz at all.” She laughed.

“I’ve seen you be graceful.”

“Once in a while I get lucky there, but you’d think I’d recall that big ole root is there. I mean, it’s been here longer than I have.”

“But in fairness, you usually go out the back door.” Malcolm and Aneto walked ahead of her.

“You’re determined to help me make an excuse for being inattentive, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’m here for. To give you plausible deniability.”

“I thought you were here to investigate a series of murders.”

He slowed his pace until he was beside her again. “I’m walking down this street for investigative purposes, but I’m with you because I want to be around you.” He lowered his head toward Aneto. “And to be the dog walker.”

Lu smiled inwardly, warm at his words. “Well, at least we got that straight.”

“Damn right.” Malcolm pointed down the street past Hub Stacey’s cafe. “The boy’s house is right down there, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll go on down ahead of you and Aneto and see if I can get him to come out under the tree and talk. I think the people who work in that building aren’t overly enamored of people they think are ghost hunting.”

“Would they think you’re doing that if you’re right outside the house?”

“Absolutely. I’ve heard the owner sometimes comes out and yells at the trolley tour people. Silly. They aren’t hurting anyone and are stopped on a public street when they tell the stories.”

“There’s no accounting for some people. They sometimes want to suck all the joy out of people’s lives.”

“Oh yeah. I know.” She knelt by Aneto. “I’ll be right back. Hopefully with the child.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, thanks. I’m still in my story where the heroine can talk to spirits. In this scene, she is speaking with her detective boyfriend.

Check out the other tales here. Happy Thanksgiving.

A knock at the door brought Aneto running to it and barking like a mad man.

Since he didn’t usually behave that way, and after the man in the Silverado followed her the day before, Lu approached the door with trepidation, phone in hand with already the 9-1 dialed for 9-1-1. All she had to do was press one more one if she was in danger.

Through the door, she called out, “Who is it? I have the police on the way.”

“I am the police. I come bearing gifts. Will you let me in?”

She took a deep breath and canceled the call. Opening the door, she tried to say something about why she was scared, but Aneto barreled past her and banged into Malcolm’s legs.

“Hang on, Dog. I have something for you, too but let me put these down.” He handed a bakery box to Lu. “I didn’t get coffee, but I figured you had some.”

Malcolm leaned down to pet Aneto who was still going wild at seeing him.

“I think my dog likes you more than he likes me.”

“Because to him, I’m like the fun dad. I never discipline him and am usually bearing treats.” Malcolm pulled out a small chew bone from his jacket pocket. Aneto took it, retreated to his spot he’d vacated at the knock at the door, and started the gnawing process.

“What was all that about having the police on the way?” Malcolm looked over his shoulder. “Should I be worried that they’re going to be storming in to arrest me?”

“Of course not. I only had the first two numbers dialed.” She walked toward the kitchen, box in hand. “What did you bring?”

“An eclair for me and a bear claw for you.”

“Yum. Thanks.” She poured water into the reservoir for the coffee.

“Are you going to tell me why you thought you needed to call for assistance? Has anyone been bothering you?”

“Please don’t pull out your little black notebook.” Lu grinned. “I was concerned that Aneto went flying to the door barking his head off. That isn’t normal for him. Heck, he even maintains his equilibrium when spirits manifest in front of him. The behavior was out of the ordinary and since that man chased me and Jackson yesterday, I guess I got a bit paranoid.”

“It never hurts to be cautious.” Malcolm leaned against the counter and watched the water drip into the coffee.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, mouse. I am working on my story with the heroine who can see spirits.

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Lu wasn’t afraid of anyone who might find her wandering about. She’d used the bathroom ruse enough in the past to know men who thought a woman was having a feminine emergency got out the way in a hurry or led the female to the closest facility.

She turned a corner at the end of the hallway and found a man seated at a console with a monitor and computer mouse to the right side. He wasn’t touching anything, but the screen was reacting to something as the cursor moved. She supposed some tech support person had dialed in to assist the man with some computer issue.

The man turned to look at her. “You can’t be here.”

When he faced her, Lu realized he was a spirit, not a live person. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here either.” She put her index finger to her lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

His eyes widened. “You see me?”

“I do. You must’ve known that since you spoke to me.”

“Lady, I speak to people every day. They don’t usually respond.”

“I can imagine.” She smiled and nodded at the screen. “How are you making that happen?”

“I really don’t know.” He grinned. “It’s some kind of magic, I guess. I was a computer guy in life. Ran the board for the sound and audio systems. Now it seems I can control the thing with my eyes. What a thing that would have been in life. I’d have been some kind of internet sensation.”

“It is pretty sensational. I don’t think I’ve ever met a spirit who could do that. I’m impressed. Most can’t manipulate things around them. This is sensational.”

His old eyes. Eyes that must have seen over seventy years on Earth, shone with pride. “Happy to have the audience. No one gets to see my tricks.” He held his hand out. “Can’t shake your hand, but I like to pretend to the niceties. “Name’s Jed. Jed Gonzalez.”

“I’m Lula Mae Haverstock. Nice to meet you, Jed.”

“What brings you to my corner of the studio? It’s not my desk any longer, but I borrow it when the guy who took my place isn’t here.” Jed laughed. “Sometimes he comes in and wonders about what’s happened while he’s gone. I can’t move his things, but I do manipulate the computer. It’s like he can sense someone’s been using his desk and machine.”

“I was wondering if you knew of Paul. The engineer who just started working here recently.”

“Obviously, I didn’t know him in life and never spoke to him, but I did see him around. He seemed sharp and had a lot of potential as a sound engineer.”

“Sadly, he was killed last night or yesterday afternoon.”

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt fan. I’m working on my NaNoWriMo story and the detective character has just interviewed the host of a local morning show in a murder investigation of her former boyfriend.

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Jennifer seemed to find her gumption. She slammed her hands on the top of her desk. “I have nothing else to say to you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave and I will let you know what criminal defense lawyer I hire because clearly, you think you’re going to railroad me for this.” A sly smile came over her face. “I bet you’re jealous that you’re such a handsome man and had to settle for being a lowly detective instead of finding your way to the big screen or television.” She nodded. “Yes, I see that. You want to pin this on me so you can get your big break and be well-known in town like I am. You can’t fool me. I’ve met a lot of people like you over the years.”

Jennifer stood. “Please go. Leave me your card so I can have my lawyer call you. I’ll have to get a recommendation from my lawyer who reviews contracts for me with my agent since I’ve never had a need for a criminal representative before. It may be a day or two.” She pointed to the door. “In the meantime, feel free to let yourself out.”

Lu had to admire the woman’s outraged indignation, but the fact she was letting her temper get the best of her was playing right into Malcolm’s train of thought. She knew him well enough to know this display of rage would only fester in Malcolm’s mind and might tend to make his focus on Jennifer even stronger. She hoped not as she still thought the lady wasn’t the culprit.

Malcolm stood and grinned like he had the upper hand which Lu was sure he thought he did. “I look forward to it.”

Jennifer came barreling around her desk and stalked to the door. She flung it open and suddenly, a mask came down and she said, “Thank you so much for your lovely visit, Detective. I’m so glad you came by with your friend to meet me. I’ll be sure to send those autographed head shots to you at the station. You can share them with your colleagues there.”

She indicated they should pass into to hall. Lu was so stunned at the transformation, she stood mute for a second, trying to get her mind wrapped around the show Jennifer was putting on.

The television host persona that was Jennifer’s public mask followed them into the hall. “Do please have a wonderful rest of your day, Detective. I was happy to learn you’re such a fan of the show.”

It was almost as if Jennifer was baiting the detective. She turned to the security guard. “Please escort my lovely guests to the exit, John. They need to get on with their days and I need to get this makeup off and run some errands.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, push. I have started my NaNoWriMo story which is Book Four in the unpublished series called, The Reluctant Psychic. This protagonist can talk to spirits. Here is the opening of the new story.

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Lula Mae Haverstock walked north on Palafox Street in Pensacola, Florida, with her Great Pyrenees dog, Aneto, on his leash. They were accompanied by their ghost friend, Andrew Jackson. As they passed the World of Beer on the southeast corner of Intendencia Street, Jackson stopped and pointed to the building that Lula Mae always thought had an odd facade with the arced top on the front of the roof. At one time, the place had been a clothing store called Abbotts and it had that same weird decoration on the front of the building.

“This is the corner where my Rachel and I lived when I was the governor of Florida.”

Lula Mae gaped at the building and then darted a quick glance at Jackson. She couldn’t stare at him since a number of people were on the street and would think she was nuts staring into a blank space since only she and her dog could see the spirit. Or at least she presumed Aneto saw the man as the creature always seemed to know when Jackson was around.

Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “I presume this building wasn’t here at the time.”

“No. It was not. Our home was a lovely three-story house with a broad porch on three sides. Sadly, it burned a very long time ago.”

“I had no idea the house you lived in was so close to where the statue of you is in Plaza Ferdinand. Why have you never said anything about it before?”

He shrugged. “It is of no importance. I was merely reminded of it as we passed by.”

“Well, I find it very interesting. I guess I never thought about where you lived when you were alive.” Lula Mae scuffed the sidewalk with the toe of her sneaker. “Other than Monticello, that is.”

“Clearly, dear Lula Mae, I did not live in Tennessee when I was tasked with keeping this territory safe.”

“Duh. I know that. I guess I also thought your wife remained in your home up there. I didn’t even think about her accompanying you down here while you were in office.”

“A wife’s place is with her husband.” Jackson pushed his hat back from his forehead. “Especially when there is entertaining to do as an official of the government. We must practice the civilities, as you are aware.”

Lu stifled the giggle that rose to her throat. It wouldn’t do for him to see her laugh as he was very cognizant and protective of his dignity, but she did think about all the things she’d read over the years and learned in school about Jackson’s proclivity to party. The story of how his inauguration celebrations devolved into chaos was one thing that rose to mind.