Die Trying: Joliet Sisters Psychic Detectives, #5

By Lynn Emery

Double the payday leads to double the danger...

 

A Louisiana state senator and a B-List former actor. What do they have in common? Kinky sex, drugs, and death. Private detectives Charmaine and Jessi Joliet take on two different cases with a tangle of lies, secrets, and betrayal. These female sleuths use their psychic skills and street smarts to outwit a voodoo priestess, scheming thugs, and a gang of deadly ghosts to solve two murders.

New Orleans is exotic, fun, steamy, musical... and full of bloody supernatural secrets. Follow along as two sisters track down whodunit among the living and dead.

 

Get more Joliet Sisters adventures:

Smooth Operator

Hunting Spirits

Dead Wrong

Dead Ahead

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lazy River Publishing
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780999762868

Lynn Emery

Lynn Emery is a native resident of Louisiana. A licensed clinical social worker, she has been an expert consultant for articles on relationships and single women for the popular magazine Today's Black Woman. Her first novel was recognized by Romantic Times Magazine for Excellence in Romance Fiction in 1995. In 2000, she was nominated for the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award in Multicultural Romance Fiction.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Rock Meets Hard Place

Detective Bryan Harrison drummed neatly manicured fingers on his desk while Charmaine stared back at him, channeling her baby sister’s warrior princess attitude. Jessi would be cussing right about now. Charmaine had more restraint. Usually. Monday mornings always sucked. She ignored the bright sunshine of mid-April outside Harrison’s office window.

Their meeting had started off amicably enough. Five minutes of chitchat. How’s the wife and kids? Junior Harrison—well he wasn’t a junior but whatever—was a STEM whiz kid freshman at Tulane. So proud. Harrison’s fifteen-year-old daughter had recently gone boy crazy. Charmaine said it’s a normal teenage girl phase. Harrison said he hoped it would end tomorrow. Yada-yada, blah-blah. And then the pitch. The real reason Harrison had oh-so-politely asked Charmaine to fit him into her busy schedule, which wasn’t all that busy. A case. A supernatural shitstorm of a case, in fact.

No, Charmaine said when Harrison opened his mouth to speak.

I don’t think you grasp the significance of this threat. A very important man’s mother is worried, Harrison intoned.

Oh dear. How awful, Charmaine replied in her best deadpan tone.

He stood and continued to study her for a few moments. Then he turned his back to Charmaine and stared out the window of his office. He clasped his hands behind his back. Over six feet tall, Harrison looked impressive in his dark-blue suit and ivory shirt. The look was completed by a lime green- and navy-striped silk tie. He was a policeman with political ambitions. Handsome with skin the color of milk chocolate, educated, and a family man. Perfect look for campaign flyers.

"You mean he’s important to you. I couldn’t care less if his racist ass is being haunted. Charmaine drained the last of the coffee from the cup he’d served her. Nice brew, though. And a colorful story. I’m in a better mood now that I know Senator O’Donovan is miserable in his million-dollar mansion."

Harrison turned around to face her again. His expression remained impassive. His mother is frail and the stress could send her to an early grave. Of course he doesn’t believe it, but Mrs. O’Donovan is convinced the ghosts are real. Surely you’re not so heartless—

Yeah. I kinda am.

Charmaine stood as well and looped her leather tote bag on the crook of her arm. She smoothed down her dark-green pencil skirt, the one that showed off her legs just right. She had a lunch date with her lover, Scotty Minor, and he had a healthy appreciation for her calves.

"No, you’re not. I’ve known you for what? Three years now. Your sister is a hard one, but you, the social worker; you care about people," Harrison said with all the sincerity of a politician asking for votes.

With a deep sigh, Charmaine gave him a slow clap. Nice. Tell your PR and image coaches they’re on the right track. Just one suggestion, though. Try making an appeal on behalf of a decent human being. Much more effective.

You have bills to pay, Harrison clipped. The caring public official façade vanished. Back was the hard-boiled street cop who had rounded up thieves and murderers. He walked around the desk to stand closer to her.

Don’t we all, Charmaine replied. Her internal antennae for trouble quivered.

Mortgage companies aren’t very patient, and Jessi’s been splurging on ghost-hunting gadgets with big price tags. Your company credit card is smoking. Harrison crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. I’m trying to help y’all.

What bull— Charmaine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d promised her new pastor and God that she’d clean up her language. You’re trying to help yourself, and we both know it.

"True. And Joliet Investigations as well. You’re the first ones I thought of when this very lucrative gig came up." Harrison nodded.

And how the hell... how do you know about our finances anyway? See, this is why the police have such a bad relationship with the public. Charmaine stared at him hard. Their last two cases had been tricky. Some might say they’d used less-than-legal methods to get results. If Harrison had them under surveillance...

Mortgage transactions are public record. A simple credit check shows your debts. The police department is required to background-check any firm we consult. Nothing shady at all. Harrison smiled.

I liked you a lot better when you were a bitter cop with a nasty attitude, Charmaine snapped.

Oh, I can flip in a hot second. You might want to refrain from tossing around that word when you’re talking about your new client. Harrison walked behind his desk again. He picked up a slim folder and held it out to Charmaine.

What? Charmaine took the folder, a reflex action motivated by curiosity.

Racist. Senator O’Donovan may be a conservative, but he’s a fair man. In his way, Harrison added when Charmaine flashed a dubious glance at him.

"Save it for your donors. You have your faults, Harrison, but I never would have thought you’d hook up with a racist. Yes, I said it, Charmaine said with satisfaction at the way Harrison flinched. At least you still have the decency to look ashamed, even if it’s just in private."

Harrison’s jaw tightened and he pointed a long forefinger at her. You listen and listen good. The reality is New Orleans is ruled by the haves, Charmaine—the Caucasian haves. Anything happens in this city has to go through them. Period. Don’t let the optics fool you.

Uh-huh. Charmaine scanned the neatly printed pages she’d pulled from the folder.

New Orleans might be a liberal city politically, but Louisiana is still a seriously ultra-conservative state. Harrison huffed out a grunt. We can’t get legislation through that will benefit marginalized people. We’ve got to find a way to work with the other side. At least on some issues.

Charmaine looked up from the summary that included Mrs. Mamie O’Donovan’s address. Real distress came through in Harrison’s words and frown. You’re gonna get chewed up in the system, Harrison. Most politicians, no matter what color they are, are in it for themselves.

You don’t think I know? Harrison replied with a grin that faded back into a serious expression fast. But we can’t give up. Sometimes you gotta talk to the devil to learn how to beat him.

Charmaine studied him for a few seconds. Her telepathy kicked into gear without warning, as usual. He was thinking of the future of his children, but other children as well. Harrison wanted a different outcome from the results of poverty and hopelessness he’d seen as a police officer. The hardened cop retained a unique brand of optimism, though tempered by reality.

Well, damn. You might have won my vote, Charmaine drawled.

Harrison’s grave face melted into a shy smile. Great, but don’t quote me on that stuff about sitting with the devil.

Yeah, you might wanna leave it out of your campaign speeches.

Charmaine finished reading. Mamie Gahagan’s family had emigrated from Ireland to New York City in the 1800s like many others. They’d eventually moved to New Orleans and became prosperous grocers. From there they’d built real estate fortunes. She married into another prominent New Orleans Irish family, the O’Donovans. Charmaine skimmed through. She’d read some of the information before. Senator O’Donovan and members of both families had been fixtures in the news for years.

Listen, thanks for—

The answer is still no, Bryan. Look, I definitely understand what you want to accomplish. And I wish you well. But there is no way I’m going to get cozy with these folks. You do know their history?

Jim isn’t like his great-grandfather or his grandfather. Harrison lifted both hands when Charmaine gave him a look. Okay, my bosses want his problem solved, too. I’m getting pressure from on high to help him out.

Charmaine threw the folder down. No amount of new admiration for Detective Harrison could counter the bad taste in her mouth. Two months ago, a news story was published that his great-great-grandfather helped organized the 1866 New Orleans Massacre. His grandfather was rumored to be a member of the Knights of the White Camelia. Tell him to call Spirited Research, LLC. They’d love to get their hands on this.

Damn right they would.  Kenny Pratt would run straight to the media and turn it into a reality show episode. O’Donovan would have a stroke if I was dumb enough to suggest them. And we both know I’m not, Harrison shot back.

Yeah, well, maybe a little sunshine might cleanse his toxic bloodline, Charmaine muttered.

I didn’t think you were full of bitterness. Isn’t that Jessi’s favorite outfit? Harrison raised a dark eyebrow at her.

I’m going on facts, Charmaine retorted.

What about forgiveness? Redemption? Reverend Morris talks about the need for us all to come together, Harris said, sounding almost like a church deacon.

Are you spying on me? Charmaine glared at him.

Harrison’s dark coffee-brown eyes went wide with fake outrage. I’d never.

You probably only started going to church since you chose politics. Charmaine scowled across the desk at him.

I’ve been a member of Bethel AME for fifteen years, Harris replied and tapped the folder with a finger.

You play golf most Sundays. Look, Jessi and I have had enough cases working for people we despised. We’re going to switch gears. Work for the greater good. Charmaine lifted her chin.

Which is why you’re broke.

"Let me tell you something, Detective Bryan Hezekiah Harrison. At least I’m not sinking into the pit of politics. Dirty backroom deals, empty promises, rubbing elbows with racists." Charmaine wound up for her second wind of a continuing rant when a chirpy bell sounded three times in succession. She took out the cell phone in a pocket of her tote. Texts from three creditors reminded her that payments were overdue.

Problem? Harrison craned his neck to look at her phone.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you set this up, Charmaine grumbled as she dropped the phone back in its place.

Mrs. O’Donovan is a sweet old lady. Senator O’Donovan supported the bill to expand Medicaid in Louisiana long before his party. Not to mention the philanthropy of the O’Donovan family for decades, Harrison said, his deep voice pressing to close the deal. They’re more than able to pay your special rate, with a bonus if you’re successful. So, what do you say? Or more importantly, what would your creditors recommend?

I knew that polished look was just a front. You’re still the same street-level, fight-dirty cop. And if I find out you’ve been running checks on me... Charmaine huffed and puffed for a few seconds, giving him the stink eye. Then she snatched the folder from his desk. Fine. I’ll give Miss Ann a call.

Her name is Mamie, and don’t slip in a ‘Miss Ann’ trying to be funny when you talk to her, Harrison clipped. Have a blessed day.

Oh, go to... Charmaine jammed the folder into her tote.

That’s not very ‘What Would Jesus Do,’ Sister Joliet, Harrison called after her.

She cut off the sound of his chuckle by slamming the door behind her. The fact that he had a point, several in fact, didn’t lessen Charmaine’s anger.

An hour later Charmaine arrived at the clinic where she worked. The Central City Behavioral Health Center was an older four-story building. She went through her morning schedule, seeing three clients. By lunchtime, Charmaine had calmed down enough to see the wisdom of taking the case. The assurance of how much money Joliet Investigations would make helped a lot. One of those bill reminders came from their business credit card company. Jessi’s latest project had once again inspired her to order a list of electronic equipment. No doubt inspired by her pals who were equally nutty about proving the science of paranormal phenomena. Who knew Charmaine would regret her sister giving up stripping to attend college?

The clinic’s executive director knocked once despite the open door and walked in. Let’s talk.

Um, okay.

Charmaine suppressed a sigh at her near escape to lunch and the rest of the day in her home office. Instead, she followed the boss to the hall, into the elevator, and up to her fourth-floor office. At just over six feet tall, the lithe, blond fifty-something looked like a former swimsuit model. In fact, she’d been an Olympic swimmer who’d won two bronze medals. That was between getting a second doctorate in neuropsychology. Overachiever didn’t quite cover Dr. Karen Kleinpeter.

Recent renovations had improved the interior of the building. Soft-green walls gave the rooms a soothing feel. Décor in various earth-toned shades completed the look. Charmaine had to admit the change was for the better. Dr. Kleinpeter felt the staff should have a pleasant retreat away from the clinic consult rooms. Their jobs were stressful enough. A dilapidated setting was not therapeutic, she’d argued to the local human services authority that governed them. Shoddy surroundings implied their clients weren’t important and were bad for staff morale. She’d won.

Dr. Kleinpeter paused at the desk of her administrative assistant to accept messages and a file. Thanks, Nyesha.

You’re welcome, Dr. K. Nyesha gave Charmaine a slight sisterhood nod.

Charmaine nodded back and followed her boss into the large corner office. She glanced around at the simple yet elegant décor. Nice.

I brought a few things from home. After my grandfather died, I got this desk and chairs. Karen ran slender fingers over the rich, deep-red leather of three chairs facing her teakwood desk. Instead, she led the way to the seating area in one corner. I’ve got fresh coffee and sandwiches from Anthony’s Deli.

Thanks. Charmaine accepted a turkey on wheat before she sat. Is this a last meal or something?

Just the opposite. I’d like you to be our new clinical director.

Charmaine stopped unwrapping the paper around her sandwich to gape at her. Excuse me?

Richard has accepted a job at Loyola University, a better fit for his skills, Karen replied mildly. She seemed to be quoting the supercilious clinical psychologist.

Teaching, huh? Charmaine felt a spike of sympathy for his future students.

Hmm, and he’ll have flexibility for his private practice. Anyway, I wanted to offer you the job before posting it. At least two board members agree with me.

Wow, I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered you think I’m up to the task. Charmaine forgot about being hungry as she considered the huge change.

I know you have a business to run. Being clinical manager would mean giving up your part-time status. But it’s an important job, supporting frontline clinicians providing critical services. Karen clasped both hands on the tabletop.

Oh, I agree. I’d want to give it my all. Charmaine sat in thought for few moments, conscious that Karen was studying her body language.

You have time to think it over. Richard gave us two months’ notice. He’ll start at Loyola in August with the fall school session. Karen got up, retrieved a bottle of Evian, and sat again.

I’ll need to discuss it with my business partner. Charmaine could almost hear Jessi yelling, Take the money, honey!

Of course. As I said, you have plenty of time. But I’ll need an answer in the next three to four weeks. In the meantime, the job will be posted and the formal process to find a replacement will begin. Karen glanced at her with a waiting expression.

Without thinking, Charmaine read the expectation. Dr. K. had other pressing meetings and would spend little time lingering over lunch. In other words, take your free food and make a graceful exit.

Thanks for lunch. How did you know I’d like turkey on wheat? Charmaine didn’t even know why she asked.

Nyesha. You’ve had lunch with her a few times. She suggested Anthony’s and called in the order. Karen looked thoughtful for a few moments. It’s no secret Richard wasn’t happy I was hired two years ago. And I’ve gotten flack about my changes, including the building renovations. Never mind the O’Donovan Foundation paid for most of it. I’ve appreciated your positive and supportive attitude.

Charmaine froze in the act of packing up her lunch in preparation to leave. The O’Donovan family had entered her world twice in the same day. Really?

Hmm, a grant for capital improvements. You know state and federal funding doesn’t pay for that sort of thing. Which is why so many clinics look awful. I really hope you’ll seriously consider helping us out. Karen smiled and gave a crisp nod.

Right. Charmaine smiled back before she left, closing the door behind her. 

Take it, Nyesha said in a soft tone when Charmaine approached her desk. She respects and likes you. Not to mention the salary.

Thanks for this. Charmaine held up the bag, which also included cheese-flavored potato chips and a sugar cookie.

Nyesha replied with a thumbs up before she scurried off to her own lunch. Another administrative clerk appeared and they left together. Charmaine watched the two young women go. Then she looked around at the offices. She had some serious thinking to do.

THAT EVENING, SCOTTY watched Charmaine as she moved around the kitchen. Leaning against the small butcher-block table that served as her kitchen island, he looked sexy even in repose. Charmaine could feel his smoky topaz-brown gaze on her back. Warmth spread through her entire body just thinking about his touch.

Sorry I’m late starting dinner. I know you have to get to the club, Charmaine said, her back to him as she finished up the broccoli stir-fry with beef.

My new manager has everything under control. I was there most of the day anyway. This will be a good chance for me to see how he does on his own. After all, I can’t live at the place. Not now.

Scotty stood straight and went to the rice cooker. He scooped out enough rice for them and put it in a bowl, then set it on the table. By the time Charmaine brought the skillet over, he’d set the table. He’d even poured them both glasses of mango-flavored tea.

Hey, you’re good at this. You should open a restaurant. Charmaine grinned at him. Their corny inside joke always made him laugh. Scotty already owned a successful bar and restaurant. He’d recently changed the name from Club Mellow to Chez Orleans.

I’ll think about it. You want to tell me what’s on your mind? Scotty held out a chair and sat after Charmaine.

This and that. Charmaine still wasn’t used to the couple thing. She’d been a confirmed single, no attachments for so long.

I can’t help if you won’t tell me about it. If it’s the bills, you know I can—

"Jessi and I are a team, and we’re grown-ass professionals. She’ll learn to control the spending. I’ll learn to control her. Charmaine gestured at him to bow his head. She said a quick prayer. Amen."

Scotty looked up at her, a twinkle in his eyes. You should have added a request for strength. If you haven’t been able to pull Jessi’s strings by now...

Sometimes a good talking-to works, sort of. Charmaine heaved a sigh. She added soy sauce to her rice and veggies.

I see how well it’s workin’ for you, babe. Scotty ate a mouthful of food, his gaze on Charmaine as he chewed slowly. You know what I think?

Yes, Charmaine said as a reflex without a glance his way. When a heavy silence descended between them, she swallowed hard. Her throat went dry, so she drank a long gulp of the tea.

Charmaine—

I don’t need you to rescue me. Besides, the last thing you should be doing is dipping into your reserve savings. You say all the time that the restaurant business is tough. Thank the Lord you bought that building and it didn’t flood in the hurricane. Real estate prices are stupid these days. What with gentrification... Charmaine made the mistake of looking at him. He wasn’t angry. She wondered when the sadness would turn to indifference.

We have to get over this hurdle, Charmaine. Once we got together things changed for me. I was hoping... Being your lover is exciting, but we could have so much more. Scotty took one of her hands in both of his.

Please don’t tell me you have a ring picked out. I mean, do you really want a kid who can read minds or sees ghosts? Plus, I’m not sure I’m wife and mother material. Charmaine dropped her fork, appetite gone.

With me you mean, Scotty said in a quiet tone.

No, no. Honey, it’s not you, Charmaine replied with force. With anybody. You know some of the mess I’ve been through. The things I’ve done.

I’d take the chance. Scotty squeezed her hand and then let go. But I won’t keep pushing you to change. Maybe you’re right. Let’s just let it be what it is.

You know how much you mean to me, Charmaine said. The words sounded lame even as they left her mouth.

Scotty ate more food as silence stretched for a few beats. He glanced at the wall clock, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, and stood. Yeah, I know. I better get going. Mondays are slow, which makes it a perfect time to give Andre more training.

Hey, don’t turn passive-aggressive on me. Let’s talk more. Charmaine stood and put a hand on his arm.

We have. Scotty started to say more, but the door chime stopped him. The signal from Charmaine’s security system said the front door had opened.

Hey, y’all shout if you ain’t decent. Don’t want my young eyes to behold anything X-rated, Jessi’s voice yelled down the hall. Never mind. I’ll head straight to the office. Unless y’all in there christening the desk with your passion. What the hell; I figure you’ve had time to get your drawers back on at least.

Jessi strolled into the kitchen with a wide, mischievous grin. It faded as she stared from Charmaine to Scotty and back at her sister. She bit her lip. After muttering something inaudible, Jessi waved hello and disappeared back into the hall.

Charmaine walked over to Scotty and put her arms around his waist. We’ve been a couple less than nine months.

Hmm.

Not that I’m counting. Seems like foreve— not in a bad way, though. I meant... you know what I mean. Charmaine tried not to think about her reference to nine months, the length of a pregnancy. Scotty wanted kids, their kids.

Scotty kissed her. I’ll call you tomorrow. Hey, maybe we can plan a trip later in the summer. If Andre works out as well as I think. Kat can look on him as backup.

Right. So, we’re okay? Charmaine searched his face for answers. Her telepathy checked out on her. Too much emotion short-circuited it.

Sure thing.

Scotty flashed his bright smile at her, the one that made women stop dead in their tracks. Then he was out the back door. The lock clicked automatically when it shut. Seconds later she heard the sound of his GMC Terrain backing out of her driveway.  

Well, that was awkward, Jessi said. She stood in the door leading to the rest of house for a few seconds. Then she sat down at the table and helped herself to dinner. Hmmm, delish as usual. You got this stir-fry thing down, girl.

Help yourself. I’ll sit here and think about my life going up in flames while you stuff your face. Charmaine dropped into the chair across from Jessi. She continued to stare at the kitchen door as if Scotty was there.

Mmmff, ‘kay, Jessi mumbled around a mouthful. Then she got up and placed the bowl of rice in the microwave for ten seconds. She returned to plop into her chair again. Eat. Your brain will work better with protein and carbs.

Not hungry anymore.