“Gentlemen, what a surprise,” he snapped, his trademark smile absent. “Have I forgotten our appointment? Or perhaps it was you who forgot to make one?”
“My apologies,” Landry said. “I had no way to contact you.”
“So you came here and entered my house without an invitation. Now I wonder why you would have done that.” He took a match and lit two gas-fed lamps, pulled the cover from a couch beside the fireplace, told them to sit, and chose an overstuffed chair opposite them.
“Milton,” he cried. “Milton, fetch us some tea!”
There was no response, and Landry glanced at Jack. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone in the house since they arrived.
“He must be off at the market,” Empyrion muttered. “I’ll just do it myself.”
“I don’t drink tea,” Jack said when he was out of the room.
“Neither do I, but we’ll fake it.” He slapped the cushion with his hand, and a cloud of dust arose. “Nobody’s sat on this couch in ages.”
Jack whispered, “You know there’s no Milton, right? It’s just the three of us. It’s like we’re in a time warp. I’m expecting Rhett and Scarlett to come sweeping down the stairs any minute.”
“How old do you figure Empyrion is?” Landry asked, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation of what was happening here. Jack reckoned mid-fifties.
“What business is it of yours how old I am?”
He stood behind them, with a tea service on a silver tray that he placed on a nearby table. Even in the semidarkness Landry could see how tarnished it was, and more dust flew up as he put down the tray.
“Just curious. You said this is your home. How long have you lived here?”
Ignoring the question, he poured tea and served each of them. After they had taken milk and sugar, he prepared his own cup and took his seat.
“Why did you come here unannounced? Were you not taught manners and civility?”
Empyrion’s formal demeanor was almost laughable, but this was no time to provoke him. Landry came for answers. He wanted to know who this strange man was and what he’d said to salvage the hypnosis session yesterday.
Jack sputtered as he took a sip of tea and struggled to swallow the rancid milk in it. He placed his cup on an end table next to him and glanced at Landry, who took the cue and did the same.
Landry had arrived full of questions, but after only a few minutes on the property, he had many more. This was the LaPiere mansion, abandoned for more than a hundred years. No one lived here — that much was clear — so how could it be his home?
Who was Charles Richard, and how were he and the family connected? And what, if anything, did this house, its ancient furnishings, and the LaPiere cemetery have to do with the building on Toulouse Street?
Landry said, “I told you I was sorry, sir. I came because I want answers about what happened yesterday. Like I did today, you appeared unannounced and uninvited, the building’s trustee doesn’t know who you are, there are no public records in your name, and you brought Tiffany out of her trance while an experienced professional couldn’t. Those are just starting questions. I have a lot more. How about some answers?”
“You’re a paranormal investigator, Mr. Drake. I’d like to hear your opinion on what you experienced yesterday.” He smiled for the first time.
“This isn’t about me —"
“I beg your pardon. It’s only about you. Without an invitation you trespass in my cemetery and come into my home. You have a great number of questions, which are the stock in trade for an investigator like yourself. I hope I don’t disappoint you, but I will ask the questions and you will answer them, or else you will leave here empty-handed. Why do you think my building scares that woman? And this man with you — why did his words make the lady scream in terror? What’s happening, Mr. Drake? In your professional opinion, that is.” He crossed his arms smugly.
Forcing himself to remain calm, Landry chose his words. “New Orleans has a colorful and unique history. Some say it’s the most haunted city in America, and I believe the title’s well deserved. Those old French Quarter buildings have seen plagues, fires and unspeakable tragedies. That one has a lengthy history of paranormal activity, and I happened to be present on the night Tiffany Bertrand learned she had an unexplainable connection with it.”
He gestured to Jack. “My friend here has a connection too. Neither of us knows what it is yet, but it’s something I want to learn about. The building calls to you, right, Jack?”
“Yes. The building tries to lure me in.”
Empyrion Richard smiled and shook his head. “A building calls to you? I could understand a ghost, a spirit or a banshee calling to you, but a building? It’s an inanimate object, made of stone and mortar and wood. It hasn’t the capacity to beckon or lure you in.”
Landry said, “It’s your turn now. How did you bring Tiffany out of her trance?”
“I spoke soothing words to her. I have some experience with hypnosis, it having once been an interest of mine. Nothing like the background of that good doctor you hired, I’m sure. I’m pleased to have been of assistance.”
“Specifically, Mr. Richard. What were the words you used?”
“Specifically? Let’s see. I said, ‘Hush, child. Your secrets went to the grave with you.’”
“What does that mean? Why did those words bring her back?”
The tall man stood and said, “I hope you’ve learned that calling on someone without an invitation often leads to a fruitless visit. Good day, gentlemen.”
“Tiffany told
