“Why do you want to do that?”
“It’s like a time capsule. The period pieces are fascinating, and I’d enjoy another look around.”
Regardless of his reasons, it didn’t happen. Empyrion said today wasn’t convenient.
Landry called Detective Young to advise the day and time, and on the afternoon prior, as was now their custom, Doc, Cate and the psychologist arrived and everyone, including Henri Duchamp, met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. Jack and Dr. Little sat in the lobby while the others went to Doc’s table. Jack knew nothing about what to expect tomorrow. He’d seen only a fraction of Tiffany’s hypnosis, and even that was when he was in a trance as well. He was uneasy about how things would go, and the psychologist explained every step.
Since the part about past life regression worried Jack most, he asked if Dr. Little agreed with Landry that it might prove his innocence.
“It’s all we have to work with, if you ask me. If you agree, most of the session will be in the distant past.”
“Will it work?”
“I wish I could say yes, but there’s no way to know without going there. I’ve only witnessed a few past life regression cases in my career, and each of them was fascinating. Yours is different because we’re trying to prove you didn’t kill someone by showing another person did, almost two hundred years ago. I doubt any hypnotherapist has faced a case like this one, and I’m confident we can go to the right place in time. I just hope the events will play out before us while you’re there.”
“I just want to know you can bring me back.”
“All I can say is I’ve never failed yet. I’ll do everything I can to take care of you.”
The dinner was a somber one. Each had his own worries about tomorrow, and no one seemed in a mood to chat. Jack said he was exhausted, and Landry asked him to be at the building by nine. He bid the group good night and left.
After he left, Landry asked Dr. Little about his talk with Jack.
“It went well, all things considered. I’d describe his mood as resigned. When a hypnotic session is the only thing a person has to be positive about, he’s undoubtedly struggling to maintain his sanity.”
Landry said, “I worry about his drinking. Maybe I should have had him stay at the apartment tonight.”
“I thought of that too,” the psychologist admitted. “Although Jack’s demons are formidable, he seems to be a strong individual. He thinks a great deal of you, Landry, and I believe he’d do just about anything to avoid disappointing you.”
At the end of the evening Landry recapped the timetable. Empyrion would open the building for Landry and his crew at seven, and everyone else would be on site by nine. The session would begin at nine thirty. With that, the party broke up.
Landry’s alarm dinged at five and he lay in bed, wishing he wasn’t hearing the patter of rain on the roof of his third-floor apartment. His director’s fallback plan was to move everything into a first-floor room along the corridor. But for Jack’s sake, Landry hoped they could use the courtyard that offered the best chance of success.
Dark clouds hung low in the skies over the French Quarter as Landry and Cate walked to Toulouse Street, but the rain had stopped for now. Empyrion Richard stood waiting on the sidewalk, a WCCY van was parked on the street, and the building was padlocked. Landry’s director, Phil Vandegriff and the crew emerged from the van when they saw him.
“Good morning,” Empyrion cried. “It appears we are locked out.”
Stunned, Landry said, “Are you serious? You told me you’d meet me here at seven and unlock the building.”
“I believe my exact words were ‘it will be fine.’ And it will be as soon as someone breaks the lock.”
“Break the lock? What are you talking about?”
“Your people here have a vehicle filled with tools and equipment. A simple hasp should be no impediment for one of these brawny fellows and a claw hammer.”
The director looked to Landry for guidance. No one had expected to have to break into the building, but anymore, nothing involving Empyrion Richard seemed out of the ordinary.
As Landry ordered, “Do it,” Cate shot him a surprised look. She hoped this inauspicious start didn’t portend a morning of trouble.
Muttering, “It’s your funeral,” the director grabbed a hammer and jerked the hasp loose from the gate. The WCCY team entered and went to work, talking among themselves about what had just happened.
The same clerk set up her table at the front door, assisted by a uniformed security guard. If anything went wrong this time, the young woman would have help. As the crew assembled equipment in the courtyard, Landry conferred with his director and cameraman. Since today’s shoot would be a carbon copy of Tiffany’s, there was little new to discuss.
Detective Young and another cop signed in at the door. Landry had to give his okay since only Young was on the list. “Boss’s orders,” he told Landry, who showed them to the seating area.
Empyrion Richard took a seat after wiping it down with a pocket handkerchief. He removed his hat and perched it atop his walking stick.
As the bell in St. Louis Cathedral tolled nine, the remaining cast members — Dr. Little, Cate’s dad, Henri, Ted and Jack — took their respective places. The players were ready, final equipment tests were complete, and once again it was showtime in the courtyard.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Dr. Little quickly put Jack into a deep sleep and began the regression through his childhood. Since today’s emphasis was on a past
