Fire and Ice: A Paranormal Romance (3 page)

              “Jessie showed it to me.  I dreamt about it a month ago.  The picture was so vivid that I took a walk and tried to find it.  The boat is five blocks from my apartment,” Sarah replied.

              “So, you live in the French Quarter?” asked Billy.

              “Yes, right over a dress shop,” said Sarah.  “I found the place from a rental agency’s listing online when I was in Texas.  I don’t venture out much around there, but when I had that dream, I walked over to the river and found the boat docked right near Jackson Square.”

              “That’s the one,” said Billy.  “We went there for her to take the picture one day.  It was a couple of months before she died.”

              “Can I see that picture now?”

              “Sure,” said Billy.  “Let me go get the magazine.”

              “Hold on,” Sarah said.  “Before you get it, let me just tell you that there is a photo of the desert next to it.”

              “I’m not sure if there is,” said Billy.  Then, he offered her a seat on one of the benches at the back of the boat.  He turned around and walked inside the cabin.  Billy came out with the publication in his hands a few seconds later.  He opened the page to show her the photograph and sat next to her.

              “This is it, all right,” said Sarah.  “There’s the shot of the desert, too.”  She pointed to the photograph on the opposite page.  It was a picture of the Sahara Desert.  Sarah held the magazine in her hands.  The light from the shore illuminated it.  “She really was a good photographer.”

              “Yes, she was,” said Billy.  “She dreamt of going all over the world taking pictures. 

That’s why she wasn’t ready to settle down.”

              “There’s still something missing,” Sarah said as she closed the magazine and

handed it back to him.

              “What do you mean?” asked Billy.

              “She showed me a building.  It’s three stories high and I think it’s in the French Quarter,” said Sarah.

              “What color is it?” asked Billy.

         “It’s burgundy and has two large balconies with wrought iron railing around them,” Sarah replied.  “The building definitely has a number four in the address, but that’s all I could detect.  Have you ever been there?”

              “No,” said Billy.  “Who lives in it?”

              “I think it’s her father,” said Sarah.

              “It can’t be,” said Billy.  “Her father was a shrimper who disappeared in a boating accident a few days after Jessie’s twenty-sixth birthday.”

              “That’s terrible.”

              “The next week, she moved in with me at my fishing camp not far from here.  Jessie was never close to her mama.  She was really ‘Daddy’s little girl.’  I knew Eddie most of my life.  He and my daddy were good friends.  His boat was found floating on the water out in the Gulf and he was not on it.  They never found his body.”

              “Just like Jessie,” said Sarah.

              “Just like Jessie,” Billy repeatedly sadly.

              “Well, I don’t think Eddie’s gone because Jessie showed him to me,” said Sarah.  “He’s a real thin man with salt and pepper hair and a dark mustache, right?”

              “No, Eddie was a big, burly man,” said Billy.  “He used to say that he ate as much as he could catch, but of course, that was not possible.  He was always jovial.  He had dark hair and a mustache.”

              “He did?” asked Sarah.

              “Yes, but there is no way that he could be described as thin by any stretch of the

imagination.”

              “What else do you know about him?” asked Sarah.

              “I only know that he used to joke with his wife that he was worth more dead than alive,” said Billy. 

              “What if he’s not dead?”

              “I’m sure he is because it was so many years ago and no one ever heard from him since.  There is no way that a shrimper from these parts would abandon his own boat because it means his livelihood,” said Billy.

              “But, not if he had no intention of ever working again,” said Sarah.  “Did Charla’s life change much after he disappeared?”

              “Well, she moved out of the double-wide trailer that they had lived in for years.  She bought a nice home not far from here and a couple of properties in New Orleans.”

              “Did you ever see them?” asked Sarah.

          “Only her house,” said Billy.  “Jessie never even saw the other buildings until the

week before she died.”

              “Why did she see them?” Sarah inquired.

         “Because her mama gave her the addresses and asked her to go take some pictures that she needed for insurance,” said Billy.  “Jessie snapped the photos in the French Quarter one morning.  Then, she went to her mama’s house to download them off of her camera onto Charla’s computer so she would have them.”

              “Did her mother ever remarry?” asked Sarah.

              “No, after Jessie died, I was over at Charla’s house one day and we talked about Eddie.  She said that no one could replace him.  He was the love of her life.”

              “I wonder why Jessie would have shown me that he is alive.  Maybe the man in my dreams is not her father, but I thought he was.  Perhaps I’m wrong about that,” said Sarah.  “It all comes to me in picture form.  It’s not an exact science.”

              “I know, but everything else sure fit, didn’t it?” asked Billy.

              “Yes, it did,” agreed Sarah.  “There’s only one other thing I can remember.”

              “What’s that?”

              “A pair of white rubber boots,” answered Sarah.  “They almost looked like rain boots.”

              “Oh, every fisherman around here has a pair of those,” Billy told her.  “Wait.  Let me show you.”

              Billy took the magazine back to the cabin and came out with a pair of white boots in his hand.  “Those are the ones,” said Sarah.  “Maybe she just used those as a clue.  I have no idea.”

              “Well, like I said, lots of people wear them down here if they go out on boats all the time,” explained Billy.

              “I’m glad I got to see what they look like,” Sarah told him.

              “Hey, do you want to go over to my fishing camp and hang out for a while?” asked Billy.  “It’s not much to look at, but you’d probably be more comfortable there.             

              “Sure, let’s go,” said Sarah.

* * * * *

              Billy and Sarah got in the truck and drove down a dimly lit highway.  Before long, they arrived at his place.  Billy was right—it was only a “stone’s throw” away from his boat, which he had mentioned on their way there.  When they got out of the truck, Sarah could hear the sound of crickets, as they seemed to welcome her into the serenity of their surroundings. They walked up the tall staircase of his beige-colored fishing camp.  It was built on stilts at the edge of the water.  “Does it look familiar from your dreams?” he asked. 

              “No, it doesn’t.  Are you sure you live here?” Sarah giggled nervously.

              Billy put his key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door.  “I guess I still do,” he laughed.  Once they got inside he turned the lights on.  His place was tastefully decorated in neutral tones.  There were large black and white photographs of the bayou on the wall over the sofa.

              “This is really nice,” said Sarah.  “Is that Jessie’s work?”

              “Yes,” he replied.  “She did all the decorating in here, too.”

              “She did a terrific job,” said Sarah.

              “Would you like some soda?”  Billy offered.

              “I’d love it,” Sarah replied.  Billy went to the kitchen.  As Sarah looked around, it appeared as though the entire room was a shrine to Jessie.  There were framed color prints of Billy and her together displayed on a table in the corner.  Jessie’s picture was on the front of a photo album sitting on the coffee table.  Although it was a bit eerie, Sarah assumed it was normal considering how many years Jessie and he had been together.  That kind of a loss would have been difficult for anyone and clearly, Billy had not gotten past it. 

              Would the handsome shrimper ever be interested in someone else?  Sarah did not know how she could begin to get him out of his comfort zone of pain.  As she stood there, it suddenly felt as though she was “the other woman.”  Still, she thought it was important to find Eddie and hoped it would be possible.  Why had Jessie even contacted her?  What was the urgency regarding her father?  Sarah had no idea.

              Billy brought some drinks back from the kitchen and handed one to her.  “Here you go,” he said

              “Thank you,” Sarah smiled.

              “Have a seat,” said Billy motioning to the beige, ultra-suede sofa.  “I don’t know where my southern manners are.”

              “I’d say you’ve got plenty of them,” Sarah assured him as she sat down.  “Billy, I’ve been thinking about something.  Just hear me out and give me your opinion.  The French Quarter is usually desolate on Sunday mornings.  What if you come over tomorrow and we look for that burgundy building?  Once we’ve got photos and addresses, we could go to the Hall of Records on Monday afternoon when we get off of work.  We could find out if one of the buildings is in Charla’s name.  If so, it’s possible that Eddie could live there.”

              “We could, but I seriously doubt that he is alive,” said Billy.  He had taken a seat on the easy chair across from her.  “What are you insinuating?”

              “Well, Jessie made a point of showing me the building.  The thin man lives inside.  Maybe he’s not her father.  But, let’s suppose he is.  What if this is some plan that he and Charla cooked up in order to live off of the insurance money?  Do you know if his shrimping business was going okay when he died?”

              “Eddie always made a lot of money, but Charla spent it as soon as he made it.”

              “If they lived in a trailer, what did Charla spend their money on?” asked Sarah.

              “I don’t know because she sure didn’t spend it on Jessie and she was their only child,” said Billy.  “I bought Jessie her camera one Christmas and the year before that I bought her a car.”

              “Do you still have her camera?” asked Sarah.

              “Yes, it’s around here somewhere,” said Billy.  “Why?”

              “Well, maybe you can bring it tomorrow so we can get the pictures,” she replied.

              “Sure, I’ll find it later and head over early in the morning.  What time do you want to go?” he asked.

              “If you meet me at seven, we could cover a lot of ground,” said Sarah.             

              “It sounds like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Billy.

              “I know, but it only takes one needle and the haystack is not really that big.  So far we’ve got the building narrowed down to being burgundy with a number four in the address in the French Quarter.  It should be a piece of cake to find it.”

Chapter Two

A Needle in a Haystack

-

              Billy arrived outside of Sarah’s apartment in the French Quarter on Sunday morning at seven o’clock on the dot.  She was waiting for him by the entrance of her gold-colored building that had a distinctive old world charm.  “I can’t believe that I found parking,” Billy said as he approached her.

              “It’s only because it’s so early and the tourists haven’t arrived yet,” smiled Sarah.  

“Let’s go.  Did you leave the camera in your truck?”

              “No, I couldn’t find it, but I can get pictures with my cell phone,” replied Billy.

              “I can, too,” said Sarah.  “I suppose between the two of us that we will have enough memory.  I can put in the addresses on a notepad on my cell, too.”

              “I feel like a private detective,” said Billy as they started to walk down her street.

              “I know,” agreed Sarah.  “I do, too.  I hope we’re successful at this because these buildings all look so similar.”

              “Look!” said Billy.   “There’s a burgundy three-story right there.” 

              Sarah was excited until they got closer.  When the number
four
was missing from the address, she realized it was not the one that they were trying to locate.  Billy and Sarah continued walking down her quaint street and carried on their search throughout the French Quarter.  They went past Royal Street that was filled with exclusive art galleries and antique shops…beyond Bourbon Street that was surprisingly quiet…continued down various city blocks in a zigzag pattern seeing countless courtyards, restaurants, and shops while trying to track down the building that could have been in Sarah’s dream.  All along, they snapped photographs of properties that matched her vague recollection and hoped that Charla owned one of them.  Their efforts continued for three hours.  They had taken several photographs when they heard the chimes ring at the St. Louis Cathedral.

              “With all the pictures that we’ve taken, one of them must surely be the right one,” commented Sarah.

              “I sure hope so.”  Billy admired Sarah’s tenacity and enthusiasm. After their extensive search, he tried to think of some way to give her a respite from it.  “Do you want to go get some beignets?” he suggested.

              “That sounds great,” said Sarah.  “I love them.”  Billy and Sarah walked toward the river, which was quite a distance.  They passed through Jackson Square where artists and Tarot card readers had set up tables for the day to attract tourists.  Among them was a talented, longhaired sketch artist rendering a picture of a blonde, teenage girl who posed for him as they passed by. Street musicians had already begun to perform for a small crowd gathered there.  A young, tattooed, female singer took everyone by surprise with the power of her raspy voice delivering a torch song.