CHAPTER FOUR
“Javier Rancone?” asked Eric staring at the much smaller man. He was in the doorway of Chelsea’s condo, a woman behind him with bags packed and a big smile on her face.
“Yes, that’s me. Are you the driver to the airport?” he asked.
“No,” frowned Eric. “Headed to celebrate your marriage?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “How did you know that?”
“I’d like to speak to you about Morgan,” said Eric. The man’s face fell in sadness and the woman looked up, her lip quivering. “You both knew her.”
“Of course,” said Javier. “I was engaged to her for almost four years. Morgan worked a lot and was very concerned with money. I kept telling her it didn’t matter to me, that I made good money and so did she. But there were other issues as well.”
“How did you know Morgan?” asked Chelsea.
“I didn’t know her,” said Eric. “A friend said he saw her a few days before she died and she was extremely sad. The police said that she overdosed in her car. Do you believe that?”
“We do,” nodded Javier. “I broke up with Morgan six months ago. She was struggling to believe that it was the end of our relationship but I told her I wanted to settle down and start a family. Chelsea and I work together at the Royal Sonesta Hotel. I’m a night manager and she works during the day in accounting. ”
“Where did Morgan work?” asked Eric.
“She was a very talented artist,” said Chelsea, sounding sincere. “Her works were wonderful. Mostly photography but I personally loved her paintings even more. She had a permanent exhibit at the hotel.”
“You said she was struggling with accepting the break-up. Was she disruptive with either of you? Did she try to stop your wedding?”
“No,” said Javier. “In fact, Chelsea and I both went to speak with her and invited her to the wedding.”
“You invited her to the wedding?” asked Joseph suddenly appearing from behind the massive tree known at Eric.
“Oh, geez! I didn’t see you there,” said Javier.
“He’s a good hiding wall,” smirked Joseph. “So, you invited her to the wedding.”
“We did. We hoped that she would be happy for us and, honestly, I was hoping to introduce her to some of my single friends,” said Chelsea. “She was a lovely, talented woman but there was always this aura of sadness around her.”
“Did she take the bus to work?” asked Joseph.
“No,” they said in unison, shaking their heads.
“She lived in a studio apartment where she worked and developed her photos and painted. My apartment was on the other side of town so I often took the bus to visit her.”
“You took the bus?” asked Eric. “Was it the Canal to Quarter route?”
“How did you know that?” smirked Javier.
“Have you experienced anything strange in the last few days?” asked Joseph. “Maybe objects moving on their own or things suddenly missing. Perhaps you even tripped when nothing was there or smelled something familiar.”
“No,” frowned Javier. “I can assure you that none of those things have happened to me.” He turned to Chelsea who shook her head.
“What is all this about?” she asked.
“Someone claims they saw her on a bus going from Canal to the Quarter. This was after her death.”
“Obviously that’s not possible,” said Javier. “It can’t have happened. Listen, I feel terrible for her and so does Chelsea. Neither of us wanted to hurt her but she just wouldn’t commit fully and I wanted to be married, have a family.
“We didn’t plan this but when you spend so much time with someone, things happen. Morgan never seemed to have the time for me. Do you understand how that made me feel?”
“I can understand that, Javier. We’re not blaming you for anything we’re just trying to figure out why she may not have moved on to the other side.”
“Wait, are you telling me you believe she’s wandering the streets?” asked Chelsea.
“I’m telling you that stranger things have happened. I think she didn’t get to finish something and she’s still here or a part of her is here,” said Eric.
“Are you guys ghost hunters?” asked Javier.
“No. Not at all.” Joseph raised his brows at his friend and they both chuckled. “Well, maybe a little but that’s not our intention.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me? Maybe something that will provide a clue as to why she did this, beyond the obvious?” asked Eric.
“I would say look at her art,” said Javier. “The exhibit at the hotel is beautiful, stunning works of photography in and around New Orleans. I thought it was her best work. The stuff in her studio was very different. Very dark, macabre.”
“Thank you,” said Eric. “We’ll see if we can’t check that out.”
“One more question,” said Joseph, “who all attended her funeral?”
“Not very many people,” said Chelsea. “A few of us from work. The two of us, obviously. Her parents divorced when she was little and didn’t attend. It was very sad.”
“Thank you,” they nodded leaving the young couple just as the driver pulled up to take them to the airport. Eric and Joseph walked back to their vehicle, staring at Javier and Chelsea as they pulled away.
“I didn’t get the sense that anything was dark with them,” said Joseph. Eric nodded.
“I agree. I think it happened like they said it did but I am curious to view her artwork. It could explain if there was something dark happening with her.”
“Dark? Like a ghost haunting her?” asked Eric.
“Maybe. Or maybe there was something else.”