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Topper ca Next up was Leave it to Beaver That would do With the lights and television on, she closed her eyes

She didn’t kno ain as June Cleaver said soh alerted her to the presence of so

A scream rose in her throat, but she was so completely terrified that sound wouldn’t co the handsome black pantsuit in which she had been buried that afternoon

Her hair was brushed back, shi, as it had been… in her coffin

But her face was pale Horribly pale, ashen… gray

Dead gray

Nighttime, prime time

Whether he liked it or not, it was his city, and Brent kneell

The hosts

He hadn’t been e of sensation, the presence of the dead but undead, or the dead but unaccepting The ceht than rievances that ed from bitterness left over fro in old Storyville Victi raves One old blackthe cruel o, Brent had tried to assure the one, as well It hadn’t stopped the old e, and Brent had to ad the haunt, who he knew only as Huey, that the ti

New Orleans was simply sensory overload Brent didn’t try to explain that to " When Adaht him in on a case, he spoke honestly, if soreed to a newspaper or azine interview, since they without fail atte He usually worked under a pseudonys and exorcis out, sometimes because the victims were relieved, and sometimes because someone wanted their fifteen minutes of fame Adam Harrison had never been interested in press

He always came here, to New Orleans, however, under his real name: Brent Blackhawk Grandson of the son of an old-tirel Irish hatever else thrown in, as so often occurred in the country and this city

Even in the graveyards

He had a hunch he would be visiting a lot of theht he would start at St Louis Nu

People loved the ceood reason They called them "Cities of the Dead," and they were just that, cities of the departed, a microcosht of theic knowledge of his own iil over the departed Weeds grew through cracks in masonry Tombs stretched in haphazard array, silent, staunch In the ht, stone and marble told of both ierous--all the tour books warned visitors to go only in daylight and never alone They were great places for a , and oods over the years

Worse had happened in the cereat tombs and mausoleums allowed for darkness and shadows, dozens of places for evil intent to lurk The gates were locked at night, and with good reason

Brent definitely wasn’t afraid of the ghosts He did have a treet up to He hated firearms, but he respected theun, but he was licensed, though generally, he chose not to have a weapon alking around the city

But there were places where being armed wasn’t just a precaution, it was a necessity, so his little snub-nosed Smith & Wesson 38 ith him whenever he went into the cemeteries

Brent hesitated at the wall of the ceate creaked open He lowered his head and s that it was ate creaked closed behind hiainst the level of unearthly noise that filled his ears When he opened his eyes, all was dark, caught in eerie shadow Then a rock went flying by his ear

"You’re not going to scare me, Huey," he said softly

The old black ray He was in old work pants, a white shirt and sneakers

He see for an errant schoolboy bent on vandalishten up the wall Over the years, Huey had perfected his abilities to work his spectral energies upon that which was tangible Stories were rife about "experiences" here in the graveyard Soinations of those who told therain of truth Huey loved to touch the long hair of the ladies who teased his fancy, and to taunt those who arrived here to do harer against his old master, he seemed to take quite a bit of pride in the old cemetery

Huey hadn’t been buried with shoes Brent had provided the sneakers o, in hopes that the shoes would send hione

"What you doing here again, half-breed Injun boy?" Huey deht of political correctness in any of his speech

"I need some help"

Huey shook his head "You want help, boy? New Orleans ain’t the place to be"

Beyond Huey, the darkness seemed to have eased Brent could then see the at him iainst the haze, casting a soft, ethereal glow A gentleued with another in a Victorian business suit, the two of the Brent A waiflike beauty sat on one of the lower-platforlad for any break frouy," Brent said "But you were decent in life, and I know you’re a damn decent fellow still I need so, his head cocked to one side