Harrison Investigations 2 Ghost Walk by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

beautifully—into six apartments. She had chosen her own when the work had barely been completed because of the two upstairs bedrooms, hers, that she slept in, with the windows that faced the garden, and the spare bedroom, that she used as an office, that overlooked Bourbon just beyond the small front yard and brick fence. Then, to make it all the more wonderful, downstairs her front entry wasn't through the main hall, but was a separate entrance, a one-time servants' door. It opened to the far end of the broad porch, an amenity accessible to all the tenants, but convenient to her. The porch looked on to grass and flowers and the swing that fell from a huge old oak. Downstairs, the street was blocked from view—and vice versa—by the brick fence. From the front, all the music and mayhem of the city could be. heard, but in the rear, all was quiet.
    A slight breeze filtered in. Fall was coming, and with it, days and nights that we're beautiful, still warm, but relieved of the drop-dead humidity that could plague the city.
    She determined to shower quickly and dress. That might help.
    It did. Her hair still damp, in jeans and a knit shirt, she walked out to pour her coffee. The headache was beginning to recede. She took her coffee outside.
    It was at the front door—where she discovered both her bolt and the chain lock still in place—that she remembered the dream. She smiled to herself.
    Hurricanes.
    She'd never have another.
    So—the crew hadn't sneaked in on her last night, determined to play the world's most annoying practical joke.
    She really had dreamed it all up!
    Andrea would be amused when she heard about it. No… she wasn't going to say anything to Andrea at all. That would only bolster the teasing concept that she had no life other than her work, that her life would be much more fun if she did submit to more alcohol upon occasion, and that she was… well, something of a workaholic.
    She took her coffee outside, sat in one of the big wicker chairs on the porch, and looked out at the lawn and the eternal flowers there. Pretty. The breeze was pleasant. «
    A few more cups of coffee, her toast… and she might feel like living again.
    She closed her eyes, letting the air caress her cheeks, ease away the night of living it up a bit too much—well, for her, anyway. But she was very serious about her work for Max. She might be underpaid for the amount of responsibility she was taking on now, but she knew that Max had big plans. He wanted to go around the country with his tours. Nikki had always loved to travel, and once Max got going, she wanted in on the whole thing. People simply loved this kind of tour. And no matter where a city might lure lots of tourists, there were surely ghosts to be found!
    All right, this was her special turf. She'd spent her life here, right here, in the French Quarter. If there was a story out there, she'd heard it. The history of the city was something she could recite in her sleep. And she loved it. Funny, that made her think of Andy.
    When she'd first met the girl, her friend had been amazed that she still loved living in New Orleans. In fact, she'd burst into laughter when Nikki had urged her to tell her why she was grinning like an imp.
    "It's just… well, you're not a drinker. And it seems you always want to go somewhere without crowds… so, why live in and love New Orleans?"
    The question had startled Nikki. "It's home. It's all I know. And, okay, so I'm not a big boozer. I love jazz! I love the artists on the street, and the performers… and even the people who pass through!"
    And she did.
    "What on earth do you do during Mardi Gras?" Andy had demanded, still laughing.
    "Visit friends in Biloxi," she said dryly.
    It was true. There were always tourists in New Orleans. She liked tourists. She just didn't like the melee that came along with Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
    Well, she thought, yawning and stretching, she