Read Online A Ghost to Die For by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox - Free Book Online Page A

you look like Eric. And when Eric wears it, he looks like you.”
    Alex’s reaction was not what I expected. “Remember, I’m the Blackthorne man who is alive, in the here and now. I can’t control Eric’s preference for apparel he associates with you.”
    I remained silent and turned my attention back to the computer screen. I pointed to the photo index and said, “I’m going to bring up the photos of the framed newspaper articles and print them.”
    “Print two copies of each, so I can have a set.”
    I did and one by one I handed the copies to Alex.
    “Let’s each read the same article and then compare thoughts,” Alex said.
    I nodded in agreement. “Sure. Let’s start with the more recent articles and work backward in time.” I shuffled through the nine articles. “This one was published a few days before she died. And, it appears that the last article goes back to June twenty-third of the same year. So, that makes the total collection of two articles from June, one from July, two from August, one from September and three from October, not including this short article that is a combination of a her biography and obituary.”
    Alex arranged his copies in the same order as mine. I handed him a tablet of writing paper for jotting down notes. The next hour was quiet. I finished first. “I’ll be right back, I going to freshen our coffee and grab some cookies to go with it.”
    When I returned Alex was tapping away on the computer’s keyboard. I noticed that on the screen he had brought up the Google search engine site.
    “What are you looking for?” I asked.
    “An elderly man who was reported to have been in town, first in June and then in early October, the same month Andalyn died.”
    I set down the tray of coffee and cookies on the table across from my computer desk. I handed Alex coffee and a small plate of cookies, and then I sat next to him.
    “Do you have a description and name for this man?” I asked.
    “Yeah, only a description, it’s on my notes, here.” Alex handed his notes to me.
    “Okay, so it says he’s a elderly colored man, described as tall and lanky, a half circle of white closely cropped hair. He was seen walking on the beach collecting small seashells and was asked about his business in San Diego. He said he was sent here to deliver correspondence to the person known as Andalyn Dixon. That’s it? I wonder why his name was not given?”
    “Bingo. Here’s a better description of him and it gives his names,” Alex announced.
    “Names? As in plural or aliases?” I asked.
    “Yeah, exactly.” Scanning the news article, Alex read out loud, “Okay, here it is. The man said, at different times of being questioned, that his name is Doctor Jack, Jack Glapion and John Glapion.”
    It was the surname of Glapion that caught my breath. “Glapion? That’s the connection. Oh, Alex, Glapion is the widowed surname of Marie Laveau. That man could have been a direct descendant to her. It makes perfect sense, at least as far as connecting this situation to Marie Laveau. Also, a call name of Jack has often been a substitute for the proper name of John.”
    “Shannon, why would he have been sent here with a message for Andalyn Dixon, and from where? It never said where he was from in these articles.”
    “If the connection is through Marie Laveau, then he probably came from Louisiana. I’m not sure about a message. Maybe Andalyn’s family hired him? I have yet to discover where she is from.”
    “And he was a doctor, or said he was. That seems suspicious to me,” Alex said.
    “Why Alex...because he was colored? Persons of color could access higher education in that era. In fact, he could have attended a medical school, maybe he went to France to study medicine, and doing so was quite acceptable in that era. The French were far more progressive in that aspect than we were, here in America.”
    Alex ignored me and continued to surf through the articles on Google. “Hey, here’s