Page 52 of Hextreme Measures

Oscar paused and stared at her. “This is my rant,” he said finally. “You need to get your own rant.”

Ofelia laughed and held up her hands in supplication. “Sorry. I will try to avoid stepping on your rant.”

“Good girl.” He smiled at his daughter. “How are you feeling after last night?”

It took Ofelia a moment to realize what he was talking about. She’d been careful when relating news of Angelique, so he didn’t know the most important details. What he knew about most was the disastrous dinner.

“Oh, well …” Ofelia had to think about her answer. “I’m feeling pretty good about how dinner went,” she said finally.

“You are?” Oscar cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Your mother wasn’t feeling good when you left.”

“That’s why I’m feeling good.”

Oscar sent her a glare of consternation. “I know your mother is difficult,” he started.

“Mom passed difficult when she was seven.”

Oscar continued as if Ofelia hadn’t spoken. “She really does want the best for you.”

Before Ofelia could respond, Sully took over the conversation. “It’s our wedding,” he said. “Your daughter should not have to give up the stuff that’s important to her because her mother wants things her way. That’s not fair.”

“I know.” Oscar slumped in his chair a little bit. “It’s not fair at all. I just … I kind of felt bad for her.”

“Don’t,” Sully shot back. “They’ve earned their threats.”

“I don’t really want to talk about dinner,” Ofelia interjected. “It wasn’t a happy time for any of us. I want to talk about the woman who used to come into Krewe when I was a kid. I don’t remember her name.”

Oscar might have been confused by the quick change in conversation, but he adjusted well enough. “You’re going to have to be way more specific than that. A lot of women came into the bar.”

“This one you called a screamer. You said that she would go to the corner of the street and scream at the top of her lungs, and that it was a really high-pitched noise. Like … it was otherworldly.”

Oscar caught on to what she wasn’t saying immediately. She was being careful in front of his friends and not using the “banshee” word. “Oh, I remember who you’re talking about.” His forehead wrinkled as he tried to conjure a name. “Man, I’m having trouble.”

“Tell us about her,” Sully prodded. “How long did she come into the bar?”

“She came in a good two to three times a week for about a year.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, a long time. You were about seven or so, I think.” He glanced at Ofelia. “Does that sound about right?”

“Sure,” Ofelia replied. She couldn’t remember exactly how old she was. It might not even matter.

“Was she new to the area?” Sully asked.

“No. She said she’d lived in the area for a long time, but she was over in Algiers Point for years before moving closer to the French Quarter.”

“And she screamed?” Ofelia prodded.

“Oh, yeah.” Oscar made a face. “It wasn’t a normal scream, though. At first, I thought she was using some sort of device to make the scream. I never saw the device, and I looked.”

“What about the way she looked?” Ofelia asked. “Did anything stand out about that?”

“No. I’m not sure what you’re talking about, though.” Oscar was growing frustrated, which had Ofelia readjusting her approach.

“What color was her hair?” Ofelia asked.

Oscar didn’t ask why Ofelia wanted to know this information. He was familiar enough with his daughter to understand that if she was asking, after what had happened at the engagement party, that there was a reason for it. “It was kind of blond but almost gray.”