“You worked with her?” Angela looked from Mama Matisse to Whitney.

“Regina Holloway was very fond on my great-grandmother, and believed in her wisdom,” Whitney explained.

Mama Matisse nodded gravely. “The maids will not come back in this house, Trini or Rene,” she assured Angela. “They are afraid. They have taken money from the senator to live on while they look for new positions. They need to keep working in this city, so if you were to try to call them and ask them questions, they would not come to you with a ghost story. They don’t mind if I speak to you in their stead. If you question them, if the police question them again, they will not speak about the ghosts, and that is all that there is to it. But they have talked to me, and I don’t believe they care that I talk to you.”

“Thank you,” Angela said.

“They are afraid that people will think that they are crazy,” Mama Matisse said. “Loco, as Trini says,” she added.

“My great-grandmother is considered to be extremely wise,” Whitney said. “Many, many people come to her. Whether they are voodooists, Jewish, Buddhists, Christian or whatever.”

“I promise you, we’re not going to repeat anything that you say,” Angela assured her.

Mama Matisse looked at her. “If you were to repeat what I say on behalf of the maids, it wouldn’t matter. I have said it, and not them.”

Angela nodded. Mama Matisse did not easily trust people, but Whitney had asked her to come, and so here she was.

“The women, both Rene and Trini, worked here the day that Mrs. Holloway died,” Mama Matisse said.

“Did they tell you that they saw something?” Angela asked.

“Yes, they saw a ghost. Or they thought they saw a ghost. He was in the hallway, Trini told me. They saw a man, and then he disappeared. They didn’t tell Mrs. Holloway. She had said that she didn’t believe in ghosts. And the man disappeared, so he couldn’t have been real. Mrs. Holloway had told them that she was going to lie down. They later heard that she was dead, that she had killed herself, going over the balcony. They were very upset.”

“Of course,” Angela murmured.

“I didn’t believe it,” Mama Matisse said. “I didn’t believe it a minute when they said that she committed suicide. Neither did her maids. She was Catholic. She went to church every Sunday morning, and sometimes, during the week. Her faith was strong. To a Catholic, it’s a grave offense to God for us to take our own lives.”

“But she was very upset about the loss of her little boy, right?”

“She was sad, yes,” Mama Matisse said. “So sad—I was here when the senator told his wife that they always wanted more children, and that they would try again, that they would have several. Mrs. Holloway told him that they couldn’t replace Jacob. The senator said no, they would never try to replace him. But they had always wanted more children and they would try. And she said that yes, she loved children, and she loved him, and that she would fix up the house, and that one day, they would have a family. And they talked about all the needy children in the world, and maybe they would have a child, and adopt a child.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone about to commit suicide,” Jackson said from the doorway to the kitchen.

He had showered away the dust, and appeared clean, striking and confident as he came in to join them. He was casual, pausing to pour himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat across the table from Mama Matisse. “She sounds like the nicest woman imaginable. What about the other people in their lives? Those closest to them? What about their day-to-day lives?”

“I don’t know about their day-to-day lives, Mr. Crow,” she said. Angela didn’t remember that Jackson had ever introduced himself, but Mama Matisse knew who he was. “I haven’t been here before on a day-to-day basis. I can tell you this—Mrs. Holloway had many friends. But she needed time to be alone—because people kept telling her how sorry they were about her son.”

“We really need to speak with the maids,” Jackson reminded.

Mama Matisse merely stared at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

“The maids will not speak to you. They will not speak to anyone anymore. They talked to the police, and they have nothing more to say. They are afraid. They have their lives to live.”

“If this case ever goes to court—” Jackson began.

“Do you think that everything is solved in a court, Jackson Crow? I think that you know differently,” Mama Matisse said.

Jackson stared back at her. Angela was certain that he had reacted inwardly, but, as usual, she saw nothing change in his expression.

“You are right. You can’t always force the truth in court,” Jackson agreed. “So, please, tell me, who was closest to them. Tell me what you can. David Holloway is a politician, so his life is full of people, but tell me what you know about his relationships.”

“Let me think about those around him… There is Mr. DuPre, and Senator Holloway’s secretary, Lisa Drummond. Lisa Drummond protects the senator at his office. Martin DuPre tries very hard to be the go-between. He protects the senator’s time. The senator still appears to be reeling from what has happened. He is dependent on those around him. He must have an aide. He is proud of Mr. DuPre, and thinks that one day he will step into politics on his own.”

“Actually, I’m curious. The government is in Baton Rouge. Why was the senator so determined to have a wonderful home in which to entertain in New Orleans, do you know?” Jackson asked.

Mama Matisse smiled. “That is no mystery. New Orleans is their home. There need be no other explanation. They had an apartment in Baton Rouge, of course,” she said.

Jackson said, “Well, of course. I’m sorry. Of course. And Baton Rouge isn’t so far, right?”

“It’s just eighty miles,” Mama Matisse said. “But that’s why Senator Holloway has a chauffeur. He works in the car when he drives there and back.”

“But he must have stayed over in Baton Rouge often enough,” Jackson said.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Did Mrs. Holloway stay here alone when he was gone?” Jackson asked.

“Yes, many times. Of course, the senator was home a lot. The first week they moved in, the state legislature wasn’t in session,” the old woman told him. “You must understand, while I knew Mrs. Holloway I was not her spiritual adviser. She had her priest, but she did have me do a banishing spell.”

“A banishing spell?” Jackson asked.

“Yes, as a precaution against all evil,” Mama Matisse said. “But you must remember that Regina Holloway clung strongly to her own faith. Father Adair came and blessed the house. However, this is New Orleans, and she was part of the fabric of the city. A banishing spell is not black magic. Black magic is when you wish someone ill.”

Whitney cleared her throat and told them, “My great-grandmother does banishing spells often. And when you do a spell, it has to be done the right way. You are always careful not to wish anyone ill. If you wish a ghost to leave, you wish that the ghost finds peace, and you hope that leaving is what will bring the ghost peace.”

Mama Matisse nodded solemnly.

“I see,” Jackson said.

Angela wasn’t sure that he really “saw” anything, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she asked, “So, she wasn’t afraid of the house?”

Mama Matisse shook her head slightly. “No, I do not believe that she was afraid of her own house.”

“What about the chauffeur, Grable Haines? Is he still with the senator, and did he drive for Mrs. Holloway as well?” Jackson asked.

“To the best of my knowledge,” Mama Matisse said, “Mrs. Holloway never drove, and she only got into a car when she was going someplace with the senator. Friends picked her up sometimes, but otherwise, she did everything in the French Quarter. She liked a hat shop on Royal Street… She bought groceries just down on Royal, too. She liked to walk to Jackson Square, and go sit in the cathedral. She didn’t like to leave the area… She hated cars.”

“Because her son was killed in a car?” Angela asked.

Mama Matisse lifted her hands with a shrug. “So one might think. She didn’t own a car. She just rode with the senator when he wanted her with him. So, that means, if she had to go somewhere, she went with the senator—and Grable Haines. Oh, I believe she liked Grable. Everyone likes him. He is a handsome man,” Mama Matisse said. She leaned closer across the table toward Jackson. “But, sometimes, a man can be too handsome. Too many things in the world come too easily to him.”

“I understand,” Jackson said.

Mama Matisse smiled. “You understand, but you don’t accept many things,” she said.

Jackson smiled at her; they were challenging one another, Angela thought, and yet, it also seemed that they respected each other innately.

“Do you think that a ghost killed Regina Holloway?” Angela asked.

Jackson flashed Angela a quick look. “I’m asking,” she said quietly. “Just asking. Do you think that a ghost might have killed her?”

“I told you, I wasn’t here the day she died,” Mama Matisse said.

“But what do you think?” Jackson persisted.

“This is what they told me— Rene yelled for Trini. She was in the laundry room.” She pointed. The laundry room was a small area next to the kitchen, but the two rooms didn’t attach. “Trini said that she came quickly, and she thought she saw a man, vanishing into thin air. She made a cross on her chest and they both prayed to the Virgin and came into the kitchen, but there was nothing in here then.”

“You’re still not telling me what you think,” Jackson said, smiling.

“I think that evil can exist, that’s what I think,” Mama Matisse said. “I can only tell you what they said to me. If it’s true or not, I don’t know. But, soon after this happened, it was time for them to leave for the day. Mrs. Holloway came to the door with them, and they left. They were very frightened. That’s why they talked to me.”