HUNGRY GHOST, Paranormal Mystery Novelette

Spring 2015.

HUNGRY GHOST is retailed via Barnes & Noble NOOK and in various ebook formats, including Amazon KINDLE, Apple, Sony (and myriad other brands) compatible editions at KOBO Books and Smashwords, and additional niche ebook publishers. Check with your favorite ebook retailer. Price at NOOK and KOBO is $1.45. 

Hungry Ghost, paranormal mystery novelette. 

(16,150 words)

By Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

New Orleans, Louisiana.

Then: Rudy Leday and business partner Bert Oliver operated the acclaimed Cafe Pierre from 1945 until May 13th, 1956… the day they were found murdered in the kitchen of Cafe Pierre.

Now: MAY 2015;  Husband and wife Gerard and Suzette are the new owners of Cafe Cartier, which was once known as Cafe Pierre. Before they dare open for business, they ask the city's foremost ghost magnet, Lily Duvernay and her partner, clairvoyant, Tony Scot to investigate odd happenings, and hopefully put to rest rumors about the ghost that haunts the cafe. (Scroll down to read the teaser).

Book cover depicts the interior of Cafe Cartier. To see the exterior, as Lily saw it on her first day, scroll to next picture.

May, 2015. New Orleans, Louisiana. Gerard Thebeau and Suzette Gould Thebeau are the new owners of Cafe Cartier, which was once known as Cafe Pierre. Before they can open for business, they ask ghost researcher, Lily Duvernay, and clairvoyant, Tony Scot to investigate odd happenings, and hopefully put to rest rumors about the ghost that haunts the cafe:

More shadows than light filled the small room.

I sat with my knees bent and feet flat on the hard floor. My back was pressed into the chair. A piercing pin-point tingle attacked my left foot, my big toe jerked upward and then jitter-skipped sideways. Leaning hard on my left foot helped, some. I reached out across the table. Tony held my hands in his.

"You're trembling," Tony said.

"I'm energized, just like the Energizer Bunny, ready to hop to it and keep on going."

"Okay." His voice was calm, and his hands were steady. But in his eyes I saw the fear. 

He closed his eyes and I did the same.

Silence inside. Outdoor sounds drifted in. In the distance a police siren headed away. Nearby, a car alarm beeped. In an adjacent neighborhood a dog barked. I tuned out the outside world. Here, in the shadows of this room, silence dominated my thoughts. Then…

"Music. An old song. Ain't That A Shame. Fats Domino," Tony whispered.

I concentrated on his voice and what he said. It was his tone, but not his cadence. Definitely Creole French. Tony's hands were icy cold.

I opened my eyes. Glistening beads of sweat clustered at Tony's temples and slowly ran down the sides of his face. He was oblivious to it.

"Bad! Bad! Bad!" Tony growled in a voice that was not entirely his own. 

Female voice. Angry. New Orleans accent. Probably Caucasian. Whose personality can this be? I kept my eyes open, studying Tony.

Silence. Then, a boy's voice floated through the air. I watched as Tony mouthed the words.

"I dare ya. I double-dog dare ya!" The unseen bully mocked.

Tony tightened his grip on my hands. His body flinched uncontrollably in violent spasms that stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Tony lurched forward onto the table's surface, collapsing on his arms. I jumped up, turned on the lights, and dashed into the kitchen for water.

When I returned, Tony was sitting upright, wiping away the perspiration on his face and neck. 

I handed him a glass of water. "That was quite some session," I said.


First off, you said, "Music. An old song. Ain't That A Shame. Fats Domino. The voice was male and it was French-Creole."

"That was one of the men who was killed. I sensed it was Rudy Leday."

"And the song?" I asked.

Tony shook his head side to side. "Oh, god. Lily, that was the song on the radio the morning the murder happened. Fats Domino singing Ain't That A Shame was the last sound Rudy Leday heard, before he was killed. Rudy was singing that song aloud." 

I had no words. I could only imagine how gut-wrenchingly sad it must be for Tony to hear the murdered man's voice.

Tony took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and asked, "What else?"

"In a female voice, probably Caucasian, with a New Orleans accent you growled, Bad! Bad! Bad! After that, you were silent and right before you went into a spasm you said in a boy's voice, I dare ya. I double-dog dare ya!"

Tony shuddered. "Three personalities! And not a one of them was the perp."

"But we don’t know that," I said.

Exterior of Cafe Cartier.