Moonlight Mile by Catherine Hapka Page B

Nina’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, thanks. You just saved us a trip.”
    As the groom hurried off, Jordan stared at Nina. “The voodoo shops stay open late,” she said. “And I know one we could try—it’s a real one, not one of the junky tourist traps. We could go over there right now.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Nina said with a smile. “We’ll just hit up the cemetery right after school tomorrow.”

    â€œSee anything?” Jordan asked.
    Nina was peering at yet another half-illegible slab of stone. “Not yet,” she said, straightening up. “I can’t really read this one, but the date of birth definitely doesn’t match.”
    She looked around. It was Friday afternoon, and sheand Jordan were deep in St. Louis Cemetery, surrounded by a maze of crypts and mausoleums. In New Orleans the water table was very high, which meant most burials were aboveground. St. Louis Cemetery looked more like a miniature city of marble and stone than a regular burial ground.
    The two girls had come straight there from their respective schools, but that didn’t leave them much time to search for Serena’s name. It was almost three o’clock, and most of the tourist groups that had been there when the girls arrived had already disappeared.
    â€œI should’ve asked Dad if he knew exactly where Serena’s grave is,” Nina muttered as she hurried to the next crypt in line, a modest stone square discolored by moss. “Searching this place could take all night.”
    Jordan heard her and glanced over. “Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I am so not staying here after dark!”
    â€œI know, I was only kidding,” Nina assured her. She sighed and glanced around again. “I just wish we knew where to look.”
    She noticed a man walking down the path nearby.He’d passed them earlier at the head of a large group of tourists.
    â€œHey, excuse me,” Nina called out, hurrying toward him. “Are you a tour guide?”
    The man peered at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Yes, I am,” he said. “But I’ve just finished the last tour of the day. The cemetery is closing momentarily.”
    â€œI know.” Nina shot him her most winning smile. “I just have a quick question, if that’s okay?”
    The man shrugged. “Sure, shoot.”
    â€œSomeone told me I have a relative buried here,” Nina said. “Her name was Serena Peralt, and she lived around the time of the Civil War. Do you happen to know where her grave is?”
    â€œSerena Peralt?” The tour guide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can’t say I recall seeing that name here. Are you sure it’s this St. Louis Cemetery? There are two others.”
    â€œYes, thanks, I know.” Nina bit her lip. “I’m pretty sure it’s this one. Are you positive you haven’t seen that name?”
    â€œSorry,” the man replied. “I’ve been giving tours of this place for ten years, and I know just about every name in here by now. That one doesn’t ring a bell.”
    â€œOkay, thanks anyway.” Nina watched the man hurry off toward the exit.
    Jordan joined her. “So now what?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Nina sighed. “Kim was positive that Serena was in this St. Louis Cemetery. But she said she hadn’t seen the grave herself—maybe she’s wrong and it’s one of the others after all. I can ask my dad if he knows.”
    â€œOkay,” Jordan said. “But listen, in the meantime we’re pretty close to that voodoo shop I was telling you about yesterday. Want to check it out? You know . . . just in case?”
    â€œJust in case what?” Nina said. “Just in case I actually start believing in voodoo?”
    â€œCome on,” Jordan wheedled. “If you don’t believe in it, then what can it hurt? We can just talk