Page 21 of The House on Prytania

“A favor? In return for...” I glanced at Thibaut, who seemed to be focused on checking out the extent of missing lath behind the plaster holes.

Wearing a grin, Beau shook his head. “Just a favor. You’re even allowed to say no. But I don’t think you will.”

“Okay,” I said, curious but wary. This would officially be the very first time he’d asked me for help. I gritted my teeth, waiting for it. Because no exchange between Beau and me had ever been straightforward or without risk.

“Mimi’s got it into her head that we need to expand the renovation part of our business.”

“But that’s already the core of JR Properties, right?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah, but this idea is more about a niche market. She says she got the idea from you.”

“Me?”

“You. And the whole murder-house angle.”

“The murder-house angle,” I repeated slowly, just to make sure I’d heard him right.

“Mimi’s been doing some research and found that there are a lot of potentially valuable properties in the New Orleans metro and beyond with the same kind of... background as your house. You know, where unfortunate incidents have occurred in the recent or not-so-recent past.”

“You mean murders.”

“Sure. Or unexplained deaths, disappearances, bodies left behind because nobody thought to check on them. That sort of thing.”

“Right. And I made her think of all that.”

Beau smiled. “Yeah. Pretty much. She showed me a listing for a house on Esplanade selling for basically peanuts despite the houses in the neighborhood all being valued at far more, and it has been on the market for eight years without a single offer.”

“I probably already know the answer, but why?”

He smiled again, probably knowing how it affected most women. Including me. “Single-victim homicide, and the disappearance of the family of three who lived there, a mom, dad, and their thirteen-year-old daughter. No sign of them has ever been found, and they’ve been officially declared dead, which is why the house is for sale. Therelatives of the family held on to the hope they’d return but decided eight years ago to settle the estate and put it on the market.”

“So, what’s wrong with the house?”

Beau sent me a meaningful glance. “Besides looking like an eighties décor bomb exploded inside? Nothing.” He paused as Thibaut left the room.

“Go on,” I said.

“So, Mimi has been looking at all the social media Jolene has been uploading all over the place and how the number of subscribers on the YouTube page multiplies every week.”

“Well, that has nothing to do with me. It’s mostly to do with Thibaut and Jorge and their Three Stooges act.”

“True. But it seems that if viewers tune in to see their routine, they stay to watch the instructional video that follows. And Jolene answers every question from viewers, which always makes it even more entertaining. But I really think it’s her new title idea that’s bringing in viewers.”

“Her new title idea?”

“Yeah. Didn’t she mention it to you?”

“No, actually. She didn’t. And I’ve been too busy to watch, so I’m clueless.” I crossed my arms, knowing there had to be a reason why Jolene hadn’t told me. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what is it?”

He smiled like a little boy revealing his latest Lego masterpiece. “Murder House Flip.”

I stared at him, sure that I must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Murder House Flip!”

At my confused look, Beau rushed on. “DIY shows are really popular, but for a new one to stand out in the crowd there needs to be an added twist. True-crime podcasts, shows, and YouTube channels have really exploded, too. So why not marry the two and do a channel all about renovating houses where murders—old or new—have occurred? Brilliant, huh?”

When I didn’t respond, Beau pressed on. “I guess Jolene wanted to test the title first to see if it worked, and judging by the growth innumbers, it’s working. In fact, it’s working so well that Mimi is hoping to attract the attention of one of the DIY networks.”