A Masquerade of Saints (Saints Mystery Series Book 3) Page 10

  We stopped at a Shell on our way out of town and filled the General with oil and gas. I bought three pre-paid cell phones, and we headed to the highway.

  On our way I used one of my phones to call Marlene.

  Beau told me I could only talk for three minutes, but by then my call could be traced. I waited for the clock on the radio to change, and he held up three fingers as I dialed.

  The phone rang three times before I heard a rushed, “Hello.”

  “Marlene, it’s Fanchon. Are they okay?”

  “They are alive sweetheart. Elaine is doing just fine,” she said taking a breath.

  “And George?” I asked.

  She was silent for a moment and when she spoke her voice was raspy. “We don’t know.”

  “I didn’t do it,” I said. She didn’t respond.

  I ended the silence with a question. “Do you know anybody else who would want to hurt them?”

  “No,” she said. “No, I don’t, Fanchon.”

  “Have you heard from Curly?” I asked her.

  “My gardener?” she said loudly, and then I heard rustling on the other end of the line. “How do you know Curly?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “What do you know, Fanchon?” she yelled. Beau tapped me on the shoulder, he was holding up one finger. I nodded at him.

  “You need to talk to the police,” she said. “I don’t know if you did it, Fanchon, but I love you just the same. As long as you are on the run the police are going to think it’s you. If you tell me where you are we will come get you and take you to the station with a lawyer. I will bail you out tonight.”

  “I can’t just yet, Marlene. But I swear I didn’t do it,” I said. “I would never…” Beau took the phone out of my hand, hit the end button and threw it out the window.

  “Damn it, Beau,” I shouted. “She thinks I tried to murder her kids. I didn’t get a chance to explain anything.”

  “If they think you did it, cher, best not let them find you just yet.”

  We followed the highway for a long while and were flipped off twice for the offensive state of the car. After a third person rolled down his windows and cursed at us, Beau decided it was time to get off of the main roads. We traveled on dirt for at least an hour with our windows rolled all the way down. Even with the wind hitting our faces the entire way my hair was wet and plastered to the side of my face.

  We finally came to a stop at a shop called Old Swampy’s. It was a small fishing and tackle store. Beau said he had friends who worked there that might loan him a boat. He took one of my $100 bills from the bag to help him with his request. He left me in the car to wait. I hung my feet out the window trying to catch any sort of breeze in the midst of the heat wave. I was startled when I felt a hand clasp my foot. I kicked, and then realized it was Beau.

  We walked through the weeds to the end of the dock and came to a miniature fishing boat. It looked like a normal boat, just half the size. The motor on the back resembled a weed whacker.

  “You think that will get us there?” I asked.

  “Yup,” he said and pulled the cord to start it. The motor turned over on the first pull and a high-pitched whir came out of the engine. He pulled the ropes and we were off at roughly the speed of a tortoise.

  “I hope for $100 I own this boat,” I said.

  Instead of a reply he revved the tiny engine.

  By the time we reached Madame Du’Ponde’s property I was soaked all the way through, but Beau merely glistened in the midday sun. We had passed Abolina and Clem’s house, and I longed to stop and see them, but Beau told me we couldn't because the police might be there.

  Madame Du’Ponde’s property was just past Clem’s but did not have a dock. We pulled the little boat up to the dirt and grass embankment and started for a path that led through the woods. I had never been to her home, though her property touched Clem and Abolina’s.

  Her home was settled in the woods unlike the other homes in the area built closer to the water.

  When we were fully surrounded by woods we saw her cottage. It was petite just like Madame Claire Du’Ponde herself. The small home was made of dark wood and was surrounded by large oaks and overgrown brush. As we approached I noticed the roofline was lower than normal. We walked up the two steps that led to the door and knocked. After waiting a few moments I put my ear to the door and didn’t hear anything. We walked around to the other side of the house and stepped gingerly, trying to avoid snapping dry twigs at the base of the house. I stood on my tiptoes beside Beau to look in the back window. The lights were off, but I could see a dresser and a small bed made up with a red and orange quilt.

  We kept walking to the side of the house and saw the room that made up the bulk of the house. It was a combination living room and kitchen with wood paneled walls and gold rugs. The countertop in the kitchen was red and there were only four cabinets along the bottom. The upper part of the kitchen wall was mounted with shelves that held jars of powders. Dried flowers hung over a small window high above the sink. I leaned as far into the window as I could to see into the living room and nearly jumped out of my skin when somebody smacked the window. When I took a step back and focused I saw it was Du’Ponde.

  She opened the window. “What are you doin’ sneakin’ round my house?” she shouted.

  “We knocked, but you didn’t answer” I said. “Didn’t you hear us?”

  She shook her head. “You should have knocked harder. You scared an old woman half to death.”

  She motioned for us to come to the front door. We stepped away from the window and walked over to meet her at the door. Beau had to duck to fit in the doorway.

  “What brings y’all out to my place?” she asked, and hobbled her way to a beige reclining chair by the window. Next to it sat a little table with a pill case and a glass of water.

  “We need to talk to you,” I told her as I sat on the gold sofa across from her. “Why weren’t you at work today?”

  “Well, not that I have to answer to you,” she said, the tone of her voice was different from the one she used working in the square. “But I’m an old woman and some days I don’t go into town.”

  “I didn’t mean to criticize,” I said. “I was afraid something bad happened to you.”

  She sucked her teeth for a moment and softened her voice, “What do you need, cher?”

  “Well, I met the Baxters just like you said I would and it did not go well.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “You told me to wash my hands a lot to keep safe when I met them and I did. I need to know why you told me that.”

  “I don’t recall telling you that."

  I looked back at Beau then at her again. “You did. You told me to wash my hands when I saw them, to keep safe.”

  “Well, sugar, I don’t recall saying it, but I imagine there was good reason,” she said. “Is that all?”

  “No, that’s not all. My brother and sister were poisoned that night and all the hand washing, and getting up and leaving made it look like I did it,” I said, leaping from my seat. Her expression never changed.

  My cheeks got red and I shouted, “Why did you tell me to do that? Was I going to be poisoned? Was the poison they took meant for me? If you knew it was going to happen you have to know who did it. I need to clear my name.”

  She let out a huff and said, “Go ahead and sit on down, Fanchon. I will see if I can figure something out for you.”

  She held her hands to her temple and closed her eyes. She squinted a few times and nodded her head. “There is something. Yes, I definitely have a message for you, but it’s slipping….” She looked at me and shook her head. “I almost had it. I have a candle for this sort of thing. It helps coax the spirits out. Let me go grab it."

  She stood up and hobbled over to the closet by the door.

  I looked to Beau and said, “She told me to wash my hands, I swear. I remember it plain as day. Claudia was there, too. She knows.”

  “I kn
ow you is tellin’ the truth,” he said. “You know what….”

  Beau stopped talking when we heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cock.

  We both turned to find we were two feet away from the barrel of a shotgun, held firmly in the hands of Madame Du’Ponde.

  “Now I don’t know what you want from me, but y'all need to get on out of here. This is trespassing,” she said, waving the gun towards the door.

  Beau slowly held up his hands and I followed suit.

  “We ain’t here to start no trouble,” Beau said. “The police think Fanchon tried to kill her new family, and we didn’t know where else to turn.”

  “Then I have a fugitive on my property, and I’m at liberty to shoot her,” she said aiming the gun squarely at me.

  “No, we will leave,” I said.

  Beau and I arose little by little from the couch with our hands still up. We backed away from her towards the door and she stepped forward, keeping her gun trained on my face.

  I stayed looking at her, and Beau turned to open the door, and then he stopped and bent down, reaching his hand into her trash can.

  “Don’t you touch anything,” she shouted, moving the barrel to Beau.

  He stood and held a piece of paper between his fingers. He passed it to me and said, “This about sums the situation up.”

  I grabbed the paper from him. And read the two lines printed at the top of the plain white sheet of paper.

  Take this as a good faith deposit of $1,500. If you complete the task you will find another $1,500 waiting for you.”

  I searched her face to see if she was ashamed, as I realized she had sold me out. Her expression remained unchanged.

  “Was telling me to look guilty as hell your task?” I yelled.

  “More or less,” she replied and took a step forward.

  “Who was it?”

  She spit on the floor and said, “Don’t know, and I don’t care. I found that note on my door. As you can see it wasn’t signed.”

  “I can’t believe you would do this to me. You are my people. Did you ever tell me the truth? What about the alligator in New York, and how you knew about the Baxters? How did you know all of that?”

  She shrugged.

  “Tell me the truth. How did you know?”

  “I’m not telling you anything, you Deveroux piece of trash. You had this coming."

  “I never did anything to you,” I pleaded.

  “You never did anything for me neither,” she said. “You are the richest person round here, and you hold on to your money so tight you squeak when you walk.”

  “I’m giving the cops this note, and I’ll make sure everybody around here knows you did me wrong.”

  “I got nothing more to say to you. Get off my property,” she screamed and shot a hole in the ceiling.

  I darted for the door just behind Beau and shouted back at her, “You are a witch just like Clem always said.”

  She shouted back, “You know what Clem says about you? He says that you are cheap and ungrateful. He said you kept all of the money their daughter made and never offered to pay for anything. Not even a dime for all the time they took you in.”

  I turned to yell back at her, and Beau grabbed my shoulders and swung me back towards the boat.

  “Yeah, they said that” she screamed. “Everybody knows it. Beau knows it, too. They took you in and you just spend their dead daughter’s money like it’s your own…”

  She kept yelling but we were so far now all I could hear were shouts. Beau said, “Get in the boat and ignore that witch. She’s gonna call the cops and we need to scoot.”

  I stepped in. Beau stayed in the water to push us off. Once we were deep enough he jumped in behind me and I asked, “Is it true?”

  “I’m not talkin’ bout this right now,” he said, and pulled the cord. The buzzing boat engine filled the silence again.

  Dismissed

  We returned the lawn mower of the sea to its dock and went back to the General. One hour and two chili dogs later we were at the gates of the Hadley House. Beau pulled the General up to the speaker and pushed the buzzer.

  We heard Massey say, "Get that thing off this property.

  "Massey," I shouted. "It’s Fanchon. I need your help.”

  No reply. I jumped over Beau to hold the buzzer again.

  After I let go she came back on and said, "Park the car on the street and meet me at the center of the East gate in five minutes."

  He pulled the car out of the driveway and parked farther down on the side of the road.

  The entire gate was lined with greenery and when we were roughly to the middle we heard Massey say, “You there?”

  “Yes,” I said peaking through the bushes. I saw her bent over, pulling weeds.

  “Stay low,” she said. “The police are looking for you. They said you poisoned those Baxter kids.”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  “I didn’t believe it. I got a sense for good people, and I knew you were good people the minute I met you. But Remy got fired just for talking to you.”

  “What happened?” I asked

  “Mrs. Hadley saw him give you a ride to the gate. When he got back she was hoppin’ mad, asking him what he told you. He wouldn’t say, and she fired him, right then and there.”

  “Why was she so mad?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but they have been in a state ever since,” Massey said. “And yesterday a police officer came over and asked about you. If we see you we are supposed to call him.”

  “I’m sorry to put you in this situation."

  “Well, if you want me to tell you where to find Remy I need you to tell me the truth. Why do you got everybody up in arms?”

  “I’m going to guess when they told you I poisoned the Baxter kids they didn’t mention that I am Helene Baxter.”

  She had a hard time not reacting to that news. She stood straight up and turned around to look at me.

  “Nobody knew I was alive. I finally met the Baxters yesterday and somebody poisoned them.”

  “Jesus,” she said and stared at me for a moment. “I sort of see it in the face,” she said.

  “I think Mrs. Hadley knew who I was when she saw me. But I don't know why she was so mad about it.”

  “Mrs. Hadley hates Mrs. Baxter something fierce. She talks a mess about Mrs. Baxter behind closed doors.”

  “Why?"

  In the distance a door opened and I heard a yell from the porch, “Massey, never mind the weeds. I need my tea.”

  “I’ll be right there, Ma’am,” Massey shouted back.

  She bent down and said quietly, “I don't know, but there is lots of bad blood there. Remy knows some about it. He went to New Orleans to look for his cousin.”

  “I am so sorry to put you in this situation, Massey."

  I heard a shout from the porch. “Get your ass up here, Massey.”

  She shook her head and whispered in Cajun, “Soignez vous-autres.”

  “You take care as well,” I told her.

  Bad Gris Gris

  The sun was setting as we drove past Lake Ponchatrain. By the time we were in New Orleans it was completely gone. Beau and I decided to leave the piece of paper we took from the Madame with a friend who worked in a voodoo shop, with a plan to have Banyan pick it up.

  Mardi Gras was in full-effect, blocking most of the traffic into town. We parked in one of the smaller neighborhoods away from the festivities and walked in. Beau kept the bag with my money slung over his back as we walked.

  On our way I finally worked up the nerve to ask him about what Madame Du’Ponde said and asked, “Are Abolina and Clem mad at me for not giving them money?”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

  “The way she said it had a ring of truth to it, Beau."

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said, stopping to look at me. “Clem was in one of his fits in front of neighbor J.B. and said something about being broke and not having any money. And J.B. said he heard
Josephine had a lot of money. Clem said he never did see any of it. That’s all.”

  “I thought they had an insurance policy that paid out when Josephine died. If I had known they were hard up I would have helped out.”

  “Hush, cher. Don’t worry about what a witch has to say. The Chabert family counts you among our kin. We think so highly of you we talk about you behind your back just like real family."

  He stared at me and I reached up to touch his arm. He froze and looked past me. “Don’t turn around,” he said.

  He pulled the bag off of his back and knelt to the ground, pulling the masks from his bag. He slid the moon over his face and passed me the sun. I put it on and turned around to see two uniformed police officers right behind me. We walked towards the parade route and headed for the center of town.

  The sound of a brass band playing upbeat jazz was setting the tempo as Beau and I walked with the crowd, dodging partygoers and bead throwers in the French Quarter.

  We were headed into the center of town to a store called “Downtown Voodoo.” We turned off the main stretch onto Bourbon Street and had to push our way through the thick crowds. Beau walked ahead of me, clearing a path.

  He pulled me with him through the crowd and along the buildings until we found the narrow storefront we were looking for. The doors to the store stood open inviting in passersby. The slender shop was filled with people standing shoulder to shoulder, looking through the racks of post cards, shot glasses, hot sauces and beads. Beau and I walked to the back of the store where a thin middle aged man with a long white beard stood watch over the shop. Beau lifted the moon off of his face and nodded at the man who opened the partition behind the counter for us. We walked through a beaded curtain to the back room where the real voodoo items were kept. The wooden shelves were filled with candles lit so long they were adorned with long strands of hardened wax and with mason jars labeled with brown tags. I made it a point not to read the tags on the jars. I didn’t want to know the contents.

  In the center of the room was a round table covered by a heavy dark cloak with a pile of cornhusk dolls on top of it.