The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 3) Read online

She wanted to rest, but even more than that she wished to soak in a hot bath, and perhaps sip on some hot broth.

  Managing to whisper to her father her request, he said he would send Hattie up to draw a bath for her.

  "Perhaps I shouldn't do this, but I am going to give you some opium for your pain. I think, under the circumstance, that you need it."

  She did not protest for, at the moment, she wished comfort at any cost.

  Someone had placed a bouquet of fresh flowers on the small table near the window. Now, the sweet, hot water from her bath soothed her, as did the scent of the flowers, and, of course, the blessed opium. She was at peace.

  Soaking in the tub, she thought of her friends, wondering how they were fairing. Knowing that Hugh was to meet with Vinnie at midnight kept her eyes constantly looking at the clock. Her bedroom window was open, and a warm breeze drifted into the room.

  "Russell, how I miss you and the children. When will it get easier? I suppose only in death when I shall see you all again," she said aloud. "No, I will make my life count for something," she added defiantly.

  When Hattie had her safely back under the cool sheets, she felt somewhat renewed. Father knocked on the door and said, "I wanted to check on you before I retire. You look a little better."

  She could swallow with less discomfort and said, "Father, I was so terribly frightened. The marks you see around my neck are from a snake being wrapped around it."

  Madeline continued telling her father the events that led to her current state.

  "I don't see how you can continue with this now. It is too much to ask. We'll leave everything else to the police," he said.

  "You know that is impossible. I have all the more reason to solve this. The men will be back soon with news. I will get better. I will tell the police what happened, but I cannot stop."

  "I know. If you didn't stop after your ordeal with Jack the Ripper, I suppose it is useless to argue."

  She smiled and told him she wished to sleep now. It would be a restless sleep, for she would be listening for the return of her friends.

  Resting her head against the pillow felt good, and the breeze felt soothing; sleep came quickly, as did the nightmares that followed.

  She awoke a little after one o'clock with a feeling that she couldn't breathe. Sitting straight up in bed, touching her throat as if to see if the snake was still there. She breathed in short gasps. Her chest was heaving in and out, and she had the sensation of being underwater.

  Father had left the bowl of water and handcloths at the bedside table. The wetness focused her mind so that she realized it had been a dream. Reaching for her children's picture, she placed it over her heart, and her breathing became calm again. She knew there would be no further thought of sleep now.

  Donning her bed jacket and robe, she resumed her place by the window, looking for signs of Hugh and the others.

  Retreating to the kitchen, she prepared some hot tea for her still-sore throat. Besides the pain in her throat, she was otherwise well. She was still shaken from the ordeal, and the bath and rest had somehow revived her.

  Lighting just one candle, she sipped her hot tea, deciding she would also cook up some buttermilk pancakes. The aroma of the sizzling pancakes was pleasant. Even though she ate with some difficulty in swallowing, she knew she needed some sustenance.

  She had finished eating and was rubbing some of the aloe on her neck when she heard the sound of the carriage.

  Walking onto the veranda, Jonathan was the first up the steps to reach her.

  "I can't tell you how upset I was to hear of your ordeal. We wanted to return before concluding our business, but Hugh insisted that you wished us to stay," said Jonathan.

  "There was nothing you could have done for me, but I appreciate your intent. I have just this moment finished making a batch of pancakes. There is hot tea in the kettle and an eager woman wishing to hear all the news," said Madeline.

  Jonathan began brewing coffee, but the others seemed content with the jasmine tea.

  "First of all, let me say it is monstrous what happened to you," said Walter. "The other item, the extraordinary killing of the goat, and all that other nonsense...it is nothing like I have ever seen. Hugh confirmed to us that it was the girl, Marguerite. That poor child hasn't she been through enough!"

  "Yes...I agree, but may we speak of that later. Did he show his face?" asked Madeline.

  "After a disturbing wait, he did. There was another man who came, and because I have viewed Walter's sketch, I knew it was not him. He proclaimed himself to be Vinnie and put me through a series of questions about my background. After a while, he seemed satisfied, left the table, and then the man himself appeared," said Hugh.

  Jonathan added, "We sent Samuel in to keep an eye out and let us know if Hugh appeared to be in any danger. We thought it prudent to keep our distance and waited at the coffee house."

  "He's a burly man, with gruff speech. His sentences are made up of no more than three or four words. His fee was exorbitant, and I felt this was my way out. I told him I could not pay that, and offered him a mere hundred dollars. He said he would meet me again tonight, at a different location, and he would give me his answer. Perhaps now we can set someone to follow him. He has seen Walter and me, which would leave the task to Jonathan."

  "Or me, sir," said Samuel, who had since come into the kitchen for a cup of Jonathan's coffee.

  "He wouldn't pay no mind to me, sir. I'd like to try after what happened to Miss Donovan; I want to try and do my part in this," he continued.

  "Hugh, did you get a chance to speak to Pierre?" asked Madeline.

  "Yes. He was dismissive at best. He said he had no idea about our finding those items on the grounds. He said perhaps they were taken from Marguerite in one of her episodes when she was unaware of her surroundings," said Hugh.

  "While Hugh was with Pierre, we managed a few words with the girl. She kept repeating the words "white ghost." Then she started to cry and called out Armand's name. Pierre saw us speaking to her, so we thought it prudent to leave," said Jonathan.

  "Now, tell us your story," said Jonathan. "What happened to you?"

  She went on to tell Jonathan and Walter about Anastasia.

  "Hugh told us a little about her. Do you think she is the one responsible for your attack?" asked Walter.

  "All things point to her. She led me down the path, then disappeared and left me alone. But she was so kind and seemed to be offering her protection. It is a puzzle that does not fit together properly," said Madeline.

  "Were you able to tell if the person who attacked you was male or female?" asked Jonathan.

  "No. They came up from behind me and did not speak or barely seem to breathe. It was if a ghost had a hold of me, as quiet as they were. I'm sure Hugh told you about this note."

  With that, she pulled the note from the pocket of her robe and laid it on the table.

  "I suppose that we need to speak to this witch that calls herself Anastasia," said Walter.

  "Something tells me she will not be easy to find. I think we will see her only if she wishes it to be," said Madeline.

  "Don't tell me you believe she is truly a witch?" asked Jonathan.

  "Let's just say, she is not like other people," said Madeline.

  "I think you should take it to the police and tell them what happened to you," said Walter.

  "Yes, it must be done. I wonder if it is the same person who took Wesley's life. They could have killed me tonight. I don't know if they didn't because Hugh came, or if it was a warning," said Madeline.

  "It is a maniacal thing to do, try to strangle someone with a snake. Killer or not, whoever did this to Madeline is dangerous, and probably insane," said Hugh.

  "Tomorrow we will try again. Hugh has his meeting with Vinnie, and after I speak with the police, I will confront Pierre and Marguerite," said Madeline.

  "Yes, tomorrow will shed some light on this underground. We will uncover something of this Vinnie," said Jonathan.


  Madeline's throat was again throbbing, so she said her good-nights until the morning. After several nights of almost no rest, she now drifted into a deep sleep.

  She woke to a soft knocking on the door. Father had brought her some tea and biscuits as she had missed breakfast, sleeping until almost ten.

  "No one expected you to rise early after the night you had. No one came down until after nine. The night has once again filled with activity. I heard all the ruckus in the kitchen. I knew you would wait up for your friends.

  "The swelling has gone done on your neck. How are you feeling?" asked her father.

  "Still a little painful to swallow, but otherwise I will survive it. I will wear a dress with a high collar to cover my wound."

  "I will give you a little opium...mind you, just a little. I'm sure you will need it if you plan another trip to the city."

  "Thank you, Father. I promise I will never be drawn down that path again without a fight."

  "I trust you, but the opium has the power to destroy trust and the best intentions."

  "I know, Father, I know."

  "Now, I will tell the others you will be down shortly."

  Before she set out for the day, she wanted to speak to Belle about Andrew LeBlanc. She hoped that Belle would be forthcoming and tell her something of interest.

  "Madeline, do come in. I was about to go downstairs. I heard what happened. Let me see your neck. Oh my...you should stay in bed today," said Belle.

  "I feel I should speak with Inspector Matthews. I am determined to speak with Pierre and Marguerite DuPont too. I will be all right, but there is something of a delicate nature that I feel I must be so bold to talk to you about."

  Belle sat down on a chair set by the fireplace and looked away, saying, "I see."

  Madeline thought it peculiar, as Belle didn't have any idea what she was about to say...or did she?

  She handed Belle the packet of neatly tied letters that she had brought with her.

  "I found these in a hidden compartment in Wesley's desk. I did not think it appropriate to talk to Hannah about them but felt I must speak to you to see if Andrew LeBlanc could be a possible suspect in the death of Wesley."

  Belle held them in her hand and then to her face and said, "There is still a faint scent of lavender, a perfume her father once bought for her while traveling in Europe. She has never worn anything else since."

  Madeline waited as Belle opened each one and read them, but she revealed nothing of what she was feeling through her expression.

  "It is her hand. They were in love once. It is a story that brings the seeds of anxiety stirring within me. I do not understand why these were in his desk."

  "Did you see the date when he wrote them?"

  "No...let me get my glasses."

  After doing so, she looked down at the letter in her hand stating, "Impossible...never. It is a lie. Someone has tampered with this letter."

  "Then you don't believe Hannah was involved romantically somehow with Andrew."

  "Unless there is another person who lives within my daughter that I have never met."

  "What did you mean about the anxiety you felt?"

  "I forbid her to marry Andrew. I believed she was too young, and he was too brash and reckless. I don't think Andrew ever forgave me. Sometimes I thought Hannah would never forgive me either until she met Wesley. Then she thanked me for having stopped her from entering into a childhood romance that would never have been her true destiny."

  "It is strange that the two men worked together."

  "It was to me too. Wesley was already a noted lawyer at the firm when Andrew joined it. He had a fiancé, and it had been many years since they were together, so at the time, it did not seem that unnatural. Hannah was somewhat uncomfortable about it until she met his intended. Andrew was quite charming, looking like the man in love. After that, I never heard either one speak of Andrew in any other way other than about business."

  "Would you consider speaking to Hannah about this matter? Do you think it possible that Andrew may have played a part in any of these attacks?"

  "I could not imagine it so. I've known the boy since he was young...still in matters of the heart, people—especially men—can behave in unpredictable ways."

  "When I was in his office, he was acting in an odd way. He had strewn books and folders about the room and appeared nervous when we walked in. I wonder now if he may have been searching for these very letters."

  "It seems likely. I cannot imagine how Wesley would have come to have possession of them."

  Madeline did not reveal the finding of the risqué photographs of Hannah. She believed now she would have to confront Hannah, even if it was uncomfortable.

  "I hope to engage Andrew in conversation about this matter."

  "Please be careful about how you go about it. I do not wish my Hannah compromised in."

  "I will do my best."

  She felt that it was inevitable that Hannah enter into this and that she tell her about the letters.

  When Madeline arrived downstairs, the men were in the drawing room, playing chess.

  "There you are. How are you feeling? Do you feel up to going with us back to the city?" asked Hugh.

  "I have some pain in my throat and am shaky from the experience, but I wish to return as soon as possible. I'd like to see Inspector Matthews and report to him what happened last night."

  "I think we should make an effort to find this Anastasia as well," said Jonathan.

  "Shall we ask Samuel to bring the carriage round by two?" asked Hugh.

  They agreed they would meet after luncheon. Madeline felt this might give her the opportunity to question Hannah before they left.

  "Who's there?" asked Hannah when Madeline rapped on her door. "I'm afraid I am unwell. Could you come back later, Mother."

  "It is Madeline, and I feel I must speak to you about something. It will not take long."

  "Madeline, I just don't....

  "Please, I would not bother you if it was not important."

  Hannah opened the door, wearing her black mourning dress, and looking frail.

  "I see you are shocked by my appearance...no, don't deny it. I have not eaten or slept. I am certain it shows on my face, although I have avoided the mirror as much as possible," said Hannah.

  "I once was in the same way. It is understandable—grieving exacts a price from us."

  "What is it that you have to say? I would like to lie down as soon as you leave."

  Madeline could see by her curt remarks and distant look upon her face that she would not be amenable to what she had to say, but she didn't know when she might get the opportunity again.

  "I've come about these. I beg your pardon in the manner that I speak so frankly, but I feel it must be addressed."

  She handed Hannah two of the letters, holding back the last one in the event that she did not return them to her.

  "What is this?" she asked, peering at the letters as if they were not hers.

  She then opened the first one and began reading. Then with only a faint murmur of a voice, she said, "How did you come to be in possession of such a personal matter as this?"

  Her face was stricken with pain, she looked as if she were about to weep, but did not.

  "What is it you want to know? I don't understand, why do you bring me this ancient history and at a time like this...to torment me. You, of all people, Madeline, why?"

  "It is because I found these in Wesley's hidden compartment in his desk. I wondered then if Andrew was involved in some way in the assaults or even the murder of your husband."

  "What an incredible thing to say. My Andrew...never."

  Madeline thought it curious that she should use the words "my Andrew." She could not imagine, even now, that she should refer to anyone besides Russell that way.

  She saw that Madeline was about to speak and stopped her.

  "Enough...we will speak about it another time. It was in the past long ago, it has nothing to do
with now, be assured of that. Go on with your investigation, but do not include Andrew."

  Hannah turned away from her, and Madeline bid her good day and left the room.

  Instead of reassuring her, it had the opposite effect, and now she knew she must see Andrew LeBlanc.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Old Absinthe House

  Father had given her a small dose of opium, and it had produced the jolt she needed to carry on despite her injury.

  Jonathan, Walter, and Hugh had made their destination the bookstore. With its constant colorful patrons, who also freely spoke out on any matter, it was their favorite spot.

  Madeline would meet them later at the coffee shop, for now, she would see Inspector Matthews at the police station.

  "Miss, this is serious business. I warned you about getting yourself in the middle of it. Good heavens, you may have been killed. That's a nasty wound on your neck. The sadistic dogs, to do such a thing to a woman...a snake, no less," said Inspector Matthews while calling over his assistant to take a look at her.

  "William, take a photograph of Mrs. Donovan's injury and log this note into evidence," he continued.

  "Do you have any suspects in custody?" asked Madeline.

  "Like I told you before. It's dem dagoes; they cause a mighty lot of trouble. We've brought several of them in for questioning, and we think we might be closer to an arrest. Of course, we are still considering Armand LaLande's family. They're a quiet lot, with no criminal history, but when you have your only son taken from you, people can be capable of violence they would otherwise not have a mind to."

  "Have you questioned Madame Clarice?"

  "That daft woman? No. She and her people, they do no harm. They cause some ruckus down by the water, but nothing criminal. I wouldn't pay her no mind."

  "I find her rather formidable. People know of her threats against the people at Belle Magnolia."

  "I'll send one of my lads over to speak with her, but we should have this case wrapped up soon. Don't you worry, Miss, don't you worry none at all."