The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 3) Page 22

  "Fair enough."

  There were several places where structures had been placed to afford a visitor a place to stay and have a business or a romantic rendezvous. After they had been riding for a short while, dusk was upon them, giving the area a misty, cozy feeling.

  "There. It is my favorite spot," said Mario as he pointed to an ornate, white Gazebo.

  Madeline smiled as she had hoped he would suggest stopping there. She could see if from a distance, and it looked like a page out of a child's storybook. Red and yellow roses entwined into the latticework. A carved wood bench held items left behind by other visitors, writing paper, a shawl, even two tea cups. She was sure this place held many intimate secrets.

  "I've wished to speak to you about certain things, but I felt myself reluctant to do so, feeling you might change your opinion about me," said Mario.

  "That is most intriguing. Now, I feel I must know or die of curiosity."

  "There are things about my family...things that I'm not proud of, but it has been all I've ever known."

  "Go on. Then I will tell you why I wished to speak to you."

  "That's right. Ladies first, I insist. I don't know what I was thinking. You must tell me what mysterious news you have that you have given me the honor to be privy to."

  She could see he was uneasy, possibly on the verge of not telling her anything. She thought perhaps if she showed him she trusted him and that he was of value to her, it might make it easier for him to confide in her.

  Slowly, she retrieved the black envelope with its strange message from her satchel. Handing it to him, she watched his reaction. The first thing he did was put it up to his nose and say, "Is that smoke?"

  "It's not just smoke. I believe it may be right from the fires of hell."

  He looked up at her quizzically. She was smiling so he continued, "Then I must assume it must be from the devil himself."

  "Or one of his ardent followers."

  "I assume you are planning to meet with the person who wrote this cryptic note?"

  "I am. I am hoping you will agree to join me."

  "Truly? I am flattered and delighted."

  "I have spent quite a few evenings down by the river's edge having confrontations with Madame Clarice. I am assuming she is the one, but honestly, I can't be certain. So many things have happened as of late that I begin to question all those around me. It seems there is enough guilt to go around."

  "Fascinating. Perhaps I should wait to tell you my news later."

  He had just finished speaking the words when two men were seen riding in the distance towards them.

  "I shouldn't be surprised. It's two of my cousins," said Mario.

  "Mario, we have been searching for you. Your Uncle John has requested you join the card game. He was most insistent," said one of the men.

  "But I have just promised that I should go along with Miss Donovan to Lake Pontchartrain. She is meeting with someone and would like me to join her."

  With those words, the men dismounted and called Mario over to speak with him in private. They walked far away that Madeline could not discern their conversation. However, it was evident that Mario was somehow in disfavor, and they were angry with him.

  "We shall ride along with you to return to the party, " said one of the cousins.

  Mario helped her up onto her horse and whispered, "We shall get away from them. Just follow my lead."

  When they were within a short distance of the main party, Mario bolted from behind his cousins and began riding in a different direction. Madeline followed, looking back briefly to see if the men would follow. It looked like they might, but then something must have happened to stop their chase. When Mario also turned to see that they were not following, he slowed to have Madeline catch up to him.

  "I guess they didn't think it worth the bother or my Uncle John waved them off. However, they know where I will be, and it would not be out of the realm of possibility that they would send someone to the river."

  "Am I so objectionable as all that?"

  "No, you are not Sicilian, and not someone they know or trust. They feel I am too free with my words, but I feel safe with you. I believe I could confide in you."

  These are the words Madeline had hoped she would hear.

  "You have my word of honor that anything you should disclose to me will go no further."

  "Then onto the river."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Deadly Truths

  A crescent moon graced the sky, giving off only spotted light in the dense forestation. It lightly infused the area near the bridge where many clandestine meetings took place.

  She wondered if perhaps they might not be quite so alone on this evening. It seemed unlikely after going after her and Mario in such an aggressive way that the family would abandon their mission so easily. She kept turning around to see if anyone was following them. Now that they had stopped amongst all the others waiting for Madame Clarice, it would be difficult to detect anyone.

  Hannah had also agreed to meet Andrew on this night. She had confided in Madeline that it was impossible for her not to go. She would demand answers from him regarding his peculiar behavior, especially about the love letters. In a way, that was a comfort to her, thinking that Hannah was near if things did not go well.

  "Do you mind if I take your hand? I'd like to help guide you to this wild place. Our boots will protect us from the snakes," said Mario.

  "Except those that drop from the trees," said Madeline.

  He faltered a little, then smiled. Madeline had said it just to tease him and lighten the mood.

  "Are you sure you know where you are going?" he asked.

  "Yes, the location is familiar to me. I have been here before. Because of its uniqueness, it is probably used for rendezvouses. It stands out from the other trees and can be seen within a good five hundred feet or so. You may spot it yourself."

  They had tied their horses a good quarter mile or so away, paying a boy to keep watch over them. They were now in what Madeline felt was Madame Clarice's kingdom. For that's how she saw it. Clarice had somehow created this place where all who entered believed her to be leader with powerful supernatural ties to the spiritual world.

  "You are right. I see it. It shouldn't be long now, about another five-minute walk. Are you nervous?" asked Mario.

  "I am, but more excited to find out who is at the bottom of this, for I suspect it must be the same person who has plagued Belle Magnolia."

  It seemed darker still as clouds now covered the moon completely. There was a slight breeze blowing through the brush that created an optical illusion that something or someone was stirring behind each swaying bush. At another time, she would not have given it a second thought, but today, she knew it could be true that someone was in wait for them.

  There was a wooden crate tossed into the brush. Mario retrieved it, brushed it off and laid his coat upon it for them both to sit.

  "Before whoever shows their face, there is something I must tell you. I know it will change everything between us, but I am hoping you will find a way to forgive me," said Mario.

  "Mario, you sound as if it must be something ominous."

  She was serious now, taking his hand in hers; she said, "Mario, whatever it is, you can unburden yourself to me. It must be something that weighs heavy on your heart and mind for you to look so solemn."

  "It was me. I am the one who is at fault and who carries all the blame for what happened."

  "What do you mean? It was you who was responsible for the attacks on Belle Magnolia?"

  "Oh, no. I tried to find out who was behind it, but I never did."

  He stopped for a long moment of silence, gripping Madeline's hand all the tighter, then began again.

  "It was me―me who killed Armand LaLande."

  "Mario, what are you saying? A man just confessed to the crime. Vito, yes, a man named Vito."

  "No. Vito is my second cousin. He has a new baby, but never could keep away from the opium an
d the alcohol. The doctors gave him six months to live. Vinnie offered him money and protection for his wife and child if he confessed to my crime. He gladly took the offer. No rope will ever hang him, he is too ill, and will die in jail before that ever occurs. Vinnie knew he had pushed me into this life. It was an accident, Madeline, an accident. I meant to shoot a warning shot, but I wasn't in control or my mind or my hand.

  "That poor, little boy Armand. It will haunt me till the day I die," Mario moaned, holding his head in his hands.

  A wild cry came out from behind them as if someone had just shot an animal. It was a painful, mournful cry.

  A shot rang out, and they both jumped in alarm.

  "That was to get your attention and to look into your cold eyes before they see no more. It was you all along. You were right, after all, Madeline. It wasn't Guy Finaldi. Still, they all belong to the same clan. They all deserve to die just like you, " said Pierre DuPont.

  Madeline had slowly tried to retrieve her derringer from her boot, but Pierre laughed, firing a shot at her foot. He then reached in, disposing of it into a pile of weeds.

  "I got so much more than I bargained for. I had come to warn you for the last time to leave my sister alone and leave this place, or I had intended to do you harm. But now, I believe I should thank you for you have unwittingly brought me what I have sought all along, the murderer of my nephew," said Pierre.

  "My family, they will pay you any amount of money. They can start you in business. We will see that we recoup your losses," said Mario, a tear running down his right eye, and a look of utter shame and sorrow on his face.

  Pierre laughed—a cruel laugh, a laugh of a man without a soul.

  "There is nothing you can give me now. You have taken everything from me. My sister and her husband have fled New Orleans, never wishing to see the dark side of this city again. My dearest sister, my best friend, lost to me from the madness you caused when you took our Armand from us. No amount of money can fix that. You have destroyed what we love. So I shall destroy what your family loves.

  "It is unfortunate, Madeline, that you are here because you must meet the same fate as Mario because you will be a witness to his death."

  She looked at Mario; he was crumpled on the crate as if a broken child. He didn't even attempt to move as if his guilt had consumed him.

  "Then it was you, you who murdered our Wesley. What makes you think you can judge Mario after what you have done. And Anastasia? What was her crime?"

  "Wesley, his crime, of course, was getting Guy Finaldi free. Maybe I was wrong, but all lawyers at some point allow some murderer to go free. I feel no remorse for what I did."

  "You are mad, Pierre. You have lost your mind over Armand. Did you intend to kill us all?"

  "Not all. Guy, Wesley, and his wife, then the slate would be wiped clean, and we could live again. You kept interfering. I had not intended to hurt you."

  "But what of Anastasia?"

  "That daft old woman, she saw me. Somehow she managed to save Hannah. I hated to hurt her; she was a courageous old girl, but it was too late. There is nothing now that would stop me from finishing what I started."

  Pierre lifted his pistol and aimed it at Mario as Madeline jumped in front of the shattered young man.

  "No, Madeline. I suppose I deserve death for what I did," Mario said as he stood and moved away from Madeline.

  A shot rang out, and at this close range, she was sure Pierre had mortally wounded Mario. But instead, it was Pierre who cried out and grabbed his bleeding leg.

  "No more killing, Pierre, no more...," begged Marguerite.

  "You're a much better shot than that, dear sister," said Pierre.

  "I don't want to hurt you. I love you, please," she replied.

  "It is too late, too late," he said as he lifted his arm again and fired at Mario. His balance compromised by his injured leg, he could only manage to hit him in the shoulder. Mario cried out.

  Now Marguerite faced her brother down, pointing the gun directly at him, saying, "I won't miss again, Pierre."

  "You would shoot your brother over the man who killed Armand?" asked Pierre.

  "What?" she asked startled.

  Apparently, she had not heard Mario's confession, now putting her gun down at her side.

  "No, no," she said as she ran up to Mario and slapped him across the face.

  "I should let him kill you. No, I will kill you myself," she said.

  "Marguerite, no, this is not you. You are kind and gentle and do not seek revenge. It is for the law to punish Mario for his crime, not you and your brother," said Madeline.

  When Marguerite slumped to the ground in front of Mario, another shot rang out and hit Mario in his side. Now, Pierre had lost enough blood that he had fallen to the ground, torn off his shirt and was trying to bind his wound.

  Madeline had ripped her dress and was trying to do the same for Mario.

  She had thought that the noise from the shots would have brought help by now, but the Conga drums were drowning out all other sounds.

  She whispered to Marguerite if she would give her the gun she possessed. "No, I don't wish to hurt you, but you might harm my brother."

  Pierre, still struggling, took up his gun again. "He is finished. He will bleed to death, a painful death as Armand had. Now to her," he said as he raised his gun again.

  "No, Pierre, she has done nothing," said his sister.

  "She has just witnessed a murder. Now our job is done, and we can return to France and rejoin our sister. Come by me, Marguerite," said Pierre.

  As he raised his hand to shoot, Marguerite's pistol went off, hitting her brother in the side of his chest. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain while she said in a voice above a whisper, "No more killing, Pierre, no more killing."

  "Marguerite, you poor child, you must go for help," she requested.

  She was afraid to leave Pierre, even in his current condition, believing he might have the final strength to crawl over to Mario and finish the job.

  "Yes, yes, I will go," she said, once more looking like the lost waif, not the lucid, remarkable girl who had just saved her life.

  When Marguerite left, she retrieved her gun and fired into the air, hoping to bring someone to aid her.

  She had placed Mario's head into her lap, stroking his hair and speaking to him in a soft, gentle manner.

  "Please stay with me, it won't be long now until I pass," he said.

  "No, Mario, help will come."

  "If it did, what then? I should only face the noose instead of dying looking upon a beautiful, young woman's face who may have cared for me if I had not been born into the family that I was."

  "Mario, I am so very sorry that these tragedies, one after another, have come to pass. Like dominoes, each act caused another painful, irreversible act."

  "Please say you forgive me."

  "It is only for God to forgive you, Mario. No one else has that power."

  She could hear conversation and felt a great sense of relief that help had come.

  She immediately recognized one of the men, Mario saying, "Tony, come here. Take my hand before I die."

  "You will not die. I will see to it. Who did this to you?" Tony asked.

  "Armand's uncle. He lays over there, half-dying himself," said Mario.

  "Half-dead! I will finish him," said Tony.

  "No, Tony. It is enough. Is Vinnie here?" asked Mario.

  "No, it's me, Paulie.

  "My cousins, no, my brothers, for you have been like that to me."

  They both surrounded him, and Paulie said, "You did not say anything, did you?'

  Mario was about to speak when two other people walked onto the scene. It was Hannah and Andrew.

  "Madeline, we heard the shots but were a distance away. We came as fast as we could, but couldn't pinpoint the location until finally we heard voices. Dear God, what has happened here?"

  asked Hannah.

  Madeline said, "I will explain all to you later. C
ould you both please attend to Pierre? He wounds are significant."

  Andrew replied, quickly discarding his coat, "I was a medic in the Army. I have skill enough to hold the man together until help arrives. Hannah, please tear me off some of your skirt for bandages."

  The two hurried to Pierre's side, who looked to have lost consciousness, but was still breathing.

  "No, let me speak. Don't deny me my death-bed wish," said Mario in a pleading voice.

  "No, " said Paulie, but Tony restrained him and said, "It's all right, Mario. You were such a kid; you should have been an artist or a baker. This was never the place for you. Go on."

  "I killed Armand LaLande," said Mario.

  With that, she saw Hannah and Andrew jolt their heads towards him.

  "It was an accident. I should never have fired my weapon. I never wanted to be part of this, but somehow it just happened. I wasn't strong enough to escape the role my family wished for me to play. I will not name anyone else, but I want you all to know so that Guy Finaldi is cleared in the courts but also in public opinion," said Mario.

  Hannah was now softly crying, and said, "Was it you who killed my Wesley?"

  "No, oh no. Armand was the only person I ever harmed, and I wished every second since that day that I could change it and let me die instead of him. Now, we both shall be gone," said Mario.

  "No, Pierre DuPont just told us his wicked tale of how he murdered Wesley, attempted to kill you, and ended Anastasia's life," said Madeline.

  Finally, she heard a police whistle, and three police officers arrived at the scene.

  They looked at the two bloodied bodies, and said, "Which one is first? Who has suffered the worse blow?"

  Madeline was about to say, Mario, when she realized he had released his grip from hers. She laid her hand over his heart. It was no longer beating.

  "Mario is gone. Please see to Mr. DuPont," said Madeline, finding she was unable to stop the tears from rolling down her face.

  She felt conflicted about how despondent she was over someone who had just admitted to the killing of a small, defenseless boy. But she believed she was crying for the promise of a life that might have been worth a great deal. From what she knew of him, she truly believed had he been born into a family like Belle's or any other law-abiding family, he would not be lying here dead. Mario's cousins were openly weeping, holding their heads in their hands. Madeline moved aside and rested Mario's head against the crate so that they could be on either side of him. It was a most tragic day.