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

  She looked to where he had pointed and also saw what appeared to be one or two people rustling in the deep grass. She supposed it might have been an animal, but there was no accompanying sound. Gritting her teeth together in alarm, she said, "I insist on going with you."

  Grabbing another lamp, he looked at her disapprovingly but offered no verbal objection.

  His gun in his hand, he ran out the front entrance, firing a shot into the sky. "I warn you, you will not harm anyone again. We will find you, and prosecute, " he yelled out in a strange, angry voice that she had never heard before.

  The lamps cast a good enough light that they could move freely about into the night.

  She heard what sounded like a young, female voice laughing, and then saw movement in different directions. Madeline was not brave enough that she ventured away from his side. Then, as if no one was ever there, it was quiet. Even the crickets had stopped chirping for several solitary moments. In the distance, they again heard maniacal laughter, followed by voices yelling, "Be gone before you join the dead...be gone...be gone."

  Rather than frighten her, it made her angry at their presence, trespassing on their private sanctuary. They continued walking a short ways further to see if they had killed any of the livestock or left any incendiary devices. She stumbled on some rocks on the ground, and Hugh grabbed her arm to steady her.

  "Lean on me—this place has too many hidden dangers. Please, take my arm."

  "I will not argue with that. This day of evil will not end."

  "Madeline, you know you can always lean on me, not just today, not just now, but anytime," he said with a soft, caressing tone.

  "Thank you, my dearest friend. You have made life worth living again. I am so happy you are here. I don't know how I would have gotten through without you."

  As they approached the veranda, they both stopped abruptly. There, with a menacing presence, were a dozen or more, black snakes. Some long and thick, some short, slight and slithering; both a sight that she recoiled from so violently that it caused her to fall back against the ground. This time, she could not hold the scream in her throat. She saw the lights in the house begin to turn on one by one, presumably because they had heard her cry out.

  "Stay here. I will round them up with a potato sack I saw in the kitchen. I don't know anything about snakes such as these," said Hugh.

  "I do," said Belle, suddenly appearing on the veranda. "Do not be afraid. They're ugly all right but will not harm you. In fact, they keep the rodents at bay. Of course, I don't want them in the house, so, please, do get the sack. I can help you get them—I've done it before."

  Madeline now felt somewhat foolish for her lack of bravery, saying, "I do so apologize for my scream. I've never seen such a sight. I have had occurrence to be around snakes, but not in such a great quantity. They look like serpents from the grave."

  "This is not a day we shall ever forget, and now this," Belle said as she gathered in her hand two of the snakes. The other snakes maneuvered quickly to leave the veranda, sliding off the wooden planks and into the grassy area.

  When Hugh brought the sacks, they were able to apprehend less than a half a dozen into the bags; the others already having disappeared into the night.

  Madeline looked up to see Hannah in the upstairs window. The brilliant, white moon cascading across the arched window lit upon Hannah's ashen face and fell in shadows against her transparent white dressing gown. To Madeline, she looked like a nymph who had settled on the glass, her face looking otherworldly.

  "I must go to her...I must," she said to Belle.

  "She won't let you in, but you can try," said Belle.

  The entire household was now awake. Mrs. Brown was dutifully cooking up a pot of chicory coffee and making biscuits. It had a calming effect on everyone as they arrived one by one in the kitchen.

  "Father, is it all right for me to see Hannah?"

  "I just left her. She heard you scream and became alarmed; then I heard her weeping. She let me in, but only for a moment. She said she would try to come down tomorrow. I know if anyone can empathize with her, it is you, Madeline. However, she is not ready yet to speak to anyone but her mother and me because I can give her some comforting medicine," he said.

  "Of course, I do understand. I just feel like I am not contributing at all. There must be more that we can do—perhaps we can bring the police here. This harassment must stop," she said.

  "I'm sure there won't be any further activity tonight. I think it's safe for all of us to return to our room and get some sleep," said Hugh.

  After a few more tears and hugs among them, they returned to their rooms. Madeline paced, looking for something to ease her spirit. She could not abide the anxiety she felt, and once again wondered if it was that wrong to imbibe in alcohol or allow an opiate to relieve the ails of being human. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind, so she lit a candle by her bed and penned some notes in her journal.

  August 10, 1889

  Jonathan will arrive today amidst this utter despair that we all feel. It is something I will grapple with my entire life, the idea that someone who shares all of our humanity, dreams, hopes, desires, can be capable, like Jack, of the unspeakable crime of murder. What can be so twisted inside their mind and heart to commit such an act that brings so much suffering to so many? In the end, unless it is a crime of greed, what does the actor gain from it?

  Madame Clarice and her merry band of followers are unlike any group of people I have ever known. They have somehow separated themselves from the norms of society, yet seem to thrive when they are together. I suppose their collective beliefs assure each of them individually that this path they have chosen must have merit. There is no doubt, when I was in the very center of the rituals, that I had a sense of being caught up in the moment. My heart raced, and I began to tremble and grit my teeth as I watched Madame Clarice mixing her ungodly potion.

  Our first day without our Wesley―we cannot go back and undo this deed that will forever change Hannah and Belle's life. I will miss him and now have added him to the departed souls that I pray for every night.

  I am anxious to go back to the city, into Wesley's office, to question those whom he shared his day with at his place of work.

  My dearest Russell, you now share heaven with someone very dear to all of us. Is that possible, do you now welcome our Wesley into the space your reside with our children? What is heaven? I wonder.

  She walked around the room for a while longer, moving the candle to the windows, and glancing out again over the now-silent grounds.

  Eventually, she fell asleep, holding the picture of her family across her heart.

  Even though it was quite early, not yet five in the morning, Madeline could smell the aroma of freshly cooked sausages. She assumed Mrs. Brown had risen early to prepare possibly for the arrival of Jonathan and Walter. She realized she was hungry despite everything and dressed quickly to venture into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Brown was there but seated at the table, to her surprise, was Hannah.

  "Good morning, Madeline. How are you? I know you had quite a fright last night. Mrs. Brown told me about the snakes," said Hannah, conspicuously avoiding the subject of Wesley.

  "I am fine. It is you that we are all concerned about," Madeline said as she moved to where Hannah sat to hug her.

  Curiously, she straightened like a rigid fence and waved Madeline away. Madeline's face became flushed in embarrassment, not understanding what she had done to meet with Hannah's disapproval.

  "We are of sturdier stock than you can imagine. We will deal with this, as all other problems that we have faced before. I will certainly have Samuel burn some of the brush so that we are able to see more easily if someone trespasses. Perhaps the city will post a guard for us during the evening hours.

  "I have asked Mrs. Brown to prepare a special meal for your friends. What are their names again? After all, we are Southerners, and no one can proclaim as we our ability to welcome and fuss over our vi
sitors," Hannah stated.

  We shall be enjoying bouillabaisse. Mrs. Brown is such a wonder at preparing it; you feel you are under a spell after you have had it. Strange that I should have said 'under a spell'," she said as she cocked her head to one side. "It is a marvelous fish stew; I so hope you and your friends will like it. If you will excuse me, I have some mending to do for Wesley. He will be fitted with his finest shirt, and there is a slight tear in the seam on the left side."

  Madeline watched and listened to her with a sense of déjà vu. It wasn't that long ago when she found herself in that strange world between disbelief, shock, and denial. In a few hours, she had gone from barely being able to function to this stoic, even-toned person who now seemed unaffected by her husband's death. She knew they all would have to tread lightly with Hannah.

  "You and your mother are most gracious and kind in all your actions. No, I have never had this dish, and I am certain Jonathan and Walter will enjoy the dinner.

  May I assist you with anything?" she asked.

  "There is so much to do, isn't there? But Mother and I will manage. I'm sure you wish to go to meet their train," said Hannah as she walked by, touching Madeline lightly upon her shoulder.

  Mrs. Brown walked in as Hannah was walking out. She turned to Madeline and said, "I was happy to see our Hannah, and then I looked at her face. She looks lost and has a strange, vacant look in her eyes. I do so worry about her."

  Madeline replied, "I know. I remember it well that feeling that it all isn't happening, and it must have been only a bad dream, one you cannot wake from.

  "Hannah told me that you are to prepare a lovely meal for my friends. Thank you, I know it is probably an imposition under the circumstances."

  "No, just the opposite: it will give me a purpose and distract me. Samuel has gone to town to bring me some fresh fish. I am so grateful he has returned; he will lessen the burden of caring for the place."

  "As soon as Hugh has risen, I believe we will be going back to town as well."

  After having a cup of the strange new coffee, Madeline felt invigorated. It may not have the taste that she liked, but she enjoyed the feeling of making one up instantly perk up.

  She decided to walk the grounds again.

  She saw several black snakes scurrying through the grass, but this time was not startled. The sky was crystal blue, with the sun illuminating every fiber of the area. She found nothing of particular interest until she came upon a small doll, pinned to a piece of cloth with the embroidered initials, WR. Placing it under her dress, she attached it to the band that held her derringer. She would take it to the police, but didn't wish Belle or Hannah to see it.

  Approaching the mansion, she saw Hugh waving to her from the veranda.

  "I thought I would have arisen before you, and I find you are already up and about the grounds. Any news?" he asked.

  "I did find something. I will show it to you on our way to the city. Did you happen to see Hannah?"

  "No, but I heard her singing in her room and found that rather odd."

  "She was in the kitchen this morning and seemed almost wooden in her speech and actions. I do believe must take on the task of keeping an eye on her. She is definitely not in her right mind at the moment. It is not unlike the way I reacted to Russell's passing."

  "Is it bringing back painful memories?"

  "Yes, it is, but I will push them away. I must—there is much work we must do."

  She produced Jonathan's telegram, confirming to Hugh that their friend would arrive in the early morning hour of eight.

  "I think we should depart if we are to get to the station in time for their arrival," she said.

  Samuel drove them to the station, leaving them the opportunity to converse.

  "I feel I must go today to Wesley's office. I may not be a good hostess to Jonathan in doing so, but I am certain he will understand," said Madeline.

  "Is the friend he's also bringing a newsman?"

  She said, "I believe the cable stated that he had recently come on board. Jonathan has taken him under his wing and wished him to take part in this, to test his reporting skills.

  "Despite all that has happened, I believe I will draw strength from his coming. He's such a wise man and views things in such a critical way of thinking that makes him invaluable to have around."

  Hugh nodded in agreement and then turned his head to look out into the street. By the way he abruptly reacted to what she said, she wondered if she had hurt his feelings by those remarks, but nonetheless, they were true.

  Standing on the podium, they watched for the train. They did not have long to wait.

  Hugh said, "I think I will purchase all of the local newspapers to see what the concerted opinion is about these events. It will also allow Jonathan and Walter to be up to date on the news."

  The train roared into the station, the steam filling the already hot, sticky air and giving her the feeling that she wished she could take a dip in the cool, lake water near Belle's home.

  "You look flushed. Would you like me to get a fan for you?" he asked.

  "Thank you, but I will be all right. The pervasive heat cannot deter us, but it will make it all the more unpleasant," she said as she took a handkerchief to wipe the drops of sweat from her forehead and neck.

  She saw a hand waving in the distance. Jonathan is walking toward them in the mist as if moving in the familiar fog of Whitechapel, was a welcome sight indeed.

  They both moved toward their visitors, Jonathan and the man who walked with him, Walter.

  Jonathan took both her hands in his and said, "Madeline, it has been too long, and Hugh, old man, it is wonderful to see you both. Meet my friend, Walter—Walter Cahill. He is a recruit at the Times and has agreed to participate in this adventure."

  Walter was unlike Jonathan in appearance. He was about the same height as Madeline, just five feet two or so, and he was somewhat portly, but only noticeable by his bulging vest. He had wavy, sandy-blonde hair that was becoming, and a deep scar across his left cheek. When she shook his hand, they were soft, like a woman's hands, and she was surprised by that. However, he had a cheerful smile and kind eyes.

  When Jonathan gripped her hands, it was a strong, firm grip, the kind that made you instantly acknowledge the confidence he must feel in himself. Unlike Hugh and her, he looked as if he had just come from a vacation in the islands. He had a warm, tawny glow about his fine features, looking none the worse for having traveled in the cramped space of the train for several days. He and Hugh were almost the same height at around six feet, but he was more muscular and—dare she think it—American looking. He had a ruggedness about him, and a more cavalier personality than Hugh's.

  She said, "My dear friend, I am so very pleased that you are here. So much has happened since our last correspondence; we will tell you on the way back to Belle Magnolia. Hugh and I are planning to return to the city after we have settled you in.

  I know after your journey, you may wish to rest, but you are welcome to return with us."

  "I'm game to return. That's why we are here, to help unravel this mystery. I say let's get to it," said Walter with enthusiasm.

  Jonathan laughed, "That's why I brought him along." "He has the energy of a ten-year-old, he will prove a great asset."

  Walter smiled, and Madeline felt thankful that they were here. Everyone at the mansion was exhausted, and more than a little stressed. Their collective mood was somber. They would help to alleviate the grim mood that presided over the mansion.

  Chapter Eight

  Suspects

  Everyone was gathered in the drawing room, including Hannah, to welcome the new arrivals. After introductions, they agreed they would meet again for their gourmet dinner at seven.

  The men requested baths. They would then join Madeline and Hugh on their return trip to the city.

  Madeline and Hugh waited outside on the veranda. This time, she brought with her a hand fan, cooling herself as much as she could in the still New Orle
ans heat.

  She said, "Jonathan looks well. I feel somewhat renewed just seeing him."

  "They both became very upset by the news of Wesley's death; Jonathan looked stunned," said Hugh.

  "Yes, it is terrible. Today we will have the advantage of being able to divide our efforts and cover more territory."

  "Ah...here they are."

  She and Hugh took turns explaining to the men the events that had transpired thus far.

  "So, it is agreed that Walter and I will move about the square and see what information we may find out through the local townspeople. You're going to Wesley's office, and then back to the library," said Jonathan.

  "I would have thought there might be more of a presence from the police. Did they agree to have someone come to the mansion?" Walter asked.

  Madeline said, "Not exactly. They said they would increase the surveillance as much as possible, but were not able to offer more than that. The chief of police, Mr. Hennessey, did seem to be a man of purpose. I think we may be able to count on him if need be.

  "Do you see the coffee house, the one we told you about? Would it be agreeable if we meet back there in about two hours?"

  "Yes; let's hope we shall have some success," said Jonathan.

  Wesley's office is on Rue Bourbon, central to everything. She did not think it unusual that people filled the office. There were reporters, bystanders, and gossip mongers who were all there talking about Wesley's death.

  When the receptionist discovered that their relation to Wesley, as Madeline had fibbed, she showed them directly into Andrew LeBlanc's office. He was one of the three lawyers that collectively ran the office. It appeared that they all were of equal stature, but it was Andrew's father, Jean, according to the receptionist, who owned the business.

  It was not long before Andrew came to greet them. He was of average height, perhaps five foot eight, but possessed stunning good looks. Madeline almost blushed at the sight of him. He had the polished look of an English gentleman, but had an American physique, muscular, with a face so beautifully set, he looked carved from stone. His dark, curly hair fell slightly about his forehead. He was slow to smile, but when he did, it was broad and encompassing—the kind a politician had.