by L. A. Kelley
“Is all the security really necessary?” he asked mildly.
“Renny, the added safety measures are for Amelie’s sake, not mine.” The lie screamed so loudly, I wondered why no one else noticed. “She’s my responsibility, now,” Delphine continued, “and I have an obligation to protect her. I know we had difficulties in the past, but trust me when I say I would never forgive myself if harm came to your sister.”
Her tone was warm and modulated, dripping with concern, but I knew at that instant Delphine wanted nothing more than to see Amelie lying dead at her feet. A low growl issued from the seat next to me.
“Peter,” whispered Esther, “Mrs. Hart doesn’t trust her.”
“Neither do I.”
The chauffeur slid open the glass partition separating the driver and passenger compartment. “Where to?”
“Canal Street,” answered Renny. “I’ll give you directions once there.” He closed the window and drew a small curtain across to block the driver’s view. The engine started and the car pulled away.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The wharf. We can catch a ferry to Terrebonne Parish.”
“We don’t have dough.”
He held up a leather wallet. “Colonel Belvedere was most obliging.”
“You picked a pocket?”
“Delphine’s guests were entranced by your performance. Wasting a perfect opportunity would have been shameful.”
The Packard slowed as we approached the fence, but the guard remained inside the gatehouse and waved us past. Through the heavy downpour, I saw a half dozen armed men roaming the grounds. An uneasy feeling crept through me.
Esther tugged at Renny’s sleeve. “Mrs. Hart says she has a bad feeling about Delphine.”
I jumped in. “Me, too. Delphine lied about wanting to protect Amelie. She’d rather see your sister dead.”
Renny sighed. “Amelie understands. So do I. She’ll be careful. My father had her well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. One does not raise a girl to womanhood in New Orleans by neglecting an essential part of her education. Once I have seen you safely away I’ll return for my pigheaded sister and convince her to leave. We will all rendezvous in Houma…Which reminds me, let’s see how much money Colonel Belvedere donated for the trip.” He turned on the overhead light and tossed the book to me. I spread the pages open on my lap.
“Are those recipes, Peter?” Esther asked.
“I’m not sure. Funny kind of ingredients, though. I’ve never heard of them—and you’re not supposed to read through my eyes without permission.”
“I just peeked,” she whined. “Why is Delphine collecting recipes? I can’t see her in a kitchen slinging pots and pans with Ruby.” After a demanding yip from Mrs. Hart, Esther scooted over. “She wants to see.”
As Mrs. Hart settled down, a paper made of creamy vellum fell from the journal. Imprinted on top was the letterhead of a New Orleans law firm. Signatures beneath several paragraphs of legalese included one from Jean-Baptiste Marchand. Mrs. Hart scanned the page and, little doggy-face or not, I knew something was wrong.
“What gives?”
“Mrs. Hart says the paper is a…” Esther giggled. “…that’s a funny word. It sounds like a fish….okay, okay, I’ll tell them…..she said the paper is a codicil of a will. She wants Renny to see. She says Amelie is in more trouble than he thinks. Is a codicil bad, Peter—like rotten fish?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, handing the sheet to Renny.
As he scanned the paper, Mrs. Hart pawed through the journal. Renny’s face grew dark with anger and he spit out a curse. Renny didn’t apologize and Mrs. Hart didn’t chastise him. She growled, fighting mad herself.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“The codicil is an addition to my father’s will signed the day before he passed away. It states if Amelie dies before her eighteenth birthday, Delphine inherits everything.”
Mrs. Hart yipped and Esther’s face paled. “Renny, Mrs. Hart had a large garden at home and knows about plants. She doesn’t understand what the recipes are for, but a lot of the ingredients are poisonous.”
The sick look on Renny’s face was replaced in an instant by fierce determination. “Amelie must leave tonight. I’ll drop you at the wharf and return for her.”
“No,” I said. “The place is crawling with Delphine’s goons and you’ll need help. We go together.”
“I can’t ask you—”
“We aren’t asking,” butted in Esther. “We’re telling. Mrs. Hart says so.”
Renny’s lips twitched in a smile. “I would never dream to argue with a lady, or should I say, two of them.”
At that moment the driver slid open the glass door and announced through the curtain, “Canal Street is ahead. Where to next, mac?”
Renny directed him to drive past a big department store named Maison Blanche and then to a dead-end street. As soon as the driver parked the car, Renny got out. The driver opened his door.
Thump. “Oof!”
The Packard rocked back and forth as something heavy hit the side panel. Renny rapped on the window giving me a start. “Peter—a hand.”
The chauffeur lay crumpled against the fender. “What are you going to do?” I asked.
“The guard at the gate waved Delphine’s driver through without a second thought. On a night like this when a man in the same uniform returns, he won’t bother to leave the comfort of the gatehouse to check identities.”
“If he does?”
Renny unbuttoned the unconscious man’s jacket. The headlight caught the metallic glint of a pistol tucked into a holster. He hefted the gun. “The plan will get noisier.”
We dragged the driver into a doorway and bound him with his own tie and belt. Renny donned the chauffeur jacket and hat before sliding behind the wheel.
“When we get to the gatehouse lie on the floor and keep quiet,” he ordered.
Funny how the perception of time changes when you head into danger. I swore we took half an hour to go from the Marchand mansion to Canal Street, but less than a minute to return. Renny waved us down. The three of us got on the floor. I doffed my jacket and we huddled underneath. Renny approached the gate and slowed the car to a crawl. I held my breath and counted. Five seconds…ten…. I gnawed on my lower lip. What took so long? Not being able to see was maddening. The rain splashing against the windows abruptly cut off.
“We’re in the garage,” said Renny. “Amelie’s light is on. I counted two armed guards on the porch, two at the back door, and one at the gatehouse.” He rubbed his chin. “Slipping in without raising an alarm will not be easy.”
I eyeballed the grounds. “I could the shimmy up the drainpipe to the porch on the second floor and reach Amelie’s room. Do you think she could climb down?” As soon as the words left my lips, I felt foolish for asking. A girl as comfortable with a blade as Amelie should find shimmying down a copper gutter nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Renny’s assured me Amelie would have no problem. “You’ll need a distraction. The drain is visible to the guards stationed in front.” He turned to Mrs. Hart. “Care to join me?” If a growl could sound pleased, hers certainly did.
“I want to help, too,” Esther whined.
I wasn’t about to drag a blind girl up a downspout. “You can watch through my eyes and let Renny and Mrs. Hart know when I’ve got Amelie. We’ll need another distraction then.”
Renny expressed doubt. “Can you see that far, cher?”
Esther nodded with enthusiasm. “Uh-huh. I’m used to Peter. Finding his eyes is easy now.”
“All right, then. Peter, take off as soon as the guards move to the other side of the porch. Come, Mrs. Hart—the game’s afoot.” They slipped out into the rain.
I crept behind a big oak tree draped with Spanish moss where I had a good view of the front. The guards lurked too close to the downspout for me to chance a dash across the lawn.
Bushes rustled near the other en
d of the house, drawing their attention. One of them left the porch to check on the disturbance. A moment later I heard, “Ow! Something bit me.” The second guard jogged over and poked through the foliage with the rifle barrel.
Sprinting from behind the tree, I made for the downspout and began to climb. The rain made the copper slick and difficult to grip. I shimmied as fast as I could, keeping an ear out for the guards. As I cleared the first level they returned, cursing the rain and whatever small animal hiding in the bushes forced them to get wet.
I reached the second floor and leaned over for a handhold on the balcony. The shift in weight caused the downspout to wobble and bang against the house. Footsteps shuffled underneath. I seized the railing and with a grunt vaulted over the side, immediately pressing flat against the wall. A flashlight beam played along the gutter.
“See something?” a guard called.
“Nah,” responded the other. “It’s the wind.” He uttered a curse. “I’m getting out of this rain.”
I crawled on my hands and knees to Amelie’s room. The curtain was drawn, blocking my view. I tapped gently and then pressed my ear against the glass. Not so much as a peep came from inside. I glowered. She must be at the party. I was soaking wet and chilled to the bone, my hands were skinned, and I suddenly realized I was hungry. The thought of her warm and dry, packing away Ruby’s cooking got me seething. We came all this way to rescue her and she flounced around at a party. Sheesh…girls.
The window was unlocked. I eased open the sash and crawled inside. The room was empty. Now I had to wait.
The wait was shorter than expected. As I walked over to the divan to make myself comfortable, Amelie burst from the closet, knocked me flat on my rear end, and whipped her knife to my throat. She blinked in surprise.
“Peter? Why are you sneaking around my room?”
“I’m rescuing you,” I managed to grunt after sucking air back into my lungs. “Get off me. I can hardly breathe.”
She rose to her feet. “What do you mean, rescuing me? Where’s Renny?”
“Waiting for us in the yard with Mrs. Hart.”
Clearly irritated, she slid the dagger into the sheath. “I already told Renny, I’m not leaving.”
“The situation has changed.” I quickly filled her in on the codicil. “You don’t have a choice, Amelie. Delphine has no reason to keep you alive and every reason to want you dead so she can take over the whole estate.”
“She hasn’t tried—”
“Yet. Two deaths in the same family close together might be too much of a coincidence for the police. Face it, Delphine is biding her time. Do you really think she hired all those guards to keep out intruders? Isn’t the more likely reason to keep you in and under her thumb?”
“I’m not afraid of the guards.”
“Delphine doesn’t need them for her dirty work. The journal from the safe contained recipes for poison.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
“Poison?” she raged. “Father had no heart attack.” She whipped out the knife again. “I’ll cut her throat.”
Oh geez. I grabbed her arm. “No, you won’t. We have no proof Delphine killed your father.”
“I know she did. So do you.”
“The police won’t care. Trust me, Amelie. You don’t want to end up in prison or hunted with a price on your head.”
Conflict played across her face. “But to run like a coward? The act is beneath contempt.” Her eyes widened in dismay. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean you were a coward. You’re not at all.”
I shrugged. “It’s all right. We had to run. Sometimes escape is the best option.”
Amelie’s shoulders sagged. The fierce warrior became a girl no older than me fighting impossible odds. “This place is my home, Peter. The only one I’ve ever known. Mother, Father, Renny, and I were all so happy here once. To simply hand everything to that viper…”
“We’re not handing over the estate. Think of it as a tactical retreat in order to devise a new plan of attack.”
Amusement flitted across her face. “Consider a career in politics. You make the most desperate situation sound no more inconvenient than a broken shoelace.”
“Right now, all I want to consider is escape. “You in?”
“Yes,” said Amelie with firm resolve. “You’re right. I can do nothing here. I wish I had a chance to explain everything to Ruby, but she already left for the evening.” I promised we’d send a message once free of New Orleans.
Amelie turned off the light. We crawled through the window and along the balcony to the downspout. Below, the two guards discussed the upcoming vote in California to legalize betting on horse races. One already had a bookie if the measure passed.
“What now?” she whispered.
“Esther’s keeping watch. She’ll signal Renny. All we have to do is wait for the distraction, and then make for the garage.”
One of the guards yowled a startled curse. A dog snarled and then the man shouted, “The mutt stole my rifle.” Two sets of footsteps thumped to the opposite end of the porch. The guard beckoned, “Nice, doggy.” His partner hung over the railing, hooting at the other’s misfortune.
I nudged Amelie. “You first.”
She eased over the balcony. The gutter creaked and rattled as Amelie shimmied to the bottom. I watched nervously, but our luck continued to hold. Busy chasing Mrs. Hart, neither of the guards noticed her descent.
The instant Amelie’s feet touched ground, I pushed off from the railing and made a frantic grab. My weight was too much for the weakened brackets and the top support tore loose with a loud ping.
“You hear that?” a guard shouted.
With a staccato of clangs, more supports gave way. The pipe slowly bent in half until my flailing legs were visible below the roofline of the second floor balcony.
A flashlight beam illuminated my shoes. “Someone is there!”
The gutter collapsed with a grating metallic crash. I tumbled into the bushes.
Shoes splashed through the puddles. A hammer cocked and an angry voice ordered, “On your feet!”
Amelie came out of nowhere. She socked the guard with a one-two punch that sent him sprawling into the grass. Across the lawn a car engine roared to life. Headlights danced in our direction, the ruckus attracting the gunsels stationed at the rear of the house. Rifle shots cracked through the air. A bullet pinged off a nearby oak tree.
We raced through the storm. The speeding Packard jumped the curb. Renny sped toward us, fishtailing to a stop. Another bullet ricocheted off the fender as we tumbled inside. Renny hit the gas and tore through the garden, much to Amelie’s dismay.
“Renny, you flattened the camellias!”
“Get down,” he barked. A bullet splintered the back windshield, spraying us with glass shards. I pushed Esther to the floor.
The guard at the front entrance frantically tried to shut the gate. Renny stomped on the accelerator. I flinched at the raspy screech of wrought iron against steel as the car scraped by.
The lights in the main house were all ablaze now. Attracted by the commotion, curious guests jostled each other out the door. In the lead was Delphine. She yelled something to the guards.
Amelie leaned out the window and shouted, “Death to the she-demon!”
I jerked her in as Renny tore onto St. Charles Avenue. An instant later, headlights flashed through the window. “Her goons are right behind us,” I cried and then ducked as another pistol shot split the air.
Renny jerked the wheel hard over. With squealing breaks he cut a zigzag path through several side streets, but the pursuer stayed right on our tail. The driver gunned the engine and slammed into our fender sending the car into a skid. Esther screamed. Renny clenched the wheel and fought for control. He steered the car down a sidewalk sending pedestrians scattering for cover. A bullet demolished a rear taillight.
“Watch out!” Amelie shouted.
Renny took a hard right and
jumped the tracks barely missing a barreling streetcar. Slowly, we put distance between our pursuers. They were good, but Renny was better—or maybe crazier. We lost them completely after he cut through a yard slicing in half a clothesline full of women’s undergarments. A large girdle caught on a windshield wiper. Renny tugged it loose.
We were finally able to catch our collective breaths. “They’re gone,” Renny stated with assurance. “Is everyone all right?”
Esther whooped. “That was some fun, wasn’t it, Peter?”
“You have a strange idea of entertainment, Esther.” I picked a few errant pieces of window glass from her hair.
“Escapes are exciting,” she insisted and then burst out in a furious giggle. “Amelie tackled Peter in her room, Renny. They were so close, I thought Peter was gonna kiss her.”
“Clam up, Esther.” The idea of kissing Amelie turned my face beet red. I hazarded a sideways glance at Amelie. She paid Esther no mind.
“I bet he’d kiss her like this.” She puckered her lips. “Mwah, mwah, mwah.”
“Shut up, Esther!”
“Peter’s right, cher,” Renny said in all seriousness. “Whether Peter kisses her or not, is entirely their concern and none of our business, and I’m sure the kiss would sound more like this…” He made a slurping sound much to Esther’s delight.
Amelie finally reacted, wrinkling her nose in displeasure. “If you’re through being an idiot, Renny, how much longer until we reach Houma?”
“By morning. The weather will make travel slow going. We’ll stay off the main roads in case Delphine alerted the police.”
“Are you sure you know where you’re headed?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
“Very wise. Nevertheless, I’ll get there.”
Once we cleared the city limits, the paved streets ended. We took a series of gravel roads each worse than the next. Although a warm night, Renny turned on the heat to fight the chill from our wet clothing. The steady drip of rain through the broken window made the trip more uncomfortable.
Esther curled next to me and fell asleep. So did Mrs. Hart. I finally dozed off, too, jerking awake hours later when the car hit a bump. Gray morning light filtered through the mud spattered windows. The storm had passed.