“So, what brings me the honor of this visit by you two lovely ladies?” The elderly man questioned.
“Mr. Pierre. I’m Laurie, and I live in the old chateau on Mon Fleur Heights, Myrna told me that you lived across the street for some years?” Laurie spoke slowly and carefully, ensuring that Mr. Pierre was able to understand every word directed at him.
“Oui, mon-cheri! I was born there – with my eight siblings. We lived there…of course. Four of my siblings died before they turned adults…and well, four of us lived on to be old folks,” Mr. Pierre explained.
“Can you tell me about the neighbors who lived in the chateau?” Laurie asked politely. There was a brief pause, he nodded and continued.
“Sure, what would you like to know? I can tell you many things about them – they were rich people – they had beaucoup money! They had big parties and did not talk much to people – especially the poor folk, like my family. Monsieur, Jean Claude Laborteaux was a feared man, many were ‘fraid of him because he had power, and he was ruthless – you didn’t want to cross him – oh, no mon-cheri!” The centenarian’s words hooked her. She was sitting on the brink of the wicker chair, soaking up the details of his story, as if anticipating results of some life altering test.
“Oui, Monsieur Laborteaux lived in the chateau with his legitimate family, but everyone knew ‘round the corner – his mistress lived in a small, run-down chalet with his other set of children, and they weren’t allowed to talk to anyone. Monsieur had friends from all over the world. I remember my pere –father, who was friends with their grounds keeper said that, there were some from, France, England, and even South America – all rich folks who were always in his company and visiting the chateau.” Mr. Pierre paused, then reached for a white handkerchief in the shape of a triangle, which was neatly folded and tucked away, in his front, right breast pocket. He patted his face gently with the lily-white piece of fabric and then returned it discretely into his front shirt-jack pocket.
“So – he had two sets of children, by different women? Jean Claude?” Laurie confirmed, looking bewildered.
“Oui child! Yes, he did…he tried hard to hide it, but everyone in the neighborhood knew. We were poor people – but not stupid by any means! He visited his mistress very often when his wife was not around, but no one dear say a thing to Mademoiselle about it!” Mr. Pierre added. “Monsieur Laborteaux was accused of murdering his wife.” Mr. Pierre added. His words came out of left field, leaving Laurie dumbfounded.
“What? Oh, my God…that’s awful! That’s terrible!!” Laurie blurted out, as she was very much absorbed in the centenarian’s recollection of Jean-Claude Laborteaux; former lord of her chateau.
Mr. Pierre continued. “They would have regular fights, and I could recall as a boy hearing her cry and plead for him to stop hitting her, he drank a lot, and he beat his wife.” He said. His words conveyed a notable degree of anger towards the deceased man.
“So, he had a history of beating her? Did she not have friends or family around to defend her?” Laurie questioned, feeling great remorse for a woman who’d been deceased for many, many years.
“Oh, no – no, everyone was ‘fraid of him, no one dear confront him, or tell him to stop what he was doing if they valued their lives mon-cheri!” Mr. Pierre added.
“He had another woman that he had children with, she lived in a home round the corner – it’s not there anymore.” Laurie took note that he’d mentioned this bit of news just moments earlier in their conversation…she hoped that he wasn’t rambling on about arbitrary, things that came to his mind. Her heart dropped, and all she could do was trust that Mr. Pierre was alert and aware enough at his age, to give her whatever bit of credible information he could to help put her on the right track.
“She started off as being the help, and then they had relations – he bought her a home where she lived with four children who were all his – Monsieur Laborteauxs’. He was very nasty to her too, she got regular beatings from him, and everyone knew that her death came at his hands when she went missing after a terrible beating… which I had the misfortune of hearing – I don’t know if that one beating did her in, but it was the last of them I’ve heard; the police never came.” Laurie squirmed at Mr. Pierre’s account of the fate that befell these two women.
“What was her name? His wife?” Laurie questioned as she absorbed every heartbreaking account and emotion that came from Mr. Pierre’s testimony on what happened so many years ago.
“Ha, ha!!! Mon-cheri, I’d really have to dig for that one…this brain is like an old car; some days it works just fine, but then on other days – I have trouble starting it up! Can’t even remember what shoe goes on what foot at times!” Mr. Pierre added, making light of his ever nearing, impending mortality.
“So, you were a young boy – about how old?” Laurie asked.
“I was about six years old when I started to become aware of these things. When I walked home from school, from the sidewalk I could hear what was happening in that big house – there was no air condition back then mon-cheri, so, those windows were always wide open. The school children would make bets on who could run up and around the fountain in the courtyard…is it still there? The fountain?” he asked.
“Yes…yes, it’s still there, but there’s no running water in it – I converted it into a flower-bed; that option saves me quite a chunk on my water bill!” she said, jokingly.
“Oh, oui, yes, it takes a lot to maintain that size property mon-cheri…” he agreed, nodding, appearing almost grandfatherly. She was drawn to his honest, lighthearted, demeanor and in that instant, she was left wondering, what would it be like to have a grandfather? In that instant, the child in her imagined that if she had a grandfather; he would be just like Mr. Pierre.
He continued telling his story. “There were parties at night, and a lot of fighting during daylight – we all felt so bad for those po’ children – they had a difficult life growing up in that house…of course, they’re old men and women now – about my age or maybe, deceased,” he added.
“Do you know where Jean Claude’s great-grandchildren live?” asked Laurie.
“No, mon-cheri, they didn’t stay around long enough to raise their families ‘round Mon Fleur. But, Monsieur and Mademoiselle’s children, hum – the girl moved away when she was old enough to do so. There was one boy who stayed – in total there were three of them with Mademoiselle – the girl married, and the other brother died from alcoholism…but I don’t know where the other boy moved to eventually. But as I said, they are old, old folks or may have passed on,” he informed her, as though recalling an incident that occurred months, or even days ago. “Ahhh!!! Marie Claire!!! That was his mistress’ name. Marie Claire! And Mademoiselle, Chantelle!!!” he interrupted, loudly and enthusiastically, as though having, an eureka moment.
“Where was Marie-Claire murdered?” Laurie continued with her questions, literally sitting on the edge of her seat.
“Why – in your home my dear – she was killed in your living room…the mystery of how all of her blood ended up there had the then, small town chattering.” The old man said with a look on his face that still emphasized the seriousness and gruesomeness of the killing.
“Oh dear – sweet, Jesus me!!” Myrna blurted out, with both hands covering her face.
“Oh, no…oh goodness! Was he charged with her murder?” Laurie asked as she tried to steady the emotions that stunned her, sending shock waves through her mind.
“Charged? No – of course not – he owned and ran the police department. He paid his way out of that situation, and his friends helped hide the murder. It was very sad…a very sad day. The worst part was when her family had repeatedly begged him for the remains, he ignored them. Her body was nowhere to be found, only a mess of blood everywhere – everywhere in the living room, me and some friends saw with our own eyes. So, there was no funeral for that po’ lady…” Mr. Pierre orated the event as though it was being read from a book. Laurie got a
very good understanding of the people who occupied the confines of the chateau long before her existence – and it was nothing like what she had visualized.
“What did Marie-Claire look like?” she asked.
“Marie-Claire was a stunning woman – she was slender, fair, and her hair was long and flowing – like yours, my dear – I would say that she could pass for your relative! And believe me, that is a tremendous compliment mon-cheri!” Mr. Pierre added. This made Laurie shudder. The creature that she saw that early morning fit that general description, but it was by no means mild – or pretty, as Mr. Pierre had described, Marie-Claire.
“Another thing that Monsieur was known for was his involvement in black magic. He would seek out the help of voodoo priests, and have meetings with them frequently – there was a rumor that he had sacrificed his wife to a demon. Po’ thing had no blood in her body when they found her laying on the bed – cold with death.” Mr. Pierre added.
“Goodness gracious, this man was a bloody serial murderer!!” Laurie exclaimed, enraged by Mr. Pierre’s story.
“Yes mon-cheri, that is correct!” he said.
“And – Voodoo you said? Can you please tell me all that you can about the voodoo? I saw some strange things at the chateau a few nights ago, and I’m positive I saw a ghost too!” Laurie said shaking, withholding nothing from the centenarian who sat before her, as his vivid depiction of the events took her back to a time when she didn’t exist.
“Mon-cheri, that is some serious stuff – get out of there!!! Get out while the going is good, you hear me? I was concerned when you said you bought the Mon Fleur chateau – that chateau can never see good days, after what happened there!!” Myrna and Laurie exchanged glances, slowly, like frightened children, who were petrified of coming face to face with the Bogeyman.
“His children with her were all sent away to study abroad, and I’ve never heard from, or seen them since then. Myrna – the Laborteauxs were good friends with your grandfather, Keith Baldwin Sr., they would all meet regularly for parties,” he said, to Myrna who was now subdued by the gory nature of their conversation with Mr. Pierre.
“Well, that’s news to me, Mr. Pierre, I had no inkling that my grandparents were socialites,” Myrna added.
“Sure, but your father inherited the company and lots of money – didn’t he?” Mr. Pierre asked, brashly.
“He sure did, but ma and pa worked hard to keep that company afloat – Grandpa Baldwin was quite a spendthrift, and had bankrupt the business…my parents spent many years trying to re- establish the company’s creditability,” Myrna made it known that her parents had worked hard for their keeps and fortune, and their prosperity was not handed down, but was a work in progress.
“Well, what sort of voodoo are we talking about?” Laurie interrupted, hastily.
“Child, the type of voodoo and curses I’m talking ‘bout is dangerous and lasts for generations. It has to do with people selling their souls, and those of their future generations before they are even conceived –selling them to the devil himself!!!” Mr. Pierre surmised, vehemently.
“And, how do you know this, sir?” Laurie asked, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows.
“Mon-cheri, these things were rampant in my days – especially while I was coming up, and as I said – it was no secret that the Laborteauxs and their friends dealt heavily in these unscrupulous, things. Based on what deal was made, depended on what fate the preceding generations would then suffer…I couldn’t imagine what deal Monsieur struck, but he died a terrible death – he was found in the latrine – or outhouse where he had been decaying for weeks…oh, that house of yours saw some very dark times – if only those old walls could talk.” The centenarian added.
Laurie couldn’t remember seeing an out-house, but there was a shed – maybe, it was destroyed after all the years had passed.
“What? Wait – wait – wait. Sir. Did you say that he died on the property as well?” Laurie asked as she sprang to her feet, in response to learning of the location, and manner of Monsieur Jean-Claude Laborteaux’s demise.
“Was he buried there as well?”
“I’m not sure mon-cheri. They kept wake for several nights after they found him, but, I’m not sure what became of his remains,”
Myrna paused, as she tried to recall the exact timeline of events, while the property was left in the care of Baldwin Realty. “Lauren, I believe that the home had been mostly vacant, ever since that family moved away. The grandchildren and great-grandchildren came back to clear away things like furniture when they decided not to rent it anymore. They had done minor repairs before the home was practically, sealed up, and thereafter, put on the market several years after. We did the general upkeep – it had been with our company ever since.” Myrna explained. Laurie listened, as she became more and more disenchanted by the stories of her home. “I believe that my brother, Keith got the green light to sell the property from one of the great, great grandchildren. I’m not sure which set of great, great grandchildren this was – now that you mentioned that there are two sets, from separate women; Marie-Kaye and Mademoiselle Laborteaux.
“Marie-Claire.” Laurie reminded her.
“Yes – you know who I mean hun. Wow, I must say – this is some very fascinating and tragic news to learn about this family.” Myrna added, solemnly.
Laurie glanced down at her watch, they’d been visiting with Mr. Pierre for a couple of hours now, and it was time for her to head back to Avery’s place, where they agreed to meet with Bryan. Her stomach did cartwheels, just thinking about the possible results from the strange specimens that were recovered from the living room. “Mr. Pierre, I am so, very, thankful for our conversation today. With certainty, I can say that you’ve helped me gain a better understanding of my home and maybe, certain things that occurred a couple of weeks ago. Now that everything is out in the open – I have good reason to believe that the chateau is probably haunted – as unreal, and terrifying as it is to me, I need to get to the root of what could have caused me to visualize what I did,” Laurie exclaimed.
“Well, what exactly did you see, mon-cheri?” asked Mr. Pierre as he listened intently for Laurie’s response, reaching for his handkerchief once more.
“I saw a tall, slender, blonde woman in a white gown – floating towards me, while I was at the top of the staircase in the chateau. Then, after I saw that, a strong scent from a flower from a huge tree in my backyard – a silk cotton tree was present – all around me, it was just too weird,” Laurie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued. “The woman appeared to be, a ghost – she had the horrid appearance of a corpse that was badly beaten…now that you’ve mentioned that Marie-Claire died by the hands of Monsieur Laborteaux – possibly beaten to death – then maybe…maybe her ghost is haunting my home?” Laurie said, as her blood ran cold in her body, at the thought of there being a possibility, that everything she saw was real.
“It all makes sense now – Myrna – do I sound crazy?” Laurie sighed aloud in disbelief, as everything seemed to add up.
“You’ve just described Marie-Claire to me, not the hideous description – but you probably saw how she looked when she was killed – I’m no expert about the dead, but I know if she died in your home in a terrible way, her spirit is probably trapped in there…sounds like you need to have a ritual to cleanse your home, and help Mademoiselle, and Marie-Claire cross over to the other side,” Mr. Pierre added.
How she wished Avery was there to sit in on her conversation with Mr. Pierre. He had provided such compelling information about the family’s history, that it made things quite certain, that she’d been visited by the ghost of the murdered woman; Marie-Claire.
“Mr. Pierre, sir, thank you once more, but I have to be on my way, I have friends waiting on me for an important meeting. It was such a delight speaking with you and, I want to be able to do this again – soon!” Laurie said, as she reached over giving the centenarian a warm, tight, embrace.
“Not a
problem child – if anything comes up, you know where to find me – I’m available all day – except for when I’m sleeping – I tend to fall asleep on myself more than ever – but I can’t complain. The man upstairs has given me many extra days on this planet, for which I am beaucoup thankful!” Mr. Pierre remarked, bidding the women goodbye. He hobbled off with the help of his cane, his bent frame didn’t seem to obstruct his agility, as he was soon out of sight.
Laurie and Myrna were convinced more than ever that the chateau was haunted. Myrna had never noticed any suspicious activities when she visited the home to conduct the walk-through inspection, before listing it for sale. But, in retrospect – she’d locked herself out of the house and misplaced the keys, three times that day – maybe, there was more to it than her just having, a dreadful day.
The women said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Myrna begged Laurie to keep in touch, should anything strange happen again.
Myrna had called it a day and decided not to return to the office; she was too disturbed by the graphic details of the conversation.
Laurie set out on her journey to, La Bayadere – she braced herself for another round of adrenaline inducing dialogue. Her visit with Mr. Pierre unveiled a new identity of the chateau she once doted on. Nothing could have prepared her for what she’d discovered about her home, and adding to the medley of obscurities was the revelation of, Avery being her long lost, play buddy, Mark. She didn’t know how he was going to react to it all, and could only hope that she wasn’t becoming too cumbersome with the multitude of jarring information she kept bringing his way.
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