Mark of the Loon (Gen Delacourt Mystery Book 1)

by Molly Greene

  She wiped her grimy hands and turned back to the house, but stopped when she saw a figure beyond the open door. Why hadn’t Jack barked? She shaded her eyes against the piercing daylight.

  Was it Janice or Seeley?

  “Hello,” she said.

  Her eyes adjusted. It was a boy, wearing ill-fitting clothes. He held Jack and was stroking the dog softly. Her skin prickled when she noted his bronze-streaked hair.

  “Hey,” she said. This time her voice was wary.

  Jack jumped down and ran to her. The boy’s eyes followed his progress, finally coming to rest on Madison’s face. His expression did not change. Jack turned and ran back, then stopped between them, looking from one to the other.

  “I saw you that day in the rain.” Madison took a step back.

  No reply.

  “I called out. Why didn’t you answer?”

  Silence.

  “Do you live around here?”

  Again, no reply.

  A shimmer of fear clenched her stomach. “What do you want?” She palmed a screwdriver.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it so forcefully his teeth clattered. He pointed at his chest and made a guttural sound in his throat.

  Madison scooted backwards several paces, her fist closed tightly around the tool. The boy whirled away and bolted up the path toward the woodpile. She took in air. Was this her tormentor? Did he leave the footprints? Why had he revealed himself now?

  The telephone jangled in the house, breaking the mood. She dropped her weapon and ran to the kitchen.

  “Hey, Mad.” Gen’s voice was glum.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I broke my leg.”

  “Oh my God. When did it happen? Is it your ankle?”

  “Yesterday. My trip was delayed, and I was finally on the lift at Alpine Meadows. I didn’t even get a single shoosh in. Broke my tibia when I jumped off. It’s a compound fracture. I had surgery yesterday afternoon.”

  “Oh, Genny, I’m so sorry. Are you still in Tahoe? What can I do?”

  “I’m at Tahoe Forest Hospital in Truckee. I need a huge favor.”

  “Name it. Anything. Drive up and get you? What?”

  “No, transportation is handled. Management will fly me down the hill in a chopper.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because I’m an attorney and I broke my leg on their equipment. They’re bending over backwards, and I’m going to let them.”

  Madison stifled a laugh. “Law school just keeps paying off, doesn’t it? What can I do, pick you up at the airport?”

  “No, not that. Listen, I know this is asking a lot, but would you put me up for a month or so? I’m in a full-length cast, from my foot to my thigh. My prison for the next six weeks. Sob, sob.”

  “Of course. But are you sure you want to be stuck way out here?”

  “Look, I love my family, but I couldn’t stay sane for a month around any of them. And no one but you has a downstairs bedroom and bath. The doctors tell me I’m not to move around much at first, just from the bed to the can. You’re the only one who could put up with me for that long.”

  “Sure,” Madison said. “It’ll work out fine. I’m hanging around the house anyway. But we’ll need special equipment, won’t we?”

  “Thanks so much, I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll have an electric bed delivered and whatever else I might need. The office can courier work back and forth. I have a big trial in the spring. It will give me a chance to prepare.”

  “I am so sorry, Gen.”

  “Me, too. I won’t be dancing for a while.”

  “Well, you can watch the soaps and catch up on your reading. Mallory and Edward left some wonderful books.” Madison was quiet for the space of two breaths. “Genevieve.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you, but–”

  “But what?”

  “I am not exaggerating when I say I will really enjoy your company.” Madison took a deep breath. “I love this house, but I think having you with me is exactly what I need. Even if you’re not feeling all that fabulous.”

  Gen laughed, then moaned. “Jiminy, it hurts. But hey, as long as I’m doing you a favor.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Madison finished the upstairs bedroom makeover in record time and turned her attention to Genevieve’s room. She covered the floor with a thick area rug, hung new drapes, then moved in an armoire and stocked it with a radio, a DVD player, a dozen books, and her spare television.

  A medical supply van delivered an electric bed and a high-tech wheelchair. The driver showed Madison how to operate them both.

  It was wrenching, knowing her friend had to stay in that bed for weeks. How would she keep her entertained?

  An ambulance delivered Gen late that day, tired and ashen after a long, aching drive from the heliport. A nurse helped her into the bathroom, then taught Madison how to move Gen in and out of the chair.

  By four o’clock, everyone had cleared out.

  They stared at each other.

  “It’s a little late to ask, but are you sure you’re up to this?”

  Madison replied with as much spunk as she could muster. “I can handle it. How about you? You’re a city girl stuck out in the sticks with a broken leg. Life is about to get very monotonous.”

  “I can think of worse scenarios,” Gen replied. “At least the bedpan is gone and I can sit on the loo.” She squeezed Madison’s hand. “Thank you. I know what a sacrifice this is, and I appreciate it.”

  “You’ve always been there for me.” Madison smoothed Gen’s hair back from her forehead. “Are you allowed to drink alcohol?”

  “Not according to the surgeon. But I kept asking until one of the doctors finally agreed to approve a daily glass of wine. For my heart.”

  “One tall glass of cabernet coming up. I made chicken soup for dinner with homemade corn bread.”

  “Sounds delish. But you won’t be obligated to slave over a hot stove every day. I called a caterer and they’re going to deliver pre-made meals tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Madison pinched the back of her thigh. “But as long as you did, will you make mine Weight Watcher’s?”

  “Don’t give me that.” Gen scowled. “I ordered low-fat food, but not because you need it. I figured I might as well try to take a little off myself.”

  “I bet your sister is mad you didn’t stay with her.”

  “Yvonne and Pierre were worse. But the misery of staying in L.A. and being so far from home and the office was more than I could bear. Gabi didn’t argue. The day I broke my leg she got a call back from Tarantino about the movie.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Better than I am. When I left for Tahoe she seemed kind of detached about the whole thing. Refused to talk about Dillon.’”

  “I feel so bad for her.”

  “Me, too. Let’s drown our sorrow in the grape.”

  With a mock salute, Madison headed for the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

  “Hey Madison,” Gen called to her retreating back.

  “Yeah.”

  “From what I saw of the place when they ferried me in, I can tell you’re working your magic again.”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Jack and Madison came downstairs and found Gen awake and texting furiously with her assistant.

  “I ordered Netflix so we can watch the latest movies. There’s a nurse coming three times a week to wash my hair and give me a sponge bath so you don’t have to, and–”

  “Whoa. Hold on. Good morning. How’re you feeling?”

  “My leg is throbbing like hell. I’m sore and achy all over and I have to pee. But the meds are taking the edge off. For now. Waiting for the famous itching under the cast to kick in.”

  “I’ll help you into the bathroom. Can you have coffee? I didn’t ask if there was anything they completely denied you.”

  “Hah. I would’ve just laughed if
they’d nixed caffeine. All things in moderation. Except dancing, skiing, movement in general.”

  Madison helped Gen into her chair.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Gen wheeled herself toward the bathroom. “Two’s a crowd.”

  Madison laughed. “Call if you get stuck. I’ll make oatmeal for breakfast. There’s walnuts and blueberries if you need fiber.”

  “We’ll know in a few minutes.”

  Madison giggled as she walked away. Where did Gen find the strength for humor? God knows she wouldn’t be able to laugh if their positions were switched.

  She returned with two steaming mugs to find Jack asleep beside Gen’s pillow. She placed the cup on the bedside table, then sat in the wing chair and put her feet up on the bed.

  “I have to apologize again,” Gen said.

  “It’s going to be a long six weeks.”

  “I haven’t asked once how everything is going around here. What’s new besides the gorgeous drapes and new paint?” Gen waved her hand, indicating the room.

  “Secrets and discoveries,” Madison put down the mug and ran upstairs. She returned with the box and put it in Gen’s lap with a flourish. “Ta da. I found it in a hidden compartment upstairs.”

  “No kidding.” Gen twisted the latch, then held it to her ear and rattled it. “Was there a key? Was it in a safe?”

  “No, I haven’t found a key for the box yet. It was in a homemade compartment. The door was hidden behind a panel in the built-ins, but it wasn’t locked.”

  “I want to see!”

  “It’s in my sitting room. You can’t go upstairs.”

  “Dang it. Was there anything else with it?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Are you going to break the lock and see what’s in it?”

  “I’d rather not. It doesn’t seem right to ruin it. What could be inside that would be earth-shattering, anyway?”

  “Aren’t you dying of curiosity?”

  “It’s more fun to have a secret. Anticipation might just beat the truth. That box could be full of worthless old postcards.”

  “But Madison, there’s something in here that somebody wanted to hide. It must be important.” Gen grabbed a fork and tried to stuff one of the tines in the lock. “Do you have a hairpin? I’ll try to pick it.”

  “Good idea.” Madison brightened. “A straightened paperclip might do it. I’ll bring you one after breakfast.”

  “What else has been going on?” Gen held the box to her ear and shook it again. “How’s Finnegan?”

  “Hasn’t been back. I picked up some canned tuna for the next time he shows. I’m hoping that will convince him to stick around.”

  “He must be a good hunter to survive on his own.”

  “I’ll say. I think they stopped feeding him months ago. I haven’t seen one single sign of a mouse anywhere.” Madison feigned interest in the remote control.

  “What have you seen signs of?”

  “Oh, nothing. The place is Grand Central. Weird Janice from next door came over with her boyfriend who’s a handyman. He seems remarkably normal, go figure.”

  She turned to the wall. “Did I ever tell you I crawled in this window the first time I saw the place?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Who else?”

  “Oh, darn. I wasn’t going to mention it. There’s been a kid. Looks like he’s in his twenties. He’s appeared out of nowhere a couple of times and spooked me. I think he was the hiker in the fog. Remember? He doesn’t talk, just scoots away.”

  “Maybe he’s shy.”

  “Hangs around a lot for someone who would rather avoid people.”

  “I’ll give him a piece of my mind if I see him. What else?”

  “I have an idea where Edward’s office might have been. I haven’t found even one book about birds anywhere, and I think that’s odd, given his career. It’s just a hunch, but there’s a room above the garage. Place is overrun with junk, but I saw the stairs the other day.”

  “I want to see!”

  “Sorry, Gen. Also upstairs. But if I find anything good I can bring stuff down.”

  “Dang, dang, dang!” Gen exhaled with a huff. “Can’t you find something exciting on this floor?”

  “Oh sure,” Madison said. “I’ll do my best to bring whatever happens down to your level next time.”

  “Now, now,” Gen replied. “No need for sarcasm.”

  “Hey, I know. I have a project for you. The key Anna and I found with the words Nead Éin on it. You can try to figure out what it opens.”

  “I forgot about that,” Gen said. “I assume you tried that key in this box?”

  “Yeah. It fits a bigger lock.” She pointed to the wheelchair. “Maybe when you’re more mobile you can play detective and find the hidden passage. Hardy har. But first, breakfast. Did you take your pills?”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  Gen’s phone twittered. My assistant, she mouthed, then thumbed a button and spoke. “Will you run by my place and pack some clothes? Yeah, mostly nightgowns and stuff. I won’t be wearing pants for a while, that’s for sure. Whoo-hoo, no underwear. Oh, sorry. Too much info? Okay, will you also call my personal shopper at Nordstrom’s? Ask her to pick up a couple of muumuu thingys for daytime and ship them up. You have the address.”

  * * *

  Gen was soon adept at maneuvering in and out of the chair and around the downstairs rooms. The household settled into a routine, and Madison returned to the renovation.

  A burgundy Explorer pulled into the drive and parked late one afternoon. Madison was shocked when she opened the door to find Ryan Kavanaugh holding a pretty basket stuffed with tissue paper and wine. The minister wore navy Dockers and a long-sleeved polo that made him look like a well-built soccer star.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

  “Miss Boone. I heard you’d bought the house. I thought it was time to pay an official welcome visit.”

  “How did you know I was the buyer?”

  “I heard the new owner was an attractive real estate agent. I put two and two together, as you Americans say.” He smiled. “So I come bearing gifts, hoping to overcome your first impression.”

  Madison admitted that the lilt of his accent was more charming this time. “I see,” she said. “All right, come in.”

  Gen was propped on the living room couch, wearing a pretty caftan and reading a legal brief couriered from San Francisco. She laid it aside at the sound of the visitor’s voice and smoothed the throw covering her legs. Jack was curled at her feet.

  The drapes were open to reveal the sunny day. Light streamed in through the French doors. Ryan didn’t seem surprised to see Gen, her huge cast an obvious lump beneath the knitted afghan.

  “Reverend Kavanaugh, this is my friend Genevieve Delacourt,” Madison said. “She had a skiing accident, and she’s staying with me while her leg mends. Gen, this is the man I met the first time I was here.”

  Gen’s face broke into a slow grin. “Ohhhhhhh,” she said. “Yes, Madison mentioned you.” Her eyes twinkled. “I understand you were watching the place. I mean, you were keeping an eye out. When you saw her.”

  “That’s right,” he answered. “We were asked to maintain sort of a lookout long ago. Please, call me Ryan.” Gen held out a hand. He grasped it, smiling, then offered an open palm to Jack. The dog snuffled at his fingers and wagged his tail.

  “Mallory asked you to?” Madison motioned him to a chair and took the other. “Didn’t you say her lawyer did?”

  “Mrs. Blackburne’s former attorney made the request just after she died.” Ryan put the basket on the floor and sat. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped.

  Yeah, the guy was cute.

  Especially now that he was smiling.

  “But she died years ago. Have you been here long? And why did you give me Levi Velasco’s business card?”

  “Mallory Blackburne and the headmaster of our ministry were close. The Blackburnes’ former attorn
ey, Bill Barr, was also a friend. After Mr. Barr’s death, Mr. Velasco mailed several of his cards to us with a note he would be managing the estate. Is something wrong?”

  Madison made a face. “Velasco turned out to be a rat. I’ve assumed all this time you were in cahoots with him.”

  Ryan smiled easily. “You believed a man of the cloth was in cahoots with a rat? Shame on you.” He cocked his head and contemplated the two faces staring at him in surprise. “No one ever thinks a minister should have a sense of humor.”

  Gen snickered. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet one who does,” she said. “Do you ski?”

  “I do,” Ryan replied. He gestured toward her leg. “Where were you when this unfortunate incident occurred?”

  “Tahoe. It happened on the lift before my first run of the day.”

  “Oh, bad luck. Maybe you shouldn’t tell people that, though, it might cloud their estimation of your athletic abilities.”

  Genevieve laughed. “You’re advising me to lie?”

  “There’s a difference between spinning a fib and not revealing the entire truth.”

  Gen raised her eyebrows. “You sound like my favorite law professor.”

  “Ah. I would think an attorney would be better schooled in withholding information. Wait, don’t tell me. You’re an ACLU pro bono bleeding heart staffer? Ah, no. If you were, you couldn’t afford to ski.”

  Gen laughed again. “You surprise me, Reverend.”

  “God would frown on that judgmental reference, wouldn’t he?”

  “It’s not that.” She regarded him closely. “You’re not as sweet as your vocation would suggest you should be.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving. Ms. Boone did not find me sweet, either, the first day we met.”

  “I didn’t,” Madison said. “I was miffed about the whole ‘you’re the boss of me’ atmosphere that day.”

  “I seem to recall that she called you Charles in Charge when she told us the story,” Gen added.

  “Pipe down.” Madison swatted her arm. “Didn’t our visitor just point out the benefit of not telling the whole truth?” She stood and waved toward the kitchen. “It’s too early for wine. Can I offer you tea and cookies?”