Mark of the Loon (Gen Delacourt Mystery Book 1)

by Molly Greene

  “If I thought I could move you in one direction or another, the mere satisfaction of watching you follow directions would be payment enough.”

  Madison swatted at Anna’s book bag as they ducked through the cafeteria door. “Dang psychologist.”

  She grabbed a tray and stepped into line.

  * * *

  Anna walked Madison back, then waved goodbye and jogged away to her next class. Madison climbed the stairs to the admin station and approached the front desk.

  “I’m Madison Boone. I called yesterday and spoke with Dr. Udell. She agreed to see me at one o’clock today. Where can I find her?”

  A young girl with huge doe eyes and a short pixie haircut smiled and pointed down the hall. “Straight down, second door on the right,” she said. “Her name is on a plaque on the wall, can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.” Madison walked down the hall and knocked on the door. A soft voice invited her in.

  A fragile elderly woman wearing a matronly floral dress and low-heeled Hush Puppies rose and walked around the desk. She limped slightly, favoring her right leg.

  Her grip was strong and her gaze direct. “Welcome, Miss Boone,” she said. “I’m Evelyn Udell. Please sit down.”

  “Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Udell.” Madison sat on the chair before the desk. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “Please, dear, call me Evelyn. My curiosity was piqued when you said you’d bought the Blackburne’s house and were interested in learning more about its former occupants.”

  “I was pleased you knew him.”

  “Oh my, yes. I knew Edward as a colleague. He hadn’t actively lectured here since the late 1990’s, but he was a visiting master at many universities. He traveled to the East Coast if he found an invitation particularly interesting.”

  “What did he lecture about?”

  “Dr. Blackburne did some fascinating work with the Red-Throated Loon at Rossitten until the war came. He often spoke about his experiences there.”

  “Rossitten?”

  “Yes. Johanness Thienemann was a renowned ornithologist who first visited the Courish Spit in the late 1800’s. Thienemann recognized how pivotal the peninsula could be to the study of bird migration. He established Rossitten in the early 1900’s, the first ornithological station in the world. It was in the town of Rybachy, part of Russia then. They undertook a large-scale banding project. Edward was invited to study loons. He stayed until World War II and was spirited away just in time. He managed to hang on until the war engulfed the Soviets.”

  “I found dated journals that begin in 1938,” Madison said. “He also left a lot of specimens and stuffed birds and books. Do you think the University would be interested? It seems a waste to keep them hidden away.”

  “We would be beyond delighted to archive Edward’s research, if that is what you’re offering.” Dr. Udell’s eyes glittered. “My heart is racing with excitement at the prospect. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you contacted me with this wonderful offer. Shall I send someone to box up the things?”

  “It would be better for me to wait until after the first of the year. I’ve just moved in. I don’t have any of it properly organized.”

  “Of course, my dear. I didn’t mean to pressure you. Whenever you’re ready. We will be happy to accept everything you might be prepared to part with.”

  “Thank you. I’m curious about something you said about Edward. How did he get away?”

  “Away?”

  “From Rossitten. During the war.”

  “Ah. I understand patriots helped him cross into Finland. I know he eventually made his way to Ireland to continue his research. The Red-Throated Loon migrates south to nest on the lakes of Northern Ireland. The Irish remained neutral during the war.”

  “Is that where he met his wife, Mallory?”

  “I assume so.” Dr. Udell sighed and her eyes flicked to the window. “Are you a writer, dear?”

  Startled, Madison’s mouth dropped open. She stuttered a reply. “Why would you think that?”

  “Edward and Mallory Blackburne’s life might make for a very compelling story.” Evelyn winked. “Perhaps it intrigues you. Sparks your curiosity. I wondered if that’s why you sought me out.”

  “No. The storyteller won’t be me. Although from the sounds of it, you’re right. Fiction or nonfiction?”

  “So often things that occur in the real world trump any story anyone could make up. Don’t you agree?”

  Madison smiled. “Right again.” She shifted in her seat. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but I’ve kept you long enough. I appreciate your time.”

  Evelyn rose and came around the desk again. “The pleasure was mine, dear. Call if you have any more questions about Edward, and I will do my best to fill in the gaps. And please let me know when you would like the University to pick up your lovely bequest.”

  “I will,” Madison said. “One more thing. Did they have children?”

  “I don’t believe they did. Edward was a bit older than his wife. Mallory did a lot of charity work. She sponsored fundraising events and was a major contributor to Irish orphanages. Perhaps that fulfilled them.”

  Madison shook Dr. Udell’s hand, then turned toward the door and back again “Why the loon?”

  Evelyn’s laugh exuded warmth. “This loon is one of a kind, a fascinating specimen in the world of ornithology. It’s unique in appearance, plumage, behavior, vocalizations. The Red-Throated Loon is a long-lived bird, known to survive up to two decades in the wild. It mates for life. Doesn’t maneuver well on terra firma. But in spite of this and unlike other loons, it can actually launch itself into flight from both land and water.”

  “How did it get its name?”

  “Ah,” Evelyn replied, nodding. “Obvious enough when you see a photograph.” She slashed her finger in a quick motion across her throat, from one ear to the other. “The unique neck ornamentation the bird acquires with its breeding plumage makes it appear as though its throat had been slit.”

  * * *

  Madison climbed to the second floor of the Psychology Department’s building and walked down the paneled hall. She adjusted her jacket as she glanced from one office to another, searching for Coleman Welles’ suite.

  Voices wafted toward her from the end of the corridor. She came upon an open door and saw the Professor listening to a pretty co-ed. There was a desk between them, but the girl leaned forward as she chattered away.

  Cole glanced toward the door and saw her.

  His face brightened.

  His guest scowled when she realized it wasn’t her conversation that had taken his expression up a notch. She popped up from the chair, pulled at her miniskirt, and tossed her hair back with a well-practiced jerk.

  “Well,” she said, glaring at the newcomer. “I better be going.” She shot him her most dazzling smile. “See you in class tomorrow.”

  Cole smiled. “See you, Jennifer.” The leggy beauty brushed by Madison without another look and strutted off down the hall.

  “Oh, to be eighteen again,” Madison said.

  “Not for a million bucks.” Cole sighed. “Too much drama. Too much angst. Too much … well, too much.” He laughed and motioned to the chair. “How’ve you been? And your place? I’ve been wondering how you and the house were getting along.”

  His curls had gone uncut since their last meeting and now fell even more beguilingly across his forehead. He wore a starched button-down and unbelted Levis. Those perfect loafers were on his feet. A well-worn suede sport coat hung on a coat rack beside the door. He was dressed as if he had a stylist who outfitted his closet with a GQ-inspired wardrobe, and he couldn’t care less.

  The man was damn attractive.

  She realized she was holding her breath and took in some air.

  Madison dropped her bag on the floor and sat in Jennifer’s seat. “Good,” she replied. “It’s good. I’ve been busy, but I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel now.”

  Cole�
�s voice quieted. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

  She met his eyes. “How’s the clarinet?”

  “Happy to have had so much of my time lately.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Can I tear you away from it next weekend? I’ve found three properties in your price range with plenty of room for a garden. I previewed them and liked every one. What do you think?”

  “I’m delighted. Shall we meet somewhere?”

  “I hoped you’d meet me at the closest. We can work our way up the highway. The last place might be too far away to be practical, but it’s so great I think it’s worth a look.”

  “I’m willing to consider a place that merits the commute.”

  “After that, if you don’t have plans for the evening, maybe you could come up for dinner. When we’re done looking at property. If you’re interested.”

  The expression on his face made her heart beat faster.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Yes, I’d love that.”

  “Perfect. One thing, though, Genny broke her leg. She’s mending out at the house. I hope you don’t mind. She could use the company.”

  “I’ll do my best to entertain.”

  “If we start early, we can make it to my place before five o’clock. It’ll be light enough for you to have a look around. I’m a basic cook, so steak and salad, unless you’re a vegetarian.”

  “I’ll eat whatever the hostess provides and be thankful for the invitation. May I bring anything?”

  “Patience,” she replied. “And reasonable expectations, I’ve only been there a few weeks.”

  “Deal. Are you sure these properties will still be available next week?”

  “They’re all new listings and nothing priced as a fire sale. I’ll confirm their status the day before, but we should be fine.”

  “You’re the boss,” he said.

  Madison felt her cheeks pink and reached for her bag. “Then it’s a plan,” she said. “Now let me show you pictures of the places I found.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Although the properties Madison selected were promising, none caught Cole’s interest enough to make an offer. Just before four o’clock Saturday afternoon, the shopping trip was shelved.

  They headed up the freeway. Coleman followed in the Porsche, then pulled into the drive as she dragged open the gate. They continued on to the house.

  Jack was waiting on the porch, shimmying with excitement, but did not leap off his perch and race toward his mistress until she’d set the brake and opened the door. He greeted her effusively, but was soon distracted by the visitor and ran to the sleek little car that coasted to a stop behind.

  Cole angled out and rested his feet on the drive. He stroked Jack, then stood and swung the door closed. He stepped back and crossed his arms, examining the cottage.

  Madison watched. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “It’s a dream.” He turned in a circle, looking out into the unkempt gardens until he faced the house again. He cocked his head and gave her a wistful look. “How’s the soil?”

  She laughed. “I haven’t had a chance to dig into it, but judging by what’s here, it will grow just about anything, Mr. Green Jeans.”

  Cole sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Oh, you see right through me. I’m jealous.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really. I hoped I was on the right track today.”

  “They were perfect. On paper, anyway. We’ll find it.”

  Madison ran up the steps and opened the door. “After you,” she said, and motioned him in.

  He walked to the living room, then stopped and leaned against the wall. Madison paused behind him. The ocher-tinted paint imbued the room with warmth and was the perfect backdrop for Mallory’s sofa and antique furniture and pine floors. The drapes were pulled back across the French doors and pooled on the floor beside the glass.

  He slid his eyes to her. “You do have a gift.”

  “This house just needed paint and a little … texture, I guess you could say. The bones are fabulous, aren’t they? The place came with loads of personality.”

  “You can say that again.” He pushed off the wall. “Okay, I’m duly impressed. Time for the grand tour.”

  They turned at the sound of a polite cough. Gen sat ramrod straight in the open bedroom door with her hands on the chair wheels. Her hair was brushed and shining, pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a flowing dress and her face was make-up free, as it had been every day since her arrival.

  “Hello, Genevieve.” Cole shook her hand. “I was sorry to hear about your accident, but I’m pleased to see you again. You’re looking well. How are you feeling?”

  “It’s great to see you, too, Cole. I’m good, thanks, most days. Too much time sitting on my rear is the biggest challenge.” She rolled through the door and they followed beside her. “I suspect it’s been difficult for Madison.”

  “I’m fine, Gen.”

  “You’ve been a saint,” Gen replied.

  Madison smirked. “That’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been called anything of the sort.” She turned toward the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s get this party started. Would everyone like a glass of wine?”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Cole and Madison wheeled Gen onto the back patio and sat on the edge of the low-walled pond, wine glasses in hand. The sun was a red ball, ready to dive below the hills and into the lake beyond. The vivid orange sky was streaked with shades of red and charcoal gray.

  “Did you know Lake Sonoma was man-made?” Madison asked. “I think they filled it up in 1983. The Blackburnes didn’t have a water view when they bought the property.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Gen replied. “What good luck. Usually changes in the neighborhood are bad news.”

  Cole raised his goblet. “To the unbelievable panorama before us. And to Madison Boone.” He cut his eyes to her, then back to the color-soaked sky. “Here’s to a charming woman with an equally charming house. And some very enticing landscape. I bet this will be hard to part with.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Gen lifted her glass. “To Madison.”

  “Mmmm,” Madison agreed, nodding. “We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  A movement caught Madison’s eye.

  “Finnegan!” she cried.

  All eyes turned to the cat ambling onto the patio. He stretched, unconcerned, then leaped onto the stone ledge beside Cole.

  “Finn, where the heck have you been?” Gen asked.

  Madison jumped up and raced into the house. She returned carrying a bowl and an open can of tuna. Cole was petting the cat, and the sleek old beast was purring and leaning into his hand.

  “I don’t remember you mentioning a cat,” Cole said.

  She spooned out half the tin, then lowered the bowl to the patio before him. Finnegan hopped from the wall. He sniffed, then peered at Madison for a curiously long time before bending to the food.

  “He came with the place,” Madison said. Jack whined as the cat ate with delicate restraint. “Actually, he kind of owns the property. Finn’s owner left it to him in her will, but he went missing so they sold it out from under him. Poor guy. He’ll have to put up with Jack and me from now on.”

  “Sounds like a wild story,” Cole said.

  “Yeah.” Madison said. “The woman who was feeding him told me he ran and hid every time she came around. He never let her get close enough to touch him. But he jumped up right next to you like he’d known you all his life.”

  “Animals are a good judge of character.”

  Madison smiled. “So they say.”

  When they heard the crunch of gravel, three faces swiveled toward the sound. What now?

  A young man emerged from the path. He wore cords and a t-shirt with a tattered, stretched-out neck. A flannel shirt hung from his shoulders. His reddish chestnut hair waved around his face.

  Finn meowed. Jack walked forward, wagging, but hesitated when Madi
son edged toward the house. She held her breath, creased with sudden anxiety, and crossed her arms over her chest to hide her trembling hands.

  Cole’s eyes slid from Madison to the stranger. He stepped between them.

  From the corner of her eye, Madison saw Gen curl her fist around a loose stone plucked from the top of the wall, then roll her chair to face the boy.

  The kid halted at the edge of the patio twenty-five feet away. He cleared his throat, looking nervous and uncomfortable, and opened his mouth. He closed it again, waited, then uttered a series of guttural sounds.

  Terrified, Madison started to run into the house.

  Cole held out his hand to stop her.

  “Wait.” His voice was smooth. “It’s all right.”

  He moved his hands in a quick pattern and said, “Good evening. Can we help you with something?”

  Utter joy broke out across the boy’s face. He signed swiftly in reply, then moved to the cat and picked him up. Finn circled his neck with a paw, purring like a locomotive and clearly happy.

  If a cat could smile, this one was grinning like a jack o’lantern.

  Cole communicated with him for a minute before he explained.

  “His name is Taegan O’Reilly. He tells me he grew up next door at the Christian retreat and still lives there. He’s been searching for Finn for months. Apparently he’s known the cat his whole life and has been worried sick about him.”

  Madison’s eyes darted back and forth between Cole and Taegan. “Of course he has,” she said. “And of course you would know sign language and resolve the issue in one second. I’ve spent weeks biting my nails, wondering what he wanted. Please apologize for me. Invite Taegan and the cat for dinner.”

  She walked purposefully into the house. “I need another glass of wine.”

  She was opening a bottle of merlot when Cole pushed Gen’s chair through the back door, followed by the lad.

  Gen’s face was lit up like an airport runway. “Madison, you’ll never guess,” she sputtered. “Taegan was born in Ireland, too. He knew Mallory when he was a boy, used to hang out here. And he can read lips.”