Mark of the Loon (Gen Delacourt Mystery Book 1)

by Molly Greene

  “I remember that story from English Lit,” Genevieve said. “The author was Irish and he wrote it in his own made-up gibberish. Ran off with a chambermaid and lived in sin in Europe most of his adult life. Pretty racy for the time.”

  “Gold star,” Cole said. “The story is written as though the protagonist were in a dream state.” He flipped through the pages. “Look here. A piece of paper torn from a card or something.” He turned it over and back, then read aloud.

  Only a woman can bear a child, yet in spite of our single-handed ability to continue human life on this planet, we all remain exclusively children of men, subject to their whims and wars, dominated by their world view. Stuck in their fruitless fantasy of what is best, what is right for all, so sure the solution is black and white. Women live in a world that is gray on the best of days. But I will choose and re-choose to exist in a colorless mist over a man’s favored river of blood in every moment the choice is mine to make.

  Madison leaned over the book. “Mallory’s handwriting. What do you think brought that tirade on?”

  “Sounds like she was expressing her frustration about powerful men.” Cole kissed Madison’s forehead.

  “And the choices they force on women,” Madison murmured. “I wonder if she wrote this during the war.”

  “Heavy.” Gen went back to grating carrots. “Must have been a challenging read.”

  “Joyce annoyed a lot of people when it was published,” Cole said. “The tale has no real plot or characters. His peers were mad he didn’t follow the rules. I’m going to go sit by the fire and read a bit.”

  Madison went to the stove as Cole left the room. “That explains it. I bet Mallory was drawn to someone who challenged the status quo.”

  “You think so?” Genevieve smiled at Madison.

  “I know we would have liked her.” Madison stirred the pasta. “She would have fit right in.”

  “Well, considering this was her kitchen, I imagine she would feel at home if she was here. But I still worry about your hooey-wooey revelations about a dead woman. Even if we would like her.”

  Madison lifted her finger to her lips, then gestured toward the other room and lowered her voice. “I’ve just been fantasizing, Gen. Everybody has an imagination.”

  She placed a bowl of hummus on the table and stacked pita bread on a plate beside it. She piled a mound of the dip onto a triangle of bread and offered it to Gen, who popped it into her mouth.

  “Mmmm,” Gen said. “It’s not the dreaming, it’s that you’re convinced Mallory is sending you signs.” She reached for more pita.

  “I don’t care if the message comes from a magic toad.” Madison’s tone was gentle. “If I’m happier, who cares if my dreams are conjuring Mallory Blackburne?”

  Cole came back into the room, chuckling to himself.

  Madison gave him a stern look. “What? Did you hear that? Are you laughing at me, too?”

  “Whoa. I’m laughing at Joyce.” He raised his hands as if to ward her off. “I didn’t hear what you said, but I’m sure it was very practical and down to earth, which would be just like you. Whatever it was, I think you’re right.”

  “See?” Madison said. She looked at Gen and pointed a finger at Cole. “The psych guru is on my side.”

  “He has no idea what he’s agreeing to,” Gen said.

  Madison whistled as she lifted the pasta pot and moved to the sink to pour the contents into a waiting colander.

  Suck up, Genny signed to Cole.

  He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

  They heard the pet door flap against the wall. Finn wandered in, curling his body around the door, tail held high, eyes bright.

  He meowed.

  “The cat is on my side, too,” Madison said. “Cole, will you leave the note out when you put the book back? I’d like to have it.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, Madison walked Cole to his car. They clung together, kissing in the dark, until Madison began to shiver. She pulled away and said good night, then watched as he drove away.

  Gen was in the living room. She sat beside her on the couch and threw an afghan across their legs.

  “So. Is he a good kisser?”

  “The best,” Madison replied. “His lips are so soft. He oozes sweetness. It’s like kissing an angel.”

  “Geez. Now I’m jealous. I knew you wouldn’t regret it.”

  “I don’t,” Madison replied. “Not to change the subject, but how about that note of Mallory’s Cole found tonight? From the sound of the letter she wrote Edward, she took a path she regretted. I wonder what she did to make it right?”

  “Followed her heart, I suppose. Looks like it brought her here.”

  “I dreamed she told me our thoughts create our future. How did she find the strength to go from despair to her life here with Edward? Seems like too big a job to think your way through.”

  Genny stretched her arms overhead, then dropped a hand and covered Madison’s atop the blanket. “Love, I guess. Love heals a lot of things.”

  “I hope you’re right. Maybe love will heal me, Genny. I was so lost when my parents died. But things have gotten better, especially these last few months. I wonder where it will all lead.”

  Gen put her arms around Madison. “Mad, I love you like a sister. I hope Cole is your E-ticket.”

  Madison laughed and squeezed back. “I love you, too. And I guess I’m along for the ride, whatever the destination.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A knock sounded at the back entry, followed by a sharp bark from Jack and the slap of the doggie door as it flew home.

  “Taegan’s here,” Genny said. She was perched on a stool at the counter, dicing onions for potato soup.

  The afternoon language classes had dwindled as the signs grew more complicated. They’d settled into a single class Tuesday afternoons at four o’clock.

  Taegan was a focused taskmaster who demanded that his students practice tirelessly between lessons. He assigned them half a dozen new words at a time. At the beginning of each session, they signed sentences incorporating the vocabulary from the previous week.

  Madison did well, outshining Genevieve in both recall and reaction to Tae’s coaching, probably because she could practice with Cole. She felt an affinity to the silent world where people communicated with hands.

  Speaking in sign language cut to the chase.

  As a real estate agent, she’d experienced enough verbal diarrhea to last a lifetime. She liked the fact that mouths and all the crap that often came out of them were secondary to this new conversation.

  And, of course, there was the connection with Coleman Welles.

  Madison opened the door and beckoned the boy inside. Grinning, he offered her a brown paper bag.

  She looked inside. It was a clutch of dormant hollyhocks sealed in plastic. Delighted, she hooked an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “How did you know I loved them? And the tag says they’re red, my favorite.”

  “I see you watching over the plants like a worried mother,” he signed and spoke in reply, his face comical. “More is better company. The ones you tend are many colors.” His expression morphed to disapproval. “Today is class, you should be signing.”

  “I was too excited, sorry,” she said. Still facing him and with her back to Gen, she signed, Gen has been a bad student this week. That makes me happy because it will make me look smart.

  Taegan laughed and replied, I think Gen excels at things that allow her body to make big movements. Dancing. Skiing. Drama.

  Madison nodded. Things that allow her mind to make big trouble.

  They smirked together, comrades in their secret.

  Genny turned her head. “I know you’re talking about me. You better knock it off if you want to eat tonight.”

  Madison relayed the comment. Taegan pursed his lips as though he’d bitten into a lemon. Gen is cooking? Maybe we should be afraid.

  Madison laughed and embraced the chef. “Whe
w. Are you crying because of those onions or because we hurt your feelings?”

  Gen put down the knife and signed.

  Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

  Taegan, impressed, grabbed a tablet and a pen and drew a star and five exclamation marks. Gold star. Vocabulary words from last week. You have been practicing, he wrote.

  “Madison taught me that,” Genny said aloud. “I can’t take credit. She’s better than I am.”

  “But you remembered,” Madison said. “And you signed it perfectly.”

  Taegan opened his wallet and picked out a five dollar bill. He handed it proudly to Gen. “You win the award for best student this week. Here is your prize.”

  Genny was silent. Her eyes were wide, staring at the cash. “A brand new five dollar bill, exactly like the ones we found.”

  Madison laughed, still in the moment. “Yes, money all looks alike.”

  But Genny wasn’t smiling. She accepted the bill from Taegan, then limped to the cookie jar where they’d stashed the fives from the attic. She plucked one out and examined it, then pulled the others from the jar, spread them out on the counter, and compared them.

  Gen’s eyes slid between Madison and the boy. She enunciated carefully. “The serial numbers are all the same. The bunch we found and the one from Taegan’s wallet. All the numbers are the same.”

  The three were silent.

  “They’re counterfeit,” Genny said. “They’re fake, aren’t they, Tae?”

  His face paled and his expression grew guarded. His eyes were riveted on the money. He shrugged when he realized they were staring at him. What? he signed. I don’t understand.

  “You know something.” Genny’s voice was soft. She repeated what she’d said in sign.

  Yes, he signed, then wrote on his tablet. Although I am not a man of the world, even I have seen five dollars before.

  Genny shook his arm until he looked at her. “It’s these bills. Where did you get them? Something is going on. Or was. I think you know what.”

  Taegan shook off Gen’s hand, then turned away to stare out the window. Madison slumped into a chair and dropped her chin onto her fist. Gen poured herself some coffee and sat down.

  “He’s just a kid,” Madison said. Taegan’s back was toward them and she knew he couldn’t catch the conversation. “He’s never been anywhere. He doesn’t have a car. He rides his bike into town to go to the library and buy birdseed and treats for Finn, for goodness sake. What are you accusing him of?”

  “I didn’t accuse him,” Gen replied. “I asked what he knew. Big difference. If anyone distrusts him, it’s Ryan Kavanaugh, not me.”

  “What did he say?” Madison sat up straight.

  “That day with Velasco, remember? He said they suspected him of stealing from the neighbors. They found trinkets and a ski mask in his things.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “I told him to get lost, didn’t I?” Gen went to the refrigerator for cream, and the movement roused Taegan.

  He faced them. His jaw was set. He closed his eyes for a beat, then reached for paper and pencil and scribbled on the pad. When he finished writing, he gave the tablet to Gen.

  She spoke his words aloud.

  “I know you think I stole the money, but I did not. Put on your coats and come with me. It is time to tell the story.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The girls donned jackets and followed Taegan beyond the carriage house. When the trail canted uphill, he snaked an arm around Gen’s waist and helped her up the slope.

  Native shrubs flourished above the woodpile where Madison had seen the ghostly figure of Taegan in the fog.

  Tae dodged branches with ease. Mallory loved this place, he signed. In the spring, the birds eat the berries from these trees and she would sit with them here.

  Minutes later, they sat in the mulch in the midst of an elderberry thicket three hundred yards northeast of the house. Even leafless, the copse was shielded from the garage and everyone else.

  No one could see them.

  Tae rolled back the stones around a birdbath set flush with the ground. He lifted the concrete circle, removed the rocks beneath it, then pulled out a plastic liner.

  Madison and Gen leaned in.

  They saw a cement square with a heavy iron ring embedded in it.

  “Of course,” Madison said. “Another hiding place.”

  “Mallory Blackburne was my kind of woman,” Genevieve said.

  Taegan lifted the slab away. They peered into the hole. Metal ammunition cans were stacked shoulder to shoulder inside. Taegan hefted one of the containers out and unfastened the latches, then gestured for Gen to open it.

  She followed his instructions, then drew in a breath. Madison leaned in for a look.

  Her mouth fell open.

  The box was layered with stacks of brand new five dollar bills, just like the attic cache. Each was bound with a strip printed with the image of a loon, identical to the bands from Edward’s office.

  Madison held up a bundle. She turned her head so Taegan could read her lips “Where did they come from?”

  Mallory.

  Genny found her voice. “The Blackburnes were counterfeiters. How many canisters are there?”

  Seven.

  “Are they all full?”

  Yes.

  “Where did Mallory get it all?” Madison asked.

  Taegan pulled paper and pen from his jacket.

  Mallory said she brought it from Europe after the war. She showed me this place the day before she died, said to tell no one, that I should use only a little if I had a real need. She said she should burn it, but there wasn’t enough time. She said I would know when to tell the story.

  He looked at them and spoke aloud. “You’ve been kind to me. I took a few to buy Madison the flowers. Genny’s signing was so good I offered the last to her.”

  “If it came from Europe, why is it United States currency?” Genny asked. “And why this bird, if the packets were wrapped overseas? That’s Edward’s thing. He would’ve had to be in on it for Mallory to use the loon.”

  Madison sat back on her heels. “This is what everybody’s after. Velasco’s clients must know the money is hidden here somewhere.” She reached out and snapped off an elderberry twig, twirled it in her fingers, then started to put the end in her mouth.

  “No!” Taegan slapped the stick from her hand.

  The women stared at him, incredulous.

  “Poison,” he said.

  “Who told you that?” Madison kicking the stem away. “I nearly chewed it. You said the birds ate the berries.”

  Yes, he signed. “And Mallory made wine from the fruit. But she told me the rest of the plant is poison.” He wrote a word on the pad and held it out.

  Cyanide, it said.

  “She said someone could die from elderberry,” he said.

  “Ugggh,” Madison glanced at the branches. “I hope she didn’t know that from personal experience.”

  But Taegan’s hand shot out again, this time grabbing Madison by the arm. He signed quiet, then pointed to the field.

  Madison and Gen searched the hillside behind them.

  Ryan.

  Gen’s face registered annoyance. She crawled on hands and knees into the undergrowth. A long minute later, she crept back and whispered, “He’s gone.”

  “What was he doing?” Madison whispered in reply.

  “Out for a ramble in the countryside. He had on hiking boots and was carrying a walking stick.”

  Taegan snorted. Spying, he signed.

  “What do you know?” Madison asked.

  I know I don’t trust him. He hides around corners. He pretends. He sees everything.

  “Why does he do that?” Genevieve asked.

  That, Taegan replied, I have not been able to answer.

  “Maybe he’s looking for the money, too,” Gen said. “How irritating. I’m attracted to a weasel. Never been a bum magnet
before.”

  “Maybe there’s another explanation.” Madison said.

  “Could be a cop or a private detective. But why wouldn’t the police come with a warrant if they know about this?” Gen’s face fell. “He could also be working for Velasco.”

  They remained in the grove, holding a whispered discussion about their options. In the end, they decided to replace the canister and the birdbath and leave the bills where they were. That seemed the safest choice. The money had rested there for years, safe from weather and prying eyes.

  A few more weeks seemed harmless enough.

  Taegan confessed he’d only taken fifty dollars since Mallory had shown him the hoard. She had given him a hundred dollars before she died. Over time, he’d used most of it to buy seed to keep the feeders full. His needs were taken care of by the ministry.

  They made their way back in the growing dusk, discussing the need for a plan. What was the best course of action? Burn it? Drop it at a police station with a note?

  “Gen, why don’t you do some research, just in case,” Madison suggested. “Are we liable as accomplices? Will Taegan get in trouble for spending some?”

  “I think we should pile it up on the living room floor and roll in it,” Gen replied. “Take a bath in money. When would we ever have the chance again? Then we can burn it in the fireplace. When it’s gone, I’ll tell Velasco we resolved the issue for good.”

  Madison laughed. “Brownie points for the most creative solution.”

  “If we confess,” Gen continued, “it will only bring endless legal inquiries down on us. If nobody but Taegan has known about the stash all these years, why should we let the rest of the world in on it now? And who would believe we’ve handed over all of it?”

  Madison sighed. “Not to mention telling the truth will ruin the Blackburnes’ reputation and put us all in the newspapers for weeks. Not sure I relish the notoriety.”

  * * *

  They set the table while Genny ladled the soup into bowls. “The riddle gets more and more complicated.”

  “That reminds, me, Taegan,” Madison said. “There’s been so much going on I keep forgetting to ask you about the pigeons.”