I didn’t believe her for a minute. She’d heard about my past and was trying to steal even that from me. “Were you in the fire? Were you burned?”
“Not burned, but trapped. I don’t know how I escaped, and I don’t have any scars.” She glanced down at her arms and legs. “Not a single mark on me.”
She was simply using my past to her advantage. That would be something Annie would do. “That’s a terrible memory. How old are you in the dream? Maybe something like this happened when you were a little girl?” Enough rope to hang herself was my thought.
Annie’s smile was amused. “Why are you so interested in my past, Mimi? I’m happy here. Maybe I don’t remember the past because it was awful.”
“Maybe you have parents who love you and miss you.”
Her smile slid off her face. “I don’t think that’s the case. I feel certain no one is looking for me.”
“But they could be.” I pressed too hard, I saw it in the spark in her eyes. I’d made her angry, an emotion I’d seen little of since she came to Coden.
“I’ll tell you what, Mimi. You don’t meddle in my past, and I promise to stay out of your future.” She paused a beat. “I saw Mark in town today. He asked about you. He seemed puzzled that you haven’t had time to see him lately. I gave him a little attention and comfort. He liked that.”
The audacity of her statement was like a slap. I’d seen her turn on the charm, and I knew how effective she could be. Bob’s devotion to her was living proof of her feminine powers. “How dare you.”
“You don’t want him? He’s cute.”
“You’re sixteen, Annie. Mark is too old for you, and surely he has sense enough to know that.”
“I’m not interested in Mark. He’s lonely, Mimi. Why don’t you be nice to him?” She went to the window and looked out to the Sound. “He really likes you. I was only trying to help. Men just want you to ‘be nice.’ How hard is that? Berta hasn’t been very nice to Bob lately, either.”
Annie was a lot more mature than anyone thought. She might pretend to be an innocent sixteen-year-old, but she was far from that.
“What did you tell Mark?” I asked.
“I told him you had things on your mind, but I didn’t say what things.” She sat beside me on the bed and pushed back so she was resting against the headboard. A breeze off the water ruffled the gauzy material around her bed, causing it to undulate with a sinister energy. “What are you thinking when you wander around the house in the dark?”
“What are you talking about?” I did wander the house, checking up on her, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“You don’t sleep, Mimi. You’re worried all the time. Mark is concerned for you and so am I.”
I stood up. She was a kid, a stray with no real claim on the Hendersons or anyone else in Coden. I was a grown, college-educated woman. “Don’t worry about me, Annie. I’m taking care of Donald and Erin. Berta is coming back to herself. Things will get back to normal. You focus on your own life and what you’re going to do with it.”
She stretched out on the bed. “I know what I want, Mimi, and I know how to get it. Whoever I was before, I’ve learned a lot. Now I’m going to apply it.”
Berta returned with Donald, his cheek bandaged and his blue eyes full of mischief. “I have a story to tell now,” he said. “Annie tells us lots of stories, but I have my own. Mom helped me with it coming home. It’s about a giant fish that throws hooks back at fishermen.”
We heard Bob’s footsteps on the porch, and we all ran out to greet him. His eyes clouded at Donald’s bandaged face, but when he saw Berta, it was as if a long storm had cleared. “Berta!” He swung her in his arms until she laughed.
Erin and Donald danced around them. “Let’s picnic in the yard,” Donald said. “It’s cool enough now. It’s almost dark. We could eat on the table in the back.”
“Okay,” Berta agreed. We all rushed to carry the food outside. It was September and the worst of the heat had passed for the day. As we filled our plates and sat down to talk, I felt a sense of peace that had been missing for weeks. Margo’s absence was a living thing around the table, but we had put some distance there. Enough so that we could at least share a meal with a bit of laughter. Even Annie was smiling, but I detected a curl of cunning at the corner of her lips. What did she have in store for later?
Erin spoke of her day at school. She’d made friends with Peggy Cargill, Andrew’s younger sister. It wasn’t a friendship I would have fostered, but Erin had her mother’s independence. “Peggy wants me to spend Friday night,” Erin said.
“I don’t think so.” Berta’s face showed tension. “Why don’t you invite her here instead?”
Erin frowned. I thought she’d defy Berta. Something changed her mind, though. “Okay. She wants to meet y’all, anyway. And see Cogar. She says that Andrew talked about the house here a lot. She’s curious.”
And so was I. Peggy Cargill might know something that she didn’t even realize she knew. A visit would give me a chance to ask questions.
We finished the meal without further controversy. Donald told his story about the Yellow Sally. For a moment he seemed to lose himself in some dark thought.
“What is it?” Bob asked.
I held my breath. Under the table, I nudged Donald’s foot with my own. I mouthed the words “you promised.”
“I thought I saw someone in the woods.” He spoke almost in a monotone.
“Who was it?” Bob asked, his tone indicating he thought this was part of Donald’s story.
Donald shook his head. “I don’t know. She was too far away for me to see.”
“You saw a girl?” Berta came up out of her seat. “Was it Margo? Did you see Margo?”
The eager desire in her voice and face scared Donald. I’d warned him what would happen, and now he saw I wasn’t lying.
He pushed his plate away as if he’d lost his appetite. “Maybe it wasn’t anyone. It must have been the wind blowing the undergrowth.”
“Tell us what she looked like.” Berta was almost demanding.
“It was just a shadow. That’s how I got the fishhook in my face. I was casting when I saw … something and it messed me up so the lure went into a tree. I pulled it free and it came right into my face.”
“Let’s stay out of the woods for a while,” Bob said slowly. “And a lesson to you about jerking on a line. Be careful, Donald.”
“Bob, can we go inside? I want to talk with you.” Berta stood up and took his hand. She had regained her composure, but I could see the struggle in her face. “Erin, Donald, help Annie and Mimi clean up.” She gave me a look to let me know she’d decided to take the bull by the horns about the private detective.
“I’ll go wherever you say, beautiful.” Bob kissed Berta’s hand as he rose. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Annie. At the kiss, she turned her back on Bob and Berta.
“I have to tell you something,” Berta said.
She was going to tell him about hiring Jimmy Finch, though I would have waited. I didn’t want Annie to know about Finch. “I’ll clean up, Annie. Why don’t you all enjoy the swing before it gets dark.”
“As you wish,” Annie said, but I felt her gaze drill a hole in my back as I carried the food and plates into the kitchen.
23
On Friday I arranged for Annie to take Donald to a new Disney movie. In their absence, Jimmy Finch brought a typed report to Berta. If Bob was displeased with the hiring of Jimmy Finch, I never heard. No matter—I knew I’d done the right thing. Berta was healing and taking positive steps toward figuring out what had happened to her daughter.
The P.I. sat on the sofa and sipped the coffee I made while Berta paced the room as if all the days of inactivity were pent up inside her, fighting to get out.
Finch said, “I got the report from the sheriff, and I’m satisfied that Margo isn’t involved with the Moonies. I have a few contacts inside, and no one has seen a girl matching her description, so we can cross that o
ff the list.”
“She could have dyed her hair, used an assumed name.” I knew Berta wanted Margo to be somewhere, anywhere, alive and safe. Even the Moonies were preferable to an unknown fate, or worse.
“Anything’s possible,” Finch said diplomatically, “but I don’t believe she’s there. I have to operate off my best assumption based on the evidence.”
“I’m sorry.” Berta perched on the edge of a chair.
“A buddy of mine in the FBI ran a few checks for me. There’s a problem with the way individual states report runaways or missing children, I won’t pretend otherwise. But with the information we have, there are no reports of Margo or the Cargill boy found dead in other places. No unidentified bodies matching their description have been found.”
Berta was on her feet. “I—I didn’t—” she stammered.
I got up and gently led her back to her seat.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but these are the places I have to check first. I’ve discovered Cargill supplemented his income by selling marijuana. If he crossed someone’s boundary, he could’ve gotten himself hurt, and the girl with him. These drug dealers are dead serious about their turf. Cutting off a hand is the mark of some of the more vicious cartels.…” When he saw Berta’s face, he stopped.
“Berta, he isn’t saying that’s what happened.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Andrew Cargill was a small fish. I doubt any vicious cartels were interested in him.”
“You’re probably right,” Finch said hurriedly. “Like I said, I have to check. So now I’m turning my attention to checking service stations doubling as mechanic shops in a four-hundred-mile radius. Cargill has to make a living. If they’ve holed up somewhere, maybe I can find him that way.”
Berta relaxed slightly.
“Does your daughter have any means of making a living?” he said.
Berta looked at me as if he’d spoken Latin, so I answered. “She could be a sales clerk in a clothing store or cosmetics counter. She could tutor children.” I racked my brain thinking of things Margo could do to earn a living.
“That’s a help.” He stood. “I don’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Henderson. I’m doing my job.”
“I know.” She managed to nod without crying. She handed him a check she’d prepared before he came.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
He got to the Rambler Hornet Sportabout, a distinctive green with tri-colored leather interior. The back seat of the station wagon was filled with file boxes and clothes. “Did you learn anything about Annie?” I asked.
“I spent most of the time working on the missing girl, but I have a few feelers out. She was on the Mobile streets less than a week before Mrs. Eubanks found her, but one of my sources tells me she had money for a hotel room.”
“An amnesiac with money?” It struck him as odd too. I could read it in his face.
“My source, a young man, met her in Bienville Square. She was eating lunch on a bench. Paul spent a half hour or so with her, he works with one of the soup kitchens to round up the strays, but she had no interest in help. She had money for food and a place to stay. He only saw her that one time.”
“Did she reveal anything about where she came from?”
He lit a cigarette before he answered. “Nothing. She didn’t say she couldn’t remember, but she just didn’t answer any questions.” He inhaled the smoke and gazed down to the Sound. “She’s got a sweet deal here.” He cast a sideways look at me. “So you’re not part of the family and you’re living here, too. It’s like a halfway house.”
I bit back an angry reply. “I’m a paid employee here. Annie is a ward. There’s a big difference.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to lump you together. It’s just that—” His eyes narrowed.
“It’s just that what?” I demanded.
“Forget it.” He tossed the butt and ground it into the grass. “I’ll let you know if I get anything else.”
I wanted him gone before Annie returned, and I could see Berta at the window watching us. She’d think he had bad news about Margo and go off the deep end if I didn’t get back inside. “I’ll set up another meeting,” I told him.
After he drove away, I went inside to help Berta ice cupcakes for the arrival of Peggy Cargill, who was coming to spend the night with Erin. The ban on sugar had fallen by the wayside—Berta’s rigorous attitude toward healthy eating had flat-lined under the wheels of Margo’s crushing defection. Berta added the green and blue food coloring to the icing with a hand mixer. The colors swirled. “I want Erin to be happy and have friends,” she said, almost as if she could read my thoughts.
“Even if they get high on sugar?” I teased.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on Margo. She was my first, and I wanted everything perfect. No sugar, no sodas.” She turned away abruptly, but it wasn’t too quick for me to see the blame she leveled squarely at herself. She believed—or wanted to believe—that Margo had left voluntarily.
I put the last dollop of butter-cream icing on a cupcake and sprinkled it with colorful M&Ms. “Before the girls get here, I’d like to go to the library,” I told Berta.
“Take the convertible. It’s a beautiful day.” She tossed me her keys. “Do you think Annie would want to go? She and Donald should be back any minute.”
“She said she was working on a project for tonight.” The lie slid out with no effort. I didn’t want Annie with me.
“Be back before supper. I’m going to make chicken kabobs. It feels like fall and Bob will enjoy grilling.”
“I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
October danced in the occasional breeze from the water, and I felt that I could sniff out the last days of summer. I cranked the top down on the car and took off at a leisurely pace. When I was out of sight, I put the pedal to the floor and let the little car fly. The wind ruffling my hair and the dank salty smell of the air was sheer joy. I loved this place, this wildness and even the dark past.
Coden had risen and been knocked back more than once. Hurricanes, bad economy, boom-and-bust employment. We were a resilient people. We did not give in to adversity.
And I would not give in to Annie. I would find her secrets, and I would send her—and whatever dark things she’d dragged into Belle Fleur—back to the hell from which they’d come.
I parked under an oak and walked to the library. The staff knew me well, and when I asked how to search for newspaper stories about house fires, they told me that to look back any farther than two years, I’d have to go to the main library in Mobile. Disappointment must have shown on my face.
“Are you still interested in Chad Petri’s book?” the librarian asked.
“I am.”
“He came by today. He’s out of the hospital. The fire scarred his lungs, but he’s a tough old bird.”
“Do you think he’d see me?”
She nodded. “Just don’t tire him, Mimi. He’s fragile. I worry for him. But he can tell you what was in the book.” She got the copy that had been defaced and handed it to me.
According to the pin on her blazer, the librarian’s name was Jeannie Holmes. She’d been at the library ever since I could remember. “Do you know if there are any legends or stories about Belle Fleur?” At her questioning look, I added, “Like ghost stories. Actresses downing at the old Paradise or young girls seen around the grounds.” Since Donald’s fishhook mishap at the lake, I hadn’t seen the blond creature, but there was the sense that something lurked at the edge of the lawn. I believed whatever evil had come to Belle Fleur had come with Annie. But there was a chance it had been there all along, waiting for some family to bring it out.
“There’s a book of ghost stories set in Mobile written by a local woman. Coden isn’t mentioned, though. Most folks forget we’re part of Mobile County.” She walked around the desk and led me to a shelf. Running a finger over the spines, she brought out a book, Old Mobile Hauntings. Turning to the index, she shook her head. “Nothing about Coden or the Paradise.”
>
“Other than Mr. Petri, is there someone else I could ask?”
“Your granny. Cora knows more local history and stories than anyone else. Mr. Petri might know something, too.”
“Thanks. I’ll ask both of them.” I left the library and went straight to his address. He was on his front porch in a cowhide rocker, a man of Cora’s generation. He was tall and too thin. His plaid shirt hung from his shoulders, and he greeted me with a worried frown.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“Mimi Bosarge. I’m Cora Eubanks’s granddaughter.” My grandmother had been reluctant for the Henderson children to speak with Chad. She was afraid he’d upset them with some details of the past. Since I was alone, I couldn’t see the harm.
His face relaxed. “Cora’s granddaughter. Come on up and sit a spell.”
Grasping the chair he pointed to, I dragged it around so I could face him. I took a seat. “Mr. Petri, I’m curious about Belle Fleur.” There wasn’t time to beat around the bush. Berta expected me home in an hour.
“That Bob Henderson’s done a bang-up job putting that place back to rights. The man’s got magic in his hands.”
I couldn’t help but smile. That was a compliment I’d be happy to pass to Bob. But it wasn’t the current owners of Belle Fleur that interested me. “Tell me about the Desmarais family. Cora told me to ask you.”
Surprise gave way to hesitation. For a moment, I thought he was going to refuse. When he spoke, it was clear his mind was back in time. “That Sigourney was a mean woman. She was beautiful, but she was mean as a snake.”
I wasn’t certain how to frame my questions. It was one thing to hear about Sigourney’s meanness in an anecdotal way, but there were plenty of houses in Coden where mean people had lived. “Was there something special about the Desmarais family and Belle Fleur? Or was it only because the house was big and prominent and Henri and Sigourney wealthy that they drew the gossip of the town?”
“What is it you really want to know?” Chad asked. His look was direct. He might be old, but he was far from senile.
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