Stranger, Seducer, Protector

by Joanna Wayne

  Bill was thin and wiry with hair just beginning to gray at the temples. He looked to be a few years older than Eugenia, probably somewhere in his mid-fifties. He was dressed in khaki chinos and a long-sleeved striped polo shirt. His only outstanding physical feature was his mischievous smile.

  They introduced themselves all around and shook hands. Once that was done, Nick and Bill engaged in a spirited discussion of the complexities and denouement in Bill’s latest novel. Yet another side to Nick she’d never seen before. He constantly amazed her.

  “How did you discover the entrance to the passageway?” Jacinth asked at the first break in conversation.

  “By accident,” Bill admitted. “And it actually wasn’t the original entrance I found since it had been sealed off. I was removing a built-in bookcase and part of the wall came down with it. And there was the passageway, just behind the crumbling wall.”

  Bill got a passageway. She got bodies. Jacinth shuddered as that fact hit home again.

  “The passageways have shifted over time in these old houses,” Bill said. “It can make for some surprising discoveries when new owners attempt major renovations. I remember after one hurricane a few years back, a box of silver pieces fell through a man’s roof. It was the first he knew of a second-floor passageway.”

  And after a water leak in her walls, bodies had been discovered in the Villaré bathroom. Who knew what other horrors might be waiting for her and Caitlyn?

  “Our passageway has shifted so much that it’s barely a crawlspace in some areas,” Bill said. “And so narrow in others that on my first investigation, I nearly became lodged between two support beams.”

  “That sounds familiar,” Nick said.

  “Ah, you do know my work. How about a tour of the passageway? Don’t worry. I’ve bolstered the walls and ceilings so that nothing will cave in on you.”

  “I’d love that,” Jacinth said.

  “I don’t recommend it,” Eugenia said. “At least not for you, Jacinth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Bill has a taste for the macabre, and I’ve left him to his own whims with the passageway.”

  “Historical possibility, but not recommended for the weak stomach,” Bill agreed. “Jefferies will vouch for that.”

  A cold shiver climbed Jacinth’s spine. But it couldn’t be more frightening than what she’d already faced.

  “I’d like the tour,” she said, amazed that her voice didn’t give away her trepidation.

  Nick placed a hand at the small of her back. “Are you sure? If there’s anything there that will help you locate the Villaré passageway, I’ll find it for you.”

  She appreciated his concern, but she felt compelled to do this, almost as if Joy, Cecelia, Jewel and perhaps dozens of other victims were depending on her personally. She knew that was bizarre, but she was here. She had to do this.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Bill said.

  Jacinth met Nick’s concerned gaze for an instant and then looked away. He had every reason to think she couldn’t handle this. He’d seen her after the head had tumbled down on her and also that day in the cemetery.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s only a passageway.”

  So why was her heart threatening to pound its way right out of her chest?

  Chapter Fourteen

  BILL LED THEM into the first-floor library. He approached what appeared to be a built-in bookcase. Raising to his tiptoes, he reached behind a book on the top shelf and then stepped back. Jacinth watched, amazed, as one section of the bookcase swung open.

  “I thought you hadn’t found the entrance,” Jacinth said.

  “Not initially, but I was able to locate it once inside the passageway. It’s still sealed. This is a new entrance I had built to my specifications.” He put out a hand as if to beckon them into the shadowed burrow. “Shall we?”

  “You lead the way,” Jacinth insisted.

  He did and she followed with Nick close behind since the passageway was only wide enough for one at a time. Even then, it was tight.

  Bill aimed a beam of light down the dark passage, illuminating rows of gossamer webs hanging from the low ceiling. A huge spider dangled from one. Gooseflesh dotted Jacinth’s arms.

  “Where does the passageway lead?” Nick asked.

  “It appears that it originally tunneled to the carriage house that was torn down years ago. That was all sealed off, as well. Now it only goes for fifty-two feet, weaving behind the guest bedrooms and a bath before narrowing to a dead end. That was all I decided to restore.”

  Bill and the light disappeared around a curve. Nick put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she hurried to catch up. One glance into the new section and her stomach pitched into a violent roll.

  Human bones littered the floor. A few feet in front of her, a hideous mummified body lay scrunched against the wall.

  Jacinth took quick breaths, desperately trying not to scream or faint. Still, an icy shudder ripped through her and she almost tripped on a skull. It bounced in front of her, coming to rest against a huge rat.

  Nick clasped both her shoulders and pulled her back against his broad chest. “None of this is real, Jacinth. The rat, bones and body are all bogus.”

  “Absolutely,” Bill said. “Well, except for the skull. But definitely not the decaying cadaver. It’s all for effect.” He picked up a leg bone and tapped against it with his fingernails. “See, hard plastic, purchased online.”

  Her pulse slowed to somewhere near normal.

  “I apologize, Jacinth. I should have explained, but it never occurred to me you’d be fooled by the imitations. Believe me, were they real, I wouldn’t venture in here myself, and Eugenia would probably make me sell the house.”

  “Guess I stole the turning-green record from Dr. Jefferies,” she said, trying to make light of her horror. Not that she wasn’t so squeamish that even the fake was still freaking her out.

  Bill chuckled. “Reggie knew this was all spurious trappings, and he still couldn’t take it. I don’t think he’d survive a modern Halloween haunted house.”

  They turned one more corner, but this time the space was clear. The remainder of the tour was reasonably uneventful, but also another washout. The only knowledge she’d gained that might help was the information about the passageway initially leading to the carriage house.

  But it had presented the possibility that she could access the Villaré passageway through the section of wall that had caved in. As yet, Detective Greene had not made that option accessible to her, but eventually he would.

  For now, she’d have her work cut out for her just checking every inch of space inside and out of her dilapidated carriage house.

  NICK HAD STOPPED at a seafood market for fresh shrimp on the way home and then he’d made the most delicious shrimp fettuccini Jacinth had ever tasted. Her contribution had been a salad and garlic bread. Merely watching him move around her kitchen had been a turn-on.

  He talked as he worked, about a past Mardi Gras, the Saints Super Bowl win, his cabin on the bayou—everything except the trauma she was living through.

  He fed her tasting bites, kissed sauce from her lips and kept her wineglass full. Nothing seemed forced with him. His charm flowed effortlessly and unrelentingly. Yet, she suspected his efforts were designed to help her relax.

  When they finished the meal, they took their drinks to the front porch and settled on the creaking swing. She snuggled close and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Tell me about you, Nick.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What you were like as a kid.”

  “Pretty much like every other kid. I lived on my bike. Fished with my grandpa. Talked too much in class. Played every sport that was offered, but finally settled on football.”

  “Apparently you were very good at it.”

  “I did all right until I busted up my knee senior year. Even that worked out for the best. It helped me get my focus back on my studi
es. I went into the CIA right after graduation and I loved my time with them.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “No.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  She felt his muscles tense.

  “This is starting to feel like an interrogation.”

  “I’m just fascinated by you. You’re like no one I’ve ever met before. Smart, protective, sexy, honest…”

  She could have gone on and on, but he stopped her with her mouth on hers. The kiss was deliciously exciting and when his right hand cupped her breast, her breath caught in her throat.

  His thumb rode her nipple through her clothes. She arched toward him, wanting more, wanting so much more.

  When the kiss ended, he pulled away.

  “Is there someone else, Nick. If there is, just tell me. It will hurt, but I’ll understand.”

  “There’s no one else, Jacinth.”

  “So you just don’t want to be involved with me?”

  “I am involved with you.”

  “Within limits.”

  “I’m crazy about you, Jacinth. I’ve told you that.”

  “Then why do you keep pulling away when we start to get close?”

  He exhaled sharply as if frustration was doing him in. “I just need this to be over. I need to know you’re safe.”

  “Billy Raquet is in jail.”

  “He’s a suspect. We don’t know that he’s a killer or even the man who left you the threatening note. Until I’m sure, I have to keep all of my attention centered on protecting you.”

  She had no argument for that. “I’m really tired,” she said. “And tomorrow will be really busy again, so I think I’ll turn in.”

  He made no move to stop her as she trudged upstairs to spend another night alone in her lonesome bed. Nick had only been in her life a few days, but already she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  BY MIDAFTERNOON on Wednesday, frustration, fatigue and humidity had taken their toll on Jacinth’s body. Worse, the thoughts that were kicking about in her mind today were giving her a serious headache.

  She kicked disgustedly into a pile of dry leaves and then plopped down on an old iron bench behind the carriage house.

  “I’ve had it for today. If there’s any sign of a secret passageway around here, it will take a stick of dynamite to uncover it.”

  Nick wiped his sleeve across the sweat that beaded his forehead. “You need a shower and a nap.”

  “I have another idea. Why don’t we both shower and make a trip to the nursing home where my grandmother lived just before her death?”

  Nick propped a foot on the side rung of the bench. “Any special reason?”

  “I’ve had this sickening premonition all morning that Marie knew the killer well and was aware that he was killing women in her house.”

  “I got the impression that you were looking for the good in Marie.”

  “I was. She’s my father’s mother. She’s my grandmother. I desperately need to find the good in her, but I can’t ignore facts.”

  Two sons murdered, Jacinth thought.

  One daughter-in-law who shut Marie entirely out of her life.

  At least three young women murdered, mutilated and left to rot in the walls.

  “I’m just looking for the truth,” she said. “No matter how perverse it turns out to be.”

  THE NURSING HOME was nothing like Jacinth had anticipated. She’d expected dreary and institutional gray. Instead, the walls were a pale yellow. The carpet was stone-brown with dark yellow flecks that complemented the walls and off-white silk drapes.

  A huge bouquet of purple and gold mums graced the dark mahogany table where they stopped to sign in.

  A worker in a fitted pantsuit walked over to greet them. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Sunnydale. Are you to hear to see one of our guests?”

  “No. This may sound like a strange request, but my grandmother was living here before she died last year. I never really knew her, but I was wondering if I could talk to someone who worked here during her stay.”

  “What was your grandmother’s name?”

  “Marie Villaré.”

  The woman’s smiled brightened considerably. “You must be Caitlyn’s sister. She came here with the same request a few months back.”

  “Yes, and she fell in love with a couple of your current guests.”

  “They fell in love with her, too.”

  “I’m Jacinth and this is Nick Bruno, a good friend of mine.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both. And I’m Marilyn Shelby, the administrator at Sunnydale. Actually, I knew Marie as well as anyone around here. Why don’t you two join me in my office and I’ll be happy to try and answer your questions.”

  A very senior citizen with a slow gait and a twinkle in her eyes latched on to Jacinth’s arm as they walked down the hall.

  “Hello,” Jacinth said. “How are you?”

  The woman squeezed Jacinth’s arm. “Let’s get ice cream.”

  “You’ve had your ice cream,” Marilyn said.

  The woman chuckled as if she’d played a trick on them.

  “That’s Beth,” Marilyn said. “She asks everyone for ice cream when they come in.”

  “At least she knows what she likes,” Nick said.

  Once in the office they settled around a small desk. “What is it you’d like to know about Marie?” Marilyn asked.

  “Did she have many visitors?”

  “Not many, but she wasn’t lonesome. She made friends with the staff and the other guests. In fact, she engaged with them more than she did with her few visitors. I remember this one fairly regular caller that she’d totally ignore.”

  “Who was that?”

  “The name Percy rings a bell, but I could be wrong. I think he was a friend of the family, but he might have been a relative.”

  Jacinth hadn’t heard mention of a Percy in connection with Marie. “How often did he visit?”

  “It wasn’t daily or even weekly. I’d say more like every three weeks or so. If I remember correctly, he never stayed more than a few minutes.”

  “How long do you keep copies of your sign-in sheets?” Nick asked.

  “They’re on file at our corporate office indefinitely, but we only keep them here for three months.”

  “We’d like a copy of all of Marie’s visitors during the time she lived here.”

  “I can get that for you, but it may take a few days.”

  “We need them by tomorrow.” He took out a business card and handed it to her. “Please fax them to this number.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Do you remember any specifics about this particular visitor?”

  Marilyn looked at Nick. “He was tall, about your height. Burlier. Big arms. Blond hair. I’d guess him to be in his late forties, but he might have been older.”

  That didn’t sound like the description Detective Green had given of Billy Raquet.

  “I don’t think Marie appreciated his visits,” Marilyn added.

  “Why do you say that?” Nick asked.

  Marilyn smiled. “She’d lie completely still, almost as if she were faking a coma. It was so exaggerated that the first time he came, one of the aides actually thought she’d had a stroke.”

  “But she hadn’t?”

  “No, but her performance is probably why I remember Percy as well as I do. The aides joked that he was so boring that Marie played dead rather than talking to him. They all peeked in her door whenever he stopped by.”

  “How was she after he left?”

  “Just like normal. Watching TV, reading, visiting with her friends in the rec room. But she never talked about him. Whenever we’d ask her how Percy was, she’d get that blank look like she had no idea who we were talking about. Marie was a sly one.”

  “What’s the chance you caught this man on camera?” Nick asked.

  “Everyone who visits is caught on camera. But after six months, those records have to be r
equested by someone in law enforcement.”

  “That can be arranged,” Jacinth said.

  “If tracking this man down is important, you should look in Marie’s black notebook. She wrote in it constantly. I’d think he’d merit at least a line or two.”

  This was definitely the first Jacinth had heard of a notebook. “Was she keeping a journal?”

  “We had no clue what she was writing. She wouldn’t let anyone read it. We teased her about having a movie made from her memoires.”

  “What happened to the notebook?”

  “I’m sure it was returned to the family with her clothes and personal belongings. That’s normally done right away.”

  “I was given the boxes from Sunnydale,” Jacinth said, “but there was no notebook. Had there been, I’m sure I would remember.”

  “That’s odd.” Marilyn picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser end against her desk. “Let me check one place it might have disappeared to. I’ll be right back.”

  Marilyn retuned less than five minutes later, a small thick black notebook in hand. She handed it to Jacinth.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “One of the ladies Marie spent a lot of time with had it in the drawer by her bed. When I asked her if she’d seen it, she said she was saving it for Marie. I’m really sorry about this.”

  “I’m just glad to have it now.”

  Jacinth opened the notebook and thumbed through the lined pages. The handwriting was mildly shaky but definitely legible. The margins were even. And it was even divided into sections.

  Jacinth turned to the first page.

  The Early Years.

  I was six years old when I got my first hint that I was not a true Villaré. I was devastated.

  This was exactly what Jacinth needed.

  She prayed she wouldn’t regret reading it.

  Nathanial and I were blessed with a love for each other that few people ever know. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

  Instead we chose the Villaré mansion on Esplanade Avenue where generations of Villarés had lived before us.

  Their spirit gave me strength.

  Their bravery gave me courage.