The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 3)

by Madison Kent

He said, "Excuse me, I do not wish to intrude, but I wish your counsel on something."

  "Please, do come in," she said, and Hugh nodded his head in agreement.

  Wesley was rather ordinary looking, short in stature, maybe five foot five or so, with a small protruding belly and coarse light brown hair receding slightly on either side of his forehead. However, he had a remarkable smile and manner about him that was most pleasing. He embodied the gentle manners and grace of the Old South, and his deep baritone voice had the effect of sweet molasses dripping over ice cream.

  "I wanted your advice on something. Hannah does not seem to be able to stop being anxious about all that has happened. She walks in the night, peering out the windows and waiting for the next object thrown. She is deathly afraid someone might set fire to the house. She has none of the grit that old Belle has. Belle seems more than ever to be ready for a fight, but Hannah, that is not her nature. I think I should send her away to her aunt's home in Virginia, or perhaps even to my mother's home in Georgia. She says she wants to stay with me, but I fear it is too much for her."

  "I'm afraid, I would have to agree with Hannah. As anxious as it might make me feel to stay, I don't believe I could be away from my husband in a crisis. I will spend more time with her perhaps I can find the words to comfort her," Madeline said.

  "On the other hand, I concur with Wesley. To see your loved one so distressed, with even the slightest possibility that she could come to harm, would make me choose to have her far from the distress," said Hugh.

  "Hmm...that rather leaves me where I was when I came in. Perhaps as you suggest, Madeline. I will see if you might smooth her feathers.

  He continued, "I had always known there were risks in doing what I do but never did I expect such a thing as this. Belle has been so good to me, as good as any mother to her natural born son. I feel responsible for bringing this storm to her door."

  "You are still as steadfast in your belief that Guy Finaldi was innocent?" asked Hugh.

  Wesley emphatically stated, "Yes, I'm sure of it. The murderer of that dear little boy is still out there. I feel it is possible that one of the Mafia's own has their hand in this. Crime in this city has blossomed like daffodils in spring; it came as waves hitting the shore. This undesirable element was upon us before we realized it had taken hold. Guy is Italian, that is true, but he and his family are no more than shopkeepers with no connection to the Mafia. I think he may have a cousin or perhaps an uncle who has may some association. In the public's quest to declare him guilty, it may have been all the facts they needed.

  "However, the people are afraid and need to blame someone. Whoever is the guilty one, I'm sure, has perpetrated the fear of Guy, and the assuredness of his guilt even though proven innocent."

  Wesley left to return to his wife, and Madeline informed Hugh she would return later to speak with him.

  The sun was high. Madeline knew it was time for her to assist with dinner. They had all dutifully taken over whatever they could to see the household continue to function, even though it was like a clock that had been half wound.

  "It will not be easily solved. When crowds of people begin to gather and form a similar opinion, no matter how false, they can be dangerous," said Hugh.

  "We support you in every way, Wesley. But now, it is almost the dinner hour, and I know your wife needs a good meal to sustain her. She has barely eaten of late.

  I will speak to Belle to see if there is anything she needs before I help Mrs. Brown in the kitchen. Thank heaven she has remained. Our cook, Mrs. O'Malley, taught me to maneuver in the kitchen so that I am of some use," said Madeline.

  "I will go with you if you don't mind. I would like to get Belle's thoughts about Hannah," said Wesley.

  As they walked through the luxurious surroundings, she felt as if she needed to tip-toe, the place was that grand. They walked down the hall to the carved almond colored staircase, ornately populated with delicately carved flowers. It was so wide that it could easily fit five people walking down at the same time. It curved and landed in the main hall.

  Opulence as Madeline had never seen was everywhere. Chandeliers graced each room in abundance, as did fireplaces. Drapery of a variety of green, gold, and red velvet adorned the arched windows that lined the rooms. There were twenty-six rooms, but most had been closed. The rooms that remained open were the bedrooms, the kitchen and dining area, the library, the servants quarters. Of course, the main parlor and drawing-room, where they were going now, were accessible to them.

  Belle sat by the fireplace in the drawing room sipping her tea garnished with mint leaves.

  "Sometimes I am so weary of life, the good times pass very quickly, but the hard times seem so steadfast. I would be drinking something stronger if I didn't know how desperately my Hannah needs me to be steady," said Belle, the buxom, sweetly plump white-haired lady. She was pleasingly dressed in a becoming lavender gown adorned with several strings of opalescent pearls.

  Although she was nearly sixty, her face was not nearly as lined as Father's, and she had a softness in her eyes that made her seem younger.

  Belle, at barely five feet tall, and Madeline at five foot three inches with wavy, auburn hair, and a slight hundred pounds in weight, made them quite the contrast as they sat together. Madeline's strong red highlights shining from the streaming sunlight in the room, and Belle's snow-white locks were an interesting combination to view.

  "You are a blessing, child. Your father, Mr. Scott, and you have brought me renewed hope that we may all get through this somehow. I will not rest well until someone catches the real murderer of that poor child. It will put an end to all this. Somehow we must find out who did it. If we don't, all in this house will be kept in danger, and I cannot have that. I have thought of leaving Belle Magnolia for our home in Virginia, but then all probably would be lost. They would probably burn the place to the ground," said Belle.

  "With great reluctance, I believe I have to agree. We must stand and defend ourselves. After all, we do have the law on our side," Wesley said.

  "Wesley tells me Hannah remains in an anxious state. Do you think it wise that she travel to be away from here?" asked Madeline.

  "Of course, I do. I have suggested it to her, but she feels it a shame that she should leave me to face this alone. I told her I am old, and nothing can kill me now, I already have the shadow of death about me. But she, she is still so very young. I was much too old to be having a baby, but God blessed me, Hannah. I had always thought I would never conceive. To think for a moment that my darling girl should be so distressed and fearful weighs heavy upon me," Belle confided.

  "I blame myself. I knew it was controversial, but I thought the poor lad had no chance at all if I had not defended him. I did not think of what it might cause our family at the time. I only thought of his mother and father who begged me to save him," said Wesley.

  "I believe Father wishes to go to the French Quarter to pick up some medicinal ointment for Hugh. Perhaps we should encourage Hannah to come with us. We can walk about and perhaps have some refreshments," said Madeline.

  "Yes. If you don't mind, I will join you," said Wesley. "I don't believe that Hannah will come, but I will ask her."

  "Miss Mayfair, do you mind if we all go? Madeline asked. "You would be left only with the staff and Hugh," said Madeline.

  "Oh my, no. As I said, I have a strong heart and even stronger stomach for trouble. I've seen more than I care to admit. It is my Hannah I worry for, not myself. Please, do get away from here for a bit and go to the market. Bring us back some lovely fresh fruit and perhaps some chocolate," said Belle.

  "Did I hear you speaking about me, Mama?" asked Hannah as she walked gingerly to the room, taking steps in a manner that one does if feeling faint.

  "Hannah, you do look drawn. I urge you to go into the market with Wesley and Madeline. The sun will do you good," said her mother.

  "I will surprise you, and say "yes." You are right. I have dwelled on it so that I cannot eat
or sleep. They are getting the best of me; I am afraid. I don't have your resilient constitution. You have always been strong for all of us, but now I must be better and not let you down," said Hannah.

  "Well said, my little juniper girl. Remember the chocolates,"

  Hannah bent to kiss her mother's cheek, and Madeline sighed to see the lovely sight of their mother and child bond.

  "I don't know if we can spare the servants to take you into the city," added Belle.

  "We no longer have the luxury to think about such things so I will take them in my carriage. Returning to life, without fear of attack, is all that matters to me now. I will take on any additional burdens," said Wesley.

  "That is well," Belle said.

  Chapter Two

  The French Market

  There was a tension that was obvious during the ride. Everyone seemed to speak at once about the weather, commenting about the dampness, as if it were something new to the area. Madeline noticed the way Hannah grasped Wesley's hand, as though she were looking to have it hold her up. He also looked weary, as did Father.

  When they arrived in the quarter, Father said, "I will take my leave of you to complete my errand, but may we meet back at Pierre's Cafe to have a light supper?"

  "What would you say, an hour or so?" asked Wesley.

  "Yes, that would be sufficient," replied Father.

  When he left, Madeline said, "I will leave the two of you to walk and enjoy each other's company. I will gather the fruits and chocolate Mademoiselle Mayfair requested."

  She wanted to do more than that; she wanted to hear the gossip from the locals. She hoped to learn if the feelings of anger toward the Mayfair family had dissipated at all.

  She didn't have to wait long, not just to hear the local throngs speaking about them, but to hear the newspaper boy in the square calling out Guy Finaldi's name.

  "Guy Finaldi stabbed in street—family accused!", called out the boy, along with other similar statements.

  She hurried over to where he stood, purchasing the paper, and inquiring of the newsboy as to when the event happened. He replied that he believed it was late last evening.

  That area of the French Quarter had been nicknamed Little Palermo because of the onslaught of Sicilians that had immigrated here. Crime had escalated because of the turf war between the Italians and the Sicilians. In turn, it had caused the locals to fear them.

  The quarter brought people of many ethnicities there to shop and pass the day with friends. It included a fish, vegetable, and fruit market, as well as other shops to purchase candy, watches, and fabric. Madeline watched and listened to the different languages spoken. It was a true melting pot of cultures. Tents packed with consumers buying parcels of items populated the street. It was muddy, and the odor from the horse droppings was everywhere, but still it had a unique and beautiful atmosphere.

  It was definitely unlike Chicago, where people believed they were much more sophisticated than they probably were, put on airs and did not necessarily stop to talk to other consumers. In New Orleans, this was not the case; it was more like an informal get-together of the family.

  Madeline sat on a rotting, wooden bench to read the article. It stated that Guy and two of his friends were in the market area drinking beer, and doing what most young men do—cavorting about the town. The stabbing occurred around two in the morning, but even at that late hour, there were a considerable amount of people in the square. According to Guy, about a dozen or so people were near them as they walked down Bourbon Street when someone in a black hooded robe ran toward him, attempting to stab him. He warded off the first blow, which only nicked his arm. His friends pulled at the person, but he or she was quick. The second wound pierced his lower abdomen.

  The police had questioned the parents of Armand LaLande, the little boy who lost his life, to see if they might have been involved. Armand's parents were of mixed race: his father was of French descent, and his mother both of the black and white race. They had gone to seek out one of the witches, who practiced her craft in the swampy area outside of the square, to purchase amulets and spells. They were heard speaking out publicly, saying they would seek vengeance on Guy somehow, even if it meant having him cursed for all his days.

  However, in another editorial column, a journalist stated he believed the Sicilian Mafia was behind the attack on Guy. His reasoning was that they were attempting to avert attention to them, or any claims laid against them. The author believed they were deflecting blame placed on the Mafia. Still another rag paper thought it was the fault of some individual placed under a spell by the witches and had committed the deed while in an induced trance.

  Tucking the paper into her satchel, Madeline proceeded to purchase her fruits and vegetables, stopping at a quaint bookstore to buy a book for Hugh. She could see, besides being sick, that he was exceedingly bored by lying in bed; his only respite was when someone came to visit him in his room.

  By the time she returned to their rendezvous point, she saw Father and Wesley conversing while reading the paper. Hannah had her gloved hand over her mouth, and Madeline assumed they had been reading the same story as she had about Guy Finaldi.

  "Did you see this, Madeline?" asked Father as he pointed to the headlines of the paper that stated Finaldi Gets Mob Justice.

  "I did...tragic. They are looking to blame someone. Until the apprehension of the real offender, I don't believe the danger will end. We must do something," she said.

  "Well, I for one am going to see Mr. Finaldi," said Wesley. "Would anyone like to join me?"

  "Are you sure, my darling? That might not be the wisest thing to do. People will see you there and again we will be proven guilty of association with this criminal," said Hannah.

  "Hannah, what do you mean—criminal?" he asked. "Do not tell me my wife believes Guy Finaldi is guilty?"

  Wesley seemed clearly upended by this revelation from his wife. He was scratching his forehead and pulling on his earlobe, as if nervous.

  "I...I'm sorry, Wesley. I never wanted to tell you. You know how much I believe in you, but that does not mean believing in Guy Finaldi's innocence. Besides, it has cost us so much. Even if he is innocent, I blame him still," explained Hannah.

  Father and Madeline remained silent. Her father looked at her, and she instinctively knew he probably felt as she did that this was not the time to comment. Perhaps later she would speak with Hannah.

  "I had hoped we would all go to see Mr. Finaldi in the hospital to wish him well, but now I don't know what to say. I have to tell you I am stunned by your words, Hannah," said Wesley.

  "Go, please. I should not have spoken. I'm sorry, but I hope you don't mind if I don't go with you," she said.

  "I will take Hannah home," said Father.

  "And I will go with Wesley to the hospital," said Madeline.

  Wesley watched them leave and turned to sit on a barrel that had been set off to the side of the road. Then he said, "Madeline, I apologize for airing our differences in front of you. I feel terrible that I have brought this burden to my wife and her family. The only reassurance and peace I felt she thought it a worthy endeavor."

  "She is a fragile flower concerned with her mother's welfare and yours. She dearly loves you; anyone can see that. I am sure you can bring her around if you explain again why you are certain Guy Finaldi is innocent. I am rethinking whether perhaps you should both leave," said Madeline.

  "No, we cannot be forced from our home. If such a thing occurred, how much harder it would be for anyone to get justice from the system if they were truly innocent, but proven guilty by the court of public opinion?" he defended.

  "Well, thank you for going with me. I believe the paper said Charity Hospital is where they have taken him."

  "You said he lives with his mother and father?" Madeline asked.

  "Yes, he is their only son. His acquittal was a relief. I know they felt the danger had passed, and they could resume their lives again."

  "I can feel the tension
in the marketplace, and also hear the talk about voodoo curses and the power that the local witches are said to possess. I can imagine that this would also be a cause to stir superstition and angst."

  "Yes, hence the items found on the property like the cross and stones," Wesley explained.

  "I also found a small bag that had bones in it. I don't know what type of bones they are. I am assuming animal of some sort, but it was unnerving just the same," Madeline revealed.

  "I believe you may have found a gris-gris bag. They are used to conjure love, hate, vengeance...all manner of things. Some even say Marie Laveau herself was seen walking on the grounds and putting a curse on our home," he said.

  I considered myself somewhat worldly, yet I never predicted the outcome of my defending Guy Finaldi," he continued.

  Madeline said, "Marie Laveau? I am not familiar with that name."

  "She is, well, here we are at the hospital. I will tell you the story at dinner. If Hugh can join us, I'm sure he will find it amusing."

  When they arrived at Guy Finaldi's room, a guard who escorted them to a waiting area and informed Mr. Finaldi of their wish to speak to him. Within a few minutes, the guard returned and ushered them into the room.

  Guy Finaldi looked to her like a tender-aged boy, not even a man yet. He had dark, curly hair with a glowing olive complexion and sorrowful eyes. He was lean to the point of looking underfed, and his eyes puffed out, making Madeline assume he had been crying.

  He said, "I'm glad you've come, Mr. Randolph. It is a welcome sight to see a friendly face, and not brace myself for verbal or physical taunts. I believe even the police officer finds it objectionable to be on watch for me."

  "I realize you have been through an ordeal. Our family also had our servants abandon us. My friends, for now, are still beside me, but they keep their distance," said Wesley. "This is a friend of mine, Mrs. Madeline Donovan from Chicago. She and her physician father are here to help us out in the hour of our need. She had wanted to meet you. I do hope you don't mind," said Wesley.