Jesse Delacroix: Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow (The Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  Granny harrumphed and muttered to herself. “Sophisticated, yeah. Like old Ralphie and Elmer, who think pancakes with a sprinkle of powdered sugar is fine dining.”

  It was true – our blue-collar locals and self-proclaimed “swampbillies” weren’t the most discriminating diners, but we loved them just the same – most of the time. But our upscale guests and food critics traveled long distances to taste Carlo’s fare, especially on big days like this one.

  “Everything under control, Ginny?” I chimed as I walked by her station, right under the pass-through window. Our breakfast girl and my good friend was a little rough around the edges when it came to the social graces, but she was but she was a great cook and unflappable machine when it came to putting out the best food with remarkably fast ticket times.

  She pulled one of her earbuds out of her ear and continued to plate orders as she responded. “It’s just a little odd with Carlo being as cuddly as a speckled puppy today. It’s kinda got me off balance, but I’m managing, Jessie.”

  “Toss me a side of guac for table 23, Gin,” Lexi hollered in, and Ginny swiftly filled a small plastic ramekin for her.

  “Carlo, you’re in early. I didn’t expect you for another hour or two.”

  “I couldn’t sleep with all of the anticipation and excitement for today, Jessica. I woke up at 5:00, and I saw no reason to lay in bed and extract lint from my navel for another hour, so here I am.”

  I didn’t really need that visual image, but it was good to see him here and refreshed. Mom was reading a magazine by the door to the lobby in the back of the kitchen.

  “Slide back a few feet, Mom. Customers might be able to see your magazine floating and the pages turning by themselves.”

  “Good morning, Jessie,” she said with a kind smile as she moved behind the shelf of baking pans. “It looks like it will be a perfect day for the festival, and the town is already quite busy.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  I filled Arthur’s dish with his favorite dry food. I put some meat scraps on top for him and freshened up his water dish. Then I opened the door to the lobby and slid the food out with my foot as I set his water down for him. He was out there, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his breakfast.

  “Be good today,” I cautioned him. “Lots of new and important people will be coming through all day, boy.”

  Gus, the kind of spooky old shape-shifter from the antique pawnshop on the other side of the lobby, was standing in the doorway to his shop, holding his hands behind his back. I waved, and he nodded back.

  “Jessie!”

  It was Ginny back at the other end of the kitchen calling to me, so I headed right over to her.

  “Need a hand? What’s up?”

  She actually looked at me, which was rare when she was working. “I’m a short order cook, among other things, Jessie. My two hands are as good as seven of yours.” She snorted and handed me a beautifully plated bowl of food. “Here you go. This will go good with your coffee. Go sit down – everything is handled.”

  I looked at the bowl, which smelled delicious, and took it from her. “Thank you, Ginny. This looks terrific.”

  “It’s just oatmeal with a pile of brown sugar in the middle and some apple slices around the edge, like I know you like. And some fresh berries and a few sticks of French toast I made from one of Molly’s cinnamon rolls that I grabbed at the bakery on my way over this morning.”

  Ginny lived upstairs of Wally and Molly’s bakeshop and sometimes helped them out with her pastry skills when she was done with the breakfast shift here. It was really thoughtful of her, and I must have looked a little stunned.

  “You’re not gonna go and get all goofy over a bowl of oatmeal, now, are you, Jess?”

  I just smiled. “Thank you, Ginny.” She had only been with us since the fall, but she had already become a dear friend.

  I filled a big mug with coffee at the beverage station behind the counter and went to sit on the porch swing in front of the pawnshop on the other side of the porch, leaving the restaurant tables for the guests. The wide wrap-around porch also was filled with tables for the Tea Room all round that side of the mansion, with French doors on all three sides, plus a main entrance at the front of the lobby.

  The Inn faced East into the morning sun, and the fresh air made it a great morning as I looked up the boulevard at the hundreds of early visitors filling the street. The oatmeal was delicious, and I had a feeling that it was going to be a really great day.

  It felt only slightly ominous when a dozen or more crows landed on the highest gable of Madame Irene’s house and fortune-telling shop halfway down Antique Row.

  I doubt if you would call a group of crows a “flock,” I thought. “Okay, Google,” I said to my phone, “what do you call a group of crows?”

  The response was fast, as always:

  “A murder. Many birds live alone, but crows live in a group called a murder.”

  I was…well, surprised. I remembered hearing that a group of ravens was called an “unkindness of ravens,” but I didn’t expect crows to be branded with the unkindest label of all. Oh, well. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a name, after all.

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  Chapter Three

  That short breather in the porch swing would be the only break I got all day.

  “Brunch is served!” Carlo announced proudly to the packed house of waiting guests at 10:00 a.m. sharp. He directed them toward the buffet tables in the back of the dining room with a flourish of his arm, and there was gentle applause from the gentry as the hungriest guests rose to their feet. “Please – the buffet is available to everyone, and you can order your entrée from the wait staff.” He doffed his white beret to the crowd and exited into the kitchen. He was beaming, and I was so happy for him. This buffet represented days of effort.

  The buffet tables were covered with white tablecloths and decorated with pink hearts, wildflowers, and plenty of springtime greenery. The main table had a huge ice sculpture of Cupid in the center with small cupid centerpieces on each dining table as well. Dark and white chocolate fountains welcomed the diners as they arrived at the buffet line, and an enormous array of tea sandwiches, canapés, oysters, and sushi looked very enticing. There was also a hot bar with breakfast items, crab cakes, and endless other delicacies.

  Ashley, our young waitress, made the rounds with a bottle of champagne in one hand and orange juice in the other. Lexi and her daughter, Katy Lyn, took the orders, with a little help from Anika from Gus’s pawnshop. Maddy and I did our best to run the orders out as Ginny and Carlo prepared them. The guests were loving the food, and everything was going remarkably smoothly.

  Trying to double as hostess, I made my way to the lobby where Madame Irene had set up a table near the entrance for people to sign up for the talent show and the endurance kissing contest, which would be held in the street right before the Rites of Spring performance by the street players. There would also be a candy hunt, a sheep-riding rodeo, and a greased piglet chase for the kids in back of the Inn during the afternoon too.

  “Jessie Delacroix!” Irene floated over to me in a posh and superior manner, skillfully managing the restricted ankle room in her full-length black mermaid gown. She wore a colorful Gypsy headdress and smelled of sandalwood incense. “I haven’t seen you since the St. George reading in your sun room here. How have you been, dear girl?”

  There was something a little phonier than usual about her plastic smile today. And I did see her one time shortly after that tragic reading – at the ranch house of the man I’ve since been dating for nearly three months now, Travis Yates. She had her eye (and maybe her hands) on him since the whole Yates family moved to town last summer when I was still working in Savannah. Travis’ horse-riding ranch was just a half-mile north of the Inn along the river, just before the ferryboat landing. A huge airboat runs across the swamp and river several times every da
y to connect us with the bigger town of Stony Point, at the western tip of the horseshoe river bend.

  Irene had inherited her fortune-telling business, house, and extra-sensory talents from her mother, the Great Esmeralda, who was mysteriously bludgeoned to death just a few days before my mother’s inexplicable demise. I knew her all my life from school, but she was a year or two older so we were never close, not even in our grief.

  “Hi, Irene, it’s great to see you. I’m doing fine – really happy to be back home in Whispering Pines, and business is better than ever. You should stop by more often!” Or not.

  “Oh, I’d love to dear, but I’m so busy every day with readings, and I can’t hire people to relieve me because, well…I’m the one with the gift, you know.” She smiled haughtily in my face.

  After seeing her in action, I couldn’t deny that, like her mother, she truly did have a good ability for connecting with spirits, though I wasn’t so sure if she could see the future.

  “Yes, I understand completely. In my business, of course, it doesn’t require a special ability to set a table or make a bed. And, hey, since you’re donating your time to the community, please be my guest for brunch. I’ll have Maddy give you a break an hour before we’re done serving.”

  “Well, that’s very generous of you, Jessie. Thank you.”

  She did seem truly appreciative.

  “And, Jessie…would you mind if I put up a small placard on the table here to advertise my psychic and spiritual powers while I’m here?”

  I knew what she really wanted. “That would be fine, Irene – and why don’t you set up a table in the solarium or out in the courtyard tonight to do readings during the ball? I’ll have Lionel bring out an easel for your full-sized poster board.”

  I texted our handyman, bellman, and man-Friday to bring one up.

  “It’s like you could read my mind, Jessie. Thank you.”

  Actually, I did read her mind.

  Carlo walked out the back door of the kitchen into the lobby to stretch his arms not far behind us.

  “Well, here’s someone like you, Irene. The talents of my fabulous chef are one of a kind and irreplaceable. I can’t hire a stand-in for him.”

  The big but short man saw Irene and walked over. “Irene!” he said with his arms outstretched. “Or, I should say, ‘Madame Irene’!” He bowed slightly and kissed her hand. “It is so good to see you. It seems like only yesterday that I was pulling quarters out of your ears.”

  They both laughed and embraced briefly.

  “Carlo, darling – or should I say ‘Master Chef,’ since you are famous around the world now – I’ll be sampling your fine cuisine a little later.”

  The front door opened with a little jingle, and the whole Yates family walked in. The four of them were a close-knit group. Carson and his wife, Beth, were the first through the door, followed by the patriarch, Percival Yates, who lived in the ranch house with Travis. Carson and Beth owned some local businesses now and lived on the other side of town. My tall, blond cowboy held the door for them all and entered last.

  “Speak of the Devil!” Irene walked around her table and gave Travis a big hug and then brushed her hand on his unshaven cheek. “We were just talking about you! Or maybe I was just thinking about you. In any case, here you are. What brings the Yates clan in today?”

  Travis took a step towards me and took off his Stetson hat. “Well, I just wanted to see my girl – and what a forty-dollar breakfast looks like.”

  He winked at me, and I turned a little bit red. I didn’t realize that we had gone that upscale this year, but the people were flooding in.

  Carlo laughed and shook his hand. “A bargain at twice the price, Travis, my boy! Wait until you see our buffet with Oysters Rockefeller, sushi, Eggs Benedict – and of course, then you can choose an entreé from the menu – fresh Maine lobster tail, halibut, sea scallops, prime rib, or tenderloin with Miss Aggie’s Béarnaise sauce.”

  “Well, as long as you got some scrambled eggs and bacon, I’ll be a happy camper.”

  Carlo laughed heartily and then prepared to make his exit. “Well, I have to get back in the kitchen. I try to take two minutes every hour out in the real world to meet the people and remember why I do this. It takes all of my stress away. Please – take a seat and enjoy! I’ll see you in the dining room in an hour when I take my rounds out there. Ciao!”

  “Carson, you and Beth have to join the kissing contest tonight.” Irene took his hand and looked at him with her hypnotic eyes. “It’s only ten dollars per couple, and 100% of the money goes to the Water Tower Fund. New paint would really help out the town’s image and all of our businesses.”

  Beth looked really stressed at the idea. “Oh, I don’t think so. How can you judge a kissing contest anyway? We’ll just donate. Honey…give the lady ten dollars.”

  Carson reached for his wallet as Irene chuckled. “Oh, dear…it’s not to see who’s the best kisser! It’s to see which couple can kiss the longest without stopping. And don’t worry – you have to be 18 to enter, so those passionate piles of high school hormones won’t be competing against the rest of us.”

  Carson handed her ten dollars. “Put this towards your fund, ma’am, but we prefer to do our kissing in private. Thank you anyway.”

  “Well, let’s get you folks some food,” I said. “Would you like to sit inside or out? The sun is creeping into the corner of the courtyard now, if you want to be the first ones back there…”

  “Close to the food!” Percival said with a big grin.

  “Follow me…”

  “Oh, Travis…” It was Irene. What did she want now? “I’ll pay the ten dollars if you want to join the kissing contest with me.”

  Seriously? She had to know I was dating him.

  Percival walked up to her. “Here’s ten bucks for Travis and Jessie. And I’ll bet you another twenty that they’ll win the whole thing.” He stared Irene down until she took the ten-dollar bill.

  It was nice to have the support of Travis’ father. “That’s sweet, Mr. Yates…” I took his arm, and smiled at him for his unexpected gesture. “…but the prize is a weekend in the Spectral Suite here at the Inn, so I’m not eligible.”

  “Then you’ll have to have your own private contest at the ranch house.” He looked at his sons. “Come on, boys. Let’s eat.”

  Maddy was at the door to seat them. “The four-top by the window, Madz!” She nodded and brought them in. “I’ll be around soon to check on you folks after you get your food. Enjoy!”

  I turned back towards Irene, and she quickly put her hand down, as if I had almost caught her doing something. It seemed odd.

  “Irene, sorry, but Travis and I have been seeing each other for a few months now. I guess you didn’t know.”

  “Oh, I knew you had been out a few times.” She reached up and put her fingers against my temple. “But, just as I thought, you two haven’t even…shall we say, gotten frisky yet. He’s still fair game until you mark your territory, darling.”

  The nerve. I turned my back so I wouldn’t punch her. Irene is not the same person she used to be.

  “You want a fight Missy? I’ll take that man and you won’t do anything about it.”

  “You’ll what?” I swung around and watched Irene’s smug look turn into slack-jawed surprise and then to an impressed smile. That was when I realized that Irene had not spoken those words out loud. I had heard her thoughts, and she knew it.

  “Well, I see your pathetic little powers are starting to pop out, just as your

  little boobies finally started to pop out late in high school. But those never got much beyond the training bra stage, now did they, Jessie? And your powers won’t go vey far either. Your grandmother had minor gifts, but your poor mother pretty much got muggled…now, didn’t she?”

  I had never felt the bile of hatred seething in my bloodstream before, as it was doing now. There was something very dark about this Gypsy fortune-teller, and I didn’t like it. It took every
bit of restraint I could muster to keep my mouth shut.

  “Can you beat a Full-House?” She arrogantly pulled her bell sleeve up to reveal two small black stars and three red ringed-planets lined up on her inner arm just above the elbow. They looked like tattoos, but I knew that they were birthmarks.

  I knew that, because I had recently discovered some birthmarks of my own on the back of my neck. They were just small blurs when I was a child, but they had morphed into a crescent of five perfect five-point blue stars as I matured. The first and lowest star could be covered by a pencil eraser, like both of Irene’s, and each successive one grew in magnitude from the size of a dime to a penny to a nickel, and then to a quarter, the last one mostly hidden under my hairline.

  I knew that five-of-a-kind would surely beat her sinister looking lineup of not-so-heavenly bodies, but I wasn’t ready to show my hand. I touched the back of my neck briefly as Lionel set up the easel for her poster that would advertise her readings at the ball this evening. I glared at the easel with fire in my eyes, and the back leg of the tripod flipped off, spinning several times and then hitting the floor five feet away. Lionel seemed to think it was odd but no big deal. I turned and walked into the Nirvana dining room.

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  Chapter Four

  “Your parlor tricks can’t compete with me, Jessie, dear.”

  I looked over my shoulder with half a mind to tell her off and was a little stunned at what I saw. Irene was standing with her eyes closed. Her lips were moving, and she had a black wand that she must have pulled from her sleeve. The door opened of its own accord, as did her right eye, and she continued her silent incantation, looking down the wand to site-in her target – possibly her own house and shop several blocks away.

  I felt a rush of air as I entered the dining room, which was soon followed by the mischievous cackling of a small red cherubic creature floating in swiftly on a current of air. Like a devilish pre-schooler, the winged satanic angel zoomed through the dining room, causing some heads to turn from the wisp of air, though no one could see or hear him, except for me and Irene.