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

by Constance Barker

  “Of course, of course!” Antoine was giddy with excitement. “Anjolie, please snap some photos of this perfect brûlée.”

  “Not until I garnish it!” Carlo cautioned, putting a mint leaf and a candied cherry speared with a flat wedge of honey-chocolate on top of one.

  The statuesque woman took a shot of the men and the desserts from the other side of the prep table and then sashayed around, next to Antoine with her iPad in her right arm. Her every movement was elegant, and her every pose could be a magazine cover. She slid the garnished cup out of the direct light and took several shots with her tablet. Carlo garnished another and handed one to Antoine and the other to his secretary.

  “Eat!” he said. “A beautiful dessert is like a beautiful woman – it must touch your lips to be fully appreciated.”

  Ginny was still at her station putting out orders for the Tea Room, so I tip-toed around the celebrities, trying to be invisible. I didn’t want to bother Carlo with the Sheriff’s order, so I asked Ginny.

  “Sure thing, Jessie. I’ll fix up some real man food for them, and some lighter stuff for the ladies too.”

  “And maybe a small tureen of the bean and ham soup and one of the tomato bisque. That should satisfy everybody.”

  Ginny nodded and whispered to me, “That debonair guy really seems to go for the models and the pageant girls, it looks like. This one here must’ve come right off a runway in Paris – and her waist is so tiny, I’ll betcha she had a rib removed.”

  Those were pretty good observations for our country gal. “You might be right, Gin.”

  Anjolie strode to the end of the table and took a shot of Ginny and me. Then she looked at her watch and turned to her boss.

  “Antoine, perhaps we should be going soon. It’s an eight-hour drive. Rambo and I have already checked out of our room, and I can ask the desk to have your things brought to the lobby from the suite too.”

  “Nonsense, Anjolie. You know I like to write my first draft on site, in case I find I need another bit of information, and then polish it on the way home. Tell the Colonel to enjoy the afternoon in the shops, and you can join him shortly when I’m done here. Miss Deleacroix, what is your checkout time?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Antoine. And, please – call me Jessie. It’s noon for the regular rooms, but you can have till 5:00 in the suite. Our new guests won’t be arriving until this evening.”

  “Splendid. I just need a quote from you for my review, Miss – Jessie, and then I’ll go back to the suite and write for an hour or two.”

  I gave him a few nice words about how Carlo was the heart and soul of L’Auberge Hantée and threw in a plug for Ginny’s cheesy grits for his more homespun readers.

  “Jess…” Lexi walked through the swinging doors and headed straight for the back door of the kitchen, grabbing a plate of sandwiches and a crème brûlée on her way by Carlo’s stainless steel table. “…come out to the courtyard for a minute. Mom wants to say hello.”

  The timing was right, so I followed her past the crime crew in the solarium and out to the courtyard to the first table right outside the open French doors.

  “Arlene!” I grew up calling her “Mrs. Bannerman,” and I guess “Mrs. Carson” just didn’t feel comfortable now…so I went with her first name.

  “Jessie Delacroix! Come here and let me hug you! My goodness…you’re a grownup woman now.” She played with my hair a little bit and gave me another hug. Then we all sat down. “I still think of you as the little girl that Lexi used to babysit when she was in high school. I’ve hardly seen you since – well…since your mother left us.”

  “I had Carlo and Lionel and Maddy around to get me through high school and on to college…but I guess we did lose track of each other a little bit when I didn’t need a babysitter anymore. I still think about your hot fudge brownies with a scoop of ice cream on top.”

  She leaned forward and whispered. “The secret is to under-bake them by five or six minutes and serve them while they’re still warm. How have you been doing?”

  She was such a sweet lady. We reminisced, talked about her new grandbaby that would be coming along in the summer, and about her life in Columbus, Georgia.

  “You’re practically in Alabama now, Arlene.”

  “Actually,” she said, “we just put an offer in on a nice house in Phenix City, Alabama, right across the Chattahoochee from where we live now. It’s all like one big town, you know. You and Lexi should come to Columbus in June – that’s where the Miss Georgia Pageant is held, you know. I can get tickets.” Then she realized that Miss Georgia had just been cremated to ashes the night before. “It’s so terrible about that sweet girl.”

  Lexi patted her growing belly. “June might not work for me, Mom.”

  “Yes…of course, dear.”

  “Well, we’ve got our own pageant queen right here, Arlene,” I said gesturing toward her daughter. “Miss Bacchanalia, 1942.”

  “Ha ha. I’m not quite that old – but it was 16 years ago now.”

  “Oh, really? Has it been that long, sweetheart?” Arlene looked into the air as she retrieved a memory of that happy occasion. “Do you remember, Lexi? The year that you were festival queen they gave you a trip to watch the Miss Georgia contest in Columbus, and you took me with you.”

  “I remember. That’s when I decided I never wanted to be one of those lipstick ladies in gowns and high heels and a hairdo that required you to sleep sitting up in a chair. But it was a lot of fun.”

  “Oooh, yes.” Arlene was one of those feminine southern ladies who loved gowns and heels and emulating Scarlett O’Hara with her properness and drama. “I still remember every second of it, especially the talent contest. There was the girl who played the piano, a lovely ballet dancer…and do you remember the girl who sang Oops!…I Did It Again, Lexi?”

  “Oh, gosh, yes – in her classical opera voice.” Lexi put her hand on her face and shook her head as if she were still embarrassed for her. “When she was done, everyone just sat there for a while, like they were in shock, and then they clapped, but not for very long.”

  “My favorite was that lovely girl who shot an apple off her brother’s head. She danced, and then she would do a flip and someone would throw a beanbag or something in the air, and she hit every one – sometimes from her knee or her feet, or even on her back once. It was amazing, but her big finale was the best – She leaned back like a goddess and shot a flaming arrow right over the audience right through a brass ring on the front rail of the balcony. The ring was no bigger than a grapefruit, and fireworks came shooting out, and the whole audience gave her a standing ovation.”

  Lexi and I looked at each other.

  “I had forgotten about that, Mom. It was pretty spectacular, though.”

  “I really hoped she would win, but she didn’t. I think she was in the top group, though.”

  “Mom, wasn’t she the one that was disqualified at the last minute? The pageant official came out on stage, whispered something to the host, and then took the girl by the arm and walked her off the stage.”

  “My goodness, that’s right. I remember now…she looked so shocked, and then we could hear her sobbing in the wings. I’m sure she would have been the winner. She was so beautiful, and the audience really loved her.” Arlene looked like she was lost in thought for a moment. “Lansbury.”

  “What?”

  I was glad Lexi asked, because I was curious too.

  “That was her name. I remember because my favorite TV show used to be Murder, She Wrote from the time you were a little girl, Lexi. The star was Angela Lansbury, and that’s why I remembered. The girl’s name wasn’t Angela, but it still made me think of the actress for some reason. What was her name now? Oh, well…it’s not important.”

  Ginny was done with her long shift now, since Carlo’s interview was over, and she came over to our table, sipping on a glass of orange juice.

  “I got the stink-eye from Kyle and Sheriff Matt, like I was disturbing a major
powwow or something, so I figured I’d bother you guys instead.”

  “Well, you’re welcome here, Ginny. Sit down – and thanks for staying overtime for me.”

  We did the introductions with Lexi’s mother and filled Ginny in on Arlene’s talent show story. Then the conversation turned to the murder.

  “We should tell Kyle about the girl with the bow in the talent show,” Lexi said with a concerned look.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “it could be important, even though it was so long ago. Did you find out anything new from Kyle or the Sheriff?”

  “You know they don’t tell me anything – but yes, I did. They kind of ignore you when you bring them food and beverages, and they did a lot of talking while I pretended to wipe off their table and picked up some dirty glasses.”

  “So…?”

  She leaned in and whispered, which for some reason seemed to get the attention of the investigation team in the solarium just a few yards away. They all turned and looked at us. Cammy and Marguerite were still with the group inside, and Cammy drew their attention back to their own conversation. Lexi continued.

  “Audrey said that her forensics team found traces of an accelerant in the ashes…”

  “You mean like gasoline or something?” Ginny asked.

  “Well, it was some kind of chemical. They think it might be a kind of napalm or else chlorine tri-something-or-other – but they aren’t sure yet. There was a small piece of the liner from the dress that didn’t burn up. Karen Coon grabbed for Miss Georgia before she fell, and it ripped off pretty easily. So maybe they’ll have a good idea soon.”

  I was shocked. “So, somebody replaced the liner of her dress so it would burst into flames and burn her up completely?”

  “Well, maybe…or else they sprayed it with something – something that would burn hot and fast and stick to her body too. And the arrowhead might have had something on it to make it spread the way it did too.”

  “So, we’re looking for a chemist or someone with access to military weapons-grade chemicals or…”

  “Or maybe somebody who worked at a nuclear power plant,” Ginny suggested. “My uncle Skyler used to bring home some jugs of waste that would get his charcoal briquettes ready for cooking in about a minute or two. Momma wouldn’t let me eat his cooking, though. She swore he glowed in the dark at night. Died when he was 42. Looked like he was 82.”

  “And there was one more thing,” Lexi whispered, even more quietly. “They found a small green stone with red spots on it. There was a hole bored right through it that they think would fit right over the shaft of the arrow.”

  “Bloodstone,” Ginny told us quite matter-of-factly. We all looked at her for more enlightenment. “Well, the weight will keep the arrow from wobbling and keep it true on its path. And some say that the bloodstone is good luck for hunters and you’ll always hit your target. I think it comes from ancient myths and legends…the gods used to use bloodstone for arrowheads, and the red marks are supposed to come from the blood of the animals and enemies they killed. But others say that the bloodstone is cursed. In the wrong hands, it will deal out horrible and wrongful death and destruction. My grandpappy knew everything.”

  Arthur came out of the solarium and sat quietly at attention beside me. He waved his head to the side as if he wanted me to come inside.

  “Granny? Are you in there?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Jess. Your mother is waiting for you. We have to go.”

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  Chapter Twelve

  I followed Arthur inside.

  “Hey, Sheriff.” I greeted him with my most demure southern smile, even fluttering my eyelashes a couple of times in hopes that it would loosen his lips on information about the murder. “How’s the investigation coming?”

  “Nice try, Miss Delacroix. Everything we can tell the public will be in our press conference on the porch in a while.”

  “Of course, Sheriff. Oh, and Kyle…you might want to ask your mother-in-law about a contestant from the Miss Georgia pageant who was an expert with flaming arrows back when Lexi was Miss Bacchanalia.”

  That seemed to get his attention as well as the Sheriff’s.

  Arthur was already in the lobby and gave me a little bark.

  “Coming, Granny.”

  I followed him through the lobby and right out the front door. Lionel was setting up a podium and microphone at the top of the steps, and I could hear the revving of a motorcycle coming from the driveway in front. It was Eddy, the biker persona of the shape shifter, Gus. Anika and Moondance the cat were the other members of Gus, but Anika was the only one who could transform directly into Eddy for some reason.

  “I’m coming with you,” Granny insisted, “so you better hold on tight to your little pup, Jessie.”

  Arthur and I made our way around the reporters and down the steps. Eddy handed me a helmet. “Put the pooch in the saddlebag, ma’am, and hop on.”

  “You’ll be safer in here, Granny.” I slipped Arthur into the deep leather pouch on one side of the bike and got on.

  We zipped around the taped-off crime scene, down antique row, and turned right on Apalachee Avenue toward the park in the forest preserve. He went up the same gravel path to a grove of cottonwood trees where he had taken me once before. There was an open circle with a bench, which always seemed to be sunny with a gentle breeze. Hundreds of monarch butterflies made room for us, and squirrels came down to the lowest branches to see who was visiting them today.

  Arthur jumped out of the saddlebag and ran to the bench.

  “Go sit down, and she’ll be right with you,” the bald tattooed biker said with a hard smile.

  Eddy didn’t like to transform into a woman in front of people, so he drove his bike behind the biggest tree, and Anika walked out the other side. She waved at me with her big broad smile as I went to the bench and sat. Then she melted into a black cat, and Moondance pranced over and up on the bench next to me. Arthur was on my left, and Moondance on my right, purring with his head on my lap. He had helped me solve my first murder case and always let me know when there was a potential problem at the Inn. He had the perfect cover for a spy.

  “Good to see you again, Moondance.” I petted his furry head and smiled.

  “Jessie, it’s your mother.”

  I got very nervous and could feel my heart beating in my chest. After all these years, Mom was finally going to tell me about my father. Mom was 17 and pregnant with me when she and Granny came to Whispering Pines and bought the old Carlisle Mansion. They left the bayou in Louisiana that had been their home for generations to come here. That’s all I really knew. I pulled Arthur closer for some love and comfort. He and Moondance were good friends and exchanged paw strokes to each other’s faces.

  I decided it was best to converse silently too in case someone on a hike or a stroll walked by. “How was your trip, Mom?”

  “It was fine, dear. I’ll tell you about it later. But first…” She paused and I could feel Moondance quake just a little.

  Granny reached out with Arthur’s paw and touched her daughter’s face – or at least the face of the cat that held her essence. “Go ahead dear. Just tell her.”

  Moondance lifted his head and sat up next to me. After a short silence, Mom began. “I was still 16, outside hanging clothes on the line, when the boy, naked and covered in mud, came walking out of the swampy wetland of Hound Dog Bayou. There was an island of tall pines behind him. It always seemed so out of place there, but we sometimes would go there to get a tree for Christmas.” She swallowed and continued, diverting her eyes now and then. “He looked to be about 18, but I would come to find that he was much, much older. He was muscular, and his curly blonde hair, dirty and matted, still somehow seemed to glisten in the morning sun. His light blue eyes were hypnotic.

  “As he walked toward me, I could see how tall and broad he really was. An alligator ran quickly toward him from the swamp.
I screamed and dropped the towel I was hanging. He turned to look behind him, and then smiled and got down on one knee as the viscous monster approached. He just held out his hand, and the beast was calmed. The alligator came closer and put his head on the young man’s lap, and the boy rubbed the animal’s head. He seemed to be conveying a message to the alligator, and when he gave a single nod the animal turned and went back into the bayou.”

  I already had a hundred questions – I mean, my father was a swamp thing from the black lagoon? But I kept my silence as she continued her story.

  “I stood there frozen – not in fear but in awe as he stood to his full stature and walked up to me. He towered over me, a magnitude larger than any man I had ever seen before, and he looked like Michelangelo had chiseled him from pure ivory. His skin was a hue of creamy putty that I had never seen before, and I was drawn to him. He put his hand on my cheek and smiled with a passionate joy. His touch was exhilarating. It was not just a lust or passion that it made me feel, but it gave me a knowledge of so many things about him.

  “‘You are the one I have come for,’ he told me.

  “I nodded, because I knew it was the truth. I picked up the towel I had dropped and wrapped it around his waist.”

  Thank God. I was afraid there for a minute that I was going to be conceived on the spot. Granny picked up the narrative from there for a while.

  “I’d been watching the whole thing from the kitchen window, after I heard your mother scream. When he walked up to her I grabbed my Remington and went out the side door. I looked down the site at him while Kat walked him to the house. I could see he was no ordinary hooligan, but I had no idea where he came from or what he was up to.”

  I was listening to every word with rapt attention as the two ladies – the dog and the cat – told me how they cleaned him up, fed him fruits, and fashioned a shirt and pants for him out of an old bedspread. They swore they weren’t exaggerating when they said he was almost eight feet tall, and Granny said she had the dents in her ceiling to prove it. He stayed with them for three months, until Mom’s 17th birthday. I couldn’t wait for them to get to the point.