"Why are you so interested in the building? This has nothing to do with you."
"It's about justice. Whether you admit it or not, the things your client did were beyond belief. Madam LaPiere ran a house of horrors inside the building, and Lucas may have been her willing accomplice. This went on for years, and the people they killed deserve justice. Get hold of Empyrion Richard. Let him know I’m going to blow his little secret right out of the water."
"Mr. Drake," the man protested, "I'm the one with authority over the building. Empyrion Richard can't give you approval.”
"This isn't about you. It's about him. Tell him one way or another, we're going to find out the answers."
When the call ended, Jack said, "I didn't know you and Detective Young had decided to exhume the bodies, or that I was filing a big lawsuit."
"The lawsuit’s a bluff. And about the graves, I asked, but he flatly refused. He said even if there were murders, it all happened nearly two hundred years ago. Nobody's left — no victims' families, no perpetrators and no witnesses except people who see visions when they're being hypnotized. If there was a crime, there's no one to charge. And he's right."
"Then tell me what you’re doing.”
"Setting that trap I told you about. I'm going to catch a big rat."
_____
Jack worked late, and the next morning he reported that he'd reached a dead end on trying to decipher what Caprice had shouted as she went over the rail.
The receptionist buzzed Landry at nine. "You have —"
"Put him in the conference room. I'll be there in a minute."
"I didn't tell you —"
"I know who it is. Just do as I ask."
Landry stopped by Phil's desk before he and Jack walked in the room. When he saw Jack, Empyrion's plastered smile couldn't conceal his surprise and irritation.
"You remember Jack Blair, I'm sure. You nailed his hand to a wall."
The smile and fixed stare never wavered. "I can’t imagine what you're talking about."
"Oh, pardon me. It wasn't you. Charles is the culprit. You had nothing to do with it."
"Mr. Drake, what is it you want from me?"
"I want answers. The police are looking for you because you threw Jack and me out the window. Then you drove an iron spike through his hand. But they'll never be able to charge you, will they? You don't exist in this world. You appear and disappear somehow, and therefore they could never lock you in a jail cell.
"What I intend to do is dig up the bodies Prosperine LaPiere murdered — Elberta, Lucas and James. What I want from you is answers, or I’ll tell the world the LaPiere story. Every atrocity committed behind those walls, every torture, death and burial, every horrific act Prosperine LaPiere committed will be exposed. She will forever be the monster of Toulouse Street, which is a title she well deserves. I believe you will do anything I ask to keep that from happening."
"You don't understand —"
"That's an understatement, and you're going to enlighten me. Start at the beginning. Tell me about how you and Charles fit into this mystery.”
Landry and Jack watched Empyrion closely. His facial muscles tightened, he shifted positions in his chair, and he lowered his head. After muttering whispers to himself, he straightened his body, put his hands in his lap and spoke.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
"If I give you what you request," he began, "I require your word as a gentleman that you will leave matters in the courtyard alone, and you will not allow others to disturb the flagstones. Will you swear to do that?"
Now Landry knew his hunch had been correct. For whatever reason, this man would do anything to keep the bodies in the ground. Now at last he might discover why.
"If you truthfully answer every single question I ask, you have my word. For as long as you are alive, I will do everything within my power to ensure the bodies stay buried. Let's start with the background."
As he began, he looked at a point on a far wall and not at either of them. "Charles and Richard were brothers. Like so many others, they were captured along the Windward Coast of Africa where their tribe lived. America had outlawed the African slave trade by then, but the business was so lucrative that many captains considered the voyages worth the risk.
"Lucas LaPiere dealt in slaves, and he kept some as house servants as the need arose. The servants had an incentive to keep the master and mistress happy, because housework was far better than that in the fields. Charles and Caprice were two of the house servants.
"At some point Madam LaPiere learned that her husband was having an affair — a plaçage — with a servant named Elberta. Plaçages happened between master and servant now and then. Often the wife overlooked it, but in this case Elberta made things impossible to ignore. She demanded her infatuated lover take her out in public and allow her to live in the big house instead of the servant quarters. A distressed Prosperine eventually heard the gossip, and it all came to a head one day in 1832. She came home unexpectedly, caught them in bed, and went into a fit of passionate rage. A peaceful person by nature, Madam lost her temper and ended the affair then and there."
Landry snorted and Empyrion asked if he found the story humorous.
"The story? No, it’s horrific. What’s laughable is your bizarre description of it. Poor Prosperine LaPiere, the scorned wife who lost her temper and made a mistake. What a load of bullshit. Were there slaves chained in the attic at the moment she was committing the murders? Were there men locked in those tiny cells? While Lucas and Elberta were cavorting around under the bedsheets, was Prosperine up in that secret room, torturing people just for kicks? Why can't you admit Madam LaPiere was an insane sadist?"
About to reply, the man thought better of it. He said, "Shall I continue?"
Landry nodded.
"After her husband's demise, Prosperine took over the business and began relying on Charles for help —"
"Stop right there. Let's settle one thing now. I believe you and Charles are the same person. Am I right?"
"That's incorrect. He lived, he died, and his body lies in the family cemetery beside Prosperine's crypt. I am not Charles Richard."
"But you have the same last name, so you're related."
"Correct. He is my ancestor."
"Prosperine took over the business and began relying on Charles for help. The family was into slave brokerage. Charles was a slave himself. That makes no sense."
"Although uneducated, Charles was intelligent and quick, and he proved himself a valuable asset. He was a slave, as you mentioned, but after Lucas's death, he was promoted to house servant and given more and more responsibility. Initially he was a glorified errand boy, but later he helped with moving people back and forth to the Place d'Armes, and at some point, he became her partner."
Landry said, "She trusted him so much that she named him co-trustee of the building. After her death he controlled it and now you claim it's yours."
"I call it my building because it is my building. There's no mystery to that."
"I disagree, but let's stay on track. How close were Charles and Prosperine? Were they lovers?"
Empyrion shifted uneasily. "At some point, yes. If you'll permit me to continue, I'll get to that part. A year or two after Master Lucas died, Charles's sibling, Richard, contracted scurvy and passed away too. Charles grieved for months at the loss of his beloved brother, who had made the awful trip from Africa chained in the hold of a ship with him and was the only family Charles had.
"After a few years, Charles became Prosperine's trusted second-in-command. As these things sometimes happen, they engaged in a plaçage of their own. She was twenty-four years his senior, and they were worlds apart in every imaginable respect, but a sexual relationship began.
"You know how close around the courtyard the buildings are. While Prosperine and Charles carried on in the upstairs bedroom, the servants went about their work down below. Prosperine was careless — or perhaps unconcerned — about leaving the doors open, and servants so
metimes looked into the bedroom and observed every, shall we say, sordid detail of their relationship."
He took a sip of water. "As happened when young men and women lived in close quarters, there were trysts between the staff as well.
"Charles was a handsome, virile fellow, and the servant girls lifted their skirts for him. These were mere dalliances — intercourse without commitment — but one such fling resulted in unintended consequences. He bedded a girl named Caprice, who fell in love with him. To complicate matters, she became pregnant. Caprice wore sackcloth dresses to hide her condition. She told Charles, but he laughed. It was not his concern because by now he was visiting the boudoir of Madam LaPiere.
"To further complicate matters, the baby wasn't Caprice's only secret. Like others in her family across the sea, she was a witch. Recapping the situation, Caprice loves Charles and carries his unborn child. Charles has a new partner — his much-older boss — and cares nothing about Caprice. Charles and Prosperine carry on in front of the staff. Caprice claims to have seen Prosperine murder three people. It isn't difficult to see that things are getting complicated."
He asked for a restroom break. Landry went with him, waiting in the hall to make sure Empyrion returned. When he resumed, what had been an interesting story became a revelation.
"By then Charles honored his brother by calling himself Charles Richard and Prosperine nicknamed him Empyrion. 'Empyrion, my emperor,' she gloated in front of the appalled servants, who showed their disgust by concocting stories. Word spread to their counterparts working in other households. As it was retold, the story grew. Some said they heard moans and groans from the attic where the monster Prosperine chained slaves there. Her own servants came to believe their own fiction and were terrified of Prosperine and Charles.
Landry gave an exasperated sigh. "I have to interrupt once again. It may make you feel better about things to say Caprice claimed to witness the murders, and there are rumors that Prosperine chains people in the attic. We both know those aren't fanciful stories. They're facts, and the servants should have been scared as hell about Madam LaPiere."
Empyrion said one was entitled to interpret a two-hundred-year-old legend any way he wished.
"At some point the spiteful scorned lover Caprice told the other servants she watched Madam kill Elberta, Lucas and James. That word got back to Prosperine, who ordered Caprice to her bedroom. She found Charles also there, and he remained silent as Prosperine accused her of spying.
"Caprice was no match for the taller, stronger woman, who pushed her toward the balcony and lifted her into the air. Thinking of her almost full-term child, Caprice cried, 'My baby!' Charles did nothing to help her, and a moment before she fell, she cast a spell on him."
Landry looked at Jack, who nodded. The words had made no sense because they were in her native tongue.
Landry said, "What curse did she put on Charles?"
"Something that appeared to be a blessing, but for them was the worst kind of curse. She gave him infinite fertility. Almost every time he and Prosperine engaged in sexual intercourse, she became pregnant. Remember that Prosperine was twenty-four years older than he. When their affair began, he was thirty-five and she was nearing sixty. Every pregnancy ended with a miscarriage or a stillborn baby. At last she'd had enough. She left her Lothario and moved to the plantation to live out her years while he remained in the quarters on Toulouse Street. Prosperine still loved him. She commissioned that portrait you saw hanging above the mantel."
Landry said, "You know the most intimate details about his story. Can we now agree that you're Charles?"
"You will get your answers in due course, Mr. Drake. That was what I promised, and that is what I shall give you. To continue, when she fell to her death, a servant screamed, 'A baby! She's havin' a baby!' Charles was unconcerned; he ordered two servants to take them to the plantation and bury them. The child lived; he was held in loving arms during the trip and given to the field servants to raise. Prosperine never knew the child existed. Charles either, until a servant told him after her death. By then he was running the plantation. He found that baby — now his twenty-eight-year-old son — and took him into his home. Charles embraced him in a way reminiscent of the prodigal son's return."
Empyrion stopped and tented his fingers on the table.
"And?" Landry said.
"Is there more you want to know?"
"You bet. There's a lot we have to discuss. Like the little horror show in the attic, for instance. You promised to answer every question, so tell me how and when Prosperine created her secret room, and why were there corpses stacked in the cell where you impaled Jack?"
Landry sat back to watch. Empyrion had defended Madam LaPiere's actions, refusing to label her the monster she was, but in order to tell the truth, he must admit her crimes.
Empyrion had remained unemotional until now, but his body language gave away his discomfort. "She was not evil," he began.
"Tell that to the slaves in the attic."
"In those days it was customary for the master to punish unruly slaves. To maintain order, there had to be consequences for disobedience.” “Since you’re African American, I find your explanation mind-boggling. How can you justify corpses stacked in a cell as ‘consequences for disobedience’? How do you live with yourself?”
“I’m trying to explain.”
“No, you aren’t trying to explain. You’re minimizing the acts of a sadist. Here’s what happened. Prosperine created a prison in her attic. Maybe Lucas built it for her — we’ll never know that. There’s only one explanation for that secret room and what it holds. It was where she did the torturing, maiming and killing.”
“Disposing of those bodies had to be a problem, because she couldn’t simply ask the servants to haul them away. Too many questions. To keep her secret safe, she tossed them in a back room like discards. Charles either helped, or he looked the other way. How do you explain away what she did to those unfortunate men and women?”
“I cannot, except to say it was a different time when things were dealt with in other ways.”
“Jesus, that makes things simple, doesn’t it? ‘Let’s go upstairs and crush some knuckles. See how loud they can scream. If they die, toss ‘em out with the garbage.’ What a miserable excuse for a human being you are. Caprice’s curse was pretty smart, if you ask me. You have to wallow in your past for hundreds of years.”
A flash of anger crossed the man’s face, but he held his tongue. For a moment he considered that Landry could be right. All he wanted now was for this exhausting cross-examination to end. He asked for a break, returned and the session continued.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“Long before she hexed Charles, Caprice had cast another spell. Once Charles scorned her, she cursed the child of his she was carrying, dooming the baby to an extraordinarily long, lonely life. I am that child, the son of Charles and Caprice. I age more slowly than anyone else. When one doesn’t grow old alongside his peers and can’t explain why, he must withdraw from humanity.
“Today I appear middle-aged, but so far I have lived for one hundred and eighty-three years. It’s a miserable existence. I am doomed to have no friends or family to share my life with. Because of the curse, I’m not permitted to end my life or aid others in doing it for me. Someday I shall die, and it cannot come soon enough.”
Landry said, “So you claim you are Charles Richard’s son?”
“I am, and our bond transcends that of father and son. The relationship was special while he lived, and it continues to this day. He called me a ‘conduit’ — I feel what my father felt, and I know every thought he ever had. I refuse to allow you to exhume the bodies in the courtyard because...”
He choked and a tear ran down his cheek. It was the first sign of emotion he had shown. He removed a white silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket, dabbed at his eyes, and cleared his throat.
“Despite the age difference, despite the curse and despite their different stations i
n life, Prosperine and Charles loved each other. I grant you she was cruel on occasion —"
Landry interrupted. “Why do you continue defending her? She was infinitely worse than ‘cruel on occasion.’ She was a monster who enjoyed her work.”
Empyrion displayed no reaction. “As I was saying, they were in love. I know that because I feel my father’s emotions for her. Unearthing the bodies in the courtyard would desecrate her memory. For that reason, Charles won’t allow it.
That’s an interesting way to put it. Her long-dead lover doesn’t want her memory besmirched by showing the world her handiwork — the torturing of people just like him.
“Exhuming them would also serve no purpose today, long after the deaths occurred. They must remain buried, as must the fetuses and stillborn children who are interred under the patio.”
Jack said, “What children?”
“Prosperine’s. There are six of them, each lovingly laid next to his or her siblings. Many tears were shed at the burials, and every tear was a reminder that Caprice was the monster, not Prosperine.”
Landry shook his head. “Caprice retaliated with the only means she had — witchcraft. Prosperine spent a lifetime engaging in a vocation she loved — torture. But I’m sure you and I will never agree on that.”
Empyrion stared at him. “Is there anything more I can enlighten you on?”
“When I first asked about you, the trustee said you died long ago.”
“Those are the instructions my father, Charles, gave the law firm when he chose them as co-trustee over a century ago. Only one man — the current trustee himself — ever knows the truth about me, and he may only reveal what he told you. He manages everything, he never contacts me, and he upholds an oath to keep my family’s secrets inviolate.”
“Explain something else. Prosperine killed Elberta and then her husband —"
“Mr. Drake, if you want to continue this discussion, I must ask you to stop referring to the accidents as murders.”
Since he had more questions, Landry held his tongue this time. “Let me rephrase things. While Caprice spied, Lucas fell from the balcony to his death. We saw that scene unfold in Tiffany’s hypnotic session. According to everything we saw up to yesterday, Lucas is buried in the courtyard. Is that correct?”
Die Again (The Bayou Hauntings Book 6) Page 21