“What do you think it’s all about?” Cade asked his friend.
Rollo set the bag onto the ground. “It’s hard to say. Bernard! Come on, boy. We need to go see what’s got Mr. Preston so upset.”
“What’s he want me for?” the young man asked, leaning his pitchfork against the wall. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
The quartet hurried to the house. Lilly and Cade stayed in the kitchen and watched as Rollo and Bernard pushed through the door to the dining room. Lilly opened the swinging door the barest crack in an attempt to see what was going on.
Vena and Neecie stood as still and erect as statues in a garden, their hands folded together in front of them. Bernard looked scared to death. Rollo went straight to his wife’s side and offered her a slight smile of encouragement.
Preston, partially dressed for the day, stood inside the pocket doors that divided the dining room from the winding staircase that swept upward from the polished floor of the foyer.
His face was mottled with fury, and his dark eyes were narrowed and filled with accusation. His finely chiseled mouth was pressed into a straight line of wrath. He’d donned his black trousers, but had thrown a silk paisley robe over them. It hung open, revealing the fact that he hadn’t yet put on his shirt.
“I found this in my shirt drawer.” He stretched out his arm and Lilly saw that he held something in his hand that looked like a doll clad in black. It reminded her of the doll she’d seen at the ceremony.
“I don’t suppose any of you have any idea how it came to be there.”
The four people standing in front of their employer looked from him to one another in confusion.
Lilly turned to look up at Cade. “Voodoo doll,” he whispered in her ear.
Voodoo doll? She’d heard of them of course. As he’d schooled her, she and Pierce had spent considerable time talking over various newsworthy topics and things of interest she wanted to learn more about. He’d explained how the dolls were supposed to work, but she had never believed any of the far-fetched tales about something dire happening to the person the doll represented, yet many swore the dolls could drive a victim mad or send them to their deaths.
The ceremony she’d witnessed the night before began to make sense. Clearly, it had been for the sole purpose of bringing calamity to Preston. Most likely for the things he’d done and continued to do to Neecie.
The law could do nothing about his actions. Wouldn’t. He was an attorney whose wife was from one of the most respected families in New Orleans. Rich. A woman of color, Neecie had little recourse but to seek justice and revenge in the only way available to her.
“Vena?” Preston snapped. “Did you put this abomination in my room?”
“No, sir, Mr. Easterling. I don’t have no truck with voodoo. I’m a Baptist, just like my sister.”
His mouth twisted into an ugly smile. “Neecie?”
Lilly thought she saw the Negro woman’s fingers tighten on each other, but her voice was steady. “No, sir. It wasn’t me.”
Preston reached out and took her chin in a hard grasp, forcing her to meet his gaze and reminding Lilly of their confrontation the day before. It seemed as if the place his fingers had gripped her chin throbbed in sympathy.
His chuckle lacked any warmth or humor. “I wonder why I don’t believe you?” Rollo’s hands curled into fists. Preston released Neecie so abruptly that she staggered against her husband, who slipped a steadying arm around her waist.
“I suppose you know nothing about it either, Rollo.”
“No, sir, Mr. Easterling, sir, I don’t, and Bernard would have no reason to do such a thing.”
Lilly would have given anything to see Rollo’s face. How he could remain so calm considering the situation was beyond her comprehension.
“What’s going on, Preston?”
The question came from Cassandra, who entered the room arm in arm with her grandmother. Cassandra, who was dressed in the palest of greens, looked very much the lady of the manor. Mrs. Fontenot wore her usual black. She had a thoughtful expression on her face.
“I found this in my shirt drawer,” Preston said, holding the doll out for her inspection.
It was then that Lilly saw the pin stuck into the doll’s forehead.
“It didn’t get there on its own, and I want the person responsible to pay.”
To Lilly’s surprise, Cassandra began to laugh. The sound seemed to infuriate her husband even more. “Oh, Preston!” she said when her giggles subsided. “I thought you were more sophisticated than to believe in those silly folktales.”
If possible, Easterling’s face grew even redder. “I’ve heard they can drive a person mad if that’s the intent.”
Cassandra helped her grandmother into her chair and circled the table to place a hand on her husband’s arm. “My dear,” she said gently, “if you go into any voodoo shop in town, you’ll find that they can be used for good as well as evil. You’ve been having those terrible headaches lately, so perhaps you should look at it in a different light.”
Recalling the anger she’d seen Neecie directing at the effigy the evening before, Lilly had serious doubts that the doll was intended for benign purposes. Still, she admired Cassandra’s skill in diverting a volatile situation into one of humor.
Cassandra lifted her narrow shoulders in a careless shrug. “And for your information, the practice of voodoo did not come from Africa as everyone has been led to believe, but Britain.”
Lilly was as impressed by her command of the situation as she was her knowledge. After seeing her cowed and despondent, Lilly would never have imagined the young Mrs. Easterling would be so composed.
Preston looked positively flummoxed. “And just how do you know all that?”
She gave his arm a maternal pat and sashayed toward her place at the table. “I read, husband. There is little enough to do here, so I read.”
“Well, no matter where the blasted thing originated, I doubt it was meant for good, and since none of these people will own up to putting it in my room, I’m firing them all. As of this minute.”
“No, you are not.”
The statement came from Mrs. Fontenot, who was calmly placing her napkin in her lap.
“You have no say in this, Grand-mère,” he told her.
She finished smoothing the linen square and rested her elbows on the table and her chin on the backs of her laced fingers. A magnificent amethyst glistened in the morning sunlight.
“But of course I do, Preston,” she informed him with supreme authority. “Until I die, this is my house, and these are my employees. The family has served me well for many years, and they will remain in my employ until Cassandra takes over ownership of the plantation upon my death. At that time she can do as she wishes. You are only living here by my good graces.”
Preston’s lips tightened. He was not accustomed to being spoken to like a naughty child, and he certainly did not like being put in his place in front of the servants he had only moments before been shouting at.
Mrs. Fontenot gave a flick of her fingers, the small gesture dismissing the whole unsavory incident. “Now run along and finish dressing,” she told him. “I’m quite hungry. Vena, will you ask Brona to bring in the juice please?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you. You’re all free to go.”
Lilly marveled at the way the Fontenot matriarch had taken control of a situation. For the first time since arriving in New Orleans, she’d seen the strong woman who’d been described in the letter William Pinkerton had read to her and Cade.
Now, they stepped away from the door as the servants filed back into the kitchen. Wide smiles blossomed on their faces. Vena and Lilly clasped forearms and danced a silent jig around the kitchen, while Cade shook hands with Rollo and Bernard.
Then, donning her Brona persona, Lilly picked up a small pitcher of orange juice. Smiling at her coworkers, she pushed through the swinging door. Another two hour
s and she would be away from this hateful place and could start working on the investigation again.
CHAPTER 18
During the drive back to the city, Mrs. Fontenot allowed Lilly to sit with “her husband” on the outside seat, where they whiled away the four-hour trip telling each other everything that they’d seen and heard while they were apart.
Lilly wasn’t happy that Cade had found no sign of Timothy, but she wasn’t surprised either. She told him about the incident between Preston and Neecie the afternoon before they’d happened upon the voodoo ceremony in the woods. She didn’t mention her own run-in with him after seeing them together.
Cade told her that he’d heard from William, who said that there was no record of Henri Ducharme having attended any medical school in Ohio.
“Are you saying he attended somewhere else.”
“No.”
Lilly thought about that. “So, he isn’t a doctor at all?”
“It seems not.”
“That’s not only morally wrong, but criminal. How many people have gone to him for help and been given wrong treatments?”
“I know. The repercussions of his actions could very well—and probably have been—lethal in some cases.”
The full weight of the announcement sunk in. “That’s frightening.”
“William also found out that Henri was married to one Angela Markham years ago.” Cade glanced at Lilly. “I’m betting she’s the one he called his angel. She did die in childbirth, so that part of what Armand DeMille told William in his query letter was true. What we didn’t know is that Angela Markham Ducharme had two daughters from a previous marriage, Corinne and Delia. He hasn’t located either of them yet.”
“So you and I can try to track them down.”
Cade shrugged and gave a slight smile. “Sometimes fortune smiles on you and evidence seems to fall from the heavens.”
After that ambiguous statement, he began to tell her about the trip he and Robbie had made with Henri to the sugar plantation the day she and Mrs. Fontenot had traveled to River Run.
“I’m sure it was interesting,” Lilly said in exasperation. “But what about the evidence that fell from heaven?”
“Patience, my impulsive partner. You must learn patience.”
With Lilly fuming at his side, he explained about the woman and the baby at the cottage and about Robbie sneaking into the cabin.
“You let Robbie go into someone’s house without their knowing it?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Did it ever occur to you that he could have been in danger, not to mention that it’s against the law?”
“You don’t know the little hellion the way I do,” Cade said. “You don’t let Robbie do anything. Robbie does what he wants and the devil be hanged.”
“Well, you should have more control over him.”
Cade frowned at her over his shoulder. “Oh, yes. Of course. It’s easy for you to say, and once again, since you’re his ‘aunt,’ feel free to step in and help with his rearing anytime the notion strikes you.”
“Thank you. I will.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and when it became clear that Cade had no intention of talking to her about what Robbie had discovered, Lilly finally said, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
The cool expression in his eyes drove her mad. “Ooh! You know what I mean. What did he learn of importance?”
“Something pretty interesting as a matter of fact.” He told her about the envelopes in the drawer addressed to Delia Breaux, who was no doubt Delia Markham.
Lilly processed the unbelievable information for a moment. “As in Angela Markham’s daughter Delia?”
“It would be hard to believe she was anyone else.”
Excitement rippled through her. This was the first concrete break they’d received since starting this case. “Did Robbie tell you what the letters said?”
“Unfortunately, the boy doesn’t read or write.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He met her disbelieving gaze. “You heard correctly. Teaching him would be a fine undertaking for you, Brona.”
Disbelief and anger momentarily overshadowed her elation. “And one that I’ll be sure to undertake,” she said in a tart tone. “It is positively unbelievable that anyone in this day and age should be without basic reading and writing skills.”
“I agree.”
She drew a deep breath and brought her attention back to the investigation. “Did you send William this new information?”
“No,” Cade said, “I thought we would try to find Corinne on Monday. We can let him know what we’ve learned after that.”
“Excellent.”
Lilly was beyond ready to do something meaningful toward solving this case. Until now, things had been more or less at a standstill. All they’d really known before finding out about Henri’s medical background and the shadowy Delia was that he and Preston were miserable, wretched men who cheated on their wives. Sinful, surely, but not against the law.
* * *
Lamartine enveloped Lilly in a warm embrace when she went to the kitchen in the late afternoon.
“I’m so glad you and Mrs. Fontenot are back, Brona. It’s been too quiet here with just the doctor.”
“I hope you got a bit of a rest. How’s Robbie?”
“Oh, he seems fine, but he was a sick little boy for a day or two.”
“What about Amos? They must have taken whatever it was that Mrs. Fontenot had.”
“I don’t think so,” Lamartine said, as she dredged some pork in flour. “Robbie and the missus had the same symptoms, but Amos just had a bad headache.”
“Hmm.”
Lamartine turned to look over her shoulder. “Oh! I almost forgot. Your uncle Patrick came by yesterday and said he would stop by again this evening.”
For a second or two, Lilly didn’t have a clue whom she was talking about. Then she realized that Pierce must have finally arrived. She smiled and gave a sigh of relief.
“Oh, good!” she said, clapping her hands together. “He said he might try to see us while he was in the area.”
“What does he do?” Lamartine asked, reaching for a lid to cover the rice pot.
Oh, dear! What did Uncle Patrick do? She and Cade hadn’t discussed it. In fact, they hadn’t talked about Pierce since the day they’d argued about her asking him to come without discussing it first. Would he be upset that Pierce had actually come? Would the two very strong-willed men clash?
Of course they would.
“Well, it’s a rather strange occupation, but he is a seamstress or tailor or whatever who travels with theater troupes and sews their costumes.”
As lies went, it was simple enough. Even more important, it was easy to remember, since it was at least partly true.
“Hmm,” Lamartine said. “That’s interesting. I bet he’s been a lot of places.”
“Indeed he has.” Anxious to dodge any more questions, Lilly said, “If you don’t need me, I’ll go and let Bran know to expect my uncle.”
“Go on, child.”
As she neared the barn, she heard voices. Cade and . . . was it possible? Was Pierce already here?
Lilly picked up her faded blue skirt and her pace, running into the shadow-shrouded barn. Pierce was dressed in the same trousers, shirt, and cap that Cade wore, the costume that seemed essential for Irish immigrants. She would have known him anywhere.
They heard her coming and both men turned. Lilly flung herself into the arms of the man who was most likely her father and hugged him tight.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” she said, leaning back and looking up at him.
Pierce smiled down at her, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. “I told you I’d come if you needed me, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Lilly noted that, like her and Cade, Pierce had adopted an Irish brogue for his role as her uncle. She stepped away from him and turned to Cade, who was watching the reunion with great interest.
“I
was coming to tell . . . Bran that you’d be stopping by,” she said, “but I see the two of you have already met.”
The two men stared at each other like two dogs sizing each other up before jumping on a meaty bone. After the fiasco with Timothy, Pierce would be eager to see if she’d done the unthinkable yet again and was falling for her partner, and he would want to know just what kind of man that partner was.
Cade would be sizing up Pierce to see if, like Robbie, the older man was just another person he had to deal with while they were working on the assignment.
“Have you seen Robbie?”
“Briefly,” Pierce said with a smile. “It seems he and Bernard had important things to do before supper.” He gave a little shake of his head and shot a wry smile toward Cade. “He’s quite a lad.”
Cade didn’t return the smile. “He is that.”
“I’ve only just met him, but there’s something about him that reminds me a bit of, uh . . . Brona here when she was a lass.”
“Really?”
“Enough about my naughtiness when I was a girl,” Lilly said, grabbing both of Pierce’s hands. “Come inside. I’m sure Lamartine has some lemonade to cool you off, and dinner will be ready in less than an hour.”
* * *
Lilly had to give it to the two men. Though she was aware of the undercurrent of wariness between them, they did a fine job of loosening up for the benefit of their small audience, and supper was not the ordeal she’d expected it to be.
Robbie and Bernard listened with rapt attention as Pierce regaled them with actual tales of things that had happened during his years with various theater troupes, careful to leave Lilly out of the picture. Though his time was spent in managing the troupe these days, she’d always known he was a superb actor, and he did not disappoint, giving a perfect portrayal of a beloved uncle who lived a wonderful and adventurous single life, only having occasional contact with his few family members.
The Lagasses listened in delight as he talked about theater life and working with often egotistical actors. He made direct eye contact with Lilly when he mentioned that. She was so happy to see him that she didn’t even care. The fact that she had not strayed far from his actual profession lent an air of authenticity to his stories that a made-up occupation would not have.
Though This Be Madness Page 18