Clem’s yard was filled with people watching smoke spill out of the barbeque and standing around tables full of R.C. Cola, jambalaya and watermelon.
John and I collected plates of food and lay together on a blanket under the stars. The crickets were chirping and the bullfrogs singing up until Beau went out in his boat and cut short the quiet by lighting off fireworks.
John brought his violin that night, and pleased the crowd by playing it like a fiddle.
“I played fiddle before I ever heard of a violin,” he said.
He won Clem over with his rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
It was a perfect night to listen to good ole’ country and tell stories from days gone by. After the fireworks Beau and Elaine came to sit with us. Beau shot John a dirty look as he took his seat on the blanket, then turned his attention to me.
After a few moments of silence Beau asked, “You ever gonna find out who Marsha Vaillancourt is?”
I thought it over for a minute. I knew I liked my life the way it was. I was surrounded by people I cared about. I smiled at him replied, “Do you remember how you once told me my life was full of shitty people?”
“I do,” he said.
“It’s not anymore, and I plan to keep it that way.”
John said, “I can’t see you leaving it alone forever.”
I leaned back and looked up at the moon, smiling. “We’ll see.”
“What about the car. Don’t you want to know why Josephine bought it for Jimmy?” Elaine asked.
“That’s a good question. I’ll ask my psychic about it next time I see him.”
“You’re still seein’ them clairvoyants after all that happened with Du’Ponde?” Beau chided.
“I may not believe in Du’Ponde, but after all that I have seen I believe there is somebody watching over me. You can call them the spirits, you can call them the dead, but I call them my saints, and I know now the saints have always been with me.”
What’s next?
A new Fanchon story may be in the cards, but the next project from Nicole Loughan is a full-length Historical Mystery set in Philadelphia, “The Divine Hotel.”
For special announcements or to read more by Nicole Loughan visit her Facebook Page or be added to Nicole Loughan’s mailing list by clicking on the link provided. Nicole loves to chat with readers via e-mail or to Skype into book clubs; you can e-mail her at [email protected]
About the Author
Nicole was born and raised in Michigan. She currently resides in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. She writes from her home about her adventures with parenting in a column called, “The Starter Mom.” She also writes regular features for the Bucks County Courier and Intelligencer, both greater Philadelphia daily newspapers. She is an amateur pianist and an avid reader. She first learned about New Orleans from reading Anne Rice novels and experienced New Orleans first hand when her brother moved there after Hurricane Katrina.
Divine Hotel Sample
Available now on Amazon
CHAPTER 1
A long time ago, before most people can remember, a palace stood over Philadelphia. It was a place of refuge for the weak and weary of the city, a shining monument of marble, oak and brass that towered over the metropolis.
Good and evil were kept in balance there, until one day the scales tipped and evil won out. As the years passed, the marble and brass were stolen, and the oak was stripped of its shine. As the hotel fell into ruin, its inhabitants followed. All was not lost, though, for there was one chance to save the hotel—and its inhabitants—from this fate. Hidden not far away was an otherworldly gift meant to right the wrongs of the past, if only the right person could find it.
2002
“You can’t catch me,” the boy shouted as he flung open the doors to the dilapidated dining hall. The room was lit by slivers of sun that peeked through the cracks in the high ceiling, and sporadic beams of light that shone through hastily fastened boards covering the room’s many broken windows.
All that was left of the once great hall were water-stained plaster ornaments positioned high up on the ceiling, far out of reach. Everything of value was gone. The light fixtures, hardwood floors, door knobs, and every last bit of shined marble and brass had been stripped away. The floors were an uneven terrain of warped wood and broken boards. The edges of the room were a tapestry of trash, but the center of the great space, which had once housed long oak dining tables, was completely bare.
The girl in pursuit walked gingerly over the broken boards. She kept her eyes on the ground and squinted to keep the dust floating through the air out of her eyes.
“Slow down, Darrius!” she shouted.
She paused in front of a hole in the floor, which blocked her passage into the great room. She stared down and saw only darkness, which could mean the hole opened only down to the next floor, or could possibly reach as far down as all ten floors.
“Come on, Carol,” he shouted. “You aren’t gonna fall going over that tiny hole.”
She watched him move with feline grace over the broken boards and gathered her courage. She involuntarily held her breath, took two steps back, and focused her eyes on a point just past the opening.
She ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward the gap. She pushed off and wobbled as a loose board slid away from her. She fell awkwardly forward and threw her arms out to catch herself. She scratched her palms reaching out for the ledge and only managed a precarious hold. If she’d weighed just a bit more she might have fallen in.
Darrius raced to her. The strain of holding on was too much for her, one by one her fingers were slipping, the pinkies first, then the ring fingers, and then all at once the rest gave way and she fell. Darrius grasped her wrist just before she slipped out of sight. He grunted as he pulled her up and out of the hole. As soon as he had her over the edge he fell backwards and she landed beside him with a thud.
Carol lay back and caught her breath as Darrius joked, “I could’ve made that jump with you on my back, you chicken.”
She stared up at the ceiling and pointed at a plaster fruit basket. “Darrius, look, the ceiling. It’s changed again.”
He looked up and said, “I don’t see anything different. You always think that ceiling looks different. Who do you think would get all the way up there and fix the ceiling?”
“It does change,” she exclaimed. “It always looks like it’s about to fall apart, then it’s patched back up. Yesterday that fruit basket was just a hole in the ceiling.”
He laughed so hard the ground shook beneath him. When he stopped he realized the floor was shaking without any work from him, and he bolted upright.
“What is that?” Carol demanded, as she jumped up and looked down at the floor.
“It’s somebody pounding,” Darrius yelled as he, too, jumped up to his feet.
More knocks rang out around the hall, shaking up dust, which floated freely through the room. Suddenly a shout could be heard below their feet. “Keep it down,” followed by a more distant yell, “Shut up.”
When the pounding ceased they could hear the wail of sirens outside. Darrius jumped up and ran to peek through the boards.
“What?” Carol asked.
“It’s the cops.”
“What do we do?”
“We run.”
A Masquerade of Saints (Saints Mystery Series Book 3) Page 17