DeeDee stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Safe, my ass. I'm leaving."
The glare of car lights interrupted their argument. Mary walked over to the window, lifted the curtains, and breathed a sigh of relief as the bulky outline of the sheriff walked toward the house. She met him at the door. "I'm sorry to drag you out this late, but we've had at least two unwanted visitors," she announced as he entered the hallway.
"Where were they?"
She pointed to her bedroom. "There was one at the French doors in my bedroom and another in the window of the back bedroom on the second floor." She hesitated, then decided to tell him what they looked like. "Both men had their faces painted white, with yellow designs on them. I don't know about the one at DeeDee's window, but the man downstairs had on a ripped white shirt and torn pants."
The sheriff unstrapped his pistol and switched on the long flashlight he carried. "Stay here. I'll go take a look." He walked outside and disappeared around the end of the house. While they waited, Mary put on a fresh pot of coffee--more to give her something do than out of necessity.
She heard him enter the house and climb the stairs. When he returned, he held DeeDee's gun in a handkerchief. "Any idea who this belongs to?" he asked.
"It's mine," DeeDee confessed. "One of the workers loaned it to me for protection. I tried to shoot at the intruder, and when Mary came into the room, my hands were shaking so badly, it discharged again."
He rubbed his chin. "That explains the bullet hole in the upper part of the window and the bullet I dug out of the door facing." He tossed two bullet casings onto the coffee table.
Mary poured three cups of coffee and offered one to him. "What did you find outside?"
"Somebody was here, all right. There's footprints outside your room and around the base of the tree next to the upstairs bedroom." He tossed two cloth bags onto the coffee table. "Ever see these before?"
Mary picked up one of the bags. It held a mixture of leaves, small bones, a few rocks, and something that looked like pepper. "Never. What is it?"
"That's what the Voodoo worshipers use to ward off evil spirits. There's also a protective symbol painted above your doorway and the window upstairs. I recognized both of them, so I know what they mean." He scooped up the bags and put them in his pocket. "Either somebody thinks you're in danger, or they're playing a sick joke. I'm not sure which."
DeeDee stood up. "I don't care what they were doing. I'm going back into town." She set her coffee cup on the table, next to his. "You don't mind giving me a lift into town, do you, Sheriff?" She started violently as the grandfather clock chimed three times. "My flight leaves in a couple of hours. I'd appreciate it if you'd drop me off at the airport."
"No problem, ma'am. I'd be glad to give you a lift."
Mary shifted uncomfortably. "I'll take you to the airport, DeeDee. You don't need to get a ride."
The sound of DeeDee's footsteps echoed in the hallway as Mary riveted her gaze on the sheriff. "Do you think they'll come back?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, ma'am. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't. If it would make you feel better, I can send one of my deputies out here to keep watch the next couple of nights."
She nodded. "I'd appreciate that. What do you think they were after?"
"No telling. Rumors around town was that the old black woman, Sadie, who used to live here, was a high Voodoo priestess, but nobody could prove anything. Maybe they came back looking for her."
Mary picked up the gun and carefully unloaded it. "If you don't mind, I think I'll keep this, along with my bat, for protection."
He raised one eyebrow. "How good a shot are you?"
Her lips tugged into a smile. "Unlike DeeDee, I've taken several self-defense classes, where they teach you to aim at the target before you shoot. Believe me, Sheriff, if I aim at somebody, I'm pretty sure they won't walk away."
He tugged at the buttons on the front of his uniform shirt, pulled tight across his ample midriff. "That, ma'am, is what I'm afraid of."
They followed him to town and turned off at the airport. Ignoring DeeDee's protests, Mary sat with her in the waiting area until a stewardess announced that her flight was ready for boarding. DeeDee begged her to change her mind and return to Boston, but Mary refused. Tears raced down DeeDee's cheeks as she promised to call and check up on Mary, then hurried down the entry gate.
Darkness turned to day, and the first rays of the sun filtered through the tinted windows of the rental car as Mary made her way back to the plantation. When she pulled into the driveway, she saw the sheriff's car parked out front, next to Nichols' truck. What was he doing here? Surely the prowlers hadn't returned. Her car crunched to a stop on the gravel parking area, and she hurried over to where Nichols and the sheriff stood talking. "What's happened now?"
Nichols pointed to the large stack of lumber at the edge of the house. "That entire stack is ruined. I came out to check the equipment. When I passed the stack, I smelled kerosene, so I stared pulling out boards." He sighed disgustedly. "It's soaked. The way I figure it, somebody must have stood on top and poured three, maybe four, gallons of kerosene into it. Even the boards in the middle are ruined." He looked at Mary. "Did you see or hear anything last night?"
She sighed, wondering how much worse things could get. Elizavon was bound to have a fit when she heard the latest news. "You better come inside, Mr. Nichols. We had visitors last night."
They followed her inside, and she let the sheriff tell Nichols about the preceding night's events. Nichols seemed puzzled. "That don't make no sense. Why would they paint something to ward off evil spirits if they were the ones doing the sabotage?"
Mary looked to the Sheriff for answers. "Were there any footprints around the lumber?"
"Already checked. Too many to try and get a match. They're all mixed together." He picked up his hat. "I'll be back later with a deputy, Miss Corbett."
"Thank you for everything, Sheriff. I appreciate your coming out."
"That's my job, ma'am. We'll get to the bottom of this, don't worry."
When she returned, Nichols stood in front of the fire, warming his hands.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here to let you in, but my sister left this morning and I was at the airport." She glanced at him and he averted his eyes. "Did you find any men to work on the house?"
He shifted from one foot to another. "Nobody. Suddenly, everybody in town is busy. There's something going on, but I can't put my finger on it." He glanced at the floor. "You'll have to call your aunt and tell her everything's on hold until I can round up some more men. She'll also have to pay for some more lumber, 'cause that out there's only good for firewood now."
"I'll call her in a little while." She held out her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Nichols, for everything you've done. I hope you have better luck finding men."
He shook her hand and walked to the door. "I'll finish this job, Miss Corbett, even if I have to do everything myself. Be sure and tell your aunt I'm no quitter."
She forced her lips into a false smile. "I will, Mr. Nichols."
Elizavon was not happy. When Mary explained that Nichols was getting additional workers, Elizavon informed her that Allan Charles would be down that night to make sure everything was handled properly.
The runway was shrouded in darkness when Mary met the private plane. She dropped the attorney off in front of the hotel while she parked the car, and was surprised when he emerged with Nichols in tow before she'd had a chance to meet him inside. "What's wrong?"
"The hotel's full." He and Nichols accompanied her back to the car.
Her mouth fell open. "Are you sure? That can't be right. What about the rooms the workers had? Most of them have already gone. Surely they have two rooms available." She glanced at Nichols, who opened the rear door of the car, and shoved the attorney's suitcases onto the back seat.
He shook his head. "The manager asked me to leave. Said they were full up and I'd have to go. I told you before, there's something funny go
ing on. Stuff like this been happening for the past two days."
Mary glanced at Allan Charles. "Do you want to stay at the plantation? There's plenty of room there."
He nodded. "Looks like we'll have to." He glanced at Nichols. "How about you?"
"A bed's a bed. Don't matter to me," he said. "I'll follow you out of town."
They traveled the swamp-lined roads in silence. Once they arrived back at the plantation, Mary unlocked the door and motioned for them to drop their suitcases at the foot of the stairs. "I don't know about you, but I'm dying for a fresh cup of coffee."
They nodded and followed her into the expansive drawing room. Nichols coaxed glowing embers into a blazing fire while she brought in water from the kitchen. Moments later the smell of fresh-brewed coffee permeated the air. Both men sniffed appreciatively when she carried three cups of the steamy brew to the coffee table.
She waved her arm toward the stairs. "As far as sleeping arrangements go, you can have any upstairs room you want. They're all open. When you're finished unpacking, we'll have dinner," she announced as she sat down. "It won't be anything fancy, but at least it'll be hot."
They finished their coffee and she escorted them upstairs. Allan Charles disappeared into the first bedroom he saw, and she followed Nichols to another one further down the hall. She waited until Allan shut his door, then lowered her voice. "Uh, Mr. Nichols, please don't say anything about DeeDee being here. She and my Aunt don't get along, and I don't want to start another argument."
He grinned. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Miss. I won't say nothing about Miss DeeDee. You can count on me."
"Thanks."
They discussed the material sabotage and labor problems over steak and salad. Allan seemed relieved when Nichols told him he'd contacted several of his former employees in Texas, and they'd agreed to come out.
Nichols lifted his glance from his steak and glanced across at Allan. "However, now that the hotels won't put them up, we could have us a little problem."
Allan set his fork carefully on the edge of his plate. "There's plenty of room here. I don't think Mary would mind if they stayed, especially with the problems she's been having."
She glanced up sharply. "I don't mind, as long as they don't expect me to be cook and maid."
Nichols laughed. "Don't worry, my guys are used to fending for themselves. We won't be no trouble."
"That's that, then," Allan said. "I'll call Elizavon and let her know everything's settled."
Completely absorbed by their conversation, Mary started nervously when someone pounded loudly on the front door. Excusing herself, she hurried to see who it was. A tall, slender deputy leaned against the doorframe and announced he was making his nightly check to make sure everything was all right. She introduced him to the two men. "The deputy will be driving by the house each night to keep an eye on things," she explained.
The tall, lanky deputy nodded and touched his index finger to his hat. "My orders are to drive by once every night for the next couple of days." He held up a large aluminum light. "The sheriff sent this light along, and asked me to attach it to the front porch. Do you mind if I put it up?"
Mary looked at the light and nodded. "Fine with me. What about you, Allan?"
"Good idea." He rose from the table. "Nichols and I will help you."
She collected the dinner plates while they attached the light. Of all the stinking, rotten luck. There was no way she could prevent the workers from staying at the plantation. A deep sigh escaped before she could stop it. Finding out what happened to Magdalene wasn't going to be easy, especially with strange men roaming all over the place.
Chapter 31
Jack drummed his fingers on the top of his desk while he waited for the operator to connect him to Mary's extension. He was surprised when a male voice answered.
"Tony Parker."
"This is Jack Windom from Brannon Enterprises. I was trying to reach Mary Corbett. The operator must have given me the wrong extension."
Tony chuckled. "Nah, you've got the right person. Mary's out for a couple of weeks and I'm handling her calls."
Out? Where had she gone? Jack gathered his thoughts. "I'm a friend of hers. Is she ill?"
Tony's voice grew cautious. "She's on personal leave. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that. Is there something I can do for you?"
His mind reeling, Jack struggled to make polite conversation. "No, thanks. I called to talk to her about something personal."
"You might try her sister. She could probably pass on a message for you."
"Thanks." He hung up the phone and gazed out his window, deep in thought. Why would Mary take personal leave? He knew she'd been having nightmares, and wondered if something else had happened. He had to find out. It was obvious Tony wasn't going to give him any more information, and he doubted if anybody else would either. What was it she'd called her sister? Donna--no, that wasn't it. Dorothy--no, Darlene. Damn it, it was something weird, right on the tip of his tongue. Dee, yeah. DeeDee, that was it.
Now, if he could only remember her last name. What was it Mary had said? Something about how she couldn't forget DeeDee's last name, but why? He struggled and recalled it had to do with a car that was no longer made. Yeah, something from Ford. Edsel--no that wasn't it. Edsom--no, that was wrong, too. He tried variations on Edsom: Edsum, Edsol, Edson. Yeah, that was it. DeeDee Edson.
He grabbed a phone book and kept his fingers crossed as he scanned the white pages. When he found her listing, he let out a sigh of relief.
The phone rang several times, and he was just about to hang up when a woman's voice echoed in his ear. "Hello."
He cleared his throat. This could be tricky. How much had Mary told her? "This is Jack Windom. I'm a friend of Mary's, and I was wondering if you could tell me how to get in touch with her."
There was a slight pause. "How'd you get my number?"
"I looked it up. Mary's talked about you several times and when I couldn't reach her, I decided to try you."
"She's not in town."
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know that. Look, Ms. Edson, I'm not sure how much Mary's told you about us, but I need to get in touch with her. Please."
There was a long pause. "Why should I tell you where she is? You're still married, aren't you?"
Damn. She was going to be difficult. He tried another tact. "I'm worried about her. I know she's been having nightmares, and I need to know if she's all right. Can you please tell me that much?"
"She's fine, or at least she was when I left. Look, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you where she is. If you want me to pass on a message, I'll be glad to tell her the next time she calls."
Jack did some swift calculations. If DeeDee had been to visit Mary, then there was only one place she could be. "She's at the plantation, isn't she?"
DeeDee's voice sounded surprised. "I didn't say that."
He chuckled, relieved to have figured out where she was. "You didn't have to. If I wasn't so worried about her, I'd have figured it out for myself earlier."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Look, Jack, I don't mean to butt in, but she's trying to work things out. Please, give her a chance to get everything settled."
"I don't want to hurt her, DeeDee. I care too much for her to do that."
"If you really care about her, you'll give her some time. Your going down there now would only make matters worse. Can't you see that?"
"I'll think about it."
"Do you want me to tell her you called?"
He sighed. "Yeah. Tell her I was worried and needed to make sure she's all right."
When DeeDee hung up, he leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out his next move. His first impulse was to go down to the plantation. Things were slowing down at the office, and this would be a good time to take some of his vacation. Unfortunately, that would leave Audrey alone. He still hadn't made up his mind what he was going to do when he returned home that evenin
g.
Audrey lay on the couch in the spacious den, watching television. Even though the room was warm, a thick blanket covered her frail body, and her face was as white as the pillow beneath her head. She studied Jack's face for a few moments, then patted the sofa next to her. "What's wrong, Jack?"
He shook his head. No sense worrying her. She had enough to think about. "Nothing."
She pressed the remote control and the television clicked off. "I know you better than that, Jackie boy. You might as well tell me, because you know I'll worm it out of you."
He remained silent and she reached out and touched his arm. "Is Mary all right?"
He nodded. "She's taken a couple weeks personal leave. I called her sister to make sure she was okay."
Suddenly animated, Audrey struggled to a sitting position. "She's gone to the plantation, hasn't she?"
He nodded. "Her sister said she's gone down there to try and figure things out."
She reached over and brushed the hair from his face with her fingers. "What are you going to do, Jack? Do you think she'd let us see the house? I'd love to see the house before... Well, I'd love to see it, if I could. I think I could make the trip without any problems," she lied.
He shook his head. Audrey was lying; they both knew it. When he'd called the doctor last week, he'd been told her last blood work results had been terrible. She'd even had to double up on her pain medication. His eyes misted as he recalled the doctor's fateful words: Audrey was fading fast; she had less than a month to live.
"DeeDee told me she wants to be alone."
Audrey scoffed. "You and I both know that isn't true, Jack. Mary needs your help to find out what happened to Magdalene. I've wanted to see that plantation ever since you first told me about it; this might be my only chance. It's the perfect excuse for us both to go. Why don't you put in for some leave and we'll take the first flight out?"
He started to argue, and she placed fragile fingers against his lips. "Jack, you and I both know what's going to happen. I don't have much time left. It doesn't matter to me if it happens here, or in Louisiana." She wiped away the tears that rolled down her face. "Please, let's just go to the plantation. I won't ask anything else."
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