The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  “Okay, but where do we start? I don’t think whoever put the picture in my room entered through the main hallway, like my dream. The walls there don’t have plaster now, but wallpaper, which would show a seam. Besides which, if he was going to stroll through the house and up the stairs, why use a panel in the hallway when the door to the bedroom wasn’t locked.”

  “I agree,” John said. “There’s nothing in the hall to indicate a panel still exists, assuming it ever did. Besides, the tunnel doesn’t run the length of the bedroom wall. It stops short of the hallway by a good five feet.”

  Olivia sighed. “I need to go through those albums in the library and see if I can get more information on the Borques. You need to find the trip switch in the tunnel and figure out where all the entry points are, otherwise I’m sleeping in the kitchen pantry to be safe.

  “And then there’s the fact that both of us have real jobs to do, and I don’t think we’re making much progress.” Olivia didn’t even want to think about how far behind schedule she was on the book and no way was she notifying her editor.

  “The maintenance can wait,” John said. “I think your safety trumps repairs.”

  Olivia pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “What do you know about the previous caretaker?”

  “Not much, really. Wheeler said he had a family emergency and had to take off for a while, but apparently Wheeler had been trying to hire more capable help before that.”

  “So he was already gone when you got here?”

  “Yeah. Wheeler told me to use his cottage until he got back, but said he didn’t know when that would be.”

  “I wonder if someone repaired the floor in that tunnel before he left and if so, how did they manage without him noticing?”

  John frowned. “I know he’s old, and Wheeler said he was hard of hearing, but you’re right. Someone would still have to haul lumber in here and cart it upstairs before they even began cutting and nailing. Hard to believe he could miss all that.”

  Olivia nodded. “I think we need to locate the old caretaker and ask him a few questions. It doesn’t sound like Wheeler knows much of anything.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but I can still call and ask.”

  “And say what?”

  “I’ll make something up. Pass me my cell phone.”

  “It’s barely daylight.”

  “That didn’t stop you from calling him yesterday. From where I sit, Wheeler has a fair amount to answer for. If he has to do it with the chickens, that’s not my problem.”

  Olivia pushed John’s cell phone across the table and he punched in Wheeler’s number. Olivia hoped the attorney knew more than they thought he did. The old caretaker might be able to clear everything up.

  “Wheeler, this is John Landry at laMalediction.”

  Olivia perked up and waited for John to question Wheeler.

  “No, everything’s as expected given the lack of maintenance over the years, but I’m having some trouble locating breakers for some of the wiring in the main house. I wondered if you had a way I could contact the old caretaker for a quick chat about that and a couple of other things. It would save me a ton of time.”

  Olivia gave John a thumbs-up. At least his story was a plausible one.

  John listened for a couple of seconds, then frowned. “So you have no idea how to reach him? Do you even know where he was going?” John looked over at Olivia and shook his head. “Well, I guess I’ll make do without him. But if you happen to hear from him, would you please ask him to give me a call on my cell?”

  John closed the phone. “Dead end. Wheeler says Aubrey, the old caretaker, didn’t say where he was going, doesn’t own a cell phone and he has nothing in his files on the man other than his name and social security number.

  “Aubrey’s probably been working at laMalediction longer than Wheeler has been alive. No reason for him to dig into the man’s business, I guess. So what now?”

  “We could always take a trip to town and ask around.”

  Olivia frowned, not relishing a visit to the town that officially gave her the creeps. “Do you think they’ll talk to us? I stopped at the café for directions on my way in and you would have thought I’d asked them to sacrifice their firstborn.”

  “They probably just don’t like outsiders.”

  “I’m sure they don’t, but it was more than that.”

  “What was it then?”

  Olivia’s mind played back her visit to the café. “They were skittish…uneasy.” She looked John directly in the eyes. “It was like they were all afraid.”

  HE LOOKED DOWN at the caretaker’s cottage from a tiny window in the attic tower. He’d left the photo hoping to hurry the woman along to her discovery…her destiny, but something had gone wrong. They’d found the tunnel entrance in her bedroom and that complicated everything, but he hadn’t expected her to flee the house and hole up with the caretaker. Even the discovery of the tunnel shouldn’t have caused that much panic.

  Something else had happened. Something he didn’t know about and hadn’t planned for. And that bothered him more than anything else.

  The front door of the caretaker’s cottage swung open and he watched expectantly as both of them stepped outside. She would come back into the house. She had to. It was written.

  But instead of crossing the circular drive, they got into the caretaker’s truck. He clenched his hands as they drove away from the estate. They didn’t carry any luggage so they were likely only going to town, but this wouldn’t do at all. There was no time to waste. The full moon was approaching. Three more days and Olivia Markham would fulfill the prophecy.

  His life would be set. Hers would be cut short.

  Chapter Seven

  Huge droplets of rain began to fall from the gray sky as Olivia stepped out of John’s truck and hurried across the street. Three men sitting in the corner of the otherwise empty café looked up as Olivia stepped inside, but all it took was a single glance for them to lower their eyes and lean forward to whisper across the table. John had suggested the cook might be more comfortable if she was alone, as the man had helped her before, so he’d gone to the gas station to pick up some supplies.

  Olivia slid onto a stool at the counter and waited for the cook to plate some eggs and toast and deliver it to one of the men in the corner. The man spoke to the cook and the cook glanced at her before shaking his head and saying something to the man that made the entire table frown.

  The cook headed back to the counter and gave her a nod. “I guess you made it all right?”

  “Yes, thank you so much for the directions. I missed the twisted trees on the first pass, but your map was great.”

  “No problem. Coffee?”

  “Please, and the breakfast special. I’ve been living on protein bars and peanut butter sandwiches.”

  The cook broke a couple of eggs on the grill and slid bread into the toaster. “So you haven’t changed your mind about staying there?” he asked, but he kept his gaze directed away from her.

  “Not until I’m finished with my book.”

  The cook placed a full cup of coffee in front of her, and Olivia took a second to breathe in the strong aroma. Rather than immediately moving away, the cook stood there and studied her.

  “Doesn’t it make you nervous?” he asked.

  “No,” Olivia lied, and realized that was the first time her answer to that particular question was a lie. “I’m used to it by now. I live in a different house for every book.”

  “Probably ain’t seen anything like laMalediction, though. Place is cursed.”

  Olivia nodded. “It’s that sort of rumor that makes it a great place for a story.”

  The cook’s eyes darted to the men in the corner, then back at Olivia and he shook his head. “The things that happen at laMalediction ain’t no story in a book. Place ain’t safe, if you ask me.”

  Olivia mentally cheered. The cook had given her exactly the opening she’d been looking for. “It is very run down. I’m
careful when I use the stairwell or walk in the upstairs rooms, to check the flooring first. The lights don’t work in a large section of the house. I figure there’s a breaker tripped, but I haven’t been able to locate the box.”

  The cook narrowed his eyes at her. “Aubrey’s lived there his whole life. How come he won’t fix it?”

  “Is Aubrey the old caretaker?”

  “If you mean old, as in age, yeah, he’s ancient.”

  “No, I meant he’s not there now. The estate attorney said he had a family emergency and sent a new guy to cover for a while. But he’s been so busy with damage from the storm that he doesn’t have time to mess with the lights. He figures I should make do with the other parts of the house until he can get to it.”

  “Family emergency?” The cook frowned. “I don’t recall hearing anything about that.” He turned back to the grill to plate her food.

  “Maybe it came up at the last minute,” Olivia suggested. “I wish I knew where to find him. A simple phone call would probably save me an afternoon of hunting around in the basement. Part of the section without lights is the library and I want to dig through the books and family albums for research.” Olivia gave herself a mental pat on the back for the lies that rolled off her tongue.

  The cook turned and slid the plate in front of her. He rubbed his jaw with one hand, his brow wrinkled in concentration. “Best I know, Aubrey’s family is all in Johnson’s Bayou, a little town a couple of hours west of here. I don’t know any of them, but the family name is Murphy.”

  Olivia smiled. “Thanks! I’ll try looking them up.”

  The cook frowned. “Thing is, though, I could swear I saw Aubrey’s truck driving through town last night.”

  Olivia stared. “What time?”

  “Late, after the storm started. I was still up here hassling with a broken gas line on this grill. Guess I could have been mistaken. It was still storming and there ain’t no streetlights to speak of.”

  Olivia shrugged, trying not to let on how much the cook’s words interested her. “Well, he sure hasn’t been to the house. But I’ll see if I can get in touch with him today and get those lights working. I really appreciate the help.”

  The cook nodded and glanced at the men at the corner table. Olivia could barely see them from where she sat, but she could tell they’d stopped talking as soon as she’d started and were likely hanging on every word. That didn’t seem to please the cook at all.

  “My name’s Olivia, by the way,” she said and extended her hand across the counter. The cook hesitantly shook it. “I was in such a hurry to beat the storm the other day that I don’t even think I introduced myself.”

  “I’m Tom Breaux. I own this café.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tom.” Olivia glanced at the men in the corner, leaned across the counter, and lowered her voice. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said, nervously. “I guess so.”

  “Why does my staying at laMalediction seem to bother people?”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “Surely, you know about the house. I mean, that smooth-talking attorney didn’t con you into thinking it was safe there, did he?”

  “I know the house’s history, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Then you know that people who go there rarely come out unless it’s with the coroner. Aubrey’s the only person that’s been to la Malediction in my lifetime that ever came back out.”

  Olivia’s heart skipped a beat and she forced herself to sound normal. “Are you saying other people have died there besides the original owners?”

  Tom nodded. “Couple of surveyors a few years ago was poking around, said they had to measure the bayou or something foolish. I figure they was really trying to see if the land held oil, then they’d try to pick it up for a song.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “The sheriff tried to keep it all hushed, so as not to scare people, but I heard the rumors all the same. Those two men shot each other. Ain’t no one got a reason why. But my friend Billy works for the doctor two towns over and he drove the bodies to the morgue. He unzipped the body bags and took a peek.”

  Olivia stared at Tom, not even blinking. “What did he see?”

  Tom glanced at the men in the corner and leaned further across the counter, his voice a whisper. “He said their faces looked like they’d been scared to death.”

  Olivia fought the urge to cross her arms across her chest. “Wow. You’re right. That is a scary story. Are they the only ones you know about?”

  Tom nodded. “The only ones they had bodies for, but every couple of years or so, someone comes into town wanting to poke around the house. I see ’em come into town, but I never see ’em leave.”

  “Maybe they leave when you’re at home or busy.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’re still at that house. Maybe the reason the lights don’t work is they’re trying to speak to you. Trying to warn you, even.”

  Olivia studied the man’s face, but she saw no slyness in his expression. Whatever was going on at laMalediction, it was clear by the expression on Tom’s face that he believed it was malevolent. “I’m careful because I know it’s in bad need of repair,” Olivia said, “but it’s just a house. There’s nothing evil about it.”

  She saw him clench his jaw, and he leaned toward her, staring her straight in the eyes. “No, ma’am, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not given to fanciful things, but the truth is, there’s more things in these bayous that can’t be explained than can. I know deep in my bones that pile of stone and wood is not just a house. Somewhere between ‘nothing’ and those stories you write is the truth.”

  Olivia felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as Tom turned and began scraping the grill. What did it take to make a grown, strong, able-bodied, seemingly sane man that intense over a structure of stone and wood? Maybe if Tom had been sequestered here his entire life she’d get it, but she recognized the military tattoos on his arms. Tom was no backwoods hick who’d never crossed the parish line.

  But he still believed in monsters.

  JOHN STEPPED INTO THE DOORWAY of the library and paused when he saw Olivia looking out the window, talking on her phone. She turned to face the doorway and waved him inside, frowning as she thanked whoever was on the phone and disconnected. “Any luck?” he asked.

  Olivia shook her head. “None of Aubrey’s relatives has seen him in years, much less in the past couple of days.”

  “Any other relatives we don’t know about?”

  “According to his niece, the family in Johnson’s Bayou is all Aubrey has left.”

  “Girlfriend?” John suggested, but he knew it was a stretch. Hard for a man who’d been sequestered at laMalediction for eighty years to find a girlfriend.

  “No chance. His niece said women irritated him and made him paranoid. Apparently, he thinks we all have ulterior motives.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Motives, yes. Ulterior, depends on the woman.” She dropped into a leather chair and looked up at John. “This missing caretaker thing…it’s that coincidence dance all over again.” She sighed. “I don’t buy it.”

  John shook his head and slid into the chair across the table from her. “I don’t, either. There’s simply too many things at play and none of them add up.”

  Olivia bit her lower lip then asked, “What do you think happened to him?”

  “I have two guesses. Either he had a run-in with our intruder…”

  “Or?”

  “Or he is our intruder.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “You really think so?”

  “Yeah. Considering he told Wheeler he had to leave for a family emergency but none of his family is aware of an emergency, it looks like he lied. He wanted people to believe he’d left laMalediction.”

  “That makes sense, and would explain why Tom Breaux saw his truck last night. Even if he was old and slow, he’d still know every square inch of the house including the secret passages.”

/>   John nodded. “And he wouldn’t have to hide the passage repairs from himself.”

  “But how is he getting back and forth from wherever he’s hiding?”

  “Maybe he never left the house,” John suggested.

  “Then why did Tom Breaux see his truck?”

  “Maybe he was mistaken.”

  Olivia frowned. “Maybe. But let’s just assume Tom Breaux wasn’t mistaken and it was Aubrey’s truck. That means he’s driving to and from somewhere, and he’s certainly not driving up the main road and parking in the front drive.”

  “No, he’s not, but God only knows how many trails run through these woods. And if anyone would know an alternate route to laMalediction, it would be Aubrey.”

  John pointed to Olivia’s laptop. “You got internet on that thing?”

  Olivia held up her satellite phone attached by a cord to the laptop. “Yes.”

  “Then pull up Google maps and see if we can get a satellite view of the area. If the alternate route isn’t covered completely by the trees we might be able to see it.”

  Olivia smiled, pulled up Google maps and typed in the town of Cypriere. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. I pulled up Google maps of the house before coming here and didn’t even think about it. And I’m supposed to be good at research.”

  John pulled a chair over next to her and watched the screen as an aerial view of Cypriere developed. Olivia could feel the heat coming off of his body, but instead of making her nervous it made her feel safe until she thought about it in that vein and then that made her nervous. Depending on other people wasn’t a weakness Olivia had ever had, and was one she couldn’t afford to develop. Depending on hot, strong men all alone in the middle of nowhere was just asking for trouble.

  She lifted her arm up a tiny bit, just so his forearm was no longer touching her, and clicked the mouse to select a satellite view. She zoomed in on the area a couple of times, then pointed to a hazy set of buildings. “There’s the town. This house is east and maybe a little south, right?”

  John leaned in further to study the screen and his forearm touched hers again. “That sounds right.”