“Well, that is hard to say.”
He held the documents in his hand and looked at me.
“Try,” I quipped.
“Well, several million…but we cannot know an exact figure, as the estate holds various assets.”
“And my twenty-five percent, then. How much does that equal?”
“Approximately ten million dollars. Minus, of course, Catherine’s two percent.”
“And you, Louis?”
He looked uncomfortably at Meredith Mae.
“These figures are approximate values, but I would guess, several million as well.”
“I see.” I put my cigar down and stared at him. “I intend to employ my own lawyer to renegotiate your ‘fee’ as you call it.”
He looked at me as if he might strike me.
“Tell me, Louis, what is your opinion?” I asked him.
“Opinion? On what?”
“On who killed William Davenport?” I said simply.
He looked uncomfortably at Meredith Mae and then turned to me.
“I believe that Silas killed his father. There was a witness.”
“Yes, yes, Catherine, my dear daughter. How convenient.”
“Do you doubt the word of your own daughter?” he asked me, with a familiar raise to his brow.
“Let us just say that I do not believe that Silas murdered his father.”
“Then what do you believe?” he asked me with an odd smirk on his face.
“Leave the documents for me to go over. I will sign the necessary papers and bring them to you in the morning,” I said and dismissed him.
“You have not answered my question, Malcolm.”
He sought my eyes.
“In due time, we will know the truth.”
I let my eyes lock with his and felt an unsettling arousal.
He ignored the implication and continued, “I have drawn up a will for Catherine,” he told me. “You are her beneficiary. That is, until she marries. I have brought you a copy.”
“How amusing.” I took the contract from his hand and looked it over.
“And if you should die, Malcolm. Your assets go to Catherine. Is that correct?”
“Draw me up a new will, Louis. My assets go to Matthew Guyon.”
“Matthew Guyon? Who is he?” Louis asked incredulously.
“My father, sir,” Meredith Mae told him. “He has been missing, but we believe he is not dead.”
“And if he should never return, Meredith Mae receives his share. She will be the executrix of my estate.”
“And to Catherine, or the rest of your children?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at me as if I were somewhat insane as he stood and reached out for my hand.
“As you wish, Malcolm,” he said as he looked into my eyes.
Meredith Mae also stood and offered Louis her hand. He held it for a moment and smiled sweetly as he brought it to his lips.
“Mademoiselle Guyon,” he said softly. “Can you ever forgive me for any grief I might have caused you?”
“I hold no animosity toward you, Louis,” she answered softly.
“Would you honor me then with a carriage ride this Sunday? We can ride through Cadman Plaza. It is lovely there.”
To my great dismay, my precious granddaughter blushed like a schoolgirl and agreed to see him. I almost protested, when all of a sudden, Rachel came running from the kitchen and began to giggle and throw her arms around Louis. I was shocked to see the child so animated.
“What have we here? Little Rachel?” he asked.
“You know the child?” I asked as I caught Meredith Mae’s eye. She looked on as puzzled as I was. Rachel seemed to be squealing in delight.
“We are old friends.” He laughed as he twirled her around. “Old friends.”
“We have never seen her like this. Why, she is a different child,” I said.
“Really? How interesting.” He turned to Meredith Mae. “Sunday at noon?” He grinned as the child continued to giggle. Meredith Mae nodded and took Rachel’s hand as Louis closed the door behind him.
“Well, what to make of that?” she turned to me with a curious expression.
“Rachel,” I leaned in toward the child, “how well do you know Louis?”
“Very well. We take the ferry across the river and play make-believe almost every weekend.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
My granddaughter saw a good deal of Louis Boussidan over the next several weeks, despite my disapproval. They often took Rachel with them when they went for long walks near the waterfront. I was perplexed by the relationship between Louis and the girl, who seemed as utterly charmed by the scoundrel as Meredith Mae, but I could only sigh and nod my head when they chatted on and on about this or that amusing ditty that Louis came up with during the course of a day.
I asked Meredith Mae whatever had become of Ursula, and I was told she appeared to of vanished into thin air.
“Blown off on her broomstick, I presume?” I laughed.
Meredith Mae shot me an unappealing frown and I decided I would let the matter drop. I was relieved and hoped I’d seen the very last of her, anyway.
* * * *
Catherine was infuriated to learn that she was not the beneficiary in my will and had Louis revise her own will to reflect her charitable spirit. I learned that a percentage of her estate was to be left to the Institute for Medicinal Herbs and Remedies and another ten percent went to some historical society for the preservation of landmark buildings. I told her that I was quite pleased with her choices, to which she scowled and told me they were Louis’s choices and she cared not a bit where her money went after she was six feet under, as long as I received none of it. She then told me that Louis was to be the executor and primary beneficiary of her estate.
I said nothing. Of course, I thought she was an idiot to trust him, but I was not concerned with Catherine’s interest in Louis. It was Meredith Mae’s developing infatuation that concerned me, and I watched helplessly as she and Rachel spent more and more time with this compelling yet odious individual.
* * * *
Since I did not have a clue as to how I would go about proving Silas’s innocence, I thought my efforts would be better spent discovering Elizabeth’s whereabouts, at least for the time being. But I received no contact from her, no sense of her presence, despite my many hours of meditation. Meredith Mae was of little help to me during this time because she was so distracted by Louis’s pursuit of her. So, I took my meditations alone and walked the labyrinth that I had painstakingly reconstructed from memory in the rear yard of our house under the apple tree that Matthew had loved to climb in his youth.
I did not blame Meredith Mae for her youthful lack of interest. She was clearly falling in love with Louis, even though I intimated that I thought he was nothing more than a handsome, French philanderer, though I suspected him of being much more than that. The moment I could prove that Louis was the cause of the evil around us, I would reveal him.
Meredith Mae insisted that they were only good friends. My attempt to talk seriously about the obvious flaws in Louis’s character seemed to fall on deaf ears. I searched all of Brooklyn for an appropriate substitute who could seduce her from Louis’s mendacious charm, yet she found fault with every young man I brought to her attention.
* * * *
“Don’t you think Louis has a dark side?” I asked her.
She tossed back that lovely head of hers and laughed gleefully. “He is only pensive, Grandmamma. Not dark. And only sometimes.”
“I feel he is mendacious,” I said.
“Oh, poo.” She laughed and tossed her curls.
“Even a bit effeminate,” I said.
“Oh, Grandmamma.” She blushed and avoided further comment.
I sighed and stared at the floor. In my heart of hearts, I was scheming to steal her away to some future dimension as soon as Emie and Matthew returned with Philippe. Yet I feared she would not follow, and that I wou
ld be stuck with this wicked man, as I also feared that Meredith Mae would choose to die a natural death if she were to marry Louis and that natural death could obliterate the luxury of infinity for her.
* * * *
Finally, I believed that my prayers had been answered. It was the night I returned home from taking Maebelle to the sanitarium that I had found for her on Long Island. It had been a long trip and I was terribly tired when I arrived back in Brooklyn four days later. I was quite relieved, for I now felt that Maebelle would be well cared for, and maybe even eventually restored to some modicum of sanity in due time. The doctors had given me hope, and I had made financial provisions that protected Maebelle for the rest of her life, whether she was restored to sanity or not.
I was relaying this to Meredith Mae as we sat in our parlor when the doorbell chimed, and much to our surprise Catherine stood grinning at us.
“Daughter,” I began. “Your mother is going to be fine. I have…”
She cut me off and walked right up to Meredith Mae.
“I don’t give a damn if the woman falls in a hole and can’t find her way up for air.”
“You’re terribly unkind, Catherine.” Meredith Mae put her hands across her chest and glared at her half-sister.
Catherine held out her hand. “Haven’t you even noticed my ring?” she said.
Meredith Mae took the hand that Catherine suspended in the air like a puppy’s paw and stared at the glistening diamond.
“No, I have not. It’s beautiful,” she told her.
“Well, you should have noticed it. It’s from Louis.”
“Louis?” Both Meredith Mae and I spoke at once. I went straight over to Catherine and stared at her finger. The damn ring sparkled back at me like a cluster of stars.
“Why should Louis give you a diamond?” I asked.
“Oh, Father, please. You knew of this. I am to be his wife. We have been engaged for months.”
I noticed the quick tears that came into my granddaughter’s eyes.
“I must have forgotten,” I said.
Catherine turned and glared at me.
“You knew of it, Father, and gave us your blessing. Now you pretend you’ve had a fall and remember nothing. Just what game are you playing?”
“Well, yes…I remember nothing of your plans. I am sorry.”
I looked despondently at Meredith Mae who had the most heartfelt look.
“Well, let me just remind you that I am engaged to Louis Boussidan.” She looked at Meredith Mae with a hideous grin. “He and I have so much in common, secrets that would astound you, secrets you would not want to know.”
She bent so close to Meredith Mae that I almost stepped between to separate them.
“Do not flatter yourself into believing that my Louis loves you,” she said to her. “He is amusing himself with you. Perhaps he seeks to understand my father’s sudden infatuation.”
Catherine laughed loudly and abruptly left our home. We could hear her laughter all the way down the street. I went to the window and watched her as she practically skipped away.
When I turned back to Meredith Mae, to comfort her, I realized she had run from the room. I remained where I stood, in an odd state of grace, at once delirious to be rid of that scoundrel, and yet infuriated beyond reason that he had pierced such a trusting heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I searched tirelessly for Louis but I could not find him. He did not return to his office, and he was not dining in any of the restaurants that I was told he frequented. I thought a good thrashing would be most appropriate for dishonoring both women, and then I would finally wash my hands of him for good. But it was Friday evening in late summer and many people with even a modicum of money went to the ocean at Coney Island. I had recently heard him speak of a small house he rented there in the summer months. I assumed I had missed him and would most likely be unable to confront him until his return.
I was absolutely convinced that Louis and Catherine were behind the plot to kill William and frame Silas for the murder. I was just as convinced that Louis would break off his engagement with Catherine now that Meredith Mae stood to inherit fifty percent of her initial fortune. It was clear that Catherine was dispensable and was too much of an egotist to admit it. But I also knew that my granddaughter would eventually be in the utmost danger if she ever agreed to marry Louis, and I knew that was precisely what his objective now was. I decided that I must find something on the bastard that would reveal his true intentions to Meredith Mae, for her innocence gave her no insight into the nature of men. I had to prove his part in this crime as quickly as possible and show the bastard up; otherwise, I feared that this wiry, slippery little scoundrel would double-talk his way right back into her heart.
Meredith Mae had mentioned that Louis lived in one of the bachelor row apartments on Clark Street. She had also mentioned that the house was at the end of the street, very near the water, and that it was recognizable by a large brass lion knocker on the front door.
I could see the lights of lower Manhattan as I stood staring across the river. Fortunately, it was a cool evening, well after nine, and I noticed that most people were happily bedded down for the night. There was hardly a soul to notice as I found the building and made my way up the steps. It was just at the moment I entered inside that I almost bumped into a pleasant young man as he passed me at the door.
“Excuse me,” I uttered.
“Evening, Mr. Northrup,” he said. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
I was startled that he knew Malcolm by name and realized that Malcolm was no stranger to Boussidan’s dwelling. I thought it best to see if I could take advantage of the young man’s friendly nature.
“Yes, it is.” I returned his smile. “Boussidan? It seems I’ve forgotten his apartment number. Do you know it?”
Just as I suspected, the young man was most helpful and continued to hold the door open for me. “All the way up, sir,” he pointed, “first door at the top of the stairs.”
* * * *
I was breathing heavily by the time I got to the top of the landing. I had to put my hands against the door and rest for several minutes before I had the energy to toy with the lock. I took the clip from my tie and was able to slide it between the door and the jamb until I could push the lock back. I was then able to turn the doorknob and enter.
The moon was full that evening and afforded me ample light to look around the small apartment. However, I decided to light a lamp so I would be able to read any incriminating documents. As I walked into the parlor I saw a long desk that appeared to be made of cherry wood. It was accented with some wonderful gold inlay. A large, upholstered chair, framed with a band of acanthus leaves, stood in front of the desk. As I admired the furnishings, I assumed that this must be where Louis worked, for I saw books and piles of papers.
I sat in the chair, lit the lamp, and began to browse through his desk. I realized that most of the papers were letters. I picked up several that began Dear Papa, but continued in French, so I could not read them. However, one letter began, My darling Jeanne, and continued in English:
How long must we abide this wretched charade before I can come to you and steal you away from that beast you married? I hope that Count Elemont will vacation long enough for us to be alone. How you would laugh to see me fool the world with my gallantry, my chivalry! I long for your lips, the corners of your blessed smile to find with my own, and that whisper near the lobe of my ear that produces a delirium to rival the richest opium. Is this bizarre plan worth our separation, my darling? I question that every time I lay with that fool who squashes my flesh. Ah well, soon we will be rich, and it will not matter, and you and I, ma chere, will be as far away as the wings of your magic will take us.
“Ah ha!” I whispered, “Why, the little bastard!”
He had not finished the letter, and it did not appear to make much sense to me, but it did prove that he was, at least, involved in some plot or other, and there was now even anoth
er woman aside from Catherine. I would be able to prove foul play to Meredith Mae. I quickly looked through the neatly stacked books until I found a small spiral that appeared to contain names and addresses. In it I found a listing for a Jeanne Elemont on Charles Street, in Manhattan. I scribbled down the address and wondered how often he visited this woman since it would not take more than an hour to reach her.
I leaned back in the chair and let my gaze travel over the room. It was beautiful and so light that I barely detected color. There were many small tables around, and at least three settees, upholstered in a powder blue fabric and trimmed in a wooden garland of fruit and flowers. I noticed what appeared to be a woman’s cape draped over one of the chairs. I stood to touch it, and I found that it was delightfully soft to the touch and lined in purple velvet. I assumed it belonged to this Jeanne Elemont, for it certainly was too sophisticated for Catherine and Meredith Mae preferred simpler clothes.
The door beyond the parlor led into Louis’s bedroom. The bed was large and draped in what appeared to be a brilliant marquetry of floral paneling. There were many pillows piled on the bed. In front of a window that looked out on Clark Street, there was a table, and on it were many colored bottles and paper boxes. It appeared to be a woman’s vanity table. “How strange,” I muttered as I sat myself down. I found at least a dozen perfume bottles of the sweetest and most alluring scents. “This is most unusual.” I chuckled as I continued to snoop. I discovered several bottles of glue in a drawer and a collection of the loveliest mahogany boxes, inlayed with gold designs. I stared at the one I held in my hand. It looked curiously familiar. When I raised the lid the tiny box began to play the most beautiful melody. It was unlike anything I had ever heard, and I was perplexed that I could not place the tune. I carefully turned it over and found that it was inscribed To U, from your eternal admirer.
It was then I surmised that Ursula must share this apartment with her brother because it was much too ridiculously feminine for a man, and the box, of course, appeared to be inscribed to her. I also opened the armoires and found some women’s clothes among the many fashionable men’s suits. I did not make any important connection, at that time, to the music box. I cringe to think that I could have been so stupid, but I was simply too happy to have found the love letter. I was sure that the scoundrel would now be exposed for the libertine that he was and we could dismiss him once and for all. I folded the letter and tucked it neatly away in my vest pocket. I breathed a sigh of relief as I hurried down the stairs and into the summer air.
Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem Page 19