Darkwater Truth

by Robin Caroll

  “Please tell me you didn’t ask her out.” Beau shook his head. His partner was known as quite the ladies’ man. He supposed Marcel was handsome enough—he’d been told many times over that he resembled the actor Taye Diggs, and he took excellent care of himself. He could easily bench press more any of the other detectives in their precinct, including Beau, but Beau would never admit to that.

  “Nah. I don’t think I’m her type.”

  Beau laughed. “I thought you believed all women found you irresistible.”

  “Most do.” Marcel shrugged. “But this one? Well, she seemed pretty interested in Dimitri.”

  That grabbed Beau’s full attention. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just the way she looked at him when we were in his office yesterday. I can tell these things.”

  “Any woman who doesn’t swoon at your feet must be attracted to someone else, is that it?” Beau grinned.

  “Well…not every woman, but most of them.”

  “Savoie! Taton!”

  Both men jumped at the sound of the captain’s bellow across the precinct. “My office. Both of you. Now.”

  Beau grabbed his notebook and rushed toward Captain Istre’s office, Marcel matching his steps. “What did you do now?” he mumbled under his breath.

  Marcel shook his head. “Me? I haven’t done anything.”

  They stopped at the threshold to the captain’s office.

  “Come in and sit down. Shut the door.” The captain had already plopped back down in chair that creaked under his weight.

  Marcel shut the door, then they both sat on the edge of the chairs, facing the captain.

  “This case you two caught…the skeleton at the Darkwater Inn. Where are we on it?”

  “Not much of anywhere yet.” Beau quickly filled the captain in on the facts of the case.

  “Doesn’t sound like you have any leads on the victim or the crime.”

  “No, sir. We’re waiting on reports from the evidence as well from CSU and the FACES unit,” Marcel volunteered.

  The captain let out a loud and gruff harrumph. “Are we giving out guided tours of crime scenes now, detectives?” Annoyance accentuated the worn lines of the captain’s stern face.

  “Um, no, sir.” Beau couldn’t imagine where this was going, but he was pretty certain the captain was about to let them know clearly what he meant.

  “Then perhaps you could explain to me why not only a suspense writer was at the crime scene but also a local news reporter who ran the story on the noon newscast?”

  Oh, no. Beau’s stomach twisted.

  “By your expression, Savoie, I’m guessing you know what I’m talking about.”

  For years, he’d been Vincent Fountaine’s law enforcement source for his novels. Nothing specific, of course, but to verify procedures and policies and the such. Still, following a stalker incident several years ago, Vincent became very secretive about his life to the point where not many people knew that the famous bestseller R.C. Steele was really Vincent Fountaine. “Um, sir?”

  “The noon newscast was filled with shots of the Darkwater Inn, reporting that a skeleton had been found within its walls and it was noteworthy enough to bring out one of the most popular suspense authors of today, who just so happens to be, in real life, the father of the general manager of the hotel. Would you care to explain why you didn’t think this was important to reveal to me?”

  “Well, sir…um…” He didn’t quite know what to say. Vincent had become paranoid regarding his identity after too many stalking incidents. To be identified—on the news—would completely affect his life. Not to mention that the story shouldn’t have been on the news at all.

  “It’s water under the bridge now, since Allison Williams reported it on the news. I’m sure there will be major repercussions regarding this case.”

  This was even worse than Beau could have imagined. Vincent’s identity revealed on the local network would be picked up, no doubt. And that he was at the scene…

  “Any idea how the news even got wind of this?” The anger in the captain’s voice had dissipated a little.

  Marcel shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. We’ve suspected for a while that there was a leak in the department somewhere since the same reporter, Allison Williams, seems to be able to report on things almost immediately.”

  The captain pointed at them. “Find the leak and plug it. And do whatever damage control you can revolving her report. We’ve already got a call from several of the station’s affiliates wanting comments. This isn’t just going to die away.”

  Beau and Marcel both stood. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison before rushing from the office.

  “If I find out who keeps feeding that woman information…” Marcel slapped his fist against his palm.

  “It’s made our job harder on several cases now.” Beau shook his head. “Vincent is going to be furious. Addy, too.” He hated to think how angry both would be. He was mad enough over the report, and he hadn’t even seen it.

  “As they should be. Man, that Allison Williams…it’s past time somebody put a plug in her outlet.”

  Beau nodded. “Why don’t you put your charm to use on the ladies in the records room, dispatching, wherever, and see if you can get a lead on Allison Williams’s source? Somebody around here has to know something.”

  “On it.” Marcel turned and headed down the other hallway of the precinct while Beau returned to his desk. His phone buzzed before he could even sit down. He snatched it up. “Detective Savoie.”

  “You have a visitor up here in reception. A Dr. Broussard. She says she has some information for you on a case you’re working.”

  “Yes. Send her back, please.” He hung up the phone and waited until Chandler rounded the corner. The uniformed officer pointed the way to his desk before turning back toward the reception area.

  Beau met her midway across the open precinct detectives’ den, as he referred to it. “Chandler, you didn’t have to come all the way down here.” He shook her hand, then led her to his desk, pulling out the chair beside it for her.

  “It wasn’t any problem.” She sat. “I had to drop off some reports at the coroner’s office anyway, and I thought you might be interested in hearing the news firsthand, in case you had any questions.”

  Beau sat in his chair and pulled out his notebook and pen. “What’s that?”

  “The axe was definitely the murder weapon. The skull has a three-and-one-third-centimeters-deep gash on the left side of the skull just above the ear. The sheer force of a blow with enough force to cut that deep into the skull would kill anybody. The length of the gash on the skull matches with the axe perfectly.” She crossed her legs and tapped her short, unpainted fingernails on her knee. “Due to this information, and the fact that the axe was left by the body, I’m going to work off the assumption that the blood found on the axe belongs to the victim. I’m hoping your CSU results can pull a DNA profile, which if matched, we can confirm with blood typing and dental records.”

  “Have you had any luck with those?”

  Chandler smiled and shook her head. “Those take a little more time. We’ve made the impressions and are running searches. If you have any type of time frame you think the murder could have been committed, it would be helpful for me as I search for missing persons.”

  “You think the victim was a missing person?”

  She grinned again. “I think the murderer went to a lot of trouble to hide the body, so I’m going to assume someone had to miss him. If we get lucky, someone filed a report and that will give us some information to start our searching.”

  Beau flipped to the victim page he’d made in his notebook and read what he’d written, explaining about his upper-class theory because of the button and zipper.

  She nodded. “If he was upper class, that might actually help us even more. When the wealthy go missing, they’re usually reported as missing.”

  “Yeah.” He jotted down the notes about the blow to the hea
d.

  “Especially if they go missing while on vacation or something. If they were a guest of the hotel.”

  He hadn’t considered that right off the bat, although it did make sense. He made a note in the margin of his notes. “I’ll check out any reports that were filed on missing persons from the Darkwater Inn.” It was as good of lead as anything else they had at the moment.

  “So, detective, what’s your gut telling you about the time of the murder?” She smiled. “I’ve worked with enough law enforcement that I don’t ever discount a cop’s gut instinct. They usually tend to be pretty accurate.”

  He glanced at his notes and shrugged. “I don’t like to guess.” He dealt in facts…in absolutes. He didn’t like guessing and certainly didn’t like discussing guesses outside of his partner.

  But Chandler smiled so widely, she disarmed his resistance. “I’m not asking you to commit to an answer, just what you think, based on your training and experience.”

  It was hard to deny the woman when she turned her charm on. Too bad Marcel had written her off—the two of them would be a formidable pair.

  Beau let out a sigh. “Well, looking at just the evidence I have right now, if I were pressed, I’d say my best guess would be the murder and stashing of the body had to be during the 1938 remodel.”

  “That’s exactly what I think, too, based upon what we know and my experience.” She sucked her bottom lip, making a slurping type of noise before letting it go with a pop. “Upper class…are you thinking he was a guest of the hotel?”

  “That’s kind of the way I’m leaning.”

  She nodded. “Makes perfect sense. I wonder if the hotel has guest ledgers from that time.”

  “Maybe.” He hadn’t really considered that. “I could ask Addy.”

  “Or I could ask Dimitri.” Her face brightened a little bit. Just enough that someone trained in microexpressions would notice. “I mean, if they kept a ledger and one of their guests went missing, maybe there would be some documentation, right?”

  Marcel’s insight wrapped around Beau’s mind. Maybe his partner did know more about the female gender than most. “Maybe.”

  “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Dimitri to look, right? Especially if we could find a name that matched a missing persons report you might find, right?”

  “There’s no harm in asking.”

  She nodded. “I think I will.” Chandler glanced at the floor, the apples of her cheeks turning a little pink. “So, um, would you happen to know if Dimitri is involved with anyone or anything? I didn’t see a wedding ring but…”

  “No, he’s not married.” This was awkward. On one hand, it was great that a beautiful woman was interested in Dimitri. On the other hand, it put Beau in a tight place to explain Dimitri’s interest in the woman Beau was also dating.

  “Is he seeing someone specific, do you know?”

  “I know he’s dating, but not in a monogamous type of relationship.” That was the truth. The monogamous part might be only because Addy had feelings for both Beau and Dimitri, but it was a fact.

  Chandler smiled. “Good. I mean, oh. I just wondered is all. He’s very handsome and charming and he does own a hotel.”

  Beau chuckled. “He does at that.” He shouldn’t have the giddy feeling at the thought of Dimitri and Chandler becoming involved.

  But he did.

  She stood. “Well, I think I’ll go ask. If I find out anything, I’ll call you, okay?”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He stood and shook her hand. “It’d help me on the case tremendously.”

  “Sure. I’ll be in touch.” She walked with a bounce toward the reception area.

  As Beau returned to his seat, a heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach. He’d been truthful enough with Chandler, but he didn’t want Dimitri taken out of contending for Addy’s heart. If Dimitri and Chandler connected, would Beau get Addy out of default? He didn’t want that.

  He wanted Addy to be his, more than he wanted to draw his next breath, but he wanted her to want him. Wanted her to choose him.

  Wanted her to love him.

  That meant she had to choose between Dimitri and Beau. She had to make the choice, not have it made for her. Otherwise, he’d always wonder. That was no way to have a relationship. Not one that would last, anyway.

  In that moment Beau knew two things: he wanted Adelaide Fountaine to love him and he wanted theirs to be a forever love.

  — The Compound

  Esau stepped into his father’s dimly lit room. The old man sat up in his bed, what little hair he had left jutted out at odd angles. His sleepshirt hung in wads around his bony frame. But it was his eyes—wide and glazed with flickers from the bedside candle that sent shivers up Esau’s spine. “You called for me, Father?”

  He nodded. “Did you see the news?” At one hundred and one years old, his mind and tongue were both still quicker than most of his sons’.

  “What part?” Esau asked, careful to keep his tone neutral. Upsetting his father was never a good idea, but especially not when he was so obviously unnerved.

  “About the skeleton found in the Darkwater Inn, of course!”

  Esau swallowed. “Yes, sir, I did.” He offered nothing more, not sure what he should say.

  “Are you stupid, son? Do you not see?” His father’s voice shook the room. Small remnant of a man, still as powerful as ever.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I don’t understand.” Even at the age of seventy-six, Esau was intimidated by his father. Truth be told, all his children were.

  The old man’s eyes flashed. “The demon is loose.”

  1925

  “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.” William clung to Sister Rosemary. If he held tightly enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to leave. The thought of going to St. Mary’s Asylum scared him.

  “You can’t stay here, sweetheart. Everybody has to leave when they turn a certain age. Remember, your friend Harold went last year.”

  “Why can’t I just stay with you? I’ll be good, I promise.” Just thinking about being away from Sister Rosemary made his tummy hurt. He wanted to throw up.

  “Oh, my sweet boy, you are good. You aren’t being sent to St. Mary’s because you did anything wrong. That’s where all the young boys go. You’ll make new friends, but your best friends, James and George, are going with you. Harold is probably waiting on you there, too.”

  He sniffed, not wanting Sister Rosemary to see him crying like a little baby. He was seven now, a big boy. Smart, too. All his teachers said so. Even Mother Mary Margaret. “They’re all going, too?”

  Sister Rosemary smiled. “Of course, and there will be other boys there your age as well. You’ll make so many new friends. You’ll forget all about me and the other sisters here at St. Vincent, as you should. You might even find a family.”

  He’d wanted a family for as long as he could remember, a mommy and daddy of his own, not like the one he had. Mother Mary Margaret had told him that his mommy had been killed by a man who let a demon possess him. But his mommy had been a sinner and that’s what got her killed.

  William was pretty sure the demon-possessed man was what killed her, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. Not where Mother Mary Margaret could hear him. She’d rap his knuckles with her ruler for sure.

  That ruler hurt!

  “You have to remember to say your prayers and mind your manners, sweet William.” Sister Rosemary gave him a final hug. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  He still didn’t like the idea of leaving her, but if James and George went with him, it couldn’t be too bad. They were his bestest friends. And he did miss Harold. It would be great to see him again.

  “I made you a copy of the letter that was in your pram the night you came to us.” She handed him a sealed envelope. “You aren’t old enough yet to understand everything in the letter, but one day you will. I pray you’ll keep it safe and not open it until you turn thirteen.” She put her hand on the side of his face
. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, Sister Rosemary. I promise.”

  She smiled. “Put the envelope in your Bible and keep it safe. One day, when you’re old enough to understand, you’ll read it and know that you were loved before you came here.” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Despite what Mother Mary Margaret says, your mother loved you. Even when she was off doing things…well, things she shouldn’t have, she made sure you were well taken care of. You only do that for people you love.”

  He nodded, not understanding anything of what she said, but realizing it was important to Sister Rosemary, so it was important to him.

  “Keep it safe. Be good. Say your prayers.” She smiled at him again, her eyes looking all watery like his did when we was about to cry. “I love you and I’ll miss you.”

  “Will you come see me?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to come visit, but know that I love you very much and I’ll be thinking of you. Always.”

  6

  — Dimitri

  “Sorry to hear about the hotel’s troubles. Seems over the last year or so, a dark cloud has settled over the Darkwater Inn.” Funny, but Malcolm Dessommes’ tone didn’t indicate any sympathy over the phone.

  Dimitri wiped his hands on the rag tucked into the band of his apron. “Well, you know what they say—there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Front desk is reporting even more reservations than we can accommodate.” Whatever it was about murder and mayhem that attracted people, he’d never understand.

  “Thrill seekers, I suppose. Happy to hear the news hasn’t impacted the profit of the hotel. Especially since I’m sure you’ll soon be interested in selling to me or letting me buy in to be your partner.”

  Dimitri laughed as he stirred the simmering pot of boiling chicken, onions, and celery. “I already told you I’m not interested.”

  “Yet, my friend. You aren’t interested yet.”

  “I’ve got to run, Mal. I have to have chicken and dumplings ready for tonight’s special.”