The Mysterious Point of Deceit

by Beth Byers

  The Mysterious Point of Deceit

  A Severine DuNoir Mystery

  Beth Byers

  Contents

  Summary

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Also by Beth Byers

  Summary

  October 1925

  Severine DuNoir has returned home and continued to investigate the death of her parents. She has, however, reached a roadblock. As she tries to break through, she comes across an unexpected offer of help.

  While she delves into the history of her father’s life, she also starts to investigate the haunting of an elderly woman. Just who is tormenting this woman and why?

  Prologue

  The soul is eternal, my darling, which is why kindness matters so very much.

  The love and kindness we give last just as long as the soul.

  —Sister Mary Chastity to Severine Euphrasia DuNoir

  Chapter 1

  OCTOBER 1925

  New Orleans DuNoir Home

  “What’s all this?” Severine asked as she stepped into the parlor, her dog Anubis at her side. She’d been pulled from her office, where she had been slowly going through the contents of her deceased father’s hidden office that she’d discovered at their countryside home.

  Her great muscled protector eyed their invaders with the same disgust that Severine felt herself. She glanced out through the windows and saw the lovely day and the passing traffic. The New Orleans mansion had never stopped feeling suffocating, and she wasn’t sure it could be more so at moments like these.

  Her cousin, Florette, glanced up from the coffee tray that had already been delivered. “Oh, I knew you’d want to see Mama and my brothers once they returned home.”

  Severine’s gaze moved to the golden brothers. Henry and Barnabé grinned at her widely with perfect white teeth. Henry pushed back his too long blonde hair and his eyes raked over her. She could see the judgement and avarice and thought that men should try a little harder. Barnabé, on the other hand, ran his ringed fingers over his jaw and examined her chest before her face.

  “Sevie,” Henry said, stepping forward and kissing her cheek. He was followed by Barnabé, who escalated matters by kissing both of her cheeks while also squeezing her hands. “You grew up lovely.”

  “She hates being called Sevie,” Florette announced, winking at Severine and then glancing towards her other brother. With the care of a true sister, Florette added with a hiss, “I told you that.”

  Severine stepped back and then crossed to the place near the fire where she could never not see her mother. This time, however, Florette’s mother Delphine reclined there. She was another version of Florette. Blonde, lovely, bright and laughing. At one time, Delphine had been Severine’s mother’s very closest friend. It was through Delphine, in fact, that Severine’s own mother had met her father.

  In the months since Severine had returned to New Orleans, she hadn’t seen her aunt, Florette’s brothers, or Florette’s father. The mother and sons had gone to the continent and Florette hadn’t been well enough to leave with them. Her father had been in South America checking on some ranch there that poured in money—and trouble.

  Severine hadn’t regretted their absence and she welcomed their return rather like she’d welcome an invasion of locusts.

  “Auntie,” Severine said, knowing Delphine hated the title as much Severine hated ‘Sevie.’

  “Sevie darling,” Delphine said. “Look at you all grown up.” Delphine rose with languid grace and moved her eyes over Severine from head to toe without approval. “What an interesting look.”

  “I told you she was so stylish,” Florette said, not reading her mother’s reaction correctly. “Severine has set a whole new style, Mama. I saw Adélaïde Broussard wearing a black dress and red lipstick the other day when she was failing to flirt with our Mr. Oliver. Adélaïde didn’t pull it off nearly so well.”

  Florette blushed prettily. She’d caught the attention of their British acquaintance during a stay at the country house. The look she gave her mama said that she’d already waxed poetic and lengthy about Mr. Osiris Oliver and his friend, Grayson Thorne.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Aunt Delphine said coolly. “Adélaïde is chubby and pink. She probably looked as if someone had died.”

  Henry scoffed and then asked, “Is this the fellow Grandmère believes has a wealth that rivals a timber baron? No one has wealth like that anymore. At least, no one except our Severine.” His glance adjusted the ‘our’ to ‘my.’

  Severine didn’t roll her eyes but she swore darkly that the day she turned herself and her fortune over to one of her avaricious cousins would be the day the gates of hell opened and freed their residents.

  Florette’s answer to her brother was, however, to roll her eyes and dart a disbelieving look at Severine all while fluttering prettily. Severine was surprised by a wince for Florette. The girl was half in love, and Severine wasn’t sure that her feelings were reciprocated. Mr. Oliver, one of their two British friends, was indeed gallant and kind. She’d also witnessed him being gallant and kind to a good half dozen women in New Orleans.

  “Florette tells me that one can often find Mr. Thorne and Mr. Oliver here,” Aunt Delphine said, as though Severine had been whoring.

  Severine shrugged. “At times.”

  “And often out and about,” Aunt Delphine added with a narrowed glance inferring that was worse.

  “They are indeed good friends of myself, Grandmère, Mr. Brand, and—”

  Delphine scoffed at Mr. Brand’s name. “That man has no place in this family.”

  Severine smiled serenely and crossed to the coffee tray that had been placed in the parlor while she’d been dressing. She poured herself a cup and sipped, ignoring her aunt’s mild tirade, if a complaining fit could be both mild and full of rage.

  “Technically,” Barnabé said easily, “he’s Severine’s guardian.” He put just enough emphasis on her name to show he had heard she didn’t like the nickname.

  Severine sipped her coffee again, suspecting the chicory-flavored café au lait might be all that saw her through the visit.

  “When will Uncle return?” Severine asked to change the subject. She had no reason to respond to either Barnabé or Aunt Delphine.

  “Soon,” Delphine said with another cool smile. “He’ll never forgive me if you’re not living with us by then, darling. It’s not quite the thing for a young woman barely 18 years old to live alone.”

  Sudden silence filled the room as the siblings turned from their teasing. Severine felt another ghostly swish of the past. Once upon a time, they’d fought together as children while Severine had lingered in a corner, silent and watching. Once upon a time, they hadn’t been quite so interested in her. Once upon a time, she reminded herself, they’d all been spoiled children and not particularly fond of each other.

  They were grown up now, weren’t they? Tall, broad, handsome. Golden gods of New Orleans and wherever they went had ready smiles, handsome faces, and gazes that told a woman that she had enchanted them entirely. The gazes were, of course, lies, and they were, of course, rogues, but Severine thought women preferred pretty lies all too ofte
n.

  “I’m afraid Uncle will have to be disappointed,” Severine told her aunt easily. “Mr. Brand has taken the house across the street to look after me and keep an eye to propriety. I am quite happy here.”

  “No,” Delphine told her flatly. “You’ll be coming with us. I can’t imagine what Alphonse has been thinking. This is what comes of being a widower. You’ve been shot, my dear. Your style is… unique, to say the least. It’s entirely unacceptable for a young woman to become notorious. You can try this again when you’re thirty.”

  Delphine meant, of course, that no one would marry Severine. She didn’t bother to snort in disbelief. Delphine didn’t think Severine would remain single either. Definitely not with her fortune. Nothing about Severine herself was appealing to Aunt Delphine and therefore, must not be appealing to anyone else.

  Severine listened to a long list of reasons why she would be coming with Aunt Delphine and didn’t bother to register a single one of them. When her aunt finished, Severine simply said, “Thank you for caring, Aunt Delphine. I am quite comfortable.”

  Barnabé laughed and told his mother, “Give it up, Mama. She’s an independent woman. It’s refreshing, really.”

  Severine didn’t believe his approval was genuine any more than she believed the long looks that Henry was casting her way were real. Severine ignored her aunt’s reply and rose, crossing to the window. The street was quiet enough when it wasn’t Mardi Gras, but there seemed to be a strange auto lingering down the street. Was it someone who was keeping an eye on Severine?

  She was sure she’d been followed in the last months since her brother had tried to make her appear mad and later tried to kill her. The attempt had failed, which was merely the opening act to having himself declared as her guardian rather than Mr. Brand. More specifically, the guardian and controller of all that money Severine’s late father had amassed.

  She glanced across the street and noticed that Mr. Brand’s house was quiet. Was he inside working? Had he gone down to his office with his secretary and his assistant? Were his roommates, Mr. Oliver and Mr. Thorne, busy with their own investigations? She had yet to pull from them anything other than they were tracking someone who had disappeared into America and been traced to New Orleans.

  Severine turned slowly back to her guests and she answered the question that had been hanging while her thoughts were elsewhere.

  "Aunt Delphine,” Severine lied, “I am listening. I am afraid, however, that I will be remaining here, in my father’s house. I am quite used to being independent. I am also, as you know, quite reclusive. I’m afraid the bustle of your home would be overwhelming for me.”

  “She was, after all, raised by nuns, Mama.” Henry glanced at Severine to ensure she knew he had defended her.

  “Your mother would turn over in her grave knowing you were living like this,” Delphine hissed.

  “Oh Mama,” Florette groaned. “Why—”

  Severine lifted a brow and cut her cousin off. “Let’s not pretend that my mother didn’t find me generally disappointing in life. She’d never have expected anything different in the grave. Thank you for visiting, but I have an appointment that I must now prepare for.”

  Severine turned and left, Anubis at her heels. She bypassed the stairs and made her way to the kitchens where her roommate, companion, friend, and assistant, Lisette, was making bread with her mother.

  Severine put on an apron, stepped up to the table and said, “I need to knead something.”

  One of the puppies barked once at her while Anubis crossed to the back door and stood nearby. Lisette’s mother, Chantae, glanced up. “Did you leave the guests in there? I didn’t hear the door.”

  “I did,” Severine admitted. “I said I have an appointment.”

  “You do.” Lisette laughed as Severine kneaded the bread dough like a master. “Later.”

  Severine smiled easily and then focused on the dough while Chantae went and rid them of Severine’s family.

  “Meline says you need new dresses,” Lisette said as Severine started rolling out the dough for cinnamon buns.

  Severine glanced up and nodded and then released her frustration on the dough. When she finished placing the cinnamon buns into a pan, she’d calmed down.

  “I miss Sister Sophie,” Severine admitted and then took up a plate of beignets and coffee to the table near the window. The dogs were chasing each other around the back garden and the birds were singing outside. She closed her eyes. “And the nunnery.”

  “Your problem is this house,” Chantae said with the same flat honesty that Lisette had shown so many times. “It’s haunted with your family.”

  “I don’t want to forget them,” Severine replied.

  Chantae laughed harshly, but her tone was gentle when she said, “You won’t. You don’t forget your parents. Or what shaped you. You’ll no more forget your mama than you will Sister Mary Chastity or the bread-making nun.”

  “Sophie,” Severine said, rubbing her chest. What she would give for warm bread and tea with the sisters. Severine rose and let her dogs inside. Handsome Anubis crossed to her, sensing her melancholy, and put his head on her knees while she sipped her coffee. She set the cup down rather harshly. “I can’t just live like this.”

  “You’re right. You can’t,” Chantae said, glancing intently at her daughter at the same time.

  “But I won’t be what Delphine wants either.”

  “That would undo all the good your nuns did,” Chantae agreed.

  “Therefore,” Severine said, “I’ll do what they would want me to do.”

  Chapter 2

  “What is this?” Severine asked as she looked over the accounts with Mr. Brand.

  He looked at the entry on one of the pages and then, to her utter shock, his ears turned a deep, dark red.

  “Ah—”

  Severine glanced at Lisette, who was watching Mr. Brand with dark eyes that only intensified his blush. He cleared his throat and then coughed.

  “It’s something scandalous,” Lisette whispered to Severine.

  Severine looked at the entry that had only interested her in passing. It read: Mme. Thibodeaux, et al.

  Lisette leaned over Severine’s shoulder. She read it aloud. “Ohhh, Madame Thibodeaux.”

  Their gazes met. Lisette and Severine both had deep brown eyes like the shades of dark chocolate. Their gazes were filled with matching knowing.

  “Mistress,” Lisette and Severine said in unison.

  “He must have loved her,” Lisette told Severine, “given he saw to her after his death. Is her income guaranteed?”

  Poor Mr. Brand with his heated cheeks. He nodded only once. He continued to avoid Severine’s gaze, and she couldn’t help but think back to her father. He hadn’t been a kind man or a particularly loving one. He’d shown Severine dashes of affection, but he’d often been cruel to her mother. Severine sat so straight, a dowel of wood along her spine couldn’t have made her more stiff.

  “There are children.” Mr. Brand’s blush intensified painfully.

  Lisette blew out, a long, dark sigh while Severine asked, “Are they all right?”

  “They’re fine. Madame Thibodeaux is a good woman. Kind and loving.”

  “They have what they need?”

  He nodded and his gaze met hers. “Your father didn’t want you to know.”

  She wasn’t surprised. The heir didn’t have to know about the byblows. She hated her father in that moment. “How many?”

  Mr. Brand cleared his throat. “Three.”

  She nodded, taking in the fact that she had three more half-siblings. “Are there others? Beyond the Thibodeauxs? There are, aren’t there?”

  “A son. He’s twenty-seven.”

  “He’s all right?”

  “Your father had already seen to him before he died. He was in school when it happened. He’s since finished and is working as a doctor in Seattle, Washington. He never came back to Louisiana after he left for school.”

 
Another older half-brother, Severine thought. She didn’t know how she felt, but it wasn’t emptiness. Anubis leaned against her leg and put his head on her knee, and she scratched his ears idly, giving herself a moment to think. An older brother who was wise enough to get away. Who’d chosen a profession that looked after others. She would assume he was one of the doctors who was kind rather than power mad, and she’d be proud of him.

  “No others?” Lisette asked for Severine while taking hold of Severine’s free hand. How lucky she was, Severine thought, to have Anubis on one side and Lisette on the other.

  “There’s one more son.”

  Severine waited.

  “He’s just nineteen. Your father left money for school and to get established in a career and home. He’s supposed to go to Columbia University but hasn’t gone yet.”

  Severine did the math and knew that just after his second son had been born and was still small and squalling, she’d come along and disappointed him with her sex. She bit down as Lisette made the right comments about how Columbia University was a good school, and he must be quite smart. How much more bitter Severine’s arrival must have been then.

  “No others save the ones we’ve discussed,” Mr. Brand said. “The young Thibodeauxs and the other two.”

  “Boys?” Severine asked, thinking how her father would have been so bitter to have only one legitimate child and that child being a girl. It played in her head over and over again, and she knew she needed to let it go. She had felt love from him often enough, what little love he’d been capable of giving, but maybe he’d just saved the rest for those sons of his.