The Mysterious Point of Deceit

by Beth Byers

  “Two, cher.”

  Severine leaned back with surprise. “Is Lisette up?”

  Chantae nodded and eyed Severine with an expression that said she was spoiled. Severine didn’t deny it. She had certainly become spoiled. Severine let the dogs back into the house, refilled her café au lait, kissed Chantae’s cheek, and made her way back up to her bedroom. She started the bath water, adding salts for her aches and pains and then slid in without letting go of her coffee. A moment later there was a knock on her bedroom door.

  Severine called, “I’m in the bath.”

  “I don’t care, cher,” Lisette replied. “I’ll just lay down on the end of your bed. I visited the boys this morning. Mr. Thorne is up and gritting his teeth heroically while he swears he’s ready to engage in the next round of investigation.”

  Severine was too tired to do anything other than grunt, hoped Lisette heard the grunt, and sipped the rest of her coffee. When she finished drinking her coffee and soaking her bruises, she dressed quickly in a gray plaid skirt that reached her calves with a white blouse and black sweater. The day was gray outside and it matched both her mood, her aches, and her outfit.

  “I feel like a personification of gray rain clouds,” Severine told Lisette after she’d dressed. “When I finally fell asleep, I had terrible dreams about Janice. I need to check on her.”

  Lisette nodded immediately. “Mr. Brand asked us to let you sleep, but he thinks we should return to the Grantley mansion and see if we can find what the true intent of this haunting has been.”

  Severine scratched her brow as she thought about it. “I would suggest we visit Mrs. Grantley to get her permission, but my head pain and body aches say that I wouldn’t be the type of person I want to be.”

  “Why do you care what Mrs. Grantley thinks of your behavior?”

  “I don’t,” Severine admitted. “What concerns me is being who I want to be. I find that I don’t have a lot of kindness in me at the moment.”

  Lisette rolled her eyes. “Cher, cher, cher,” she laughed, “you dreamed about a woman you had never met because you were worried about her. You’re full of kindness.”

  Severine adjusted her hair under a turban, so she could embrace the look Meline had created without having to deal with her hair floating around her face. She turned and faced Lisette. “Perhaps you see me and my motivations more kindly because you’re my friend.”

  “Perhaps,” Lisette countered, “you don’t give your kindness the credit it deserves.”

  “I am only helping Mrs. Grantley because I want something. Am I kind? Or am I only working for my own ends?”

  “Do you care that you pay me even though you call me your friend?”

  Severine shook her head. She needed Lisette, and Lisette needed an income. Being the one who provided that income in order to receive Lisette’s help didn’t change the fact that her friend stood at Severine’s side, and made Severine’s need to know what happened to her parents a priority. Severine might as well hire Lisette —the one person who had helped her when she didn’t have to.

  “Let’s go visit the woman’s house and see what we can find. We’ll even bring food and aspirin for poor, drugged Janice,” Lisette said brightly.

  Severine and Lisette found the gents waiting for them in the dining room. Chantae glanced Severine over and said, “You look like death. You must eat, cher. Your mama and papa wouldn’t want you to drive yourself into the grave.”

  There was something about those words and being in this house that seemed to make their ghosts rise. Was she being melodramatic because she was rather tired? Or was it seeing the coming end of Mrs. Grantley, a woman who had potentially lived like her father had lived? Would he have been so haunted if he’d known he was facing his grave? But maybe he had known he was facing his grave. Maybe he had been haunted too? Maybe the weight of his possible crimes had driven him half mad just as Mrs. Grantley’s seemed to be driving her mad?

  Severine was seated by Mr. Brand, then her gaze moved to Mr. Oliver, who looked tired, and Mr. Thorne, who had a rather large bruise on his chin, a fat lip, and was very carefully not moving. He hadn’t even stood when she and Lisette entered even though his manners were normally impeccable.

  “Mr. Thorne, did the doctor give you something for your pain?”

  He nodded, jaw clenched. Severine ignored his pride and happily partook of the cheese grits, bacon, and biscuits that Chantae made. They ate in silence and then Severine suggested, “Perhaps forcing Mrs. Grantley to leave last night was a mistake.”

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Oliver asked.

  “Maybe that was their purpose? To get her out of the house? To make her look like she’s fleeing ghosts like a hysterical woman.” Severine rolled her eyes at the idea and then added, “Or because they wanted access to the house.”

  “Why didn’t they drug Mrs. Grantley too?” Lisette asked. “Then the old women would have slept through whatever they wanted to do.”

  Severine nodded. “It doesn’t make sense to haunt an old woman other than to torment her. Could she have enemies that are that furious with her? You’d think anyone who hated her that much would simply kill her and get it over with.”

  “Get it over with?” Mr. Brand asked and then coughed into his napkin until tears appeared at the corner of his eyes. When he stopped cough-laughing, he added, “You make it seem as though it were a task like checking something off a list.”

  Severine fiddled with her grits. “I rather think of it that way. Like a revenge plot fulfilled, and now time to move on.”

  “I think those who would pursue revenge, true revenge, might find the longer suffering of a person means more to them than one deadly blow.” Mr. Oliver cleared his throat and then added with a choked voice, “I would seek the long, slow, agonizing suffering of the person who persuaded my Jane away from those who loved her. I would want the pain to be slow and constant. Like it has been for Gray and I.”

  As a group, they paused at the stark, unexpected honesty.

  Osiris Oliver cleared his throat and his eyes were shining. “I should have trusted you with my purpose and let Gray trust you as well. For that I apologize. I can’t…I don’t…it’s too hard to talk about. I’ll—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll try to do so. Soon.”

  “We would like to help,” Severine said softly. “When you’re ready.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat once again before draining his coffee. It was a move to hide his emotions and they turned as one back to their plates to give him the space he needed.

  They might have over-prepared to go to the Grantley home. Each of them was armed, and even though Chantae was staying home, they armed her as well. This time, they wouldn’t be caught by surprise in the dark with the other fellow having a truncheon. Each of them had a flashlight and they brought their own food and drink given what had happened to Janice. They all had sturdy shoes that would allow for the searching of the outbuildings along with the grounds.

  “You’re staying here, old man,” Mr. Oliver told Grayson flatly before they left. “I won’t hear an argument. I don’t think we should leave this house unwatched, and you’re the man for the job. You and one of the dogs anyway.”

  Grayson didn’t argue, which told Severine he was aching and honest enough with himself to know that searching Mrs. Grantley’s house for evidence was beyond him. Instead, they turned him over to Chantae and her mother, who had taken up a place by the fire in the kitchen.

  The rest of them piled into two autos again so they could separate if needed. This time, Mr. Brand drove Severine while Mr. Oliver drove Lisette. They each had a dog with them and reliable Anubis was lying in the back seat. On the way to the mansion, Mr. Brand glanced at Severine several times without saying a word.

  Finally she said, “Speak your mind, Mr. Brand.”

  He glanced at her and then back at the road. After a long moment that felt like forever, he said, “I liked your father, Sev. He was charming, he was energetic, he was
interested in the people who appealed to him. I was one of those people, so—” Mr. Brand trailed off and Severine waited for him to finish.

  She could guess what he was going to say, but he was going to have to say it. He was going to have to lay it out because, she suspected, both of them were trying to avoid hurting the other one’s feelings.

  “I think he was a villain, Sev. I think he was the kind of man who took advantage of the weak. I know he was, in fact, but I made excuses for him because I cared about him. He was always kind to me, and I hate that that is the best I can say of him.”

  Severine watched the city roll by and then the countryside as they reached the edge of the Grantley property. She took a deep breath. “I know, Mr. Brand. I’m not expecting to discover he was a good man. I just need to know why he and Mother were killed. I don’t know how I can proceed with my life without having context for that moment.”

  He glanced at her again and then turned his eyes to the long driveway towards the Grantley mansion. “That moment?”

  “The one where I saw them dead. Dying? Maybe if I’d run to him and knelt at his side and held his hand, he’d have been yet alive. Maybe I’d have given him a chance to tell me goodbye.”

  Mr. Brand was shaking his head, but it wasn’t the facts of that moment that mattered. Had there been time? The doubt wouldn’t leave her. Sister Bernadette had told Severine that her father had likely died within moments. She had said he hadn’t suffered long. She had said that Flora DuNoir had died knowing Father cared enough to throw himself in front of her.

  The facts weren’t enough. That haunting image wasn’t going to be exorcised until she had context for why. Villain or not, Severine needed to understand the why of it.

  “You don’t have to tell me he didn’t suffer. Or that I’m wrong about what would have happened if I hadn’t frozen at the sight of their bodies. The wondering doesn’t go away. The guilt can’t just be shaken off. And I knew, even then, that he wasn’t a good man. It didn’t affect my love for him. Not in the least.”

  Mr. Brand stopped the car and told her gently, “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  Chapter 16

  The front door opened when they arrived and an older couple exited. The couple watched the two cars park and then those inside get out. The butler glanced at his wife and they spoke low to each other and then turned back to Severine and the others with emotionless, unwelcoming expressions.

  “Hello,” Severine said, recognizing the butler. She assumed the woman in the simple black dress was his wife.

  “Miss DuNoir,” the man said, glancing behind him at his wife. Severine could see that he was nervous, and she had to wonder what was causing his anxiety.

  “We’ve come to check on Janice,” Severine started and then trailed off when the man began shaking his head.

  He spoke low, as if it were a secret. “Janice woke, read your note, and left this morning. She said Mrs. Grantley would make the incident out to be her fault.”

  “Do you disagree?” Severine asked curiously.

  He shook his head and his wife snapped her mouth closed with the attitude of a woman who was staying out of it. There was something in her expression, however, but before Severine could ask, she turned and walked silently back into the house.

  “We’re here to see if we can discover the perpetrator’s purpose,” Severine told the man.

  He glanced back again, and this time, Severine realized he wasn’t looking at his wife, but into the Grantley house. Were they not alone? Why was he looking over his shoulder so nervously?

  “Are you all right?” Severine asked him with a look at the others to see if they were seeing what she was seeing.

  To her surprise, Mr. Oliver had disappeared. She frowned and then caught Lisette’s eyes that moved to the side just slowly enough to silently tell Severine where he’d gone. Surely the servants would have seen him leave. Unless…Severine saw that Lisette was standing near the driver’s side of the auto and realized that she had left Mr. Oliver and then driven herself the rest of the way.

  Severine focused on the butler when he didn’t answer. “Why are you looking behind you?”

  “Your goal might be easier than you imagined,” he answered cryptically, “but I fear that the missus and I won’t be able to help you long.”

  “Why?” Severine asked.

  “Janice isn’t wrong about Mrs. Grantley’s likely reaction. I fear that my wife and I are in the same situation.”

  “Did something else happen?” Mr. Brand asked.

  “While Janice was still sleeping and after you took Mrs. Grantley away, the house was…rifled.”

  “Shoo,” Lisette muttered low.

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Brand asked.

  “Cabinets are overturned, books are off shelves, paintings have been taken off the walls, someone even broke into the safe. We interrupted them when we arrived and we were locked into a room. We didn’t dare to escape until the noises had stopped. Then we tried to call for help, but they cut the phone lines. We don’t have a car, and they slit the tires on Mrs. Grantley’s.”

  “Did you see who it was?” Mr. Brand demanded.

  The butler shook his head and added, “I saw nothing. They had something on their faces. Stockings, perhaps. All I noticed of one was that he was tall, very strong, and dark-skinned. There was at least one that I didn’t see.”

  “Could there have been three?” Severine asked.

  “I don’t know. Mrs. Grantley—we’ve worked for her for a long time, but I think we might have just lost whatever she’d have left us in her will.”

  His frown was deep and Severine could see that his fears were certainly real.

  “What would it have been?” she asked. “Money? Heirlooms?”

  “I don’t know. She’s never said.”

  “Did you know my father?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll make it right, but I need your help.”

  “Make it right?”

  “I’ll give you a reasonable retirement if you help us through the next few days.”

  His eyes widened. “I would work for it, miss.”

  “You will be,” Mr. Brand told the man. “I’m Charles Brand, her guardian. Miss DuNoir is generous and kind.”

  “I don’t feel right about taking charity.”

  “Then work for me,” Mr. Brand replied. “We’ll give Mrs. Grantley a chance, shall we? If she fails you, I could use the help.”

  The butler slowly nodded. He was trembling as the stress of the day faded in the light of hope.

  Lisette stepped forward and offered, “Let me make you a cup of coffee, shall I? It must have been a terrifying morning.”

  They went inside together and Severine gasped. The house had been destroyed. Cushions were tossed and ripped open, cabinets were opened, drawers had been emptied. Severine walked through the house that had been pristine the day before and saw evidence of someone destroying everything to find something.

  Severine slowly moved through the house, going all the way up to the attics—which hadn’t been neglected—and then walked through the first floor again. This time she went into every room and carefully looked for any sign that the people who had done this had found what they wanted.

  When she reached what had certainly been Mr. Grantley’s office, she sat behind his desk. If she were an old Southern gentleman with this mansion and had something to hide, where would she put it?

  Her father had hidden his things in a secondary, secret office. Surely that had to be common for people with something to hide? Did Mr. Grantley have something to hide? She leaned back in his leather chair and stared around the office. Her father’s had been lined with books, but it didn’t look like Mr. Grantley had been much of a reader or even given to the illusion of one.

  There was but one shelf and it looked to have contained accounting logbooks. They were strewn across the office, but whatever had been sought hadn’t been those. Severine’s father had
used just the same logbooks, she thought. She crossed to them and picked one up.

  Yes, she realized. Both in the big mansion far outside of the city along with the office in the New Orleans mansion, he had used these similar books. In fact, she thought, he’d used the same ones in his hidden office. The ones that were nearly incomprehensible.

  This one, however, wasn’t incomprehensible in the least. She flipped through the pages and found entries for paying servants, buying an automobile, and a quite large order of wine and whiskey before the prohibition went into effect.

  Unsurprising things. She frowned and guessed that those who had searched this house were looking for the surprising things. She began putting the accounting books onto the shelf. As she worked, her head tilted, catching sight of an object she had seen before.

  One of those locks from the master smith. It was hidden in the dark of the shelf just as the one in her father’s house had been hidden. Severine ran her fingers over it and knew it for what it was. Mr. Grantley and Lukas DuNoir had used the same brilliant locksmith. Did they have the same secrets to conceal?

  She needed the name of that smith. She needed to see if he were bribable. Surely anyone who had made the lock could get through it?

  Severine left the office, certain she had found what the criminals had been looking for. Mr. Oliver appeared at the end of the hall, put a finger over his lips, and led the way up the stairs. He opened the door and Severine stepped into the room.

  When she started to speak, he shook his head.

  She frowned, and he took her hand in an unusually familiar way, leading her across the nursery to a small room where the nursemaid must have once lived. The room held three dresses and cosmetics scattered across a small dresser. There was even money on the top of the dresser.

  They slipped from the room and went all the way outside where they could be sure they weren’t being listened to.

  “What in the world?” Severine whispered.

  “I know,” he said. “I asked the couple a few times if they had any overnight servants other than Janice. I hit the idea from every side without coming out and asking if they knew someone was living in the nursery.”