The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “Nothing is off the table, Detra Ann, but I’m surprised that you’d still want to have a ball here after all the rumors you’ve likely heard about ghosts. That hasn’t put you off?”

  “Oh, come on now. In the world of marketing, having a ghost or two is only a plus. And you don’t have to pretend with me; I know something happened here. Is anyone ever going to tell me what that was?”

  I didn’t know what to make of that. From what I had heard from Rachel, Detra Ann had told the interns about what TD saw that night, but maybe she didn’t know everything. I had no idea. “Now who’s pretending? Surely TD told you everything.” I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly felt the hair standing up on my arms. I looked around the room, thinking someone had joined us. There was no furniture to hide behind here in the ballroom, but no doors had opened either. If anyone was here, I couldn’t see them. Detra Ann looked around suspiciously and then stared at me. She was probably thinking I was crazy or at least melodramatic.

  “Can we just talk without all the snark? For whatever reason, I do think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Ashland’s friend, but it is Terrence Dale that I am interested in. I’m not your competition. So can we try?”

  Detra Ann’s directness brought me back to reality, but my need to leave the room grew by the second. “Sorry. Sure, let’s talk about it. I think I know the perfect place.” I cast a worried eye around the room and led her to the Rose Garden porch. It was another scorcher out, but there was plenty of shade on the porch and an oversized ceiling fan with blades that looked like palm leaves. And it would get us out of the house.

  We sat at one of the tables, and I turned the fan on high. Detra Ann looked so neat and polished in a light pink summer suit, and I felt underdressed in my white capris, blue and white checkered top and white tennis shoes. Her long dark hair was perfectly brushed and captured in place with a clear ponytail elastic, and her hairstyle put my sweaty, messy bun to shame. “I wanted to talk to you because I’ve come to a dead end, historically speaking. I agree, we did get off on the wrong foot, and that was at least partly my fault. I am sorry for that. I would like to be friends, and I think we can do some good here at Seven Sisters.”

  “I am so happy to hear that.” Her hand flew to her chest and she smiled. “I agree. I know I come off as pushy sometimes, but I have five brothers. I guess being pushy and outspoken is a learned behavior.”

  “Wow, five? That must have been an interesting childhood.”

  “Oh yes, indeed. But thankfully my mom and I were very close, and I have a ton of girl cousins. There was no end to girly activities for me to participate in.” We talked a little more about her family and her interest in promoting Mobile businesses. She didn’t ask me about my family, and I didn’t offer.

  “So what did TD tell you about the party? He had to have told you something—one of the interns said you asked her if she’d seen a ghost.”

  Looking relieved, Detra Ann leaned forward in her cushioned chair. “I can’t tell you how shook up TD was that night. He came to my house at two in the morning, and he must have drunk a six-pack before he drove over because he was loaded. At first, he couldn’t stop talking about the Moonlight Garden, about you and Ashland, but he wasn’t making much sense. He said something about the wind and a secret place in the maze, but when he sobered up the next day, he didn’t want to tell me anything. I’ve never seen him so emotional. Restoring the Moonlight Garden had been such a dream for him; he had put everything into it, and now he barely talks about it. It’s like he wants to forget it completely. I asked around because I wasn’t getting any answers from TD and I knew better than to ask Ashland. He’s never hidden his disdain for the supernatural. I have to admit that I’m happy we’re talking about this now. Will you please tell me what happened? I’d like to be able to help the man I love.”

  My sympathetic heart decided then and there that I would tell her the truth and let the chips fall where they may. She needed to hear it if she was going to help TD recover. If it were Ashland, I would want to know. “All right, but some of what I’m going to tell you might sound incredible—even impossible. I’ll tell you what I can, but I’m not an expert in ghosts or anything.”

  “From the little that TD told me, I thought you were some kind of ghost hunter. Did you see them before coming to Seven Sisters?”

  A nervous laugh escaped my lips, “Uh, no, I’m not. At least I wasn’t before I got here. I’ve had a few dreams over the years that were about certain places, but I don’t have psychic powers or anything like that. There are times when I feel things, like just a few minutes ago in the ballroom.”

  “Oh, I felt uncomfortable too. But I didn’t see anything, did you?” Her blue eyes were wide.

  “No, like I said, I don’t normally see anything, at least not when I am awake. But that night in the garden was different. We all saw her, the ghost—even TD. You see…” I related the story as best I could to her, and her plump pink lips parted in amazement as I told her about our furious dig and the discovery of the lost treasure.

  At some time during the story, she’d kicked off her shoes, and her feet were tucked underneath her at an angle. We looked like two sorority sisters sharing secrets on the porch of Seven Sisters. As I recalled the supernatural experience, I remembered how cold I had felt, how the evil wind had disturbed the fallen leaves and flowers. In my mind’s eye I could see Isla appearing alive except for her missing skirt hem and feet. I could easily recall her losing all color of life and turning ash-gray like one of the statues in the garden. I shivered.

  “And you swear this is the truth—you aren’t pulling my leg at all?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and I didn’t blame her. I’d be suspicious too if I didn’t know what I knew, hadn’t seen what I’d seen. I left out the part about Henri Devecheaux; there was no sense in bringing him into my story unless she asked. I had a warm spot in my heart for the bumbling ghost hunter. He’d disappeared, probably in an effort to distance himself from the house and all its occupants.

  “No, I’m not. Everything I have told you is the absolute truth. I hope you believe me.”

  “I believe you, Carrie Jo. I believe you saw what you say you saw. I believe TD saw her too.” Detra Ann chewed on her lower lip, thinking deeply about what she had just heard. “I have to admit that I’m glad I left early. I would have screamed my head off if I’d seen anything. I’m kind of a wimp when it comes to stuff like that.” In a quieter voice, she asked, “Have you seen anything else since then?”

  “Nothing like that night,” I said. “Still want to hold a ball here?”

  She laughed nervously. “Well, if we did, I don’t think that’s the story I’d tell.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for not laughing at me or saying you don’t believe me. This is so crazy, who would make that up?”

  “Girl, I’m a true Mobilian. We don’t hide the skeletons in our closets, and we don’t laugh at the idea of ghosts. It’s just not good manners.”

  “Thanks, Detra Ann.”

  She leaned forward spontaneously and squeezed my hands. “However, I don’t think TD is as willing as I am to accept the fact that the dead sometimes aren’t all that dead. He’s really struggling, but at least I know what I’m dealing with now. I have an idea that might help him.”

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “I’ll take him to church.”

  “What?” I laughed.

  “No, really, I think it will help. TD is a solid guy; he just needs to get grounded again. I’ll take him to my church, Cottage Hill Methodist.”

  “You think a church visit will do it?”

  “Not just a visit. It might take a while, but yeah, that’s what I think he needs. Don’t worry about TD. Leave him to me. I’ll get him back on track.”

  I totally believed she was committed to helping him, and as I’d suspected, she had designs on him. She had even said she loved him. Terrence Dale may as well surrender now and come peacefully because when a wo
man like Detra Ann sets her mind on something, she gets it. I admired her, and I was glad to know that he had someone in his corner. Regardless of how things had gone with us, I hoped for the best for him.

  “That’s great to hear. I’ve been worried about him.”

  “Well, he’s going to be okay. Thank you for telling me the truth. Now what can I help you with? You said earlier that you were at a dead end. What can I do?”

  Thankful that we were working together at last, I said, “I promised Ashland that I would help him find Calpurnia Cottonwood, the missing heiress who used to live here. My research led me to a steamboat captain named David Garrett. There was some evidence that he might have been involved in the girl’s disappearance. I was hoping that maybe you’d know something about this Captain Garrett. I think his boat was the Delta Queen, used to run up and down the Mobile River in the 1850s, delivering cotton, and there was some gambling on board too. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “Ever heard of him? My stars! My mother is an expert on David Garrett—I heard plenty of stories about him growing up. She even has a small oil painting of the captain, or so she believes, on her mantelpiece. As far as Calpurnia Cottonwood goes, I’ve never heard anything that put those two together, but I wouldn’t put it past him. The captain had an eye for the ladies, especially wealthy ones, according to the reports. Is it any wonder that he was shot in the back by a woman?”

  “It was a woman who shot him? Do you know who she was?”

  “No, I don’t recall her name. She was arrested for it but somehow got away. She disappeared, and nobody ever heard from her again. Nobody made much fuss, though. Who’s going to cry for a guy who made a career out of deflowering debutantes and scamming their families for money to keep it quiet? If he hadn’t been so ridiculously handsome and charming, they would have strung him up after the first time it happened.”

  “Who was that?”

  “One of the Bellingrath girls, the middle one. That was before they moved to Mobile from Castleberry. She was the mother of Walter Bellingrath, the gentleman who created Bellingrath Gardens with his wife. Now what was his mother’s name? I can’t remember, but apparently she caught David Garrett’s eye during a picnic lunch by the river. He bounded off the boat and eventually right into her heart, but not before her father did his best to prevent those two from getting too close. Old Mr. Bellingrath knew a scoundrel when he saw one. He was a tough old dude—he fought the Indians in Texas when he was a young man, and he’d made quite a bit of money through trading in the territory. That’s the Louisiana Territory.” I nodded, hoping she’d quickly get to the point. “Well, anyway, by the time he figured out that Captain Garrett had been shimmying up the trellis into his daughter’s room, it was too late. The deed had been done. In those days, it was perfectly legal to have a man arrested for taking such liberties, but that almost guaranteed that the young woman and her family name would forever be tarnished. Of course, Garrett offered to marry the girl if Mr. Bellingrath paid him the dowry he was asking for, but the old man blew the roof. He wasn’t going to give Garrett a fortune after he’d dishonored his daughter. Garrett supposedly laughed in his face and said, “I’ll just take the money, then. I’m sure your daughter will find a suitable replacement for me when I’m gone.”

  “You’re joking! What a horrible thing to do!”

  “I know. Aren’t we all glad that we don’t live in the 1850s? So Mr. Bellingrath gave up his fortune, but he didn’t give up his daughter. Unfortunately for him, Sharon—that was her name—couldn’t keep a secret. She cried and cried and blamed her father for sending her sweetheart away. Eventually word got out, and the family moved back to Castleberry for quite a few years. Sharon supposedly later married a clerk who worked in one of her father’s businesses, but no marriage license was ever found. Now we have found a birth certificate, and of course the baby was Walter Bellingrath, who eventually moved back to Mobile and established Belle Camp with his wife. Later it became Bellingrath Gardens.”

  “So Walter Bellingrath could have been Garrett’s son?”

  “Possibly, quite possibly.”

  “Could she have shot Garrett? Is that what happened?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Sharon Bellingrath didn’t do much socializing after her public shaming, but the captain kept his game going. She was definitely not the only one. There was a young opera singer named Trixie Cartwright—a stage name, I’m sure—that he fancied for some time, but I don’t know much about her.”

  My mind swam with the information she’d shared with me, but there was still nothing about Calpurnia.

  “Oh, there is one more thing. He had a sister…wow, her name escapes me at the moment. She was a younger sister that he was quite devoted to. She didn’t live with him; she had some kind of illness that kept her in and out of the hospital. But he saw her every time he came to Mobile, brought her gifts. My mother has a copy of a letter he wrote her. Would you like me to email you a scan later?”

  “Yes! Would you? I would love to see that. And if you know anything else about Calpurnia—anything at all—please let me know. I’d like to find her before my work here is done. I can’t even imagine leaving this place without knowing what happened to her.”

  “It’s been quite a mystery for so many years. I honestly hope you do find her, but don’t get your hopes up. So many people have searched for her and have met with sad fates. You’re such a nice person, and I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

  Suddenly, the fan that spun above us stopped. The blades didn’t just slow down, they came to a screeching halt as if an invisible hand had grabbed them and held them still. Both of us looked up. Detra Ann’s eyes were wide with fear, but to my surprise, I was just mad. “Whatever,” I said to the empty air above me. “I’ll walk you out to your car, Detra Ann.” We didn’t go back through the house but hopped off the porch and walked down the driveway.

  “Oh my God. What just happened?”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” I confessed with a shrug.

  “But I thought the ghost, Isla, was gone.”

  “Me too, but we don’t know that was a ghost. And if it was, we don’t know it was Isla.”

  “So there’s more than one now?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. Please don’t let word of this get out. It would ruin Ashland’s dream of bringing his family home back to life, and I think if we found Calpurnia it would end. Don’t ask me why, but I truly believe it would. That’s why I have to.”

  “Yes, I can see that. Okay, I’m going to get all the info I can. I’ll email that over ASAP. Is your work email the one I should use?”

  I nodded. “That’s perfect.”

  “I’ll send anything else I find too. You have my word that I won’t mention any of this, but you have to do the same. TD doesn’t need to know about what happened with the fan or anything else. It would just freak him out worse.”

  “You’ve got a deal.” I reached my hand out to shake hers, but instead she hugged me and smiled. “No handshakes! We hug in Mobile. You might as well get used to it. You’re one of us now.”

  “Well, for a little while,” I said.

  She smiled. “I have no supernatural powers, but this I can predict—you’re utterly and completely hooked. And not just on the house. You’re a part of the story now, Carrie Jo. Part of Ashland’s story, and a part of Mobile too. Once Mobile gets in your blood, you’ll never be the same.” She tossed her briefcase on the passenger seat and got into her light blue Mercedes.

  I smiled at her and gave her a little wave as she drove away.

  I knew she was absolutely right. I was part of the story now, but how would it end?

  Chapter 8

  Going home, I had so much to think about. I left Seven Sisters with an incomplete checklist of daily tasks, which I hated, but there was always tomorrow. As I drove down the bumpy road in my faithful Honda, I thought about my conversation with Detra Ann. I couldn’t be happier that we were working together, and I couldn�
��t wait to get that email from her. Off in the distance, grayish-black clouds hung heavy in the sky, rolling in from Mobile Bay. The threatening puffs looked impressive against the bright green leaves of the trees.

  I planned on getting into the last of the journals and taking some notes that night. I felt like we were teetering on the edge of the truth, but that truth—in whatever form it would come—had not yet manifested.

  I turned right into the driveway and waved at Bette, who was at her kitchen sink washing dishes. She waved back with a gloved hand. I made a mental note to make some time for my friend as soon as possible. Bienville didn’t greet me as he often did, and I assumed it was because Bette was home now. That was okay. I liked having a part-time cat. I was in no way responsible enough to have a pet of my own.

  A crack of thunder hastened my steps up the wooden staircase, and I looked out over the tree line below, again impressed with the sights and smells of the impending storm. Oddly enough, I loved storms as long as I didn’t have to stand outside in one. Once inside, I unplugged my laptop to prevent an unwanted shock. I had so much material saved there, and I couldn’t afford to lose it from a random lightning strike. I opened it up to check my email. Nope, nothing yet. But it hadn’t even been an hour. Be patient, CJ. I hung up my purse and kicked off my shoes. I’d get a shower after the storm, and I didn’t have to go out for supper. I had leftover wonton soup in my kitchenette. That would be the perfect dinner for an evening of reading, researching and hopefully some dreaming.

  I had just pulled an oversized t-shirt over my head and slid into some yoga pants when someone knocked on my door. Puzzled, I paused before walking to the window and peeking downstairs. I saw Ashland’s car and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Hey, come on in before you get caught in that storm.” As if God were emphasizing my warning, lightning streaked across the Mobile sky, and I could see the rain approaching in the distance. He stepped inside, looking distracted and wet. “Oh no, I didn’t even notice. You’re drenched already! Let me get you a towel.”