Once Haunted, Twice Shy (The Peyton Clark Series Book 2)

by H. P. Mallory

  “I aim,” I said resolutely, forcing my thoughts back to the task at hand. Nothing like thoughts of my own death to ground me.

  “Oui, mademoiselle. Aim the firearm at your target and then slowly apply pressure to the trigger. You must be careful not to lower the gun, unlock your elbows, or make any sudden movements as you will most certainly miss your target if you do.”

  “Okay,” I said softly and focused the barrel of the gun on a picture of a landscape that was hanging directly across the room from me.

  “If you need to take the shot, mon chaton, you would do so by pulling back the hammer, which is this little wing at the rear of the gun, before you shoot the gun. For every shot, you will need to first pull this hammer back.” Then he released me and faced me with a handsome smile. “Do you understand, ma minette?”

  I nodded and then sighed, wondering if I would remember everything he’d just said. “I think so,” I answered.

  “Very good,” he said and then opened the front door, holding it for me as I walked into the dark and cold night. Drake hurried past me, opened the passenger door to the Overland, and once I was seated comfortably, sat beside me, turned the engine on, and started down the road. Neither of us said anything as we drove from Prytania Street to Ulloa Street. The Pepitone family grocery store was located on the corners of Ulloa and South Scott Streets.

  Drake parked the Overland on Ulloa Street, maybe five houses from the Pepitone’s. He checked his pocket watch and announced that it was now midnight. Because I couldn’t recall the exact time of early morning when the Axeman was supposed to strike Mike Pepitone, our plan was to simply wait him out.

  “Mike Pepitone and his wife, Rose, are immigrants from Italy,” Drake said as he played with the buttons of his police uniform jacket. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t getting cold even though we both kept blankets over our laps. I, myself, was actually quite grateful for the beaver coat Drake had purchased for me because it did a good job of keeping me toasty in the frigid air.

  Because this was police business, Drake insisted on looking the part, although he neglected to wear his uniform hat because he didn’t want to be too obvious, just in case someone spotted us from the street. We were trying to stay incognito, which was why Drake took the Overland rather than a police squad car. He’d put the convertible top up and parked under a large oak tree to further shield us from curious eyes.

  “From what I remember of the attacks, it seems the Axeman was mostly interested in targeting women,” I remarked as I watched Drake pull out his gold pocket watch yet again. “Five past midnight,” he announced with a sigh. There wasn’t a thing going on outside. “Oui, ma minette, most of the Axeman’s victims have been women. The youngest was merely nineteen years old.”

  “Sarah Laumann,” I answered immediately, already aware that she had been the Axeman’s youngest victim.

  “Oui,” Drake said as he looked at me, and his handsome face took on a wistful, sad smile. “I visited her at Charity Hospital numerous times.” He shook his head like the whole thing was a hapless shame. “She was ever so frail and slight, but she possessed such a lovely face, even with the bandages that covered her head.”

  “She was or is my great grandmother,” I announced flatly as he turned and faced me with widened eyes. Then he began to nod as if it wasn’t such a huge surprise after all. Maybe he was becoming so accustomed to surprises now that they didn’t really register as anything extraordinary to bother mentioning.

  “Oui, bien sûr,” he started. “I can see the similarity between the two of you in your eyes and perhaps also your mouths.” Then he chuckled and shook his head again. “Though Miss Laumann possessed none of your . . . fire, shall we call it?”

  “Ha!” I said with a mock frown as he grinned at me. It was fairly obvious that Drake liked teasing me.

  The grin soon vanished a few seconds later and was replaced with a thoughtful and pensive expression as he stared straight ahead. “I cannot help wondering how it is possible that I am sitting beside the great granddaughter of a nineteen-year-old woman.” Then he turned toward me quickly. “And I do not actually wish to know how it is possible, so please, do not enlighten me.”

  “Okay,” I said, never planning to tell him anyway. In general, I tried to avoid relating stories that would hint to or directly involve his death. So I just smiled at him and changed the subject. “Tell me more about Sarah.”

  He shrugged and began tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, as if keeping up with the beat of a song only known to him. “Miss Laumann lived alone and was mercilessly attacked in the night by a man wielding an axe.”

  “The Axeman,” I interjected.

  Drake nodded. “She sustained wounds to her head and until recently, she was recovering at Charity Hospital.”

  “Was she able to tell you anything about the Axeman?”

  Drake shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Non. When I questioned her as to the nature of her attacker, she could only tell me that he came in the dark and was no more than a blurry shadow.” He continued shaking his head and I could tell he was frustrated that he couldn’t uncover the identity of the Axeman. He resumed bopping his fingers against the steering wheel as his attention returned to the street in front of us. “At any rate, I located the blood-stained axe le bâtard attacked her with in the yard of her modest abode.”

  “Hmm,” I said, realizing there was information that I hadn’t yet shared with Drake.

  “The reason the Axeman wants me is chiefly because I am related to Sarah. It got angry when she didn’t die from her wounds.” I inhaled as my omnipresent fear started to flutter through me again. “I guess you could say it wants to finish the job.”

  Drake’s jaw went tight as his eyes narrowed. “I will not allow this entity to harm a hair on your lovely head, ma minette,” he announced in a steely tone. Then he diverted his attention to a car that suddenly meandered down the street. I felt my heart freeze up in my chest. But the car continued, passing through the stop sign at the end of the street and disappearing around the bend in the road. Drake sighed and leaned back into his seat again. I could see the frustration playing out over his face. It wasn’t easy just to sit here and wait.

  “Tell me more about your association with Sarah,” I said. I liked learning about my lineage, and, at the same time, I wanted to keep Drake’s attention engaged. Regarding my own family history, my mother had died when I was young and had rarely mentioned her side of the family. She’d left home at a very early age, and, as far as I could tell, she hadn’t been close to any of her family members.

  Drake cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I do not know Sarah Laumann that well, ma minette. I have only visited her a handful of times.”

  “In Charity Hospital?”

  “Yes and in her new accommodations too.”

  “Hmm, sounds like you know her pretty well then?” I asked, eyeing him intently and wondering why he wouldn’t just come out with it and tell me what the real situation was with her. I was convinced they’d become more than just friends, and I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to hear the truth from Drake’s mouth.

  “We enjoy one another’s company,” he answered matter-of-factly and shrugged. His nonchalance regarding his association with her failed miserably, however, and I suspected he was keeping some juicy details from me.

  When I remembered talking with Drake in my dreams, when he’d still been haunting my house, he had made it sound like there was more than just a superficial acquaintance between my great-grandmother and him. “Are you positive you and she aren’t more of an item?” I asked, shaking my head as I scrutinized him. “I seem to remember you saying you have a special sort of relationship with her?”

  Drake shook his head again. “I would not term what we have as that kind of relationship, ma minette. Perhaps I visited her more often than I recollect. Sometimes, if I am in the area, I
stop in to check on her and make sure she does not succumb to depression. After the attack, she was quite traumatized and downhearted, as you can probably imagine.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Our association reflects a mutual fondness for each other.”

  Of course she was “fond” of him. How could she not be? How could any woman not be incredibly fond of so handsome and charming a man? In fact, at nineteen years old, Sarah was probably head over heels in love with Drake. The mystery of how she wound up purchasing his house, which she left to my great aunt, Myra, who then willed the house to me, was still up in the air. But I guessed I couldn’t learn the answer to that tonight.

  “What time is it?” I asked after I couldn’t take the silence in the car any longer. Drake fished his watch from his pocket and checked it again.

  “Ten minutes to one,” he answered as he stifled a yawn with his fist. I nodded and tried to resist yawning as I searched for another subject to talk about. Shivering in the cold night air, I wrapped my arms snugly around myself. “Ma minette, take my blanket,” Drake said. He started to peel the blanket off his lap to give to me, but I shook my head.

  “I’m fine and I know you’re cold, so you keep it.”

  “Mon chaton,” he started with a frown, but on this point, I insisted.

  “I mean it, I’m fine,” I repeated, pushing the blanket back at him. He shook his head and frowned, but replaced the blanket on his lap as I faced him, eager to begin a new topic of conversation. “You know, Drake, you didn’t have to spend all that money on me today. I could have just made do with a new pair of shoes and one of your jackets.”

  He shook his head, and there was a strange expression on his face. It seemed like a blend of pensiveness and melancholy, but when I noticed the slight lift at the ends of his lips, it seemed to be a sweet melancholy. I watched Drake’s gaze settle on the street ahead of us as the silence in the car persisted for a few more seconds. “According to these foreign memories of mine,” he started in a voice that was deep and raw. Then he laughed and seemed almost embarrassed. “I have never told you, but . . .” He cleared his throat and looked extremely uncomfortable. When he turned to face me, his expression was kind, but serious. “I care deeply for you, mon chaton. Again, it is difficult for me to understand these feelings. As far as I am aware, you and I have only just met, but I feel something for you that, I daresay, quite resembles love.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that so I reached for his hand. He covered my hand with his, looked over at me, and the bittersweet smile returned to his lips.

  “I know it sounds absurd,” he continued as he looked down at our fingers, which were now intertwined. “You and I are an absolute impossibility as decades of time separate us.” He was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, he brought his eyes back to mine. “Even so, I am unable to deny the feelings flowing through me, ma minette.” He smiled sadly. “I do not know what might happen this evening,” he continued, and sighed. “My memories fail me with regards to this evening, but whatever fate awaits us, I must tell you that when I look upon your face, I am consumed by the passion I feel for you.”

  I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I smiled at him and tightened my grip around his hand. “Thank you, Drake,” I said, knowing there really wasn’t much more I could say. “If our situations were only different . . .” I started.

  But Drake immediately shook his head vigorously and offered me a smile of consolation. “Things are as they must be,” he said. “Fate has delivered us and now we must live according to our stars, ma minette.”

  Just as I was about to respond, Drake’s expression changed. His eyes grew wide with surprise, and a moment later, he tore the blanket off his lap and reached for his Colt revolver, which he’d stashed on the floor of the Overland.

  “He has arrived,” Drake calmly announced as I looked at the Pepitone grocery store and noticed a shadow lurking in front of one of the side windows on South Scott Street.

  “Drake, you can’t stop him until after he’s committed the crime!” I reminded him, reaching out and gripping his arm when it seemed he was already preparing to go after the Axeman. “Remember what Guarda told me!” I insisted. “We can’t tamper with history! Whatever happened is meant to happen. We can’t stop it!”

  Drake took a deep breath as he sat back against the seat, but I could see a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. “L’horrible ironie!” he said, slamming his hand into the bottom of the steering wheel as he turned to face me. “It is not an easy feat for me, as a sworn protector of the people, to allow that man to forcibly enter the house without doing anything about it, ma minette,” he finished with visible restraint.

  “I know, Drake, I know,” I said as I tried to console him. Inside me, though, was another story: I was scared to death. “Mike Pepitone is the only one who gets attacked, strangely enough,” I said, remembering the articles I read on the incident. “The children and his wife will be left alone.” I hoped that information would be of some relief to him. I couldn’t be sure, though, because as soon as the Axeman broke the window, Drake’s posture turned rigid and I could see his breath coming in short spurts. “Drake,” I started.

  “I understand,” he barked back at me, and I could see it was taking all his will to remain in the car. He fished out his pocket watch and checked the time again. “It is ten past one,” he announced monotonously. I didn’t respond. Instead, I watched the Axeman clear the broken glass from the window as he reached inside and threw the latch, raising the window as far up as it would go. Because the window was located on the ground floor, it took little effort for him to hoist himself through it, and, seconds later, he disappeared inside the house.

  Drake reached for the .32 caliber Colt, which was sitting between us, and handed it to me with one hand. He started to open his door with the other. “Will you be able to pull the trigger if need be, ma minette?” he asked after I accepted the gun and held it tightly gripped in my shaking hand.

  “Yes,” I answered, my voice filled with fear.

  Drake pushed his door open and didn’t seem to notice the blanket when it fell from his lap and landed on the ground outside the Overland. Holding his .38 caliber in one hand, he reached for my hand with the other. I dropped the blanket from my lap onto the floor of the car and slid over to the driver’s side, allowing him to assist me. Once outside, I could feel the cold night air as it wrapped itself around my legs. I wasn’t sure if the goose bumps covering my body were from the freezing air or my own unmitigated dread.

  “He’ll make his escape through the children’s room, which is on the opposite side of the house,” I said, remembering the detail from the Times-Picayune articles.

  Drake nodded and started up Ulloa Street with me right beside him. He held his gun with both hands, his arms straight out before him, but the barrel of the gun was aimed at the ground. He explained that this was the best way to hold the gun until one was ready to aim it at a target. I followed suit, but the grip of the Colt felt really heavy and cold in my hands.

  Just before we reached South Scott Street, Drake cut across the sidewalk, being sure to stay hidden in the shadows provided by the trees. I followed him into the rear of the Pepitone’s home, which was just behind their grocery store. We passed by the window where the Axeman had made his entry. Drake scaled the wall of the house and paused just before it ended, keeping his back up against the side of the one-story house. I stood next to him, shivering at the coldness of the wooden façade. Drake peeked his head around the corner, and moments later, faced straight ahead again.

  “He hasn’t tried to escape yet,” he whispered.

  It was strange, but I couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the house at all. It was eerily quiet. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, though, a woman’s startled scream pierced the air before it was utterly silent again. A few seconds later, I could hear the sound of heavy footfalls on a wooden fl
oor. It sounded like someone was running. The Axeman was making his escape and from where we stood now, I thought only the thin wall separated him from us.

  “He’s nearly to the door,” Drake whispered as he held his revolver up higher in front of him. I clutched the grip of my gun more tightly and tried to ignore my increased heartbeat as it pounded through me. I was so scared my mind went blank. It was almost as if I no longer had possession of my own body.

  The heavy footsteps slowed and I heard the sound of the doorknob turning. Then the door jerked open violently as the sound of window shades hitting the door’s glass window accosted my ears. I blinked and observed Drake launching himself forward, with his revolver aimed straight out in front of him.

  Do not move!” Drake commanded the dark figure looming before us. I came up behind Drake and went to his side, holding my gun out in front of me as well. I could see the shadowy form of a man who stood maybe ten feet in front of us, his back toward us. He was wearing a long, dark overcoat and a fedora. He was hunched over, and when he slowly turned around to face us, I couldn’t believe his immense height and girth. He had to be at least six foot three or so, with substantially broad shoulders and a barrel of a chest. I didn’t imagine he would be easy to take down. I couldn’t see his face, but I had the uncanny feeling that his attention was completely focused on me. I could practically feel the weight of his eyes and was also keenly aware that this man, or creature, knew me.

  “Put your hands on the top of your head!” Drake yelled, but the man made no attempt to obey him. He continued to evoke the strangest feeling that he was smiling, no, leering at me.

  “You brought her to me,” the Axeman said, but his voice sounded distant, low, and grumbly. He took a step toward us as Drake moved in front of me, protecting me with his body.

  “I said, put your hands on top of your head!” he demanded, but the Axeman just continued walking toward us, as if Drake were of no consequence to him at all. “If you do not stop walking, I will shoot you!” Drake warned him.