by Howe, A. E.
“And afterward, you came back to your hotel?” Bobby asked.
“Oh, no. I was too exhausted. I stayed several hours at the Copeland’s house, resting up. I don’t think I could have walked back to the hotel without some time to recover,” François said with a smile.
Bobby looked at Josephine, who raised her eyebrows slightly.
“Why are you here in Sumter?” Bobby asked.
“This town seems to have… some rather unusual properties,” François said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Honestly, I don’t fully understand what draws me from one place to another. I often travel across country and stop when I simply feel that the place is right.” He gave a small flourish of his hand.
“Would you mind giving me some references from places you’ve recently stayed?” Bobby asked, taking out a small pad and a pencil.
François hesitated for only a second. “Of course.” He proceeded to give Bobby a list of the last four towns he had visited and the names of the hotels where he had stayed. When he finished, he turned to Josephine.
“I think you all have been listening to someone who may have his own secrets to keep.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “But I will say no more. I am not one to gossip.”
“You know the baron?” Josephine asked.
François waved his hand. “It is enough to say I know the type.”
“How does this contacting the dead stuff work?” Bobby asked with more than a bit of skepticism. He ignored François’s comment about the baron. Bobby had had plenty of experience with suspects who tried to take charge of the interview.
“You should come to a séance. I believe Miss Josephine will vouch for the authenticity of the experience that I provide.” He turned once again to Josephine and reached out, putting his hand on hers. “Did you find what your uncle wanted you to have?”
Josephine pulled her hand back politely, yet quickly. “I did.” She wasn’t going to elaborate.
“It pleases me to have been of some small service to you and your uncle,” François said.
Bobby looked back and forth between them. “How could I arrange to watch one of these séances?”
“There is no watching. Everyone who attends participates. I am letting Mrs. Robertson make all the arrangements. You may contact her. If you will excuse me now. I have a séance scheduled for tonight and I need to rest up.” He stood and gave a slight bow. “Let me know if I can be of any service in the future.”
“I’ve got your coffee, Mr. LeSauvage!” The waitress had just come from the back carrying a tray. “I’ll be glad to bring it up to your room,” she said, sounding a little too enthusiastic.
“Thank you, but I’ll not be needing it,” François said, taking no notice of the crestfallen expression on the young woman’s face.
Josephine and Bobby stood and watched François go back into the lobby and up the stairs, after stopping to have a brief conversation with the desk clerk.
“What’d he want?” Bobby asked the clerk after he’d made sure François was headed to his room.
“Really, Deputy. Our guests have some right to privacy,” the clerk said with a stern look. Bobby scowled back at him.
“Do you really want to have this fight?”
The expression on the clerk’s face said that he didn’t. “He just asked after his mail, for goodness’ sake.”
“And has he received much mail while he’s been here?” Bobby asked.
The clerk looked like he wanted to argue, but he just rolled his eyes. “A couple of letters. Mostly from New York. And there was one from Germany. First letter we’ve ever gotten from Germany.”
“Do you remember who the letters were from?”
“No! I do not! Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned and began arranging papers on the table behind the counter.
Josephine and Bobby walked back across the square to his patrol car.
“What was that about your uncle?” Bobby asked.
“At the séance last night, François told me… He was speaking for… Supposedly speaking for my uncle, and he told me where he’d hidden a letter.”
“You found it?”
“Right where he said it would be. The question is, who is he? François or my uncle? Finding that letter was certainly… disconcerting.”
“Do you think he can really talk to the dead?”
The sun chose that moment to duck behind a cloud and a cold gust of wind blew up, causing Josephine to put her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I don’t see how François could have known about that note. An ability to read minds can’t be the answer, since I don’t think there is a person alive who knew it was in the book.”
“When did your uncle die?”
“I was in my teens, but I don’t remember much about it. Just some whispers, and my father had to hurry out of town. Uncle Petey died somewhere in Florida. Papa had him brought back here to be buried. I’m not even sure there was a funeral. Uncle Petey was the black sheep of the family and he moved about too much to make many friends.”
“Was he that bad?
“Even my grandparents felt he’d let them down. I do remember a couple of times when Papa got into arguments with my grandfather over Petey. He thought that his folks weren’t very fair to Petey. As for Grandfather, he was a pick-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of guy.”
“What did the letter say?”
“Just some of Uncle Petey’s usual pie-in-the-sky prose. He always believed that the next stone he turned over would yield the gold strike he was dreaming of.”
Back at the car, Bobby said, “I can drop you off at your house.”
“Where are you going now?”
“I want to go out to Taylor’s farm and talk with some of their neighbors. Find out if anyone knows why Seth was out walking at that hour.”
“I’ll go along.”
“You can’t tag along with me all day,” Bobby said, a bit exasperated. “I’m going out there to talk to folks as a deputy.”
Josephine rolled her eyes. “It’s a little late to be making that distinction. You can talk to the men and I’ll sit with the women and see what I can get out of them.”
“Well…”
“You know that any woman living out there is more likely to gossip about what’s going on with me than she would be with you.” Josephine opened the car door and got in.
“You’re hard to argue with,” Bobby said, getting behind the wheel.
“So don’t.”
Chapter Eight
There weren’t many other homes close to the Taylor and Murphy properties, since the two families owned a combined thousand acres. The only other house near the spot where the body had been found belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Chester and their daughter.
Bobby pulled up in front of the Chesters’ wooden clapboard house. Before they were even out of the car, a middle-aged woman came walking around from the side of the house, looking at the car apprehensively.
“Something wrong?” Mrs. Chester asked as she approached them.
“I just wanted to talk to y’all about Seth Taylor’s death,” Bobby said. The woman looked back and forth between Josephine and Bobby. “I’m Deputy Robert Tucker and this is Miss Josephine Nicholson,” Bobby said without further explanation.
“Horrible thing,” Mrs. Chester said, shaking her head.
“You’re Mrs. Chester?”
“Emma. My husband is out back working on the barn. Matter of fact, he’s boarding up some holes in case whatever animal killed Seth comes through here. Come on around,” she said, turning and heading back the way she’d come.
Behind the farmhouse was a summer kitchen and a large, unpainted barn. Scattered between the house and barn were several chickens, a clothesline, a tractor and an old Model T. The rapid tapping of a hammer led them to where Mr. Chester was holding a piece of wood in place and trying to nail it to the outside of the barn. Bobby stepped forward and held the wood. The man glanced up, then pounded the piece of wood
into place using nails he took from the half dozen he held in his mouth. Finished, he stepped back and looked at Josephine, Bobby and his wife.
“What can we do for you?” he asked in a completely neutral voice after removing the nails from his mouth.
“We want to talk with you about the Taylor boy’s death,” Bobby told him.
“I heard all kinds of wild rumors.”
“Did you go down there?”
“Wasn’t none of my business.”
“Have you seen signs of any wild animals?”
“Nope. At least nothing that could kill a man.”
“Did you know Seth?”
“Momma, you can finish hanging out the laundry to dry,” the man said to his wife. She hesitated for just a second before turning toward the clothesline.
“I’ll help you,” Josephine said, following her.
There were a couple of sheets already hung up on the line, but the laundry basket was still full.
“He don’t like to talk about the Taylors and the Murphys,” Mrs. Chester said without any prompting from Josephine. She bent down and started picking clothes out of the basket. Determined to help her, Josephine grabbed a handful of wooden clothespins.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“’Cause of the bad blood. He’s always wanted us to stay away from them. Said—and it makes some sense to me—that if we got to be friends with one, we’d be seen as an enemy by the other. Best to stay clear.”
“I can understand that,” Josephine said, managing to put a clip on the shoulder of a white shirt.
“Mr. Chester doesn’t understand that he can’t control everything,” Mrs. Chester said cryptically. She glanced over toward the barn where Bobby, carrying a plank, was following Mr. Chester around the corner of the building. She turned back and focused her eyes on Josephine. “I got something I can tell you, but I want you to tell me something in return.”
“I’ll tell you anything I can.”
“What I want to know are the details of how Seth died.” Her eyes were dark and tinged with sadness.
“You don’t want to hear about that,” Josephine said without hesitation. The image of Seth’s separated appendages rose unbidden before her eyes.
“I got to know.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you afterward.” She glanced nervously toward the barn. They couldn’t see Bobby or Mr. Chester, but they could hear the sounds of hammering.
“He was torn apart down by the creek. An animal of some sort. Something big. His limbs were ripped from his body,” Josephine said, not knowing exactly what information Mrs. Chester was after.
“Did he suffer?”
“I… The attack was so vicious and the creature must have been very strong. I’d think it must have been quick. No. I don’t think he suffered,” Josephine said and felt that she was being honest. How long could you suffer if a monster tears your head off? she wondered.
“That’s all right then.”
“Why…”
“Our daughter, Molly. She… Her father would have been furious if he’d found out. She was stepping out with Seth. I told her she was being rebellious. ’Course she didn’t listen to me.”
“When did they start seeing each other?”
“She went to the fair back in September with some friends. They met a group of boys. Seth was one of them. Of course she knew who he was. They’d been a grade different in school before he dropped out.”
“Was it serious?”
“Who knows with young people. I only found out a month ago. Told her to put an end to it. She wasn’t having any of it. Said she’d move out before she would break it off with him. I think it would have come to that too, as soon as Mr. Chester found out.”
“You’re sure he didn’t know?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am! The whole county would have heard if he’d found out. I told her too. Stubborn.” She shook her head.
“You think that’s why Seth was out at night?”
“That’s right. He was coming to see her. They used to meet down at our tobacco barn.”
“He never met her that night?”
“She waited, but he never showed up.”
“Why did you want to know how he died?”
“I got to tell her. She’s going down and I thought knowing some of the truth of the matter might help.”
“Going down?”
“That’s what my mother called it when she’d get the black feelings. The girl hasn’t talked for two days. Her daddy is going to know something is wrong and when he gets it out of her, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Luckily, she’s been so squirrelly since she turned sixteen that he hasn’t noticed her being any different the last day or two. ’Sides, he’s worried about what killed Seth getting our livestock.”
Bobby came around the corner before Mrs. Chester could say anything else. She quickly went back to hanging the clothes.
“I think I got what I need,” Bobby said, looking back and forth between the two women.
Josephine looked at Mrs. Chester, but the woman wouldn’t meet her eyes. “If you need anything, I’ll be glad to help in any way I can,” Josephine told her.
“What was that all about?” Bobby asked when they were in the car and headed down the dirt road back toward town.
“Seth was on his way to meet their daughter,” Josephine said.
Bobby turned and looked at her. “I wouldn’t think her father would be too happy about that.”
“Mrs. Chester said as much. But she’s sure he doesn’t know.”
“Well, if he did then that would give us a suspect. Not that I can see how he could have pulled off something like that. Besides, he seemed pretty worried about his property.”
They stopped at a couple more houses without learning anything new. When they got back to Josephine’s, Bobby walked her to the door.
“Lock your doors and windows tonight,” he told her. “What we do know at this point is that whatever we’re dealing with is dangerous. Besides, I didn’t like the way that François was looking at you.”
“I’ll be careful. What about you? Are you really going out there tonight?”
“I have to. It wouldn’t be right to let those yahoos run around in the woods unsupervised. Of course, Sheriff Logan will be there, but he doesn’t seem himself these days.”
“Don’t take any chances. That’s all we’d need is for you to get shot by one of those idiots.” She leaned up and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Call me in the morning.”
Blasko woke up with a purpose. His first order of business was to find out what Josephine had discovered during the day. He hurried through his evening routine, which included a few affectionate words for Vasile, who was just waking up and crawling across the ceiling.
Once he was dressed, Blasko went out the inner door that led to the stairs into the main house. Josephine’s black cat, Poe, was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.
“Follow me to the kitchen. I’ll fetch you something to eat from Mrs. Durand.”
After making sure Anna gave Poe some of the choicest scraps from dinner, Blasko found Josephine in the parlor, a drink in her hand.
“François appears to have a solid alibi for the night that Seth was killed,” Josephine told him after she’d filled him in on the day’s activities.
“You shouldn’t have confronted him.”
“I was with Bobby. I wish I could say you’re being unreasonable, but there’s an aura about the man that’s menacing. He hides it well. Still…”
“Exactly. He might just be a rogue, but…” Blasko pondered his impressions of the man. “You’re sure that his alibi holds up?”
“I even called Mrs. Copeland when I got home and pressed her. She swears that he held the séance until the small hours of the morning and then was so exhausted they let him sleep for a while in their den. They didn’t sleep and they checked on him several times.”
“I’m going out with the patrol tonig
ht,” Blasko stated.
“Watch out for Bobby. There’s also another man who will be there.” She went on to describe Colonel Etheridge.
“At least Tucker has some idea of what he’s dealing with.”
“Don’t count the colonel short. Father always said that if there was trouble, Etheridge would be the man to stand beside.”
“I plan on staying in the shadows tonight. But I’ll keep a watchful eye.”
“There are going to be a dozen or more men stumbling around with weapons,” Josephine warned.
“Lock your doors and windows,” Blasko said, reiterating what Bobby had told her.
“I saw what was left of Seth. Don’t worry, the house will be secured. Anna and Grace are both staying here tonight.”
Josephine walked over to her father’s gun cabinet and opened it with a key that was kept on top. There were more than half a dozen shotguns, both side-by-sides and over-and-unders, as well as several hunting rifles.
“Do you know how to use that?” Blasko asked when she brought out a silver inlaid side-by-side with a hand-carved walnut stock.
In answer, Josephine held it under her arm and expertly broke it open and loaded a shell in each chamber before clicking it shut.
“I was out shooting clays and doves when I wasn’t much taller than this shotgun,” she said.
Blasko bowed ever so slightly.
Chapter Nine
An hour later, Blasko went out into the night looking for Matthew. He found him in the shadows of the courthouse.
“That François guy hasn’t gone out at all today,” Matthew said. He was huddled close to the building both for stealth and protection from the cold north wind. Winter wasn’t done with Alabama yet.
“No offense to your powers of observation, but this man strikes me as someone who is good at sneaking out of buildings.”
“I hear you.” Matthew lifted a pair of binoculars from under his coat. “I’m doing the best I can. I saw Deputy Tucker and Miss Josephine go into the hotel this morning. And I’m doing more than watching. I got a buddy who works in the hotel, keeping an eye out.”
“There is a hunting party going out tonight to search for the beast in the woods where the boy was found. I’m going out there to keep an eye on them. If François leaves the hotel, determine where he is headed and let me know if you can. Again, don’t confront him.”
