Krewe of Hunters, Volume 6: Haunted Destiny ; Deadly Fate ; Darkest Journey

by Heather Graham

“No, I don’t believe he is. But he has held back important information.”

  “What did he hold back that would have changed anything? Yes, Farrell Hickory was going to marry Shelley Corley, and he kept that confidence, but it doesn’t matter. No one involved in the investigation believes that it was a hate crime.”

  “That’s true, but the way an investigation works, you often have to find out what things weren’t before you can find out what they were. If your father had just been open about what he knew—”

  “Your friend Laurent might have arrested him!” Charlie snapped.

  “Charlie, I don’t want to fight about your father.”

  “Then quit acting as if he’s a criminal.”

  He let out an explosive sound, finished taking off his shirt and walked over to check the door and turn out the lights. She didn’t move. When he slid into the bed to join her, she said, “My father is not a criminal.”

  “Charlie, I’m not treating him like a criminal. I’m just trying to find out everything he knows.”

  She fell silent, and for a few minutes, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke.

  Then she scooted toward him and curled up on his chest and said, “Want to hear something great my father taught me when I asked him why he and my mom never seemed to fight? Might be clichéd, and I’m sure you’ve heard similar, but it’s all so true!”

  “What?” he asked her.

  “My dad told me that he and my mom never went to bed angry.”

  “He can be a very sage man,” Ethan said.

  And then he took her into his arms. For a while, the world was sensation, the scent and feel of him, the wonder of making love—with someone you truly loved.

  But then she lay in the darkness again. Even held by him, even close…she was worried. And she knew the worry would stay with her—until they discovered the truth.

  * * *

  “Vicksburg, Mississippi,” Jonathan said. “All of you heading to the National Military Park with me, let’s talk about Vicksburg. ‘Vicksburg is the key.’ Who knows who said that?” he asked the group.

  “President Lincoln?” a teen asked.

  “Bingo! And do you know what President Jefferson Davis of the Confederacy had to say?” Jonathan asked.

  “Something like ‘up yours’?” another teen asked.

  “He might have thought it,” Jonathan said, smiling, “but what Davis actually said was, ‘Vicksburg is the nail head that holds the South’s two halves together.’ So you can see that, for both presidents, the Vicksburg campaign was one of the most important in the war. The siege of Vicksburg lasted from May 18th to July the 4th of 1863. It was the last major stronghold of the Confederacy on the Mississippi River. Of course, something else was going on at the same time. Anyone know what else happened from July 1st through the 3rd in 1863?”

  “Gettysburg!” several people called out simultaneously.

  “Exactly. So, the Fourth of July—Independence Day—proved to be a pretty good day for President Lincoln, wouldn’t you say?”

  There was a chorus of agreement. Jonathan went on to talk about logistics and how the campaign was part of the “Anaconda” plan to put a stranglehold on the Confederacy.

  Ethan stood with Jude and watched until Jonathan, leading scores of passengers, headed off to board the buses that would take them to the National Military Park.

  Thor was staying on the boat with the Belles, leaving Jude to accompany Ethan today. “You want to drive?” Jude asked now.

  “Don’t care—we both know the way around here,” Ethan said.

  “I’ll drive. You seem pissed off, not a great mood for getting behind the wheel.”

  In the car, Jude said, “I just don’t believe Jonathan Moreau is guilty.”

  “I don’t believe it, either,” Ethan said. “I know the man, and he isn’t a killer. What I don’t understand is why he hasn’t been more forthcoming. He knew about Shelley. He knew at least something of what Corley and Hickory were up to. Selma Rodriguez was almost certainly killed because of something she knew—and she knew Corley was going to see Jonathan.”

  “Careful. It sounds like you’re laying her death at Jonathan’s feet,” Jude said shrewdly.

  “I’m not. I believe the killer thought she knew more than that Corley was going to meet with Jonathan. That’s not a reason to kill. There has to be more. Perhaps the killer thought Selma knew why Corley wanted the meeting.”

  “Let’s hope we can find out,” Jude said.

  The Sane Energy office was small, nothing like the sprawling property belonging to Doggone It. Of course, they didn’t need that much space, either. They saw a man seated at a desk when they entered. He quickly rose, sized them up and smiled. “Hello, welcome,” he said with a definite Mississippi accent, deep and rich and rolling. “I assume you’re Special Agents Delaney and McCoy? I received a call from your office yesterday, so I made a point of being here today. I’m Frank Lorenzo, president, though I’m not sure how much the title means. We’re an all-volunteer organization, and I’m usually at work at this time. But under the circumstances, I’m happy to miss a day of work. How can I help you?”

  “We’d like to understand what was going on, what Mr. Corley and Mr. Hickory were so upset about,” Ethan said.

  “Gideon Oil,” Lorenzo said flatly and firmly. “They’re laying an oil pipeline along the Mississippi. The states are in on it—Louisiana and Mississippi, that is. They’ve given their approval. But we’ve had engineers create models that show that there’s an alternative, a safer alternative. The hitch is, our alternative plan is more expensive, so their shareholders won’t make their fortune as quickly as they were promised. Here, let me show you.”

  He led them to the back of the office where several 3-D models had been set up.

  “Construction will take longer and the equipment will be pricier, so you’re looking at more money, for sure. But we think we have a good argument for long-term benefits with no downside, so in the end the payout to the shareholders will be higher. Setting up a meeting has been next to impossible, however. They’re constantly putting us off. A lot of us have been talking about what we should do, but Albion and Farrell…they were rabid on the subject. They were ready to take it to both state legislatures. And I believe,” Lorenzo said, meeting their eyes, “that they might have succeeded in getting the pipeline stopped and our plan instituted.”

  “Why didn’t you inform the authorities about this?” Ethan asked. “This could be motive for murder.”

  Lorenzo appeared to be truly perplexed. “Well, for one thing, they hadn’t done anything yet. And playing hardball was their last resort. They believed they had the right man to try to set up friendly negotiations with Gideon Oil. Anyway, from what I’ve heard, their deaths had something to do with a Civil War reenactment they were in.”

  “We’re investigating every angle, Mr. Lorenzo,” Jude said.

  “I had no idea I’d have anything at all helpful to say. Not until I got that call from Agent Hawkins yesterday, saying you’d be in and asking me to give you any information I could,” Lorenzo said. He seemed to be growing defensive. That wasn’t going to help.

  “Mr. Lorenzo, we’re not accusing you of anything, and we’re very grateful you took the time to see us today,” Ethan said.

  The man appeared to be somewhat mollified.

  “Can you give us the names of anyone at Gideon Oil who might have been involved in the negotiations?” Jude asked.

  Lorenzo shook his head. “That’s just it—we hadn’t even talked to anyone yet. Albion and Farrell were going to talk to Jonathan Moreau about opening negotiations with Gideon Oil. Everyone respects him, and no one doubts his knowledge of and respect for the South, which makes everyone willing to listen to him. But it never got that far, because they never talked to him. Yo
u know, I talked to both Farrell and Albion…” He paused, as if he’d lost his breath for a minute. “I talked to them both before they were killed. Awful. One dead the first day, and not a day later, the second.”

  “I don’t suppose you have the name of the CEO of Gideon Oil? Save us looking it up?” Jude said.

  Lorenzo laughed drily. “Sure. Gideon. Saul Gideon. His family’s been big oil forever.”

  They spoke for a few moments longer; Lorenzo gave them copies of his files on Gideon Oil and the river project. They studied the models again, and then it was time to leave.

  When they were driving back, Jude looked over at Ethan and said, “There’s one thing that argues against the murders being tied to the whole Sane Energy-Gideon Oil situation.”

  “I can think of two, actually. First, the fact that they hadn’t even begun setting up negotiations, and second, the fact that the deaths of two men wouldn’t really change anything,” Ethan said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m wondering about something else, too,” Ethan said. “As in, why were the two of them dressed up in their uniforms if their plan was to meet up with Moreau to ask him about being a negotiator?”

  “It would make more sense to think they had a date with that photographer, Chance Morgan,” Jude said. “Except he had an alibi.”

  “Kind of brings you back to the movie people,” Ethan said.

  “Which brings us back to what the hell motive could any of them have to kill those two men, much less Selma Rodriguez. Unless we are back to a hate crime.”

  “I just don’t see it. But we can find out from Gideon Oil if any overtures were made toward them, maybe something they didn’t know about at Sane Energy,” Ethan said.

  “Greed. Always a motive for murder.”

  “Call Jackson. Ask him to ask Angela to look into what’s going on at Gideon Oil.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “And tomorrow the Journey is back in St. Francisville. At the very least, we’ll have a chance to drop in on the movie set again.”

  * * *

  That night Ethan didn’t come to either show, leaving Charlie to worry about what was going on. Thor, Jude, Alexi and Clara all walked with her to her door, saw her safely inside, then separated and headed to their own cabins.

  Ethan was waiting for her in the room, pictures spread out on the bed. Charlie walked over to where he sat studying them.

  She saw with a shock that they were photos of the entire cast and crew of Brad’s movie. Only her own picture was missing.

  “No luck at Gideon Oil?” she asked him.

  He looked up at her. “No. Are we feeling frustrated? Yes. HQ is working on finding out if any private communications were exchanged between Gideon and Sane Energy.”

  “And you’re focused back on the movie crew.”

  “People don’t usually dress up in Civil War uniforms to meet up with oil barons.”

  Charlie perched on the edge of the bed. “That’s true, but…”

  Her voice trailed off as she heard that strange brushing sound at the door again.

  She raced over to open it, but Ethan was there in a flash, stopping her with her hand on the knob. “Charlie, you can’t just open the door.”

  “It’s him, Captain Derue,” she explained.

  “You have a ghost that knocks?”

  “He’s a Southern boy. He would never just walk into a woman’s room.”

  Nevertheless, Ethan put his body between her and the door, then looked through the peephole to see the ghost.

  “Come in,” he said, finally opening the door.

  “Captain Derue, this is Ethan Delaney,” Charlie said as the ghost entered. “Ethan works for the FBI, the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Ethan, Captain Derue. He died of disease while tending to both Union and Confederate soldiers.”

  Captain Derue nodded. “Mr. Delaney,” he said, his husky voice low but still clearly audible.

  “Captain, thank you for your help,” Ethan said.

  “I wish that I could do more,” the captain said, staring intently at Ethan. “You might be a descendant of my cousin, sir.”

  “Your cousin?” Ethan said.

  Captain Derue nodded. “We were torn apart, sir, by the travails of the war. My mother’s sister married in St. Francisville, while my own mother married a man from Boston. For many years my cousin and I saw one another frequently. Both our fathers were military men. They fought together in Mexico, but then South Carolina seceded from the Union, and the war began. He went with his state, and I went with mine. We met again here in the bloody hell of shelling that went on during the Port Hudson campaign.”

  “Anson McKee,” Ethan said. “He was your cousin, wasn’t he?”

  The captain nodded. “Yes, and you look just like him.”

  “He does,” Charlie agreed.

  The captain turned sharply to look at her. “You’ve—you’ve seen Anson?”

  “We’ve both seen him,” Ethan said. “He’s there by Grace Church, outside St. Francisville. He’s helped us several times.”

  “He saved my life,” Charlie told him.

  “What I wouldn’t give to see Anson,” Derue said.

  “We’ll be in St. Francisville tomorrow, but the Journey stops there every week,” Charlie said.

  “I haven’t stepped off the ship since…since I died aboard her,” Captain Derue said softly.

  “You must! Come with us tomorrow. I’m sure we can find him,” Charlie said enthusiastically.

  “I can’t leave the men,” the captain said. “They were entrusted to my care.”

  “And they’ll be fine if you leave them for just a little while,” Charlie said.

  The captain nodded, then glanced toward the bed. He saw the pictures there and walked over to look down at them. “Her,” he said, pointing to the shot of Jennie McPherson. “She’s the one I told you about yesterday. She was arguing with Albion, and then…” He paused and turned to Charlie. “Then she went to speak with your father. I had forgotten that.”

  Ethan and Charlie looked at each other quickly. Charlie had wondered if the argument had been with Nancy and Todd Camp.

  Captain Derue looked at the pictures again. “Yes, many of these people were here. I remember all of these men,” he said, and pointed to the pictures of Jimmy Smith, Luke Mayfield, Barry Seymour and George Gonzales. “I remember them all.” He straightened. “It has grown late. I will leave you to sleep, but I would be most grateful if I might accompany you ashore tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Ethan said. “We’ll be with friends, but they’re all…safe. They’ve seen you, just as Charlie and I have.”

  Captain Derue nodded. “I have seen them, I think, and I have noticed that they can see me and the men. Thank you, and good evening.”

  He saluted and turned. Once again, he didn’t bother with the door but simply vanished.

  “Jennie’s name does keep coming up,” Charlie said. “But she’s not even from St. Francisville, plus she’s all of five feet and ninety pounds. I can’t see her lifting an Enfield or wielding a bayonet, even if I could think of why she’d want to.”

  “It will all make sense somehow,” Ethan murmured. “We’ll find out tomorrow. For now…” He stopped, shrugged and quickly cleared the photos off the bed, then smiled at her. “Time for bed, so we can make an early start in the morning.”

  She was surprised when he swept her into his arms. “Seize the night—that’s what they say, isn’t it?”

  “Seize the night,” she agreed.

  And so they did, letting Charlie forget, at least for a little while, how much she was dreading tomorrow and the possible discovery that one of her friends was a killer.

  * * *

  The plan was that they would all go ashor
e in St. Francisville. Alexi wasn’t worried that they wouldn’t have a chance to rehearse. They already had a set list and knew all the songs well, so they would be fine.

  Jude and Thor were going to go talk to Randy Laurent, who was expecting them. He was glum, having talked to half the people in town without discovering anything new.

  Jackson Crow had contacted the CEO of Gideon Oil, Saul Gideon, and he had agreed to meet with them at his office in Baton Rouge the following day, although he’d made a point of saying he wasn’t sure what help he could possibly give them. He’d said he hadn’t even been approached by anyone from Sane Energy, but would have had no problem considering a new plan. And since he owned 51 percent of the company, the final decision on which method to go with would have been his.

  They hadn’t spoken with Jonathan yet. Ethan had purposely delayed that morning, so by the time he and Charlie were ready to head ashore, Jonathan and his tour group were already gone. He wanted to observe Jonathan in St. Francisville. In fact, he was hoping to get Jonathan onto the film set, which might be possible, since he would be talking at Grace Episcopal Church, and it shouldn’t be too hard to sidetrack him afterward.

  Alexi and Clara were going to hang out at Mrs. Mama’s Café. It was public and safe, and they just might overhear something useful.

  The six of them met on deck before heading ashore, but they waited until pretty much everyone who was leaving the ship for the day was gone. When the deck was virtually empty, they saw Captain Ellsworth Derue coming toward them. They nodded to acknowledge his presence, since talking to thin air would have looked suspicious to the few people who were still around.

  Derue was smiling broadly, and Ethan thought he was the happiest ghost he had ever encountered.

  If nothing else, Ethan imagined there weren’t that many occasions when anyone acknowledged him at all, much less six people at one time.

  Once they were off the ship, they claimed their rental cars and split up. Captain Ellsworth Derue accompanied Ethan and Charlie as they headed toward the bluff by Grace Church, where the film crew were still working on some last “rising ghost” shots. They’d spent the last several days, while Charlie was unavailable, working with Harry Grayson, Blane Pica and the ghosts, getting new angles on the climactic scene of the ghosts destroying the oil-company exec and the crooked senator. Ethan thought it was ironic they were now looking into Gideon Oil’s potential involvement in three real-life murders.