"You got a message for me?" Sadie asked, grabbing the man's sleeve.
Startled, the manager jumped, flinging papers in every direction. He took a deep breath, collected the errant pages, then stacked them into a pile in the center of his desk. "Er, uh, yes, as a matter of fact I do," he said. He glanced toward the door, spotted Justine at the counter, then motioned for her to join them. "Actually it's for both of you," he whispered. "Although I don't understand how you could possibly know I had a message, since the woman was only here yesterday."
Sadie laughed, her peculiar cackle reverberating in the quietness of the bank. "We know more than you ever will," she croaked in a hoarse whisper.
"Someone mentioned you might have a message," Justine lied, patting the man's sleeve
His face relaxed, and he motioned for them to take a seat. "Well, Mary Windom came to see me yesterday. Said she needed a forwarding address for you." He leaned forward. "You remember her, don't you? She and her aunt restored the old plantation you used to live in. I think you knew her as Mary Corbett. She married that other curator she worked with. You know, the one whose wife died."
"Yes, we remember her. A very nice woman."
The bank manager puffed out his cheeks and straightened his jacket. "Well, naturally I would never give out anyone's address without a court order. We have very strict rules. Unlike some others I could mention." He paused to make sure he had their undivided attention. "However, she did ask me to pass on the message that she would like for you to come to the plantation." Having delivered his announcement, he sat down in his chair and stared at the two women. "And here you are, the very next day," he murmured. "Strange, very strange."
Sadie's chair scraped the floor as she rose to leave. "Let's go; time's a wasting."
"Thank you for passing on the invitation," Justine murmured.
The manager remained seated, eyes wide, mouth open.
"Please excuse my friend; she's old and getting senile. I'm afraid she sometimes forgets her manners," she apologized.
"Very well. I was glad to be of service," he replied in a stiff, formal tone. "If you need anything--"
"Thank you very much for your help. You've been very kind."
He was still muttering to himself as she hurried to catch up with Sadie. For an eighty-five-year-old woman who used a cane, Sadie could cover a lot of territory in a very short time. Justine's breath came in short gasps as she caught up to her friend. "How did you know he had a message for us?" she panted.
Sadie's cracked lips formed a secretive, knowing smile. "I done told you. I seen it last night in my dream. We gotta get out to that plantation before something bad happens."
It was the way Sadie made the announcement, rather than the words themselves, that sent warning signals up and down Justine's spine. "What do you mean 'before something bad happens'?"
Sadie's grin faded. "Before somebody dies."
6
Elizavon descended the stairs in careful, measured steps. Her slender, arthritic-ridden fingers formed a stark contrast to the rich, dark luster of the wooden rail she grasped for support.
Dribs and drabs of conversation from the dining room drifted her way, and she paused outside the door for a few moments, straining to understand the words. When her eavesdropping attempt failed, she curled her lips into a snarl and entered the room.
Mary glanced up from her bowl of oatmeal. "Good morning, Aunt Elizavon. I hope you slept well." She motioned to three covered bowls on the table. "I'm afraid it's scrambled eggs and bacon, or oatmeal for breakfast this morning. I haven't had time to make anything else."
"How could anyone sleep with all that racket going on last night? What time did those hangers-on leave? Didn't they know they were expected to come to the grand opening, stay a few minutes, then depart? Why didn't you encourage them to leave?"
Mary's smile faded and she touched a warning hand to Jack's arm. "The party broke up around midnight, which is exactly how long I expected it to run. I'm sorry you were unable to sleep, but the Blue Moon Inn's grand opening was a success, which is all that counts. Everyone in town knows we're running this plantation as a bed and breakfast and they've promised to spread the word. Last night was the first step in building a good working relationship with our neighbors and the folks who live in town."
"Well, I have no intention of staying any longer. I've wasted enough of my time. Call the airport and tell them to drag that lazy pilot of mine out of his bed. I intend to leave today." She turned toward Jack. "I don't suppose you could interrupt your busy schedule to take me to the airport? I'd ask Mary to do it, but from the look of this place, it will take her several days to clean up the mess your guests left." She clicked her tongue. "Trailer trash. That's all they are. They don't even know how to act. Disgusting."
Jack felt Mary's fingertips dig into his skin, begging him to remain calm. Hateful old bitch! He forced his lips into a half-smile. "Actually, Mary and I planned to go into town today. We'd be glad to give you a ride to the airport," he purred in his smoothest voice. "We can clean up when we get back."
Mary released the breath she'd been holding, grateful that Jack hadn't risen to the old woman's barbs. The legs of her chair slid across the polished, inlaid wooden floor as she rose. "I'll call the airport and make sure they remind your pilot to file his flight plan. What time do you want to leave?"
"Noon." Elizavon toyed with the scrambled eggs on her plate, then glanced at the plain gold watch on her wrist. "It's nine now. I'll pack my bags and be ready to leave in an hour." Her fork clattered onto the plate as she rose from the table and disappeared into the hallway.
Mary squeezed Jack's hand. "You're wonderful, do you know that?" she whispered in his ear. "Thanks for not making a scene."
His eyes twinkled and a single dimple appeared on the left side of his face. "Don't worry, sweetie. You owe me big and I intend to collect. In fact, you can start repaying me later this afternoon," he said, leering dramatically at her.
She blushed, knowing full well how he expected payment. "Talk to me when we get back and I'll see what I can do," she giggled.
"Thank goodness Elizavon's leaving," he said as he began to stack plates in the crook of his elbow. "I don't think I could have stood another minute, much less another day listening to her constant whining."
"I know. It almost seems like she wants us to lose our tempers." She scratched her head. "I can't help but feel sorry for her, though. She has a miserable life. All alone in that huge old house, with no family or friends. Even her servants can't stand her. I wouldn't wish that kind of life on my worst enemy."
"You're too soft. She likes her life the way it is; otherwise she'd change. I don't feel sorry for her at all. In fact, I think she deserves everything she gets."
Mary rescued the plates from his arm and placed them on a nearby cart. "Well, I still feel sorry for her. There's got to be a layer of goodness underneath all that venom. One of these days I'm going to get through to her and show her it's okay to be nice to people. I don't care how long it takes. It's the least I can do, since my life is so blessed."
"I'm afraid you're wasting your time, love." He brushed an errant golden-red lock from her face and caressed her jaw. "How long has Elizavon been the way she is? Have you ever known her to say or do anything kind for anyone?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm still going to try."
He patted her shoulder. "Good luck."
"Thanks." She pushed the cart toward the kitchen. "I'd better call the airport so her pilot can get his flight plan filed. God, I hope there aren't any problems filing it on such short notice. If she's delayed, we'll never hear the end of it."
"What was that you were saying a few minutes ago?"
A dishcloth soared toward his head and he snatched it out of the air. "Now, now, my dear," he teased.
Her laughter echoed in the room as she disappeared into the kitchen. Some ten minutes later she returned and a smile spread across her face as she glanced at the gleaming dining room ta
ble. "You finished polishing the table for me! You know, you keep that up and I just might hire you as a full-time butler, Mr. Windom."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her ear. "No way, Mrs. Windom. You couldn't afford me. I'm very expensive. Of course, we could work out some kind of agreement for payment for services rendered..."
"Maybe. Talk to me later this afternoon and we'll see what we can come up with," she suggested as she twisted in his arms and held her lips for his kiss.
Thumping sounds from the stairwell interrupted them. Mary sighed, then walked to the hallway. Now what?
Elizavon stood at the top of the stairs, two leather suitcases nearby. "Well, is Jack coming up to get my cases, or do I have to take them to the car myself?"
"I'm on my way, Aunt Elizavon. I didn't want to rush you," he said. Grabbing a bag with each hand, he glanced toward her. "Do you have anything else?"
"No, two bags is all I ever carry. If you'd paid attention when I got here, you'd know that."
He nodded and motioned for her to precede him. The desire to give Elizavon a shove entered his mind but he banished the thought, although not very quickly. Considering his options, he decided he didn't want her to die on his property. With his luck, she'd come back as a shrieking ghost and keep them awake every single night.
"What's so funny?" Mary whispered as he passed her.
"Nothing." Once the bags were inside the trunk, he covered them with a quilt to protect them from damage. Elizavon waited on the porch, impatiently tapping her foot. "I'll be right back, Aunt Elizavon. I just want to lock up."
"Don't be long; I'm ready to go. You had a full hour to get ready. If you wasted your time, that's not my problem. I don't like waiting, never have. If you're not back in five minutes, I'll drive this heap to the airport myself."
He gritted his teeth and turned away. Mary stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting. "You didn't get into another argument, did you?"
"No thanks to her. If she wasn't leaving today..."
"I know sweetie. I'm sorry to have to put you through all this. Once we take her to the airport, she's gone."
"Her plane better not be grounded."
As they made the long drive into town. Mary glanced out the window, unwilling to break the strained silence. A light fog obscured much of the landscape, but she knew that beneath the thick cover of gray, the numerous bayous teemed with wildlife, even in the winter. Occasionally a long, slender branch of a Cypress tree rose out the fog like an emaciated wooden finger, beckoning unwary travelers into their treacherous lair. Spanish moss covered portions of the limbs like the fringe on an intricate fringed shawl, reminding her of the days when women wore shawls everywhere they went. Her silent reverie was interrupted when a bony finger dug into her shoulder.
"Did you make sure the pilot would be ready to leave?" Elizavon asked.
"Yes. I called the airport and had him paged. When I told him that you wanted to leave at noon, he said the plane was ready to go; all he had to do was file a flight plan."
"Humph. He better be ready to leave or he'll be looking for a new job. Laziest pilot I ever hired. Never done a decent day's work in his life."
Her aunt's constant griping would try the patience of a saint, much less mere mortals! Mary breathed a sigh of relief as the airport loomed ahead and Jack turned onto the private runway. A single plane waited on the tarmac and she prayed that it was Elizavon's. As they drew nearer, she recognized Elizavon's tall pilot standing at the base of the short stairwell. He waved them forward.
Elizavon stepped from the car and glanced toward the pilot as she covered the short distance to the plane. "For God's sakes, straighten your tie. I paid good money for that uniform; the least you can do is try to make it look halfway decent." Her cold blue eyes narrowed as she watched him tighten his tie and brush imaginary lint from his khaki-colored uniform. "Whenever you're finished doing your laundry in public, perhaps you can answer a question for me. Are we ready to go?"
"Yes ma'am. We can leave as soon as you're aboard," he replied. Giving his tie one last brush, he tipped his fingers to his hat in a mock salute and moved to help Jack stow the luggage.
Mary wiped her hands on the side of her pants. "I'm sorry you have to leave so soon..."
"You and I both know you're glad to see me leave. Just make sure you send a statement every month." A wave of a gnarled hand dismissed her as Elizavon disappeared into the plane, followed by her pilot.
The engines roared to life and as Mary stepped back, she felt the pressure of Jack's hand on her shoulder. "We'd better move so he can take off. Come on, I'd hate for them to be delayed."
Nodding, she climbed into the car. "Sometimes even I don't think that woman has one kind bone in her body. There's no reason for her to be like that. What is it with her?"
"Honey, some people like being miserable all the time. Elizavon's one of them. I tried to tell you that earlier."
"I know. I just don't understand why she's like that. Mother wasn't like her. She was warm, loving and giving."
"Well, just be thankful Elizavon's not your mother," Jack teased. "Otherwise, you might not have me as a husband--especially if you turned out to be like her."
"No, you better be thankful I have my mother's personality. Otherwise you'd be in a heap of trouble, young man." Her dismal mood evaporated as they drove into town.
"Do you have the list?" Jack asked as he pushed several coins into a parking meter.
"Yes, it won't take us long. Why don't I buy you lunch at Melancon's Restaurant as a reward for being so patient?"
"Nah. It's getting pretty late. Let's make it another day. I want to finish the work on the back porch before it gets dark."
"I forgot about the loose railing. You're right."
He flashed her a grin as he guided her down the street. "Aren't I always?"
Her laugh turned into a frown as she stopped in front of the main hotel. The color drained from her face and her eyes widened to two round orbs. For several minutes she remained motionless, as if listening to some unknown conversation.
Jack reached out and touched her arm. "Mary, what's wrong? What's going on?"
She favored him with a blank stare, then a puzzled expression replaced her frown. "What...What did you say?"
"What's wrong with you? You've been staring into space for the last five minutes."
"I'm not sure. All of a sudden I got a funny feeling, like someone was calling my name."
He looked around, searching for a familiar face. "I didn't hear anything. Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah." She rubbed the chill from her arms. "It was spooky, like somebody whispering from far away." She held up her hand for silence, and waited. When Jack thought he could stand the suspense no longer, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, whoever or whatever it was, it's gone now. We might as well get our shopping done."
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they covered the short distance to the grocery store. From the look on her face, he was sure she knew more about what happened than she was letting on. He just hoped that this time whoever it was calling her wasn't somebody who'd been dead for a hundred years.
7
Sadie tucked the straps of her purse into the crook of her arm and grabbed her battered suitcase by its cracked leather handle. "I'm ready. Let's get."
"I'm right behind you," Justine said, eyeing the room for forgotten items. Satisfied they'd left nothing behind, she pulled the door shut and twisted the handle.
"Why did you lock the door? Ain't nobody gonna go into the room and steal our stuff."
"I don't want anyone stealing something after we leave and the hotel charging us for it," Justine said, guiding her into the elevator. "This way we don't have to worry about it." A loud "ping" announced the lobby, and as the two women stepped from the elevator, she pulled Sadie to one side. "Why don't you wait on the front porch for the taxi while I check out," she suggested. "I won't be long."
"It better get
here quick. I want to get to the plantation before dark."
"Don't worry. It won't be dark for hours." She patted Sadie's shoulder with one hand and pointed to the front entrance with the other. "The taxi stand is right outside that door."
Sadie shuffled forward. As she stepped onto the porch, a taxi drew to a halt near the curb. Motioning with her cane, she called to the driver.
Justine caught up with them as the driver stowed Sadie's battered and worn suitcase into the trunk. "Here's the last one," she said, handing him another.
"Where to ladies?"
"Maison de Fleur plantation, please," Justine said.
"You ladies guests there?"
"Not exactly."
"Well, you're in for a real surprise. It's been fixed up real nice."
"What do you mean, fixed up?" Sadie asked.
He peered at their reflections in the rear-view mirror. "Haven't you heard? Somebody bought that plantation and turned it into a hotel or something."
Justine leaned forward. "You don't by any chance know who bought it, do you?"
"Some old lady and her niece. I don't know much about it, except that the niece and her husband are running the joint."
"The niece that's running it. Her name wouldn't be Mary Corbett, would it?"
He scratched his head. "I don't know. Why you asking all these questions about the plantation? You a reporter or something?" He twisted so he could see their faces. "No, I guess not; you both too old. You ain't planning on making no trouble for them, are you? 'Cause if you are, you can just get out right here."
"Lord, no. We used to live in the house and wondered who bought it, that's all," Justine answered. "We've come back to visit for a few days."
"Well, in that case I guess it's all right. I thought you looked familiar. Say, didn't you used to live there before old Mr. Ventereux died?"
"Yes. I was the housekeeper."
Breaking the Chain Page 3
