Jesse Delacroix: Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow (The Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  Anjolie and Rambo had checked into one of the regular Inn rooms on the second floor together. She seemed so lovely and friendly, but Marguerite seemed to be giving her a glare that would indicate otherwise.

  Next was a bubbly and adorable elementary school girl and her younger brother. The boy pushed Carlo’s vacant chair out of the way and had his head on Marguerite’s breast and his thumb in his mouth. I assumed that they were part of the package that came with the voluptuous and gorgeous young wife, but I was wrong.

  “We’re so fortunate that this is Antoine’s weekend with his kids. Elsa is very excited for the kid’s rodeo.”

  The young girl nodded with a beaming and excited smile.

  “That should be a lot of fun. But, Marguerite, from the way you care for these kids I thought perhaps they were your own.”

  “Oh, my, no,” she said. “I’m only 20 – but I do adore them so, and Antoine and I will have our own in a few years.”

  She’s 20 years old? The perfectly coiffed hair, high fashion couture, strappy Jimmy Choo stiletto heels, and elegant makeup made her look much more mature. “Well, that’s just wonderful…” I turned to Antoine. “…and we are very grateful that you selected L’Auberge Hantée and the Nirvana Tea Room to feature in your column this week, Sir.”

  “You can thank Marguerite for that,” Antoine said as he adroitly patted his pink cloth napkin on his lips three times. “She insisted that we come to your festival this weekend, didn’t you, dear?”

  The beautiful woman’s mouth was full. She nodded and put her hand to her throat while she took a moment to finish her bite. “Yes, I’m a Georgia girl and Antoine is from Georgia too. I stopped at your Tea Room once on my Miss Savannah tour last year – and when I found out that Pamela, one of my pageant friends, will be in town I told Toine that we just had to come. She’s Miss Georgia now, and she will be crowning the queen of your festival. Antoine was one of the judges who selected her last June. I didn’t win his vote for the crown, but after the pageant, I won his heart.” She smiled at him glowingly.

  “That’s wonderful! Bring her to our Lover’s Ball this evening as our guest. Enjoy!”

  A streak of whimsy ran through me, and I leaned down to hug the rigidly proper food critic and kissed him on both cheeks. I thought it might help make Carlo’s behavior seem a little more normal. The man turned a deep shade of red.

  “This is a very friendly place!” Marguerite exclaimed, a little taken aback.

  “That’s just the way we are around here!” I smiled and walked away.

  There were several other romantic fires I had to put out around the dining room too, and I had everything reasonably under control. I looked out the front windows to see what Lucius might be up to, but the street full of people did not seem to be in chaos. I spotted the little red rascal zipping around high above the crowd doing barrel rolls up and down the boulevard. Apparently he hadn’t been out and about for a while and was enjoying his freedom – for now.

  I think my defensive dome was shielding the people from the full effect of the spell, with the evil Cupid outside of the protected area – but my shield had not extended into the kitchen.

  I walked through the swinging doors into a carnival atmosphere.

  Ginny was calmly putting orders in the window as I entered the kitchen. “Hey, Jess, can you do something about these animals back here? We’ve got work to do.”

  “What in the world is going on here!”

  I was shocked at what I saw. Our pretty little just-out-of-high-school waitress, Ashley, sat on a stool at the counter where Carlo was working. She had both elbows on the counter, and her head in her hands as she gazed lovingly at Carlo.

  “Hello, Jessica! The Béarnaise will be done in a minute, and I think everything on the buffet line is full!”

  All at once I noticed Granny swooping down from the ceiling with a skillet in her hand, ready to bash in Ashley’s head.

  “Stop with your googly eyes, girl. That man is mine!”

  Ashley could not see or hear Granny, of course, but her eyes grew wide as she saw the frying pan fly towards her.

  “Granny! Stop it right now!” I shouted telepathically to the ghost of my beloved but love-cursed grandmother. “You’re under a spell! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

  She stopped briefly. “Oh, I know what I’m doing, all right! That little floosy is trying to steal my Carlo away from me.”

  The chef had a big smile, enjoying every minute of the sort-of catfight over his affection. “I have enough love for all of my women.” Then he whistled and continued working.

  “Drop the pan, Granny!” I commanded as I drew my trusty fork from my pocket.

  “Hah! Your expeliarmus spell won’t work on me! This isn’t a storybook.” Granny moved closer to Ashley and reared the pan back over her head, ready to strike.

  I pointed at the pan with my fork and flicked my wrist. The pan was ejected from her hand and flew towards my open palm.

  “Oh!” Granny was more than surprised as I grabbed the heavy skillet and set it on the table.

  While she was having a lucid moment, I turned my attention to Ashley. “Honey – you need to start filling orders and bring the hot food out to our guests. The window is full of steaming plates. You have to stop gazing at Carlo.”

  “I can’t, Miss Delacroix. And that’s not Carlo; it’s Burn, the lead singer for the Constables. I can’t leave. I love him.”

  Oh, boy. “Look at him,” I said and passed my hand upward in front of her eyes. “It’s Ralphie’s pet hog, Ernest.”

  “Ewww!” She released her hypnotic gaze on Carlo and went back to work, for now.

  We heard some little paws scratching on the back door of the kitchen that went out into the lobby.

  “Arthur must be hungry,” I looked for some scraps on the prep table.

  “I have some meat saved for him over here, Jessica.” Carlo walked to the rear prep table and picked up a plate of scraps.

  I opened the back door for him, and Granny immediately flew out through the opening and into Arthur’s little body as Carlo set the plate outside the door. The possessed pup jumped into the kitchen and headed right for Carlo.

  “Arthur! You know you can’t be in the kitchen! We’ll get closed down if anyone sees you. Granny – get out of Arthur right now!”

  Granny paid no attention and leapt passionately onto Carlo’s leg. She latched onto it with the little beagle’s legs and started humping like crazy. Carlo just stood there and laughed. I grabbed Arthur, and with great effort extricated him from the situation. I tossed him back into the lobby and closed the door quickly behind him.

  Granny floated slowly into the kitchen through the closed door, and I glared at her. I could tell she was ashamed, but I knew it wasn’t really her fault.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s in the solarium reading a magazine.”

  “Why don’t you go keep her company, Granny? I think it’s best if you’re not in the kitchen with Carlo right now.”

  She nodded and slowly floated out of the room.

  I took in a deep, cleansing breath and took solace in the thought that at least the day couldn’t get any worse. Boy, was I wrong.

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  Chapter Six

  Brunch was a huge success.

  “We served over 600 guests, Jessie,” Lexi told me proudly as she put her hand on her tummy. “That’s over 100 guests an hour, from10:00 until 3:00.”

  “That’s amazing. Should be our best day ever.”

  “By a mile,” Lexi agreed.

  “You better sit down and rest, Lex. You’re five months along now.” I was just finishing up the decorations for the Lovers’ Ball in the solarium and courtyard while keeping one eye on the sheep rodeo going on in back.

  “24 weeks now, actually.” Lexi plopped down in the Queen Anne armchair with a huge sigh. “But the worst part is
yet to come,” she said with a resigned but tolerant tone.

  “Ohhhh!” I turned to see what the crowd was groaning about outside. “Little Jerry McGraw just took a spill off of that big black sheep.”

  “That’s Dancing Devil, the most feared sheep bronco this side of the Mississippi.” She tried to mock the voice of our announcer, Zach Fontaine, and we both laughed. “My little KC rode Snortin’ Sugar Plum for seven seconds and won a bagful of sour candy hearts and a shiny medal.”

  “Cute.”

  “She’s very proud. This is really a great idea for the kids. I hope they do it every year.”

  My Travis, the only real cowboy around these parts, was sponsoring and running the brand new event. His younger brother and sister-in-law, Carson and Beth, were helping him get the helmets and pads on the kids. The Yates boys sold their big cattle ranch in Oklahoma a year or two after their mother passed away. It was too big and had too many memories for their father, Percival, and they somehow ended up here in Whispering Pines.

  “Do you need any more help with anything, Jessie?” The Gypsy priestess had a big bright smile, but she still diverted her eyes from me a little.

  Irene was such a timid sweetheart now. It had been fun watching her trying to keep three steps ahead of Travis when the power of the love arrows drew him close to her. She really didn’t want that furry snout, I guess.

  “That should do it. Where are you going to put your table for the readings, Madame Irene?”

  “I was thinking inside, here in the solarium. That front corner seems fairly private.”

  “Perfect. If you need anything – curtains, chairs, candles, whatever – just ask Lionel.”

  “I’ll run home then. I’ll see you after the street play, Jessie.”

  Funny how a few gold stars on the back of your neck can change everything.

  “Lex, are you going to watch the big Rites of Spring play? It will be dusk before long.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Jess. Miss Georgia herself, Pamela Tedesco, will be here to crown our Bacchanalia Queen.”

  “That was you just a few years ago, Lexi – Miss Bacchanalia.”

  “Ha! 16 years ago, when I was a sweet and slim 19.”

  “Who are you rooting for to win it this year?”

  “Duh…Karen Coon, of course. Maybe then her mother will finally forgive me for beating her out in her last year of eligibility when she was 24 and single.”

  “Good call. I’ll pull for her too.”

  The sun was behind the tall whispering pines in back of the Inn now, and excitement was building for the big street play. A dim crescent moon had already risen above the eastern horizon and was slowly making its way towards us right above Carlisle Boulevard. I was in my favorite place – the porch swing on the front porch of L’Auberge Hantée. I spotted a wide-brimmed Smokey the Bear hat floating head and shoulders above the crowd not too far down the street.

  “Sheriff!” I shouted from the rail of the porch, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Sheriff Muldoon!”

  I got his attention, and we waved at each other. Then I saw a hank of red hair bouncing up and down next to him. His lady friend and crime scene investigator, Audrey Gastineau, was waving too, jumping a little so I could see her. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to them much during brunch, except to try to dull the effects of Lucius’s arrows for her and our chef, Carlo. I liked her and was happy to see her and Matt Muldoon getting together more often these days.

  Then I spotted a street magician in the grassy area out front inside our horseshoe driveway. He was trying to amaze a group of children, so I thought I would stick my nose in. I walked over and saw a little girl open her hand.

  “It’s still just one ball,” she told the teenaged boy, who seem quite flustered at muffing the trick. She closed her hand around the red foam ball. “Do it again!”

  “Well…” The boy was sweating and trying to figure out how he could get the other red ball in her hand now.

  “You forgot to tap her hand with your magic wand,” I said with a smile. I put one hand in my pocket and rubbed the crystal on Anika’s tiny fork, and then I took his wand and tapped her little hand. “Okay, sweetie…open your hand now.”

  “No…” the boy started to protest, but it was too late.

  The little girl opened her hand. The ball was gone, and there was a very tiny rainbow lollipop the size of a quarter on her palm. It was one of those flat ones with candy wound into a big circle.

  She smiled. “But it’s so small.”

  “Lick it, “ I told her.

  She picked it up by the tiny white stick and looked at me gingerly. Then she gave it a lick. Just like that, it was a full-size lollipop. She let out a surprised gasp. “Yeah!”

  All the other kids were clamoring, “Do me! Do me!”

  The wide-eyed boy looked at me, not knowing what to do.

  “Kids, put your closed fists out so the magician can tap your hands.”

  They obeyed, and I nodded for the boy to tap the little hands with his wand. He was more surprised than the kids when they each got a tiny lollipop and ran off.

  “Thank you,” he said, “but…”

  “It’s just something I learned in band camp. Give me your wand.” I took it and handed it back to him. “Now your wand will have lollipop powers for two hours. Have fun!”

  “Thanks, lady.” He lifted his hand with the wand to wave goodbye, and a dozen lollipops fell to the prop table, some falling to the ground. As he bent over to pick them up, more fell from his wand.

  “Be careful…you’ll get the hang of it.”

  I went back up to the porch to get on the swing before the growing crowd took it. On my way up the front steps I saw a familiar shock of blonde hair coming down. I barely recognized Marguerite in her yoga pants, sneakers, and black sweatshirt, and her mind was not on her immediate surroundings. She really did look 20 now.

  “Hey, lady!” I greeted in my casual manner. “Going to the big show all alone?”

  It took her a second to break out of her trance and recognize me. “Oh! Miss Delacroix…hi! Oh, I’m going to look for my friend, Pamela, and watch with her until she has to crown the Queen. Toine and the kids are going to watch from our window in the suite upstairs. It’s actually a really good view from there.”

  “That’s true. Well, enjoy the show. Say – I saw, umm…Anjolie, Antoine’s secretary, go out a while ago. Maybe you can keep an eye out for her and take her with you.”

  Marguerite scowled and let out a groan. “Uh, I don’t think so, Miss Delacroix. I’ll be fine.”

  It seemed like there was some bad blood there. “Well, we’ll be here on the porch if you want to join us later!”

  I sat down and watched as the huge crowd in the street made room for the crew to put the finishing touches on the raised 100-foot long stage for the performance. They used to do it right on the street, but it was hard for the onlookers to see all the action.

  There was a second, smaller stage three blocks down where the finalists for the Miss Bacchanalia crown were assembled. Then, at the right moment, the Goddess of Light would be revealed. She and Miss Georgia would be lifted about four stories above the crowd in a decorative basket with the front half of the Leopard of Love projecting from the front of it.

  It was like a Sky Ride or ski lift that they had built for the show many years ago. The basket would go up on a cable quite steeply from the small stage. Then there was a tall steel shaft like a telephone pole but much wider, with a special fitting that went several feet below the street to hold it securely, and the “T” top held the outgoing and return cables. From the pole, the cable descended gradually toward the main stage. It made for a really spectacular entrance for the Goddess, who brought light and warmth and springtime with her.

  At the end of the play the ladies would glide slowly down to the stage, suspended from the heavy cable. Cupid would shoot the Goddess with an arrow of love as she approached the awaiting Prince Darling, who had slain the
dragon of winter so that the Goddess of Light could bring the sunshine and warmth of spring.

  Usually it was the mayor, but this year we were very fortunate to have Miss Georgia here to crown her “Miss Bacchanalia,” introduce her to the crowd, and present her to the Prince. Then he would escort her to the Lover’s Ball. Mom made me play one of the wood nymphs a couple of times when I was very young, but watching it was much more enjoyable for me.

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  Chapter Seven

  “Are there any more seats available here to watch the play?”

  I turned my head quickly, as I recognized the voice of my best friend from the law firm I used to work at in Savannah.

  “Cammy Jo Banfield! I didn’t know you were coming down for this!” I stood up and waved for her to come over to me so I wouldn’t lose my squatter’s rights to the porch swing. It was great to see her, and I gave her a big hug. “You must have had to walk for blocks to get here through all these people.”

  “Nope. Zach met me at the bridge, and I followed behind his squad car. He turned on those flashing lights, and we came in through the backstreets. My little Audi is parked right there on your lawn.” She was getting to be a fairly regular visitor since she met Zach here a few months ago.

  “Did I hear someone mention my name?” It was Zach Fontaine, the tall, brawny, African American Deputy for Carnigan Security, Inc., Kyle’s company, which was the only police force we had in Whispering Pines. The former Navy Seal took my gorgeous blonde friend in his muscular arms and planted a big kiss on her ruby red lips.

  “Careful there, big guy. What will all the pearl clutchers say?”

  Cammy was bold and unabashed as always. She was the full-time private eye for the law firm, and I helped her with research and investigations when I dropped out of law school. I was there for a year before I was called back into active duty here at the Inn and Tea Room.