Though This Be Madness

by Penny Richards

  Mrs. Fontenot’s shoulders seemed to relax, and Robbie welcomed them with a broad smile.

  “Is everything all right, Madam?” Lilly asked.

  “Everything was fine before you barged in here,” Henri snapped. “What the devil are you doing here, Sullivan?”

  “Lamartine said that there was a problem at the asylum. I thought perhaps I could explain if it had anything to do with Dr. Pierce’s visit yesterday,” Cade said as he and Lilly moved closer to the two adults.

  Lilly was impressed by his ability to remain so cool and unruffled.

  “Dr. Pierce?” Henri frowned. “How do you know what his name is, and how on earth would you know anything about what goes on there?” Henri asked, clearly at a loss to what was going on.

  “Dr. Pierce came at my request,” Lilly said, beginning to take a bit of pleasure from Henri’s bewilderment.

  “Your request?” Henri set aside his confusion long enough to try to reestablish his control. “Who do you think you are, coming in here as hired help and presuming to interfere in things that don’t concern you?”

  “Oh, but it does concern them, Henri,” Mrs. Fontenot said as she handed Lucifer to Robbie. “They have every right, since I asked for them to come.”

  Good grief! What was she up to?

  “You asked them? Have you gone as mad as Patricia?” Henri spat. Lilly was so close to the doctor that she could see the twitching of his lips beneath his mustache.

  “Hardly.” Mrs. Fontenot smiled as she stood to face him, a self-satisfied smile if ever Lilly had seen one. “Henri, I doubt that Bran and Brona Sullivan are even their names. You see, I’m beginning to believe that they are with the Pinkerton Agency, and they’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Lilly darted a surprised look at Cade. How had Mrs. Fontenot figured out who they were? And why choose this moment to break the news?

  “Pinkertons? You are mad.” Henri dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand.

  “Actually, Mrs. Fontenot, I believe most of our questions were answered today by Corinne Markham and Judge Roswell,” Cade said.

  There was a certain satisfaction in seeing the color drain from Ducharme’s face.

  Cade flashed one of his smiles at their employer. “By the way, Mrs. Fontenot,” he said, as if they were discussing the weather, “the judge said to tell you hello, and you’ll have to come visit him and his wife soon.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “I’m not sure if you know it or not,” Cade began, “but Henri and Preston have known each other since Preston was a baby. In fact, Henri is Preston’s stepfather.”

  As LaRee Fontenot’s sharp mind began to piece things together, an expression of shock entered her dark eyes. “You and that dreadful man planned everything together?” she asked, her quavering voice little more than a whisper.

  Henri must have realized that his scheme had just come to an abrupt halt. His nervousness was replaced with a boldness Lilly had seen before . . . on her husband’s face. Even his words were reminiscent of Timothy’s taunt. “Your precious daughter-in-law was an easy mark, and so was Cassandra. Needy women always are.”

  Needy? The word was like a slap in Lilly’s face. Mrs. Fontenot’s next words brought her thoughts back to the confrontation taking place right in front of her.

  “You and Preston planned to marry into the family, get rid of the girls, and take everything we’ve worked so hard for. That’s why you were so eager to have Preston take over the legal matters from Armand. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Lilly was about to tell her she had it exactly right when Henri piped up. “Why else?”

  “I must say, you were patient . . . at least in the beginning, but you’re getting a little greedy now, aren’t you?” the matriarch accused.

  “Only because I have a few gambling debts, Grand-mère.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Patricia, is there?”

  “Nothing that won’t cure itself if she’s off her drugs a few days,” he said in an offhand manner.

  That admission seemed to be the last straw. Mrs. Fontenot straightened herself to her full height, which wasn’t much. “Brona, will you please have Lamartine send Amos for the police. I’d like this thief out of my home as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Fontenot.”

  As Lilly turned to leave, Henri pulled a small derringer from his pocket.

  “Stay right there, Brona,” he said, pointing the weapon at her.

  Lilly stood very still. Robbie, who was always so unflappable about everything, looked truly dismayed. Cade’s gaze was thoughtful, considering, and she knew that various scenarios about how best to handle the situation were running through his mind.

  Without warning, Robbie scooped the black cat from Mrs. Fontenot’s lap and tossed him right at Henri’s face. The surprised feline gave a menacing yowl and swiped at the doctor before sinking his claws into him and making a leap to safety.

  Unwilling to go down without a fight, Henri gave a yelp and made a grab at Lilly. He wound up with a handful of her hair. With mayhem erupting around her, she dug her nails into his hand and gouged as hard as she could, trying to pull free. She heard the unmistakable sound of Henri taking a blow to the midsection, and he let her go. A loud crash followed as she staggered in an attempt to keep from falling. She stumbled into someone and small hands reached out to steady her.

  “I gotcha.”

  The words came from Robbie, who was struggling to keep her upright. His eyes held relief. She gave him a breathless smile of thanks and turned to survey the damages.

  Lucifer was perched on the back of the second settee, giving the whole assemblage the evil eye, as if he were considering his next victim. Mrs. Fontenot’s expression was nothing short of victorious. Cade, who was not even breathing hard, stood over Henri, who was lying on the pretty carpet, flat on his back. It looked as if he’d landed on a delicate gold-leaf table on his way down. The remnants of a gorgeous blue and green vase lay in shards behind him.

  Three parallel scratches ran down his face from his forehead, through his eyebrow and all the way to his mustache. Lucifer’s mark. It was somehow reminiscent of the cat’s own wounds, and even resembled Cade’s scar. Somehow, Lilly didn’t think the doctor would be so accepting of his new battle wound as those two were.

  Of course, where he was going, it didn’t matter.

  Cade turned to Lilly, genuine concern in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No thanks to you, McShane,” Robbie told his mentor in a scathing voice. “You were supposed to be teaching her to defend herself, and she had to be rescued by a ten-year-old and a cat.”

  CHAPTER 21

  When the police came, Cade invited the Lagasse family to join them while he and Lilly recounted the long and convoluted tale of Henri and Preston to the authorities. Mrs. Fontenot listened with tears in her eyes.

  “So he is not a medical person at all?” she said.

  “No.”

  “And there is nothing really wrong with Patricia?”

  “Probably nothing but normal grief,” Lilly told her. “But you’d be wise to have someone with some real knowledge check her over.”

  Once Mrs. Fontenot’s basic questions were answered, Cade and Lilly promised to explain more later, but told her they needed to go to the police station and get some more answers from Henri. They planned to travel to River Run early the following morning to let Cassandra know what they’d found out and get her away from Preston before something happened to her. It would be a perfect time, since the attorney would be in New Orleans working.

  Lilly wondered how Cassandra would take the news that her husband was nothing but a scam artist and crook. Lilly had firsthand knowledge of how hard that was to accept. It would not be pleasant for the young mother-to-be, but if there was any silver lining in all this darkness, it was that Cassandra and her child would be free from the wretched man and his hurtful ways.

&
nbsp; It was almost midnight when they reached the police station. One of the night officers took them back to the cell, where they found Henri sitting on the narrow cot, his head in his hands.

  He looked up when Cade spoke his name. He was disheveled, and there was dried blood all along the scratches Lucifer had inflicted. He looked as if he’d been crying.

  Lilly’s heart was not moved one bit.

  “Are they treating you okay?”

  Henri glared at them. Instead of answering, he asked, “Who the devil are you two anyway?”

  Both Lilly and Cade showed their badges. “Lilly Long, Pinkerton.”

  “Andrew Cadence McShane, Pinkerton.”

  Cade indicated that they wanted to be let inside the cell while they questioned Ducharme, and the guard brought them each a straight-backed chair.

  The night watch slapped his nightstick against his palm a couple of times. “Do you want me to stay close in case you need me?”

  “Thanks,” Cade told him, “but I think I can handle it.”

  “I think you’re right.” With a jaunty salute, the man left them locked in the cell with the prisoner.

  “It will go a lot better for all concerned if you answer the questions honestly, Ducharme,” Cade told him.

  “I’ll be out of here in no time. I’ve already sent for my lawyer.”

  “Oh, who’s that?”

  “Preston, of course.”

  “It will be hard for him to defend you when he’s sitting there beside you,” Lilly told him.

  Henri shook his head. “He’s too smart. You might pick him up, but you’ll never hold him.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Too much nervous energy was racing through Lilly for her to sit, but Cade stood, spun his chair around on one leg, and straddled it, resting his arms across the top. “You’ve already admitted that you teamed up and decided to steal the Fontenot ladies’ money, but there are a couple of other things bothering me . . . like Suzannah.”

  “What about her?”

  “Why did you kill her?”

  Henri leaped to his feet. That rattled him. “I never killed anyone.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Ducharme,” Lilly said in a dulcet tone that held a note of steel. As she stood looking at him, everything that Timothy had done to her came rushing back. She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the urge to pummel him for all the terrible things he’d done. Instead, she grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back until he was forced to look at her.

  Ducharme yelped in pain.

  “Of course you did. You killed her so there would be one less person to split the money with.”

  “I’m telling you I didn’t kill her. I would never kill anyone.”

  “Then who did?” Lilly asked. “Preston?”

  Seeing the handwriting on the wall, Ducharme caved in like a one-egg pudding.

  “He wanted me to. I’d have been happy with my marriage to Patricia and all the money and benefits that came with being part of the famous Fontenot family. Preston wanted more, and he threatened to expose me for a fraud if I didn’t help him with his plan. If there was any killing done, I didn’t do it.”

  “You’re saying Preston blackmailed you?” Cade asked.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Lilly felt the fight drain out of her. Maybe she was just tired, and maybe it was foolish of her, but she believed him. Ducharme wasn’t a leader; he was a follower. Always looking for the easy way. Easily led. Weak. Suddenly realizing that she had a death grip on his hair, she released her hold on him and stepped back, appalled by her actions.

  Cade pulled his watch from his pocket, flipped up the outside cover, and smiled. “So much for honor among thieves, Lilly. It took him all of three minutes to give up his partner.”

  Lilly couldn’t answer for the guilt pressing down on her. She began to pace the small cell.

  “So Preston wanted you to kill Suzannah. What about Mrs. Fontenot and Patricia?” she asked, determined to have all her questions answered.

  “Yes, them too. I was supposed to give Grand-mère small doses of arsenic to sicken her gradually.”

  “Arsenic!”

  Henri shrugged. “It would have been easy. She’s old and frail, and when she finally . . . succumbed, there wouldn’t be a single suspicion about what had happened. I tried, but I couldn’t do it.”

  “How did you give it to her?” Cade asked. “I know it’s caustic and has a bitter taste.”

  “I mixed it in her snuff so that she wouldn’t taste it. The problem is that she doesn’t dip that often.”

  Lilly’s heart seemed to stumble. Mrs. Fontenot’s unexplained bouts of sickness suddenly made sense. “Dear God!”

  “What?” Cade said, hearing the panic in her voice.

  “Robbie. Robbie took the snuffbox so he could try the snuff, and he got sick.”

  She thought she saw Cade’s face go a little whiter. She waited to see what he’d do, but he only dropped his forehead on his hands that rested on the top of the chairback.

  “What about Patricia?” Lilly asked, taking up where Cade left off. “How did you plan to kill her?”

  “I’m telling you I never planned to kill anyone. I gave her the chloral hydrate and had her committed, the way I promised Preston.”

  “Did you plan to leave her there forever?”

  Perhaps she’d finally touched some last lingering bit of decency in him. Henri buried his face in his hands. Lilly had to lean nearer to hear what he was saying.

  “I’d planned to put her in a new private hospital somewhere out in the country. Or build her a little place and hire someone to stay with her.”

  “Dear sweet heaven, Henri!” Lilly cried, shocked anew by his callousness. She began to pace the cell again. “She’s your wife! Didn’t you care at all for her? How could you see her suffering over the death of the baby . . . your baby and not feel any compassion for what she was going through?”

  Henri lifted his head and looked at her. There were tears in his eyes. “He isn’t dead.”

  She stopped pacing. “What did you say?”

  “The baby—Carlton—isn’t dead. He’s with my stepdaughter Delia.” He jerked his head toward Cade. “Ask Agent McShane. He and the boy drove me out to see him.”

  She looked at Cade, who looked as surprised as she felt.

  Lilly stared at the doctor for long seconds and called him a very unladylike name. Then she curled her small hand into a fist and swung at his face with every ounce of strength she had.

  The sound of his head striking the wall was very satisfying.

  CHAPTER 22

  Everyone was asleep when they got back to the house, and Lilly and Cade were so exhausted they both fell across the bed with their clothes on. She didn’t even notice he was beside her. He woke her early, they dressed in their everyday clothing once more, and they were on the road to the plantation by first light. They left a note for Mrs. Fontenot telling her that they hoped to be back with Cassandra by late evening and that they would explain everything when they returned.

  It was midmorning when they arrived at River Run, and Rollo greeted them with a worried expression on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, grabbing the horses’ leads.

  Cade leaped to the ground and helped Lilly down. Then he pulled out his Pinkerton badge. “We’re not really Bran and Brona Sullivan,” he explained. “I’m Cade McShane and this is Lilly Long. We’re with the Pinkertons.”

  “Pinkertons!” Rollo looked as if the news had knocked him sideways to Sunday. “Why are Pinkertons pretending to be hired help?”

  Lilly smiled. “Pretending to be someone we aren’t is an excellent way to get the goods on someone who’s under suspicion. We were hired to try to find out if Henri Ducharme was the caring husband he seemed to be, or if he was after Patricia’s money.”

  “We found out last night that he’s the latter,” Cade told him. “In fact, the doctor and Preston create
d the whole scheme together.”

  Emotions chased one another across Rollo’s face. Relief. Joy. Thanksgiving. His dark eyes filled with tears.

  “It’s over?”

  There was no need for him to explain what he meant. Cade placed a comforting hand on the other man’s shoulder.

  “It’s over. The police were going to Preston’s office this morning to arrest him. Lilly and I have come to take Cassandra back home. You and your family, too, if you want.”

  Rollo looked troubled. He shook his head. “Mr. Easterling’s not in the city. He’s here.”

  “What!”

  This would change everything. Both Lilly and Cade had expected it to be an easy matter to pack up a few things for Cassandra and take her back to her grandmother’s. They hadn’t counted on having to deal with Preston. Lilly knew that any animal was dangerous when he was cornered, and she worried about what might happen when she and Cade confronted Preston with his crimes.

  “What’s he doing here in the middle of the week?” she asked. “We expected him to be in the city.”

  “I don’t know. He come home in the middle of the night, drunk, yelling about everything around him going to Hades, and how stupid the doctor was.” Rollo shrugged. “He finally passed out. What’s he talkin’ about, Bran?”

  “We’ve discovered that Preston was behind Suzannah’s death, and that he and the doctor planned to get rid of all the Fontenot women and take control of their money.”

  “Dear Lord,” Rollo said. It was hard to say if the words were shock over what he’d heard, or a prayer.

  “Is he in the house?” Cade asked.

  “No, sir. He came stumblin’ out ’bout thirty minutes ago, carryin’ a bottle of bourbon. Told me he was goin’ into the woods to drink and think.”

  “Are the women all right?” Lilly asked, more concerned about Cassandra and Neecie.

  “As far as I know,” Rollo said, nodding slowly. “After he passed out, Neecie went to check on Miz Cassie. She was awful upset. Cried herself to sleep with Neecie holdin’ her. She kept sayin’ she couldn’t take much more. This mornin’ when I went in for my breakfast, Neecie said Miz Cassie been walkin’ around like a zombie, mumblin’ to herself and cryin’.”