Mutual suffering made strange friends, Lilly thought. “If Preston is away from the house, now would be a good time to get Cassandra and leave.”
“I agree. Rollo, why don’t you hitch up a buggy and follow us back to town? Our main concern is the women, and I don’t think this will be a good place to be when Preston comes back and finds that his wife is gone.”
“You’re right about that.”
“If we can slip away before he knows we’re gone, we’ll send the law here to arrest him.”
Rollo nodded. “Will you tell Vena and Neecie to get some things together?”
“Of course.”
They found Vena in the kitchen pacing and wringing her hands. She was as surprised to see Cade and Lilly as Rollo had been. They gave her the briefest of explanations, promised to fill her in on the details when everyone was safe, and told her to pack a few belongings.
“Where are Cassandra and Neecie?” Lilly asked.
“I don’t know where Neecie is. I went up to make the beds and when I come down, she was just . . . gone. She does that sometimes. Says she needs time by herself to think about things.”
Poor thing. She was so afraid of saying or doing anything that might make her daughter look bad.
Cade placed a hand on her shoulder. “Vena, we know about Preston and Neecie, and we know it’s not her doing. Do you think she’s with him?”
Vena wrung her hands. “Lord, Lord, Mr. Bran, I don’t know. If he told her to meet him, she would. She’s so afraid of him. Not for herself, but the baby . . . and Rollo.”
“He’s threatened to harm Rollo?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We think Cassandra knows what’s going on,” Lilly offered.
“Course she does. Women know these things. That’s what worries me. I saw her slippin’ through the woods after Mr. Preston, and if Neecie is there . . .”
Her dark eyes filled with tears and her voice trailed away, as if the thought of what might happen if the three of them had a confrontation was too terrible to put into words.
Lilly took both of Vena’s hands in hers. “We’ll find them,” she promised. “It’s going to be fine.”
Vena nodded, but the expression in her eyes told Lilly she wasn’t convinced.
Without any more talk, Lilly and Cade left the house and made their way to the woods, following the well-worn trail.
“Do you have your derringer?” he asked.
Lilly stopped in her tracks. She’d left the little gun hidden in her things in their room. Not having the pistol when she needed it was beginning to be an annoying habit. There’d been more than once during her last investigation when she’d needed protection, only to realize she’d left it behind somewhere.
Expecting an upbraiding, she was surprised to see Cade smile.
“Robbie’s right. I need to work with you.”
She followed him down the path toward the clearing where the voodoo ritual had taken place. As they got closer, they heard the unmistakable sounds of raised voices. Reaching a place where they were near enough to see and hear what was being said, Cade held out his arm to stop her from going any closer.
As Lilly took in the scene before her, something akin to panic rose inside her. Preston and Cassandra faced each other. Preston, who looked to have a tight grip on Neecie’s arm, stood swaying unsteadily. His free hand was coiled into a fist at his side. Cassandra’s pretty face was contorted with fury. With tears streaming down her face, a trembling Neecie was doing her best to maintain her modesty by holding the torn pieces of her bodice together. Her mouth, which was swollen and bleeding, was moving as she mumbled something low and incoherent. It did not take a veteran agent to figure out what Cassandra had interrupted.
Cade held a finger to his lips and they inched closer.
“Suzannah was right,” Cassandra cried. “You’re nothing but a filthy swine. She tried to warn me about marrying you. She told me how you were always undressing her with your eyes.”
Preston gave Neecie a little shove, as if he were bored and found this new exchange more to his liking. She staggered backward, then turned and ran for the safety of the woods.
He raised the half-empty bottle to his lips and took a deep sip. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook a finger at his wife.
“Your sister was the most irritatingly virtuous young woman I’ve ever seen,” he noted almost thoughtfully. Then, as if he were remembering, he smiled a smug smile. “But I fixed that. And I undressed her with more than my eyes before it was over.”
Cassandra’s hands covered a cry of agony. Even from where she stood, Lilly saw the tears in her eyes glittering in the sunlight.
“And then . . .” He paused, almost as if to maximize the effect of his statement, almost as if he were savoring the moment, he said, “I gave her to one of my associates to do with as he wished for the rest of the evening.”
A shiver of sickness and loathing slithered down Lilly’s back. She had never in her life heard anything so wicked, cold, and insensitive. Cassandra made a noise that almost sounded like a feral growl.
Preston didn’t seem to notice. From the rapt expression on his face, he was reveling in his twisted, obscene memories. “Of course, when she fought and screamed, he had no choice but to quiet her.”
With a scream of sorrow and fury that seemed rooted in her very soul, Cassandra launched herself at her husband, her fingers curled into claws, intent on inflicting some kind of damage.
It was almost like reliving that moment she’d attacked Timothy in much the same way when he’d flaunted his theft of her savings. Just as Tim had, Preston swung a hard, backhanded blow at Cassandra, knocking her to the ground. With a maniacal roar of his own, he dropped to his knees, straddling her prone body, and placed his hands around her throat.
Lilly was marginally aware that Cade had left her side and was running toward the pair. He’d almost reached them when Neecie burst into the clearing, screaming like a demented banshee. There was murder in her eyes and the hatchet used to slaughter the chickens raised above her head.
Cade stopped dead still. “Neecie! Don’t.”
Hearing the warning, Preston turned just in time to see the blade slice downward. Neecie swung with hate and purpose. She buried the hatchet squarely in his forehead.
He didn’t even cry out, but there was a question in his eyes as he looked at her, almost as if he couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing. Then he toppled to his side and Cassandra pushed him off her and scrambled to her feet.
She was crying, but she was much calmer than Lilly expected. Neecie, who looked as if she were coming out of a trance, as full awareness of her actions began to sink in, stepped away from the body, muttering something about her loa protecting her.
Cade took a tentative step toward the trio, and Lilly emerged from her hiding place and stepped nearer to Preston’s prone body. The man who had wreaked such havoc on the Fontenot family was quite dead. Lilly, who had never seen a dead body besides her mother’s, had to turn away for a moment.
“Are you okay?”
She drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll be fine.” She glanced at Cade over her shoulder. “We need to get the authorities.”
“No!”
The harsh denial sent them both whirling around. The man who’d come crashing through the undergrowth to see what was going on burst into the clearing. Rollo took in the scene with a single piercing glance and shook his head, as if processing it all was just too much.
“No.” This time the word was softer, but no less emphatic. Cassandra stood regarding them all with an almost regal bearing. “No authorities.”
“There’s been a murder, Mrs. Easterling,” Lilly said. “I know you have all been living a nightmare, but we can’t just . . . let this go. We can’t go on with our lives and act as if this never happened.”
“Why not?” she challenged, looking from one to the other. “Preston intended to kill me. He all but killed my sister, and
God knows what else is on his black soul. Why should Neecie have her baby in jail and Rollo be left with no wife, just because she was trying to keep my husband from killing me?”
“I’m sure her punishment won’t be too harsh, considering the circumstances,” Lilly told her.
Cassandra laughed, a world-weary sound devoid of joy. “You’re more innocent than I am, Brona. What kind of justice do you think a black woman who killed a prominent attorney will get? None. The good Lord knows that she and Rollo have suffered enough. I hold no ill will toward her, especially since she gave me back my life.”
The subtle choice of words was not lost on Lilly. Cassandra felt as much that Neecie had given her back what she lost when she married Preston as that she had physically saved her. Cade made no comment but stood silent, watching the drama unfold with his usual intensity.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that Rollo get some rope to tie rocks to Preston’s body. Then we take him deeper into the swamp and bury him there. The gators will finish him off in no time.”
Cassandra’s voice held no hint of victory or elation. She sounded weary. Drained. Beaten down. As if her plan were the only solution that made any sense, yet Lilly was stunned by the ruthlessness of the proposal. The tiny, well-bred, sheltered daughter of one of the most prestigious families in the state did not seem capable of such subterfuge.
Everything inside Lilly rebelled at the notion. “Cade, tell her,” she begged, looking to him for help. “Tell her we can’t do that.”
“Sure we can, colleen,” he said with a gentle smile. “The ends justify the means, remember?”
Allan Pinkerton’s favorite saying.
Before, it had always sounded so right, made so much sense, but today, Lilly was having a hard time defending the adage. “Trying to hide this is a mad scheme if ever there was one.”
“Then how about that line from Hamlet?” he said.
She frowned, trying to think. “Which line?”
“‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.’”
EPILOGUE
Chicago
Pinkerton Offices
When Lilly and Cade entered William Pinkerton’s office ten days later, she was surprised to see him engrossed in a week-old edition of the New Orleans Picayune. The headline proclaimed there were no new clues in the disappearance of New Orleans attorney Preston Easterling.
“I assume the two of you have read this,” William said.
“Several times, sir,” Cade told him. “As well as many other accounts.”
William laughed. “It might very easily be taken straight from one of my father’s dime novels.”
He was right. The reporters by no means had the details, and as far as Lilly was concerned, if they wanted them, they could dig for them just as she and Cade had done.
The gist of the article was that law enforcement had followed up on every lead, hoping to locate the missing husband of Cassandra Fontenot, young heiress to the Fontenot fortune, all with no success. The prominent young lawyer seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth after he and his equally notorious stepfather, Mr. Henri Ducharme, had charmed their way into the Fontenot family for the sole purpose of gaining control of the Fontenot holdings.
Tragedy after tragedy followed. First, Mrs. Patricia Ducharme’s newborn baby had died, and only months later, her younger daughter had been kidnapped and murdered during a suffragist rally. Mrs. Ducharme had suffered a mental breakdown and was placed in the New Orleans City Insane Asylum for evaluation.
Feeling there were far too many calamities besieging the family, Mrs. LaRee Fontenot had decided it was time to take action.
When Mrs. Etienne Fontenot hired the prestigious Pinkerton National Detective Agency, agents from the Chicago office uncovered the truth about the two men. Henri Ducharme was in fact the stepfather of Preston Easterling, whose biological father was notorious forger Gregory Easterling. There is no record of the identity of Preston’s mother.
Besides obtaining a law degree, the younger man had taken up his father’s trade and used his forgery skills whenever it became necessary to further his agenda, including the falsification of Ducharme’s medical degree.
When the Pinkertons confronted Ducharme about drugging his wife so that she would appear to have lost her mind, and his collusion with his stepson, Ducharme confessed everything, including the fact that Preston was the one responsible for the murder of Suzannah Fontenot. Easterling disappeared the night of Ducharme’s incarceration, and the theory is that he has gone to Europe to escape prosecution for his crimes.
The Fontenot luck has changed. Mrs. Patricia Ducharme was released from the asylum where her husband had put her, and has learned that her son did not die at birth as she was led to believe. They have been reunited.
Henri Ducharme is currently awaiting trial.
“I’ve read your reports,” William said, finally laying aside the paper, “and I must say that it appears the two of you worked well together.” When neither operative corroborated the statement one way or the other, he continued. “I have a few questions.”
“Of course, sir,” Lilly and Cade said in unison.
“Who put the blasted voodoo doll in Preston’s shirt drawer? Neecie or Cassandra?”
“Cassandra,” Lilly told him. “She knew there was no way she could change things, but she knew how superstitious he was, and that he would be petrified at the thought of someone using voodoo against him.”
“Clever girl.”
“Are Patricia and the baby doing well?”
“Yes, sir. As far as we know,” Cade said.
“And Mrs. Fontenot?”
Lilly gave a slight shrug. “She’s had no more gastric bouts since she no longer comes into contact with arsenic.”
“We can thank Robbie for that piece of the puzzle,” Cade told their boss. “If he hadn’t sneaked the snuffbox to try the snuff for himself, it might have been weeks before we figured out the source of the poison.”
“Ah, yes,” William said, regarding them over the tips of his steepled fingers. “What do you plan to do about him, McShane?”
“I can’t very well leave him on the streets, and if I leave him with the nuns, he’ll just run away, so I plan to try one more time to get him to stay with Meagan and Seamus.”
“He has a taste for law enforcement now, so we believe that if Seamus will include him in little things, it will satisfy that wild spirit of his, at least to some degree,” Lilly said.
“Lilly and I both think he should be in school this fall, and surprisingly, he’s eager to learn. In the meantime, he’s staying with the Fontenot ladies for a few months. Mrs. Fontenot has taken quite a liking to him, and I think the Lagasses will be a good influence.”
“Well, it certainly seems as if he’s getting on the right track, thanks to you, and from reading both reports it sounds as if he was invaluable.”
“There’s no doubt he uncovered some things neither Lilly nor I ever could have.”
“Did you ever hear how Mrs. Fontenot figured out who you are?” William asked.
“She said it was my reading habits that alerted her.”
“Your reading habits?”
Lilly nodded ruefully. “Yes, sir. I didn’t read the kinds of materials she felt a young Irish housemaid would be attracted by. My taste was much too ‘sophisticated,’ she said.”
“Your choice of reading material gave you away?”
“Yes, it seems that I still have a lot to learn, sir,” Lilly said with a grimace.
“And you’re learning.” William rose. “Well, I believe that’s everything. Do either of you have any questions?”
Cade cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. About the fight in the tavern.”
“Justified, McShane. Your job is not in jeopardy for defending yourself.”
Lilly could almost feel his relief. “Thank you, Mr. Pinkerton.”
“You two take a few days and rest. I’ll gi
ve you a call when something comes across my desk.”
They said their good-byes and Lilly and Cade went down the stairs and out onto the street.
“Do you have any plans for the next few days?” Lilly asked.
“I plan to sleep in a real bed until I wake up. And I hope not to muck any more stalls for a while.”
“I’m hoping my . . . our . . . next assignment is something different from housekeeping.”
Cade bestowed one of his rare smiles on her, and for the briefest instant, they shared a moment of true camaraderie.
“Oh, thank goodness I caught you, Miss Long!”
Lilly turned to see Harris was running toward her, waving an envelope in his hand.
“What is it, Harris?”
“This was delivered to us a couple of weeks ago,” he said, holding out the cream-hued envelope. “I guess the sender had no other way to reach you. I hope it’s good news.”
“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Harris.” She watched the secretary walk back inside the building, and turned over the envelope to check the return address.
Simon Linedecker, Attorney-at-Law.
Her heart skipped a beat and she tried to slide her fingernail beneath the flap.
“Important?”
“It’s from my attorney. Something to do with the divorce, I suspect.”
“Here.” Cade handed her his open penknife.
She slit the envelope and handed back the knife. Cade closed it while she pulled the pages free and opened them.
Dear Miss Long, she read. Enclosed you will find a check for the amount of the retainer you paid me, less a small amount for cab fare when I went to the courthouse.
What on earth was going on? Eager to know why Simon was returning the money she’d paid him, she skimmed the typewritten pages impatiently. There was a lot of information. Three other women . . . faked certificate . . . imposter . . .
“What?”
It was more than her already weary mind could take in, but the last line summed things up nicely.
Though This Be Madness Page 23
