Butterfly Palace

by Colleen Coble

  Aunt Camille’s back was to Belle, but she was turned enough to the side for Belle to see her pouring a white powder into a drink. Frowning, Belle nearly said something, but following some inner compulsion she couldn’t name, she melted into the shadows.

  Her aunt swirled the powder with a spoon, then threw the spoon into the trash. Odd since it was a silver spoon. The hair on the back of Belle’s neck prickled when her aunt pushed through the curtains and called her uncle’s name. Belle followed, still keeping to the shadows.

  Aunt Camille approached Uncle Everett with a smile and held out the cup. “Here’s some punch, Everett. You look parched.”

  He took it. “I am, Camille. Thanks for thinking of it. We’ll be able to go home soon, but I need to be the last one to leave.”

  In slow motion, Belle watched him lift the glass toward his lips. Her love for her aunt warred with her sense of danger. What could she possibly say to interrupt him? He wouldn’t believe his own wife would try to harm him, and Belle wasn’t sure of it herself. What if Aunt Camille had mixed in some medicine he took all the time? But wouldn’t she have told him it contained his medicine? Instead, she’d merely offered him refreshment.

  Something was very wrong, and Belle couldn’t let him drink that. She stepped from the shadows when the cup was only an inch from his lips. “Stop!”

  Her uncle paused and lowered the drink. “Whatever is the matter, Belle?”

  She rushed to his side, then turned to stare at her aunt. “Aunt Camille, what did you put in the drink?”

  Her aunt blinked. “Whatever do you mean? It’s merely a glass of punch.” Her voice quavered a little.

  “I saw you, Aunt Camille. You put a powder in the drink.” Belle pointed. “Back behind the curtain.”

  “Are you feeling quite well, darling?” Aunt Camille started to put her hand to Belle’s forehead.

  Belle flinched away. Her aunt was acting very strange. “I saw you. With my own eyes. The powder was white. You stirred it with a spoon, then threw the spoon away. Go look, Uncle Everett. She threw away a silver spoon. Don’t you find that odd?”

  Her uncle stared at his wife. “Camille?”

  His wife’s face remained impassive, but a bead of perspiration popped above her upper lip, and her gaze darted away. “You would believe a lie like that of me, Everett?”

  He stared from her face to Belle’s, then glanced toward the curtained-off area. “Let’s see, shall we? It’s easy enough to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding.”

  When he started for the curtain, his wife whirled and ran for the door. Belle stared after her. It wasn’t her place to stop her. Her aunt vanished through the front door of the hall. “I think you’d better keep that punch and have it tested, Uncle Everett.”

  His expression was troubled, and he strode to the curtained area. Belle went with him and showed him the trash. “There’s the spoon. I stood in the shadows and watched her empty the powder into your drink.”

  “Why were you watching her?”

  “I don’t know. I was looking to see if there could be anyone left who meant you harm, and I checked behind this curtain. When I stepped back here, I saw her stirring in that powder. Though I didn’t know what it was all about, I said nothing and waited to see what she intended to do with the drink. When she denied putting anything in your drink, I knew something was wrong.”

  His eyes showed his hurt. “I can’t imagine why she would want to harm me. I give her everything she wants.”

  “You’re very wealthy, Uncle Everett. Her last husband died under mysterious circumstances, didn’t he?”

  “He had a strange wasting ailment and died in Germany. It was assumed he contracted a disease there.”

  “What if she poisoned him? And what if she’s part of the plot to kill you? She would gain your fortune, and someone else would be implicated for political reasons.”

  “I don’t want to believe Camille would do something like this, but the evidence is irrefutable.” He put his hand on Belle’s shoulder. “I think you just saved my life again, niece. Thank you.”

  Drew emerged from Christopher’s lair with Lily on his arm. His chest still heaved with the emotion of the rescue. The last door was in the carriage house, and when they stepped outside, he saw Mrs. Marshall dragging a suitcase out the back door.

  She stopped and called out, “James, are you here?”

  Drew stopped Lily from moving forward. “Wait,” he whispered.

  Ballard stepped from the shadows and hurried to take her suitcase. “What’s happened? I came as soon as you called.”

  “Your henchman called off the shooting, so I decided to dispose of Everett myself. Belle saw me put the poison in his drink and intervened. I couldn’t believe it when Everett believed her. We have to get out of here. The police will be after me any minute.”

  Ballard set down the case. “Do they know I’m involved?”

  “Of course not. We can go to my estate in Spain.”

  “What about my mother? I don’t want to leave her behind. And Christopher. Vesters will tell them he’s his partner and complicit in this. My involvement will come out.” He rubbed his head. “There are so many threads to this, Camille. I don’t like surprises. We have to think this through so we’re not suspects.”

  Mrs. Marshall stamped her foot. “There’s no time! Christopher will land on his feet. We’ll leave money for your mother.”

  “You’re not much of a mother, Camille.”

  A siren wailed in the distance, and she grabbed his arm. “We have to go, James! They’re coming.”

  Ballard stared down at her, then his hand went to his pocket. The moonlight gleamed on the gun he pulled out. “I haven’t clawed my way up to be taken down with you, my dear.”

  Her mouth gaped and she took a step back. “No, James!”

  The gun barked in the night, and Mrs. Marshall slumped to the ground. Ballard put the gun back in his pocket, then turned to go.

  Lily put her hand over her mouth. Drew pulled his gun from his pocket and charged forward. “Stop right there, Ballard.”

  Ballard made a slow turn to face him. “I should have known it was you.”

  Drew stared at the man he’d tracked for so long. “You killed her.”

  He shrugged and looked down at the dead woman. “She was just a tool.”

  Drew’s finger twitched against the trigger. “Does Ian know?”

  Ballard shook his head. “I think he was beginning to suspect I’d turned, but we’ve been friends a long time. He wouldn’t believe ill of me too quickly.”

  “And Vesters? The assassination plot? That was you too?”

  “It was a rather brilliant idea of Camille’s. Get Marshall out of the way. I marry Camille. Belle is married off to Vesters with no right to Marshall’s money and no longer our responsibility. Vesters gets what he wants and I get what I want. I had all the right associations to get the job done.” He glanced around. “You realize Christopher is likely watching right now with a gun on your back. He’s not a man to be trifled with.”

  “He’s dead.” Drew took great pleasure in the way Ballard’s eyes widened. “You deliberately worked with a man butchering women. You provided him with the knives.”

  Ballard took a step back. “I had nothing to do with his little hobby. I didn’t even know he was the killer until Camille told me a couple of weeks ago. She has gotten him out of more scrapes than this one. He first started his killing sprees back in eighty-four, but she got him out of the city. When I realized how evil he was, I began to have doubts about this little venture.”

  Drew grimaced. “Camille covered for him nearly twenty years?”

  “He was her son. She loved him. Well, as much as she could love anyone. They had a most peculiar relationship. One minute she would strike out and hit him with anything nearby, and in the next moment she would fawn over him. It wasn’t healthy.” He heaved a sigh. “Now what? You should let me go, you know. My arrest will bring disgrace to the Se
cret Service. I think Ian would recommend you put your gun down and let me walk away.”

  Ian stepped from the shadows by the side of the house. “I would not recommend such a travesty of judgment.” He motioned with the gun in his hand. “You’re under arrest, Ballard. I’ll take great pleasure in turning you in myself. We handle our own problems.” He glanced at Drew. “And I owe you an apology. I let my longtime friendship with Ballard blind me to his true character. Good work.”

  Drew took a step toward the men. “How did you know to come here?”

  Ian approached them. “I followed Mrs. Marshall, of course.”

  Drew struggled to understand the past four years. “I have one question. What about the fire?”

  Ian glanced at Ballard. “I was never really sure about that. I didn’t want to believe he was guilty, but I had a few doubts. I wanted to allow you enough rein to find out if he played any role in that. Did you start that fire, Ballard?”

  The man shrugged. “I believed my cover was about to be blown. I did what had to be done.”

  Drew launched himself at Ballard. Squeezing the life from the man would give him the greatest pleasure.

  Ian dragged Drew off him. “Let the law handle this.”

  Drew stared at Ballard on the ground, who seemed to have no remorse for what he’d done. Lily stepped to his side and took his hand. He curled his fingers around her comforting warmth.

  Ian frowned. “I’m sorry, Drew. I was wrong about a lot of things.” The siren wail grew louder, then stopped out by the front of the house. “I believe your ride is here, Ballard. Move.”

  Drew pulled Lily tight as the men moved toward the officers running around the side of the house. Justice wasn’t as gratifying as he’d hoped.

  The police had just finished putting Ballard in the back of the wagon. Lily sat on the steps to the front of the house with a wool blanket around her shoulders.

  Drew approached with Officer Pickle, who seemed to be regarding her with more respect. Drew helped her to her feet, then slipped his arm around her. She relaxed against his warm strength. They’d nearly lost everything tonight. It was a miracle from God they hadn’t died.

  “We have everyone in custody now,” Officer Pickle said.

  She glanced at Pickle. “Vesters has been picked up too?”

  He nodded.

  It was over. She sagged against Drew. “What about Jane’s reputation? Lambreth killed Mrs. Karr. He told me so. He was taking the butterfly when she came to the basement.”

  Pickle lifted a brow. “If you’ll both give a sworn testimony, we’ll issue a statement about it. I suspect we’ll find the evidence in Lambreth’s lair.” He nodded at them. “Thanks for your help.”

  She burrowed against Drew as the officer went to the police wagon. “Now what happens?” she muttered against his shirt.

  He pulled her away so he could look into her face. “The first thing you should do is take a bath. You have mud all over your face.”

  She laughed and rubbed at her cheeks. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You should look in a mirror.”

  “We made it through though, Lily. I’ve never seen anything like the way you leaped at Lambreth with that knife. You’re a strong woman.”

  A warm sensation lodged under her ribs. “We make a pretty good team.”

  “I’d like to make sure we never break up that team.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and grinned. “I’m beginning to see you under that mask of dirt.”

  When she smiled, more mud fell off. “If you make me laugh enough, I might not need a bath.”

  His eyes were warm staring down into her face. “I love you, Lily Donaldson. You’re the most beautiful butterfly I’ve ever seen, and I want you to marry me.”

  She smiled as his words sank in. “You think our adversity is over?” The thought of finally being able to relax was enticing.

  He shook his head. “As long as we’re living, we’ll face adversity. God is never finished refining us. But at least we can face what comes together. Our wings may get a little tattered, but I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me.”

  She hugged him, smelly shirt and all. “You’ll find it impossible to get rid of me.” She lifted her head again. “When I thought he was going to kill you, I realized I can’t manage to keep you safe, Drew. It’s not my job. I could have died first in that horrible place. I’ve been trying so hard to make sure nothing bad happens, but it’s out of my hands. I don’t care what you do. If law enforcement is where your heart is, I have to trust that God is going to take care of us no matter what happens.”

  A smile curved his lips. “I’m glad to hear it, honey. Didn’t it feel good today to see justice prevail? To see the good guys win and the bad guys end up behind bars?”

  She nodded. “And it’s something you can be proud of, Drew. And I can be proud of you doing such a good work. I’ll go wherever you want.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. “How about Africa?”

  She punched him in the stomach. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  He hugged her, then turned her toward the automobile. Hand in hand they walked away from the place that had nearly cost them everything.

  He lifted her up into the vehicle, then sprang onto the seat beside her. “Where to, future Mrs. Hawkins?”

  “Wherever you decide, sir. But kiss me first. I need strength for the journey.”

  He let go of the steering wheel and pulled her onto his lap. “I think I need some strength too.”

  His lips found hers, and she sank into the promises he made her.

  Life wasn’t meant to be safe, but it was meant to be shared. And that was enough for her.

  Dear Reader,

  Butterfly Palace is a very special book to me. The past few years I’ve watched my sister-of-the-heart Diann Hunt fight ovarian cancer. In spite of the pain and struggle, Di has held on to a spirit of joy. She’s worked hard to make each day count for Jesus. She’s such an encourager as she has clung to God’s hand while she’s walked this path. Her faith is such an inspiration to me.

  Struggle and pain aren’t something to fear. We will all face trials while here on earth. What matters is how we’re dealing with the challenges that come our way. Do we let them mold us into stronger, better people, or do we grouse and complain about our lot in life?

  I hope you will take encouragement from Lily’s struggle to embrace the unknown with joy. Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you.

  Love,

  Colleen Coble

  colleen@colleencoble.com

  colleencoble.com

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. We all have trials that come our way. What struggle in your life has helped define who you are?

  2. Lily and Drew were ashamed of their sexual behavior when they were engaged. How do we let shame change us for the better?

  3. I’m a crusader for justice just like Drew. It’s why I write romantic suspense. Is justice important to you? Why or why not?

  4. Belle was used to going after what she wanted, no matter what. Have you ever been determined to have something, but you later found out God knew better?

  5. Mr. Marshall was obsessed with his butterflies. What can fuel obsession, and how do we bring balance to our lives?

  6. I was sad when Jane died, but I had to put it in because evil sometimes wins. The good thing is, we know justice will prevail in eternity. Has there been a time when evil won in your life and you’ve had to turn justice over to God?

  7. The more I’ve lived, the more I realize many people wear a mask and it’s hard to see the person inside. Is there some part of your personality you find hard to share with others? Explain.

  8. Lily resolved to accept trials in the future and to try to grow through them. Are you going through a trial right now for which you need to be thankful?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m so blessed to be a part of the terrific Thomas Nelson dream team! I can’t imagine writing without my
editor, Ami McConnell. I crave her analytical eye and love her heart. Ames, you are truly like a daughter to me. Our fiction publisher, Daisy Hutton, is a gale-force wind of fresh air. Love her dearly! Marketing director Katie Bond is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas and has been completely supportive for years. I wouldn’t get far without you, friends! Fabulous cover guru Kristen Vasgaard works hard to create the perfect cover—and succeeds. You rock, Kristen! And, of course, I can’t forget my other friends who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Jodi Hughes, Kerri Potts, Ruthie Dean, Heather McCulloch, and Laura Dickerson. I wish I could name all the great folks at Thomas Nelson who work on selling my books through different venues. I’m truly blessed!

  Julee Schwarzburg is a dream editor to work with. She totally gets romantic suspense, and our partnership is a joy. Thanks for all your hard work to make this book so much better!

  My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best!

  Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Hannah Alexander (Cheryl Hodde), Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf and for your friendship. Thank you, friends!

  I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. As I type this, he has been free of prostate cancer for two years, and we’re so thankful! My kids—Dave, Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little granddaughter, Alexa! She’s talking like a grown-up now, and having her spend the night is more fun than I can tell you.