Black Hearts Dance

by Gerald Lopez

  “Marcus! I want Marcus!” Veronica said.

  “Marcus!” Mr. Carson said. “We need you!” He went to his wife and tried to hold and comfort her.

  “Mr. Carson was handsome,” Alex said. “Is the black man with him the gardener?”

  “Looks like it,” Shannon said.

  Tall, slim, red-haired Marcus walked in next. He was in a long-sleeved white shirt, and trousers like Mr. Carson. Also like Mr. Carson he was barefoot, which I didn’t think was common for the day. That’s when I noticed both Marcus’s and Mr. Carson’s shirts were rumpled. Marcus’s shirttails were sticking out on one side—he and his brother-in-law had been interrupted.

  “Marcus,” Veronica said, then turned to her brother and grabbed the front of his shirt.

  The sounds of babies crying filled the air again—and it was definitely babies not cats.

  “Oh God, Marcus!” Veronica said, then clutched her ears.

  Someone else had entered the room—it was Moses Morelle who looked scared.

  “Mrs. Veronica, what’s wrong?” Moses said.

  “Oh God, can’t someone shut those babies up!” Veronica said. “They’re killing me!” She fell to her knees screaming and clutching her ears.

  Mr. Carson tried to help her up. “Veronica get up, you’re scaring Moses—stand up.”

  Veronica yelled again. “Help me, somebody! Please help me—they’re killing me!

  Mr. Carson pulled Veronica up with Marcus’s help, and Veronica fell back against him.

  “Oh my God,” Mr. Carson said, pushing Veronica’s loose hair away from her ears.

  “What, what is it?” Marcus said.

  Mr. Carson held his hand up and Moses gasped loudly.

  “Mrs. Veronica!” Moses said. “No, Mrs. Veronica!”

  “She’s bleeding,” I said. “That is not because of postpartum depression, is it Shannon? There’s blood coming out of Veronica’s ears.”

  “I can help her, Mr. Carson,” the gardener said, as he picked something up from the floor that had fallen from Veronica’s hair. “Let me help her, Thomas.”

  “That’s unusual,” Alex said.

  “Please, let him, Tom,” Marcus said.

  “You, Moses, clear those,” The gardener said, pointing toward the bedside table. “Get Mrs. Veronica to the bed.”

  We all jumped from the bed and stood to the sides. I happened to glance at the doorway and saw the ghost of Javina writing in her journal.

  Marcus and Mr. Carson had gently laid Veronica, who seemed to have fainted, on the bed. The gardener stood over her for a moment, then turned to Javina. “Girl, go and get my medicine from the pantry.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Javina said.

  As soon as she turned to leave, she transformed into a gray, smoky, haze, then disappeared. Meanwhile, the gardener had checked Veronica’s wrist and was now talking to Mr. Carson.

  “You should have known better than to trust them, Thomas—it was foolish and your family is paying the price.”

  “You were right, Alex,” Shannon said. “It is highly unusual.”

  Mr. Carson turned to Marcus and reached for his hand. “Forgive me, Marcus, forgive me.”

  “It’s not your fault, Tom,” Marcus said. “Can she be saved, Hubert?”

  “It is the same poison so common in m—”

  The gardener disappeared before he could finish his sentence as did the others in the same gray haze as Veronica. Shannon sat in her chair, Rory and Alex sat on the bed, and Forrest and I paced around the room.

  “What did you find so unusual, Alex?” Rory said.

  I answered instead. “The gardener referred to Mr. Carson by his first name. That would not have been done back then.”

  “Not at all,” Shannon said.

  “Which implies a closeness between the men that crossed color and social barriers,” I said. “What do you know about the gardener, Shannon?”

  “Not nearly enough,” Shannon said. “He knew Veronica was being poisoned.”

  “Yes, he did,” Alex said. “And Marcus and Mr. Carson didn’t seem surprised.”

  “What was it the gardener picked up that had fallen out of Veronica’s hair?” Rory said. “I couldn’t make it out.”

  “It looked like a flower to me,” Alex said. “A small one—and the gardener told Moses to get rid of ‘those’—‘those’ could’ve also been flowers. Maybe even poisonous flowers.”

  “This evening started out strange and just keeps getting stranger,” Forrest said.

  “Are you OK?” I said, then patted Forrest’s shoulder. He looked shaken, so I gave him a hug as well.

  “This is the first time I’ve personally seen the ghosts of Carson Court,” Forrest said.

  “Welcome to the club, finally,” Rory said. “This was nothing compared to what we dealt with when—”

  He was interrupted by piano music that could be heard coming from downstairs.

  “This show’s turning out to be a double feature,” I said.

  Chapter 42

  Ghostly Second Feature

  WE HAD FOLLOWED the sound of the piano music downstairs and were peering into the formal living room. The ghostly drama in this room was an altogether different scene from the one we’d witnessed earlier.

  Marcus and Mr. Carson were seated at the piano playing a happy tune, while Veronica and Javina twirled around arm in arm in the center of the room. Hubert was clapping next to a handsome young blond man, and Moses smiled, tapped his foot to the music, and clapped.

  “The blond man next to the gardener is his lover, Benedict,” Shannon said. “They were together for fifty years—that’s when the gardener died.”

  “How do you know all this?” Alex said.

  “I heard about them when I was getting my nails done in town,” Shannon said. “I couldn’t find out anything more relevant, unfortunately. So much of what people know seems to come from unsubstantiated gossip.”

  I watched Veronica reach out toward Moses, who shyly took her hand and his sister’s hand. The three formed a circle and twirled around and around, giggling.

  “Layton, I forgot to mention that Jimmy and Frankie are stopping by in the morning,” Alex said.

  “For any particular reason?” I said, watching a female servant enter the room with a tray holding a pitcher and drinks. She placed them on a side table and waited.

  “No, they just wanted to come by to congratulate us on buying the house,” Alex said.

  “Huh,” I said, lost in thought.

  “Jimmy and Frankie,” Alex said. “The restaurant is closed tomorrow, so they wanted to stop by. I thought it’d be a chance to catch up and ask if they’ve heard anything more about the court’s mysteries.”

  “Layton, that servant girl looks nervous,” Forrest said.

  The music had stopped and the ghosts walked to the side table to get a drink. The servant girl handed a glass to Javina.

  “I put some extra cane sugar in your lemonade, just as you like, Javina,” the servant girl said. She then reached for a glass and handed it to Veronica. “Yours has extra sugar too Mrs..”

  “Thank you,” Veronica said. “I certainly am parched after all of that dancing… but you didn’t bring enough for Hubert or Benedict.”

  “I’ll get it now, Mrs.,” the servant girl said, then quickly left the room, disappearing before she reached the doorway.

  I watched Veronica drink all of her lemonade, then return her glass to the tray on the side table.

  “Oh, my, I certainly did drink that too quickly,” Veronica said, then grasped Marcus’s arm.

  “Are you well, my dear?” Mr. Carson said.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure that I am,” Veronica said.

  The sound of first one baby crying then a second could be heard. Veronica raised her visibly shaking hand to her head and spoke. “Where is that girl with the drinks… I can use another lemonade?” The babies cries could be heard again and Veronica looked up at the ceiling. “I do wish nurse would
return from visiting her sick sister. Those babies are liable to drive me mad—Josephine! Josephine, where are those drinks?” The babies were crying nonstop now. “Would someone shut those damned babies up!”

  All eyes in the room were on Veronica as she covered her ears and fell to her knees like she’d done before. A second later she was screaming out in pain.

  “No!” Veronica said. “No! I can’t take anymore of this… this pain! They’re trying to kill me again! My babies are trying to kill me.”

  “Josephine,” the gardener said. “The new girl’s name here is Josephine?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Carson said, looking up from where he knelt holding his wife.

  “We’ve got to find her… now,” the gardener said.

  We heard the sound of the backdoor slamming shut, then saw Mr. Carson, Marcus, and the other men except for Moses leave the room. Javina held onto a weeping Veronica. Moses walked to her, but appeared unsure of what to do. Veronica grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and looked up at him.

  “They’re killing me, can’t everyone see what they’re doing?” Veronica said.

  “It’ll be alright, Mrs.,” Moses said. “It’ll be alright.”

  The gardener had returned and rushed to Veronica’s side with Benedict. He had something in his hand, but before I could see what it was, all of the ghosts disappeared and the five of us were alone.

  “The drink was poisoned by Josephine,” Rory said. “I don’t need to be a detective or a deputy to figure that one out.”

  “No, but you missed the significance of the girl’s name—Josephine,” I said. “That was the name of the queen of France. And we’re back to France yet again?”

  “I’m wiped out,” Alex said. “It’s got to be early morning by now.”

  “Not quite,” Forrest said, looking at his timepiece. “According to my watch—it’s been working during all of this—only five minutes have passed.”

  “That’s not uncommon when this type of thing occurs,” Shannon said. “I suggest we try and get some sleep in case anything else happens.”

  Nobody argued with Shannon’s suggestion and we made our way back upstairs to our room and resumed our former sleeping positions.

  At some point during the night, Forrest had wrapped his strong arms around me and was so close we were spooning. His dick was resting up against my ass, but I didn’t try to push him away. He was fast asleep, as evidenced by his snoring, and he had to get up early. It’d be unkind to wake him. I looked down at Alex and saw him wink at me and blow me a kiss. Alex’s foot was by the side of my face, so I kissed it, then winked at him. I blew him a kiss, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

  WHEN I awoke the next morning, Forrest was already gone. I got out of bed being extra careful not to wake anyone, then headed downstairs. After using the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, I went into the general’s office. It was my office now, and I knew that, but I still like referring to it as “the general’s office.” There were thoughts flowing in and out my mind and I needed to jot things down, so I opened the closet and looked for some posterboard. The general always liked writing on posterboard so I’d hoped to find some in there, but the closet was empty.

  “Good morning, boss,” Rory said, padding barefoot into the room. “Can I help you find something?”

  “Posterboard,” I said.

  “There’s always a supply of posterboard in the hall closet.”

  I followed Rory out of the room and he opened a door to the left. It was a small closet filled with office supplies such as pads, pens, markers, and posterboard.

  “Let’s take these and some markers into the living room,” I said.

  Rory and I carried the posterboard and markers into the living room. I looked around… and felt crowded in or like the space was too cramped. “I’m in need of open space to think, Rory. Give me a hand.”

  We pushed the furniture in the room against the walls and rolled the carpets back. Once the floor was clear I put the posterboard down.

  “What’s the plan now?” Rory said.

  “Now, we write down everything we know on the posterboards,” I said. “At some point we’re bound to see how things connect.”

  “Sounds good,” Rory said, then sat down in front of the posterboards, cross-legged. “I’ll act as secretary, and you can tell me what to write, Layton.”

  “That’s a great idea, I can concentrate on what we’ve discovered and you can jot it all down.” I started pacing around the space which was now more open. “Sometimes I wish we didn’t need furniture at all. Do you know what I mean, Rory? With everything pushed back I can appreciate the bones of this room. That’s what I need to do with this case—get down to the bare bones. It’s there that we’ll find the truth of things.”

  “Amen, brother.”

  I paced some more. “I’m just gonna shout things out to you, Rory. We’ll make sense of them later. It’s all about people, names, and places sometimes. Places, places, places. Carson Court is the place where everything comes together—write down Carson Court. But there’s one other place that keeps coming up—France… write that on another posterboard. At the top of one board put Carson Court, then on another France and on another….”

  “The bordello,” Alex said, walking into the living room with Shannon.

  “Yes—Good morning, babe… you too, Alex.” I chuckled. “The adrenaline is rushing through my veins and I am ready for answers. Rory write the bordello on one of those posterboards.”

  “Let me give you a hand down there,” Alex said, then grabbed a couple of posterboards and went to sit to the side of Rory.

  “Put a question mark on one of those,” I said. “For an as yet unknown location. The gardener was about to mention a place when the ghost session ended. But, it started with an ‘M’… m… m.”

  “Maybe he was going to say ‘my home’,” Rory said.

  “That’s what I thought first,” I said. “But my gut tells me there’s more—something right in front of us that we’re missing. Hubert, the gardener’s name was Hubert—that’s French. And when he heard the girl’s name it triggered something in his brain. Some sort of French connection?” I paced again trying to bring the answer forward through the sheer power of my will.

  “Couldn’t Hubert have just known the girl from some other place,” Rory said.

  “No, it didn’t seem like that type of recognition to me,”:I said. “It was definitely the girl’s name that caused Hubert to react.”

  “Josephine,” Shannon said, walking into the middle of the room and turning. She was deep in thought. “That name and something you said struck me last night, Layton. What was it?”

  “I mentioned Josephine was a queen or actually I suppose an empress,” I said.

  “No, that’s not it… there was something else,” Shannon said.

  “She married Bonaparte,” I said. “But I didn’t mention that last night. The only other thing I said was that she was French. That just brings us back to France.”

  “That’s it!” Shannon said, clapping her hands hard.

  “You’re having a eureka moment,” I said.

  “Oh, you bet I am,” Shannon said. “It should’ve come to me sooner, but too much was going on last night. I think I may have found your French connection, Layton.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “It’s so clear, it’s almost embarrassing,” Shannon said. “But, it’s one of those things you either know or don’t and it’s easy to forget.”

  “What is it for crying out loud, ya tease?” Rory said, then grinned at Shannon.

  “The pigs at the party—the one’s that upset Veronica should’ve been our first clue,” Shannon said. “They were cooked the way someone from the islands would do them.”

  “Still not getting you,” Rory said.

  “Here’s the real kicker then,”: Shannon said. “Josephine Bonaparte was French but she wasn’t born in France.”

  Chapter 43

  Making
Connections

  “I’VE NEVER been that good at European history,” I said. “Where was Josephine Bonaparte born and how does that apply to this case?”

  “She was born on the island of Martinique,” Shannon said. “And I’m willing to hazzard a guess that Hubert hailed from there as well. Maybe even others in the area back then came from Martinique.”

  “Probably including Josephine, the parlor maid who might’ve been named after the empress Josephine,” Alex said.

  “Her name… the Martinique connection… Hubert grabbed on to that and acted on it,” I said. “The others involved were from Martinique as well… and based at the bordello. The current ‘proprietress’ is French, what if the past one was also French, but by way of Martinique?”

  “That would be easy enough to find out,” Shannon said. “I just never thought of researching her before.”

  “OK,” I said. Right down the names of the players at Carson Court, Rory. There were the Carsons, Marcus, Javina, and Moses and Josiah at least part-time. But where were the two brothers full-time. They had a mother in town because at dinner Elise mentioned her. The mother always said the girl who returned from France claiming to be Javina was an imposter. Who was mother Morelle? Why was she here? A woman with three children—alone? No, there was a reason she lived in this area.”

  “She must’ve had family living here,” Alex said.

  “Maybe she was related to one of the workers at the bordello,” Rory said.

  “That would be my first thought,” Shannon said.

  “Then wouldn’t Javina have been put to work around the bordello—cooking and cleaning,” I said. “Why’d she get such a cushy job here at the court?”

  “For that matter,” Shannon said. “A bordello is a fancy name for a whorehouse. Would they have been so moral as to not put a young girl to work in the trade? It wouldn’t have been unheard of especially back in the day where a blind eye was turned to so much.”