Black Hearts Dance

by Gerald Lopez

  “What do you think about the rumors of him and Veronica having an affair?” I said.

  “I’ve heard them,” Miss Maribelle said. “But my momma swore to me that Grandpa never touched Miss Veronica or any other woman.”

  I looked over at Jimmy, who looked cute wearing a white, button-down shirt, white shorts, and deck shoes. He matched Frankie who was in a white Polo shirt, white shorts, and deck shoes as well.

  “Jimmy, you mentioned you’d heard rumors about affairs at Carson Court,” I said. “Can you shed some light on who the true parents of Miss Maribelle’s mother were?”

  He looked at Miss Maribelle nervously.

  “Go ahead and answer the man, you don’t have to be scared of me,” Miss Maribelle said. “I understand it’s time old questions found answers.”

  “Well,” Jimmy said, “Miss Maribelle’s grandma was raised in Carson Court, even married here, so naturally rumors and gossip says that she was blood relations to someone living in Carson Court. And not a servant, but maybe Marcus’s or even Mr. Carson’s illegitimate daughter.”

  “That’s why I always suspected Marcus of having a woman at the bordello,” Mrs. Carson said. “My grandfather would’ve welcomed any child fathered by Uncle Marcus.”

  “How would he feel about a child of his own?” I said.

  “I don’t know about that, but it would explain a jealous woman’s involvement,” Elise said. “Maybe some woman at the bordello thought that by having a child by Great-Grandpa she’d inherit the court or a place in it.”

  “No black woman back then would be so bold as to think she’d be accepted into high society even here,” Mrs. Carson said. “And I don’t mean that in a racist way. At that time it would’ve been an impossibility.”

  “But upward mobility wasn’t completely impossible,” I said. “We saw the ghost of Hubert Jardine refer to Mr. Carson by his first name.”

  “Mr. Carson was a unique man for his time,” Miss Maribelle said. “He partook of the pleasures of the bordello, nobody doubts that. But he treated men fairly, whether they were black or white. My mother told me that my grandfather was never treated like he was less of a man because of his color—not at the court.”

  “Your grandfather wasn’t one to take advantage of that fact,” I said. “It doesn’t mean others weren’t.”

  “Layton, it really could be as simple as a woman from the bordello trying to climb her way to the top of society,” Shannon said. “We’re not talking about black people that would’ve been slaves in America… the bordello workers probably came from the islands. They wouldn’t have been as beaten down as their American counterparts.”

  “There’s no way a whore could ever think she’d be queen over Carson Court,” I said. “But a madame who was used to running things and having control over powerful men might think differently. A woman who’s placed her workers and possible relatives in key positions at the court might just be waiting for her chance to move in herself.”

  “Delilah,” Mrs. Carson said. “Do you think my father had an affair with Delilah that produced a child?”

  “I think it’s highly probable,” I said. “At the very least, it’s a possibility we have to look at and explore.”

  “Then do so,” Mrs. Carson said. “I agree it does sound plausible. He was gay and still managed to sleep with my grandmother on at least three occasions. Clearly he could do the deed.”

  “That picture I brought of Delilah with her nephew and Mr. Carson does seem to suggest she at least knew Mr. Carson,” Nellie said.

  “Her nephew?” Rory said. “Morelle was her nephew?”

  “The information was buried in the files with the pictures,” Nellie said. “I was surprised about it myself. I’d never heard anyone say the Morelles had a connection to the bordello.”

  “That’s because nobody knew,” Mrs. Carson said. “Not even me.

  “Did you find the names of Maribelle’s grandmother’s parents?” I said.

  “No, but there are some pictures of Maribelle’s grandmother when she was young in here somewhere,” Nellie said, then he rummaged through the pictures.

  “Nellie,” I said, “did you find any pictures of Veronica Carson from about the time Mr. Carson and Marcus returned?”

  “No,” Nellie said.

  “Isn’t that unusual,” Frankie said. “A high society woman would’ve attended functions and social events where she would’ve been photographed.”

  “What’s even more unusual is that I wasn’t able to find any photos of Veronica until a year after her husband and Marcus had returned to the court,” Nellie said.

  “If she’d been institutionalized maybe she wasn’t ready to rejoin society,” Alex said.

  “Or up to it,” Jimmy said. “No offense but maybe being in an institution affected her looks. They might’ve kept her head shaved or something.”

  “We need to find out how, and why Veronica returned here,” I said. “Somewhere there must be a record of what happened to her.”

  “Quite a lot of news from the states made its way to Europe,” Frankie said. “I remember my grandfather talking about social events in the states that he’d read about in gossip columns in Italian newspapers. There were even pictures.”

  “Which means there were probably also pictures and accounts of what happened in the states in French newspapers,” I said. “That would explain how Mr. Carson and Marcus found out Veronica had returned to Carson Court.”

  “We should be able to find something out online,” Nellie said.

  “Is it something your friend in France might have access to, Layton?” Rory said.

  “I’ll e-mail her as soon as I get up from here,” I said. “Then we have a scavenger hunt to partake in, my gathered friends.”

  “Oh, I just love scavenger hunts,” Nellie said. “I wonder what surprises we’ll uncover during our hunt?”

  Chapter 46

  The Hunt Begins

  AFTER I E-MAILED my Parisian friend, I met with everyone again in the sunroom. Frankie and Jimmy wanted to stay and help with the hunt for Javina’s journals, in fact they were very excited about it. After explaining to everyone that we were looking for red tins with a gold design on the edges, we discussed details.

  “Here’s the list I came up with of my brother’s favorite places on the estate,” Mrs. Carson said. “He had at one time found the journals, but they could be anywhere on the property since I never knew where he found them.”

  “Is there a prize for the person or group who finds the journals?” Nellie said.

  “A big, wet kiss,” I said.

  “Really,” Nellie said.

  “Yeah… from Rory,” I said, then grinned.

  “Ha, ha,” Alex said.

  “Ditto,” Nellie said.

  “Hey, what am I… chopped liver?” Rory said.

  “What are the teams?” Nellie said.

  “Jimmy and I always team up together,” Frankie said.

  “Mmm, that’s good to know,” Nellie said.

  “You’re getting married, remember?” Jimmy said.

  “Yes, but I’m not blind, honey,” Nellie said.

  We all laughed, then Alex spoke up. “I’ll go with Elise, so Nellie and Layton can team up and discuss the case while looking for the journals.”

  “Shannon, why don’t you join Nellie and me?” I said.

  “Sounds good,” Shannon said.

  “I’ll go with Frankie and Jimmy to make sure they don’t get lost,” Miss Maribelle said.

  “Then I’ll go with Elise and Alex to even things out,” Mrs. Carson said.

  “Where’s Lucky today?” I said.

  “He’s back at the guesthouse staying out of trouble,” Mrs. Carson said. “Now let’s pick our hunting grounds so we don’t retrace the same area.”

  As we headed out, Mrs. Carson grabbed my arm and held me back a moment. “Layton, last night I remembered what the old doctor had told me about the twins’ deaths. An old-timer he knew once
said that he’d heard it was as if the twins had drowned, but not in water.”

  “Please don’t mention drowning around me,” Nellie said.

  “I’m sorry, Chet,” Mrs. Carson said. “I mean, Nellie. I didn’t know you were behind me. You just be strong, like the general always told you to be. You know he cared about you.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Nellie said, then kissed Mrs. Carson’s cheek. “And I don’t mind you or Miss Maribelle calling me Chet from time to time.”

  WHEN WE were deciding which places the team would investigate, I was quick to pick the fancy potting shed. Nellie, Shannon, and I talked as we briskly walked down the path toward the brick building.

  “This is exciting,” Shannon said.

  “Are you going to be able to manage alright in those roach killer shoes, Nellie?” I said.

  “What’re roach killer shoes?” Nellie said.

  “I forgot how young you are,” I said. “Roach killers is a phrase old men like me used to describe shoes which form a sharp point in front. The point of the shoe can get into corners to squish roaches.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” Nellie said. “I thought you were talking about drugs or something—I don’t do drugs. Men I do… drugs no.”

  “That’s smart,” Shannon said. “Although, men can sometimes get you into more trouble than drugs.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Nellie said. “Shannon, you really know how to rock those neutrals, you’ve elevated the tan shorts and tank top you’re wearing to designer level. And I love your beaded sandals.”

  “Thank you,” Shannon said. “With all the traveling I do, it’s just easier to pack neutrals and one or two ‘wow’ dresses should the situation require them.”

  “Nellie, were you able to find any information at all that would give any hint to the parentage of Hubert’s granddaughter,” I said.

  “Well, I wasn’t really looking for any information about her… but I can check around. For that matter, you’re welcome to come by the office and look too.”

  “Thank you on both counts,” I said. “I’ll make sure to swing by there.”

  “No need for thanks—it’s the neighborly thing to do,” Nellie said. “I think you and Alex are going to be good for the area.”

  “So, do I,” Shannon said.

  “You’re welcome to come by anytime and visit, Shannon,” I said. “Don’t be a stranger when this case is done.”

  “I won’t, thank you,” Shannon said. “I’ve already been invited to the next Glitter Ball—can’t miss that.”

  “No, Ma’am,” I said.

  We arrived at the potting shed and looked around the outside of it.

  “This used to be Mrs. Carson and her brother’s playroom when they were kids, and a hangout area when they were older,” I said, then opened the front door of the building and let Shannon and Nellie inside before following after them and closing the door.

  “It’s slightly chilly in here,” Shannon said, then rubbed her arms. “I guess the bricks keep it cool inside.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But all the windows let in a lot of sun, so it’ll warm up later. It’s still early in the day.”

  “What exactly are we looking for?” Nellie said. “And couldn’t the Carsons afford to put in a floor and not just sand.”

  “They must’ve had a reason for having a sand floor,” I said. “And, to answer your first question, we need to check for a loose brick or hidden compartment that could hold the journals.”

  There were a couple of rickety old wooden tables inside, some scattered clay pots, and various garden tools.

  “To quote somebody who was once famous,” Nellie said. “‘What a dump’.”

  “It’s an unused potting shed,” I said. “How else is it supposed to look?”

  I moved some of the tables out of the way and checked the wall behind them. Shannon checked the wall to the left and Nellie felt along the walls in front. My feet were sinking into the soft sand and I slipped backward. When I did so, I leaned against the right corner of the room and felt a loose brick. It didn’t take much for me to pry it out, and I discovered a hollow space behind it.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve found something here,” I said.

  Shannon and Nellie rushed to my side as I removed two more bricks and handed one to Nellie and the other to Shannon. Reaching into my pocket I retrieved my key ring which had a small flashlight on it. I aimed the flashlight over the hollow space and turned on the light.

  “There’s a sack in there,” I said, then handed the flashlight to Nellie who shone it on the space as I stuck my hand inside and removed the bag.

  “It smells weird,” Nellie said. “Like smoke.” He shone the light on the hollow space again and I saw that it was scorched inside.

  “There was a fire in here at one time,” Shannon said, then held up the underside of the brick to show me it was blackened. “Not a very big one, but a fire nonetheless.”

  “Maybe this was the original outdoor kitchen,” I said.

  “If it was I didn’t read about it in my research,” Shannon said. “No big deal, I suppose. Let’s open the bag, I thought I heard the sound of metal.”

  I put the bag on one of the tables and opened it with Shannon and Nellie breathlessly looking over my shoulders. There were three red and gold tins, none of which looked burnt.

  “Please, do the honors,” I said, handing the first one to Shannon. “You’ve been looking for these a lot longer than I have.”

  It took her a few seconds to pry the tin open—that was a good sign, it meant the seal was tight. The lid was off and Shannon removed a journal like the one we’d found with the body of the dead girl.

  After handing a tin to Nellie, I opened the third one and found another journal. Nellie found one also.

  “There are only three,” Nellie said.

  Shannon walked to the left corner and pulled out a brick directly across from where I’d pulled the first one.

  “I love these hidden compartments and the symmetry, between this one and the one you found, Layton,” Shannon said. “Some architects believed in absolute symmetry at times.”

  We found three more tins containing journals in that hidden space and put them together with the others.

  “It’s amazing how strong that smell of smoke still is, after what has to be years,” Shannon said.

  “What’s that?” Nellie said, then walked to the center of the room. “The sand here seems to be funneling downward. He knelt down on the ground and looked at the spot, then screamed and looked back at us. “It’s quicksand! I’m sinking!”

  I held a hand up signaling for Shannon to stay back. “Don’t struggle, Nellie,” I said, then stretched my arm out so he could grab hold of my hand.

  He couldn’t reach and I didn’t dare get closer.

  “Layton, the walls—look at the walls!” Shannon said.

  The sand seemed to be moving away from the bottom and flowing up the walls leaving behind a growing black hole in the ground. Nellie started coughing and gagging.

  “I can’t breathe,” Nellie said. “Daddy, no! I’m drowning.”

  “Drowning… but not in water,” I said, then looked closely at Nellie. His legs weren’t dangling in some hole they were in full sight in front of him. I walked over to him and the ground under my feet felt just as it had before. Nellie was shaking and I knelt behind him and held him. He pushed me, and started slapping wildly at me.

  “No, no! No!” Nellie said, and began weeping. “I don’t wanna die, Daddy, please.”

  I held him tightly, rocking him in my arms. “It’s OK, I said, as the room began to grow darker. “Daddy’s not here, it’s just Layton, the guy who’s gonna walk you down the aisle next month.” I brushed back his blond hair and kissed his forehead. “You’re safe.”

  “Layton, he was reliving a childhood trauma,” Shannon said.

  I heard what sounded like ice cracking, then saw the windows in the room frost over and crack. Nellie and Shannon both grabbed
hold of my arms and huddled close to me.

  “Oh m’God, oh m’God,” Nellie said.

  “Nellie’s emotions are being heightened by forces here at the court,” I said. “Why? What type of ghost experience is this, Shannon?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Shannon said.

  Nellie pointed to the sandy floor in front of us and screamed. It was as if we were hovering over the now deep black hole.

  “The rooms gonna fall down the hole,” Nellie said. “We must’ve activated a trap thingy when we found the journals.”

  “It’s growing warmer,” Shannon said.

  “I want you both to feel the ground beneath you,” I said. Put your hands down on it.”

  “No… I can’t,” Nellie said. “Please, don’t let me die.”

  I gently held his hand, interlocked it with mine then placed it down.

  “Sand,” Nellie said. I still feel the sand.”

  “I think we’re getting the more immersive theater experience this time,” Shannon said.

  I looked down and saw wood beneath us. “Nellie, close your eyes.” When he’d done so I motioned with my head for Shannon to look downward.

  “That’s why I feel hot,” Shannon said. “Wood? In a pit like—oh my God.”

  The sound of two loud cries filled the space and we all jumped.

  “I recognize those cries,” I said. “It’s the Carson twins.”

  The ghost of Moses Morelle suddenly appeared in front of us holding the twins.

  “You won’t be hurting, Mrs. Veronica anymore,” Moses said. “I’m going to help her… I’m going to help her get good again.”

  “Layton, I think we’re about to find out what happened to the twins,” Shannon said. “And I’m scared.”

  Chapter 47

  The Horror of it All

  WE WATCHED Moses carry the twins to the table in the back. Moses, the twins, and the tables were all see-thru ghosts.