Breaking the Chain (3 page)

             
Mary closed the telephone book and threw down her pencil. "Well, that's the end of that." She raised her glance toward Jack, who was busy skimming through names in another directory. "Had any luck?"
             
"No, sorry. Neither Sadie nor Justine are listed."
             
"Damn." She stared at the tall racks of books that surrounded the narrow table in the center of the library. "What do you think about doing a search of courthouse records to see if anybody with the same last name is listed as a property owner? Justine said her son was building a house for them. Maybe he put it in his name, instead of hers. If we come up with the same last name, we can send a letter and asking that it be forwarded to Justine or Sadie. Or, we can try the electric and water companies. Maybe they have an account there. They have to have electricity and running water."
             
"I hate to burst your bubble, sweetie, but have you considered the fact that Justine's son might not have the same last name? And, if that's the case, he might have all the accounts in his name, including the utilities and the deed to the house."
             
"Well, if nothing else, I can always call the banks here to see if either of them had a checking account, or as a last resort, I can call the local Social Security office and see what I can glean from them." Her smile faded and she reached to squeeze Jack's fingers in hers. "Jack, I've got to find them and invite them to come back to the plantation. I don't know why, and I can't explain it other than my gut feeling tells me I'm going to need Sadie's help."
             
He pushed his chair away from the table, wincing at the scraping noise. "If it's that important to you, then we'll keep looking until we find them. It's not like they fell off the face of the earth."
             
She smiled and followed him to the parking lot. He was right. It was just a matter of time before they located the two elderly women. She paused to check her watch, then tapped his shoulder. "I told Aunt Elizavon we'd be back at the plantation around two, which means we have enough time to do one more quick search, then head back. Would you mind checking the courthouse database while I check the banks? If they had an account, they must have provided a forwarding address. Maybe I can get the bank to forward a letter. They'd never give me the address without a court order, but since they both lived at the plantation for so long, maybe the bank manager will help me out. It's worth a shot."
             
She glanced at her watch one last time. "It's eleven-thirty now. I should be done in about half an hour. Why don't I come back to the courthouse when I'm finished and we can go to lunch then? It shouldn't take you very long to go through the records."
             
Jack nodded. He'd do just about anything to keep from spending any more time with Mary's aunt. Elizavon was a mean, spiteful old maid whose sole purpose in life was to make trouble for everyone she came in contact with. If it hadn't been for Mary, he'd have told that old witch off in a heartbeat, but he'd promised to be civil. Every hour he spent with Elizavon made that vow more difficult to keep.
             
"Sounds good to me. I'll see you in a little while." A smile formed on his lips as he watched his wife make her way down the block, stopping now and then to exchange greetings with local vendors. One thing he'd learned about Mary early on was that once she made up her mind to do something, there was no stopping her. She was like a steam locomotive, rolling over any and all obstacles in her path. That was one of the things he loved about her. Still smiling, he pushed open the courthouse door and stepped inside.
             
The courthouse database was easy to navigate and he soon became engrossed in his task. When someone tapped on his shoulder, he almost swallowed the pencil clamped between his teeth.
             
Mary stood behind him, a large grin pasted across her face.
             
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
             
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," she apologized. "How you doing?"
             
"I hope you had more luck. I've checked the database for Houma and every surrounding parish for the past six years. No one with Justine's last name is listed as a property owner. How'd you do?"
             
"Terrible. They didn't have an account and the bank manager refused to talk to me about either one of them. Evidently they just came in every month to cash their Social Security checks." She sighed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."
             
"We'll find them sooner or later, Mary. It's just a matter of time. Besides, if all else fails, we can always put an ad in the local papers asking for one of them to call you collect."
             
"Jack, that's a wonderful idea. You're terrific! No wonder I love you so much," she said, giving him a kiss.
             
He hugged her neck, then released her. "Now, how about that lunch? I'm starving."

5
 

             
"Sadie, you can't be serious," Justine said. "You've never been able to see the details of anybody's death before. Why now? Surely you've made a mistake."
             
Sadie's eyes stood out like two round, black orbs floating in a sea of pale brown wrinkles. "I know what I seen, but it don't make sense."
             
"Maybe that's a good sign. If what you saw doesn't make sense, maybe that means there's something you or I can do to change the outcome. After all, the future isn't written in stone; there's always a chance that something we can do or say will make a difference."
             
"Nothing's gonna change what I seen," Sadie argued. "We got to find Mary. We just got to."
             
"Well, there's nothing we can do tonight. It's too late. Why don't I run a bath to help you relax? I'll order dinner while you're soaking in the tub. We'll eat in the room and have an early night." She stifled a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired."
             
"Ain't nothing gonna make me feel better. I seen what I seen and nothing's gonna change that," Sadie grumbled as she rummaged through her tattered suitcase for a nightgown. "We gotta find Mary."
             
"We'll start looking for her tomorrow," Justine promised from the bathroom doorway. "Your tub's ready; you better hurry up before the water gets cold."
             
"If you get out of my way, I will."
             
As her friend hobbled past and closed the door, Justine's knees started to shake and she collapsed onto the edge of Sadie's bed. What on earth had Sadie seen at the graveyard that upset her so much? In all the years she'd known the old Voodoo priestess, Sadie'd never been so distraught--not even when her husband died. This behavior was totally out of character.
             
The sound of splashing water reminded her of bathroom hazards. "Are you okay in there?"
             
"I ain't gonna die tonight, so stop bothering me."
             
Justine's lips twitched. Sadie might have been caught off guard by what she'd seen, but it hadn't taken long for her to get back to her old self. The feisty old black woman still had a lot of gumption left. Her smile faded as she thought about Sadie's disturbing revelation. Well, if anybody could change the future, Sadie would be the one to do it.
             
The sound of a suitcase crashing to the floor awakened Justine from a sound sleep.
             
"What's wrong?" she asked.
             
"Nothing. Ain't you ever gonna get up?" Sadie complained. "We gotta get busy and find Mary. Time's getting short."
             
She struggled to an upright position. "You're something else, do you know that?" she grumbled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
             
Coal black eyes narrowed to two dark slits. "You don't gotta come, you know," Sadie pouted. "I ain't no child. I can get on fine by myself."
             
Now she'd done it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you," she apologized. "Just give me a few minutes for a quick shower and we'll go."
             
"Humph. Hurry up, 'cause I ain't waiting all day for you."
             
Thirty minutes later they left the hotel in search of a coffee shop for breakfast. When they reached the corner, Sadie placed a gnarled hand on Justine's arm. "We gotta go that way, to the bank."
             
"Why? We don't have any business there," Justine argued. "The coffee shop will take traveler's checks. We don't need to stop at the bank."
             
Sadie jerked her arm away and moved toward a narrow space between two parked cars. "I'm going to the bank."
             
Now what? Rather than argue in public, Justine shepherded her back onto the sidewalk. "Fine. If you have to go, at least use the crosswalk," she pleaded. "It's safer."
             
Sadie grinned and allowed her friend to lead the way. "Don't you worry none," she whispered. "I done seen what we got to do in my dream. You gonna be fine, don't worry."
             
The tomb-like silence of the bank provided a stark contrast to the noisy street. Justine waited at the counter while her friend hobbled over to the bank manager's desk.
             
"You got a message for me?" Sadie asked, grabbing the man's sleeve.
             
Startled, the manager jumped, flinging papers in every direction. He took a deep breath, collected the errant pages, then stacked them into a pile in the center of his desk. "Er, uh, yes, as a matter of fact I do," he said. He glanced toward the door, spotted Justine at the counter, then motioned for her to join them. "Actually it's for both of you," he whispered. "Although I don't understand how you could possibly know I had a message, since the woman was only here yesterday."
             
Sadie laughed, her peculiar cackle reverberating in the quietness of the bank. "We know more than you ever will," she croaked in a hoarse whisper.
             
"Someone mentioned you might have a message," Justine lied, patting the man's sleeve
             
His face relaxed, and he motioned for them to take a seat. "Well, Mary Windom came to see me yesterday. Said she needed a forwarding address for you." He leaned forward. "You remember her, don't you? She and her aunt restored the old plantation you used to live in. I think you knew her as Mary Corbett. She married that other curator she worked with. You know, the one whose wife died."
             
"Yes, we remember her. A very nice woman."
             
The bank manager puffed out his cheeks and straightened his jacket. "Well, naturally I would never give out anyone's address without a court order. We have very strict rules. Unlike some others I could mention." He paused to make sure he had their undivided attention. "However, she did ask me to pass on the message that she would like for you to come to the plantation." Having delivered his announcement, he sat down in his chair and stared at the two women. "And here you are, the very next day," he murmured. "Strange, very strange."
             
Sadie's chair scraped the floor as she rose to leave. "Let's go; time's a wasting."
             
"Thank you for passing on the invitation," Justine murmured.
             
The manager remained seated, eyes wide, mouth open.
             
"Please excuse my friend; she's old and getting senile. I'm afraid she sometimes forgets her manners," she apologized.
             
"Very well. I was glad to be of service," he replied in a stiff, formal tone. "If you need anything--"
             
"Thank you very much for your help. You've been very kind."
             
He was still muttering to himself as she hurried to catch up with Sadie. For an eighty-five-year-old woman who used a cane, Sadie could cover a lot of territory in a very short time. Justine's breath came in short gasps as she caught up to her friend. "How did you know he had a message for us?" she panted.
             
Sadie's cracked lips formed a secretive, knowing smile. "I done told you. I seen it last night in my dream. We gotta get out to that plantation before something bad happens."
             
It was the way Sadie made the announcement, rather than the words themselves, that sent warning signals up and down Justine's spine. "What do you mean 'before something bad happens'?"
             
Sadie's grin faded. "Before somebody dies."

6
             
 

             
Elizavon descended the stairs in careful, measured steps. Her slender, arthritic-ridden fingers formed a stark contrast to the rich, dark luster of the wooden rail she grasped for support.
             
Dribs and drabs of conversation from the dining room drifted her way, and she paused outside the door for a few moments, straining to understand the words. When her eavesdropping attempt failed, she curled her lips into a snarl and entered the room.
             
Mary glanced up from her bowl of oatmeal. "Good morning, Aunt Elizavon. I hope you slept well." She motioned to three covered bowls on the table. "I'm afraid it's scrambled eggs and bacon, or oatmeal for breakfast this morning. I haven't had time to make anything else."
             
"How could anyone sleep with all that racket going on last night? What time did those hangers-on leave? Didn't they know they were expected to come to the grand opening, stay a few minutes, then depart? Why didn't you encourage them to leave?"
             
Mary's smile faded and she touched a warning hand to Jack's arm. "The party broke up around midnight, which is exactly how long I expected it to run. I'm sorry you were unable to sleep, but the Blue Moon Inn's grand opening was a success, which is all that counts. Everyone in town knows we're running this plantation as a bed and breakfast and they've promised to spread the word. Last night was the first step in building a good working relationship with our neighbors and the folks who live in town."
             
"Well, I have no intention of staying any longer. I've wasted enough of my time. Call the airport and tell them to drag that lazy pilot of mine out of his bed. I intend to leave today." She turned toward Jack. "I don't suppose you could interrupt your busy schedule to take me to the airport? I'd ask Mary to do it, but from the look of this place, it will take her several days to clean up the mess your guests left." She clicked her tongue. "Trailer trash. That's all they are. They don't even know how to act. Disgusting."
             
Jack felt Mary's fingertips dig into his skin, begging him to remain calm. Hateful old bitch! He forced his lips into a half-smile. "Actually, Mary and I planned to go into town today. We'd be glad to give you a ride to the airport," he purred in his smoothest voice. "We can clean up when we get back."
             
Mary released the breath she'd been holding, grateful that Jack hadn't risen to the old woman's barbs. The legs of her chair slid across the polished, inlaid wooden floor as she rose. "I'll call the airport and make sure they remind your pilot to file his flight plan. What time do you want to leave?"
             
"Noon." Elizavon toyed with the scrambled eggs on her plate, then glanced at the plain gold watch on her wrist. "It's nine now. I'll pack my bags and be ready to leave in an hour." Her fork clattered onto the plate as she rose from the table and disappeared into the hallway.
             
Mary squeezed Jack's hand. "You're wonderful, do you know that?" she whispered in his ear. "Thanks for not making a scene."
             
His eyes twinkled and a single dimple appeared on the left side of his face. "Don't worry, sweetie. You owe me big and I intend to collect. In fact, you can start repaying me later this afternoon," he said, leering dramatically at her.
             
She blushed, knowing full well how he expected payment. "Talk to me when we get back and I'll see what I can do," she giggled.
             
"Thank goodness Elizavon's leaving," he said as he began to stack plates in the crook of his elbow. "I don't think I could have stood another minute, much less another day listening to her constant whining."
             
"I know. It almost seems like she wants us to lose our tempers." She scratched her head. "I can't help but feel sorry for her, though. She has a miserable life. All alone in that huge old house, with no family or friends. Even her servants can't stand her. I wouldn't wish that kind of life on my worst enemy."
             
"You're too soft. She likes her life the way it is; otherwise she'd change. I don't feel sorry for her at all. In fact, I think she deserves everything she gets."
             
Mary rescued the plates from his arm and placed them on a nearby cart. "Well, I still feel sorry for her. There's got to be a layer of goodness underneath all that venom. One of these days I'm going to get through to her and show her it's okay to be nice to people. I don't care how long it takes. It's the least I can do, since my life is so blessed."
             
"I'm afraid you're wasting your time, love." He brushed an errant golden-red lock from her face and caressed her jaw. "How long has Elizavon been the way she is? Have you ever known her to say or do anything kind for anyone?"
             
"Doesn't matter. I'm still going to try."
             
He patted her shoulder. "Good luck."
             
"Thanks." She pushed the cart toward the kitchen. "I'd better call the airport so her pilot can get his flight plan filed. God, I hope there aren't any problems filing it on such short notice. If she's delayed, we'll never hear the end of it."
             
"What was that you were saying a few minutes ago?"
             
A dishcloth soared toward his head and he snatched it out of the air. "Now, now, my dear," he teased.
             
Her laughter echoed in the room as she disappeared into the kitchen. Some ten minutes later she returned and a smile spread across her face as she glanced at the gleaming dining room table. "You finished polishing the table for me! You know, you keep that up and I just might hire you as a full-time butler, Mr. Windom."
             
He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her ear. "No way, Mrs. Windom. You couldn't afford me. I'm very expensive. Of course, we could work out some kind of agreement for payment for services rendered..."
             
"Maybe. Talk to me later this afternoon and we'll see what we can come up with," she suggested as she twisted in his arms and held her lips for his kiss.
             
Thumping sounds from the stairwell interrupted them. Mary sighed, then walked to the hallway. Now what?
             
Elizavon stood at the top of the stairs, two leather suitcases nearby. "Well, is Jack coming up to get my cases, or do I have to take them to the car myself?"
             
"I'm on my way, Aunt Elizavon. I didn't want to rush you," he said. Grabbing a bag with each hand, he glanced toward her. "Do you have anything else?"
             
"No, two bags is all I ever carry. If you'd paid attention when I got here, you'd know that."
             
He nodded and motioned for her to precede him. The desire to give Elizavon a shove entered his mind but he banished the thought, although not very quickly. Considering his options, he decided he didn't want her to die on his property. With his luck, she'd come back as a shrieking ghost and keep them awake every single night.
             
"What's so funny?" Mary whispered as he passed her.
             
"Nothing." Once the bags were inside the trunk, he covered them with a quilt to protect them from damage. Elizavon waited on the porch, impatiently tapping her foot. "I'll be right back, Aunt Elizavon. I just want to lock up."
             
"Don't be long; I'm ready to go. You had a full hour to get ready. If you wasted your time, that's not my problem. I don't like waiting, never have. If you're not back in five minutes, I'll drive this heap to the airport myself."
             
He gritted his teeth and turned away. Mary stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting. "You didn't get into another argument, did you?"
             
"No thanks to her. If she wasn't leaving today..."
             
"I know sweetie. I'm sorry to have to put you through all this. Once we take her to the airport, she's gone."
             
"Her plane better not be grounded."
             
As they made the long drive into town. Mary glanced out the window, unwilling to break the strained silence. A light fog obscured much of the landscape, but she knew that beneath the thick cover of gray, the numerous bayous teemed with wildlife, even in the winter. Occasionally a long, slender branch of a Cypress tree rose out the fog like an emaciated wooden finger, beckoning unwary travelers into their treacherous lair. Spanish moss covered portions of the limbs like the fringe on an intricate fringed shawl, reminding her of the days when women wore shawls everywhere they went. Her silent reverie was interrupted when a bony finger dug into her shoulder.
             
"Did you make sure the pilot would be ready to leave?" Elizavon asked.
             
"Yes. I called the airport and had him paged. When I told him that you wanted to leave at noon, he said the plane was ready to go; all he had to do was file a flight plan."
             
"Humph. He better be ready to leave or he'll be looking for a new job. Laziest pilot I ever hired. Never done a decent day's work in his life."
             
Her aunt's constant griping would try the patience of a saint, much less mere mortals! Mary breathed a sigh of relief as the airport loomed ahead and Jack turned onto the private runway. A single plane waited on the tarmac and she prayed that it was Elizavon's. As they drew nearer, she recognized Elizavon's tall pilot standing at the base of the short stairwell. He waved them forward.
             
Elizavon stepped from the car and glanced toward the pilot as she covered the short distance to the plane. "For God's sakes, straighten your tie. I paid good money for that uniform; the least you can do is try to make it look halfway decent." Her cold blue eyes narrowed as she watched him tighten his tie and brush imaginary lint from his khaki-colored uniform. "Whenever you're finished doing your laundry in public, perhaps you can answer a question for me. Are we ready to go?"
             
"Yes ma'am. We can leave as soon as you're aboard," he replied. Giving his tie one last brush, he tipped his fingers to his hat in a mock salute and moved to help Jack stow the luggage.
             
Mary wiped her hands on the side of her pants. "I'm sorry you have to leave so soon..."
             
"You and I both know you're glad to see me leave. Just make sure you send a statement every month." A wave of a gnarled hand dismissed her as Elizavon disappeared into the plane, followed by her pilot.
             
The engines roared to life and as Mary stepped back, she felt the pressure of Jack's hand on her shoulder. "We'd better move so he can take off. Come on, I'd hate for them to be delayed."
             
Nodding, she climbed into the car. "Sometimes even I don't think that woman has one kind bone in her body. There's no reason for her to be like that. What is it with her?"
             
"Honey, some people like being miserable all the time. Elizavon's one of them. I tried to tell you that earlier."
             
"I know. I just don't understand why she's like that. Mother wasn't like her. She was warm, loving and giving."
             
"Well, just be thankful Elizavon's not your mother," Jack teased. "Otherwise, you might not have me as a husband--especially if you turned out to be like her."
             
"No, you better be thankful I have my mother's personality. Otherwise you'd be in a heap of trouble, young man." Her dismal mood evaporated as they drove into town.
             
"Do you have the list?" Jack asked as he pushed several coins into a parking meter.
             
"Yes, it won't take us long. Why don't I buy you lunch at Melancon's Restaurant as a reward for being so patient?"
             
"Nah. It's getting pretty late. Let's make it another day. I want to finish the work on the back porch before it gets dark."
             
"I forgot about the loose railing. You're right."
             
He flashed her a grin as he guided her down the street. "Aren't I always?"
             
Her laugh turned into a frown as she stopped in front of the main hotel. The color drained from her face and her eyes widened to two round orbs. For several minutes she remained motionless, as if listening to some unknown conversation.
             
Jack reached out and touched her arm. "Mary, what's wrong? What's going on?"
             
She favored him with a blank stare, then a puzzled expression replaced her frown. "What...What did you say?"
             
"What's wrong with you? You've been staring into space for the last five minutes."
             
"I'm not sure. All of a sudden I got a funny feeling, like someone was calling my name."
             
He looked around, searching for a familiar face. "I didn't hear anything. Are you sure?"
             
"Oh yeah." She rubbed the chill from her arms. "It was spooky, like somebody whispering from far away." She held up her hand for silence, and waited. When Jack thought he could stand the suspense no longer, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, whoever or whatever it was, it's gone now. We might as well get our shopping done."