Black Opal (8 page)

Julienne glanced at Madeleine’s nearly untouched soup and raised her eyebrows. “There isn’t for you.”

The tension in the room eased noticeably. Dinner ended with Julienne giving each person a job to do. She assigned Dean and Ricky to dishwashing duties. A few minutes later, their loud teasing and arguing drifted in from the kitchen. Colton took the linens to the laundry room. We girls cleared the table, making numerous trips back and forth to the kitchen, which looked like something off a glamorous TV show.

Lisette waited to strike until Julienne and Madeleine were gone from the room, and I was bent over the table brushing Ricky’s cracker crumbs into a pile.

“He doesn’t love you.” She stood behind me and hissed the words at my back.
Cowardly twit.
I turned to face her, not even attempting to keep the fury off my face. Rather than backing away, as I’d expected, she smirked. “I can’t believe Dean would sully himself with such common trash. Once he has enough of the sex, which I’ll admit is probably good with someone like you, he’ll move on. Plus, you’re a freak. And Dean hates freaks.”

My skin smoldered as embarrassment dug in its filthy claws. But a lifetime of putting up with this kind of shit brought the right words to my lips. “Obviously he hates cheating whores, too. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

Lisette gasped and drew back her open hand.

“Do it,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll jump on you and snatch all that gorgeous hair off your head and shove it up your ass.”

Tears sprang into Lisette’s eyes, probably her secret weapon. Well, they wouldn’t work on me. Not when she started this.

Voices, Julienne giggling and Madeleine talking, came from outside the room. Lisette jumped away from me so fast I almost didn’t see her move. She manufactured a smile so genuine even I had trouble believing the last few moments really happened. As the other two women stepped into the room, she cut her eyes at me. The malice there was unmistakable. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I barely listened as Lisette said her goodbyes, exchanging a tearful hug with Julienne and giving Madeleine a sisterly pat on the shoulder. I had to give Lisette her props. She missed her calling in Hollywood. Or on reality TV.

Dean’s mother’s cool hand closed around my arm, and she pulled me close to her. “I think we should talk privately.”

When I tried to meet her eyes, she kept her gaze trained on my neck. Unable to help myself, I reached up to touch the spot she stared at. My fingers met warm metal and stone. That damn necklace again. How did the sonofabitch get there?

Fuckity fuck.
Now, in addition to everything else, Dean’s mother would likely accuse me of theft. And I didn’t know how to convince her it wasn’t true.

8

Climbing the curving staircase reminded me of the walk to the principal’s office after I got into yet another scuffle. I looked for signs of anger in Julienne but saw none. She climbed, her elegant hand trailing over the smooth, shining wood of the banister, as though the world simply waited on her next command. Her calm confidence reminded me of my grandmother’s, and that brought to mind her cancer and how much I’d miss her when it took her. I tried to swallow around the lump forming in my throat. We walked wordlessly with only the whispers of our footsteps to mark our passage until we reached a closed double door at the end of a wing I’d have never found on my own. Julienne held the door open and motioned me inside.

Despite not wanting to draw her amusement, I did a slow circle, gaping at the room’s opulence. I had stepped into an antique store where nothing was for sale.

Julienne watched me taking in everything. “This suite of rooms belonged to my grandmother, Fayette. I grew up in a different part of the house. By the time Fayette died, my own mother was confined to a hospital bed in the wing where she spent most of her married life. It seemed cruel to uproot her at that point. So, Rick and I moved into this suite.”

“You kept Fayette’s furniture.” I recognized several Art Deco pieces.

“Some.” Julienne nodded. “Other pieces pre-date Fayette’s residence.” She motioned me into the bedroom where the furniture should have had its own historical marker and strolled to a painting near the room’s center and gestured at it. “This is my grandmother, Fayette. I suspect my daughter told you she was a witch. She loves telling people that.”

Julienne watched my face as I took in the painting. It portrayed Fayette as a young flapper with a bob. She posed with a small white dog. The artist had put almost human intelligence into the dog’s eyes. Fayette crossed her arms across her chest and held something in her hand. I leaned closer and saw the necklace, the same one I’d encountered twice already that day. The one still hanging around my neck. I reached up and removed it and held it out to Julienne.

“Julienne, I don’t know how this necklace—”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s no fault of yours.” She accepted the necklace and walked away from the painting and gestured for me to follow. “Fayette told me black opal has magical properties. Tons of folklore exists about the stone. Supposedly, it can do some amazing things.”

A million questions raced through my mind. My connection with the spirit world came from my grandmother’s family. And she didn’t want to discuss it. Julienne spoke about this necklace and Fayette’s ability like both were just facts of life, nothing to be uncomfortable about. Julienne tilted her head as she watched me think.

“Come. Let’s have this conversation in my dressing room.”

We sat like proper ladies on stiff antique chairs. Julienne produced two bottled waters out of a carefully concealed mini refrigerator and made a great ceremony of emptying them into an etched crystal decanter and pouring us each a small glass. I sipped mine more out of nerves than thirst and studied Julienne’s blue eyes, so like Dean’s.

“I’d first like to thank you for finding Shayne and giving my family this chance at closure. We can now bury her remains in our family cemetery.” She set her glass, fogged with condensation, on a matching coaster and leaned back in her chair. Her lips trembled, but she pulled herself straighter and took a deep breath. She smiled, but tears brimmed in her eyes. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it would be. About what Lisette said at supper…”

“I’m not a kook. Really.” Desperation laced my words. I spent so much of life explaining this to people.

“No. You’re not. Otherwise, Fayette’s necklace wouldn’t keep finding you.”

“Madeleine mentioned her great-grandmother was a witch?”

“Despite what she believes, my grandmother was not a witch.” Julienne laughed. “But she was different from regular people. She knew things without having to be told. She had a gift, was special, like you.”

Special? Odd word to describe what I am.
Another lump formed in my throat. This one from gratitude. She leaned forward and squeezed my forearm. We didn’t need words.

“Now, I must ask you a favor, child.”

I knew what was coming next, and Julienne didn’t surprise me.

“I want you to use your gift to find my daughter’s murderer. Rick and I are not yet old, but we soon will be. I’d like to enjoy this last chapter of my life without this
issue
hanging over our heads.”

I opened my mouth to tell her Dean had already asked the same thing. She held up her hand to stop my words.

“Now, I’ve been Dean’s mother for nearly forty years, and I’d be a fool not to think he already set you on the same path. But I might have some information nobody else can give you.”

I waited with bated breath to hear what she had to tell me. Maybe it would help. Whatever happened to Shayne haunted me more than her ghost ever could. I wanted to help this family find peace.

“The night before Shayne died, I overheard her end of a telephone conversation. She said, ‘I won’t let you treat me like this.’ She said more but was crying. I couldn’t make it out.” Julienne gazed into the past, frowning, long after she quit speaking.

If Shayne threatened someone right before she disappeared, I had to find out who. But how did I do that twenty years after her murder? I’d have to have her ghost’s help.

On cue, a cold chill danced over my skin. I glanced at a floor length mirror and saw Shayne standing behind her mother’s chair. She raised her head, the dark holes where her eyes had been boring into me. I gasped, and Julienne twisted in her seat to see what had startled me. I dropped my gaze to my lap.

“I’ve never told anybody other than Sheriff Braezeale about overhearing that,” she said. “But now I’m telling you because I think you’ll be the one to solve Shayne’s murder. Not the sheriff. He’s a good man, but he’s no detective, and neither is anybody who works for him.”

Julienne’s mouth twisted and she turned away from me, her hand trembling as she tried to control herself. I tried to imagine what it must be like to keep moving forward after losing a child and couldn’t. When she turned back, a few tear tracks marred her perfect makeup.

“If I were a detective, I’d ask you to tell me about Shayne, about her enemies, about who you think may have killed her.” When Julienne said nothing, I tried a different tactic. “Ricky told me Trey—the guy who works with the horses—was a suspect.”

She nodded. “Their relationship ended badly, and Shayne feared him afterward. She asked us to sell her horse.” Julienne took a deep breath. “I suppose the parish sheriff will look into his story again. They’ll likely run into the same stumbling block—his alibi.”

“Which was?”

“He’d taken Shayne’s horse to an auction to sell. Plenty of people talked to him, and his signature was on the bill of sale.” She frowned. “There was no way to make it add up. Trey had a nervous breakdown during the investigation, and Rick insisted we keep him in our employ until he left on his own. So I’ve had to look at that punk all these years.”

Julienne’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself with a whispered apology and a slight bow before turning away to answer. She held up her end of the conversation with terse answers and hung up without saying goodbye. When she turned back to me, tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Some evidence was found with my daughter’s remains. Sheriff Braezeale will bring it by and see if anyone can identify it.” Without waiting for me to answer, she led me out of her chambers.

###

Silence reigned in the library as we waited for the sheriff to join us.

Ricky spilled out of a delicate antique chair, his thick legs straining against the wooden armrests. He checked his cell phone often, occasionally tapping out a text message.

Madeleine sat on the brocade couch with her mother, their hands clasped together. The poor girl’s eyes darted around the room, never settling on one spot for long. She caught me watching her and gave me a shaky smile.

I sat in a velvet-upholstered chair with a high back, and Dean sat on the chair’s matching footstool, leaning against my legs. I massaged his tense shoulders, which did absolutely no good. I understood. The tension in this room was almost tangible. Though I longed for a smoke, I didn’t dare shatter the brittle silence by excusing myself. Besides, I liked to think Dean needed me.

After the most strained half hour I’ve ever passed with strangers, the doorbell chimed. Ricky leapt to his feet and hoofed it to the door. After a hushed conversation, he returned with Sheriff Braezeale and a uniform I recognized from the crime scene. Both men nodded to Dean, and Julienne stood to greet them. She shook their hands, thanking them for coming out so late on the family’s behalf. She offered them refreshments.
Did this woman ever lose her genteel grace?

After refusing Julienne’s offers, the sheriff cleared his throat and said, “This item was found with the remains. It is evidence and must stay in this plastic evidence bag.” He glanced at each person in turn until he or she acknowledged the instructions. “Just tell me if you’ve seen this before or know where it might have come from. Or why the victim had it in her possession.” Again, he waited to see if we understood his instructions.

Once he was satisfied, his gaze rested on me. Dread thudded in my chest. “Miss Mace? While I understand there’s no way you could have known the victim, we need confirmation you know nothing about this item. It’s just a formality, mostly for our paperwork. Miss Madeleine, you’ll be doing the same thing.” The two of us nodded.

The younger deputy approached Ricky and showed him a small item in a plastic bag. Ricky leaned forward, squinting at the bag’s contents. “I’ve never seen that before.” He slumped back in the chair and held his forehead in his hand, shaking his head. He began tapping out a message on his cell phone.

Seeing what he was doing, the sheriff placed a strong hand over Ricky’s arm. “Please don’t tell anyone what you saw in the bag.”

Ricky nodded and stuffed his phone into his pocket.

Madeline confirmed she knew nothing about the item in the bag. Julienne took longer, leaning over the item and asking the deputy to hold it under the light. Though he obeyed her requests, she shook her head, her eyes shining with tears.

“I just don’t know. I’ve never seen that before.” She stood, her hands clenched into fists. “May I be excused?”

The sheriff agreed, and Julienne fled the room. Her sobs were audible from the hallway.

It was my turn. Leaning forward with curiosity, I wanted to see what this thing was. The younger deputy came near and held the bag in my sightline. In it lay a bronze coin about the size of a half dollar. The coin bore the words “Good for 1.”

One what?
I met the deputy’s eyes and shook my head. Dean who had been jittering next to me the entire time, stood for his turn. He leaned over the bag and flinched.

“Do you have a flashlight?” His eyes moved between the two law officers.

The younger man took out a large metal flashlight and handed it to Dean, who clicked it on and peered at the coin. “Can you turn this over? Is there anything on the back?”

The deputy looked to his superior who nodded. He flipped over the bag and held it in front of Dean who again used the flashlight to peer at the coin. Finally, he clicked it off and sat back on the footstool. He rubbed his face with both hands.