Page 47
“How did you know I was following you?”
“Let’s just say, if your hunting skills are anything like your stalking, I’d be surprised you shot anything with that bow.”
Eyes narrowed, I bite the inside of my lip. “I’ve killed many things. Remember that the next time you decide to take something from me.”
“Ah, but it’s not taking anything, chère. Not when you give it up.” The way he licks his lips underscores the double entendre of his words.
“I can assure you, I won’t be giving anything up to you.”
Lips curved into a half-cocked smile, he exits the vehicle. “Then, perhaps you shouldn’t come tomorrow.” The smirk on his face widens to a wily grin, as he stuffs his hand into his pocket and hands off a card to me. “At the very least, I’ll expect you to give up this silly notion that I stole from you.”
Francescas is printed on the card.
“What is this? Another shell company for dirty money?”
“It’s a clothing shop, smartass. Consider this lagniappe for the bow. Get yourself some nicer shoes.”
“Lagniappe?”
“A bonus.”
“And, what’s wrong with my boots?”
A dry expression claims his face, with a quick downward glance. “Put it on my tab. Bergeron. Whatever you need.”
“You do this for all the women who actually give it up to you? Because I think we already established I’m not one of them.”
“Then, what’s the problem with buying a few nice things for yourself, moiselle?” A quick wink, and he slams the door shut.
“Now what the hell does moiselle mean?” I mutter to myself, watching him stride off.
* * *
Frustrated for having wasted half my afternoon, I stroll up to the entrance of the Chevalier Library, my original errand for the day before I got distracted by a walking nuisance. The woman who greets me behind the counter is slightly aged, with shoulder-length gray hair and kind eyes. A pale blue, striped, button-down shirt beneath a matching sweater gives her a casual, laid back appearance, a contrast to the uptight suits the old crabapple who ran the library I used to go to would wear. It never made sense to me that a person who lost herself to fantasy worlds all day long could be so grumpy.
Unless, perhaps, her thing was reading nonfiction. Gross.
“Can I help you?” A world of wonder lights the woman’s pale blue eyes when she acknowledges me and sets her book aside.
“I’m just curious if you might have some information on the Charpentier Estate?”
“Oh, yeah. A few snippets here and there.” With a jerk of her head, she invites me to follow after her and leads me through rows of books, to a room at the back of the library. “Some artifacts are kept at the museum, but you’ll find much of the historical information here.”
“Artifacts?”
“From back when it was a plantation. Many of the tools and personal effects of the original owner were seized by the state. There’s a book that lists some of the items here.” From a shelf of leather-bound books, up high, she retrieves one of them and carefully opens it to a page that looks almost like an accounting ledger, on which items have been listed alongside, what I’m guessing is, their value. “You’ll find just about anything you’re looking for on this shelf here. And then, if you pull that drawer out behind you, the original blueprints for the house are there.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here. Can I ask what your interest is in the Charpentier Estate?”
“Just curious, mostly.”
“Folks around here don’t harbor much curiosity in the old Estate these days, after what happened.” Hands crossed in front of her, she sighs. “That poor house has been the brunt of more ghosts than a Shirley Jackson novel.”
“Did you know Doctor Pierce?”
“Everyone on this island knew the good doctor.” The smile on her face fades to something more serious. “It’s a shame. The things he was dabbling in.”
