Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (26 page)

Thirty Eight

Paris, France… August 24, 1695

Louis watched his wife as she took a turn in the garden, hand in hand with Françoise Charlotte. The little girl was here for the fifth time in as many months, and there seemed to be no end to the visits, or their deepening length.

It seemed that each time she came, it was for a few days more than the last, and Louis wasn’t having it. Not if he could help it.

“I know she’s the niece, James,” he said, turning to his cousin momentarily before returning his gaze to the pair below, “but does she have to be here causing trouble for us all? I mean, she doesn’t realize she is, but… she is indeed, in the way. Why, yesterday, she even walked in on Fénelon as he was tutoring the boys. Said something about a “bunny rabbit” or some such nonsense.”

James harrumphed at his side. As close as Louis was going to get to sympathy, he was certain.

“Forgive me, Your Highness… Cousin… but if it were such a huge problem, why didn’t you put your foot down? Why keep allowing your home to be… interrupted?”

“Well, it’s a large enough estate it usually isn’t such a big thing for there to be extra people, but you realize, this is a child; a curious child, and the heir of my wife once she passes. I don’t know if Françoise Charlotte even knows. Her parents arranged it with Françoise years ago, and I can’t well just tell her not to have the child be brought up ill-fitting for her position, can I?”

The sound of laughter reached his ears before he’d even finished speaking.

With a quick glance back into the treed acreage, he scanned it for the two and found they were hugging underneath the overhang of an outbuilding. He could barely see them. So if it wasn’t them who he heard laugh, who was it?

Awkwardly sticking his head out the open window, the king looked down closer to Versailles’ entrance below. There, with wide grins on their faces, were his daughters Marie Ann and Louise Françoise.

What were they doing here?

With a sigh, he withdrew his head from the window.

“More guests,” his cousin asked him, a jovial expression in his voice. When he looked at him, James’ expression was droll.

Of course, the beard helped disguise a third of what the man was feeling.

“You could say that.”

“Anyone I know?”

“I should hope so; it’s Louise, and for some reason, Marie Ann is with her,” he replied, turning more fully to face his cousin.

As he turned, he hit his arm on the wall and winced.

“Don’t get me wrong, I adore my children,” he said as he rubbed his arm. “I just… sacré b… no, I will not resort to that! It’s just… sometimes all I want is some peace and quiet around here, and I know the more womenfolk there are, the more the drama. And if you know my girls, you know that means drama. I love them dearly; they’re my everything, save God and wife, but…”

He finally gave up with a sigh, headed for the door, and traipsed down the stairs.

It wasn’t until he reached the front entry that he realized James hadn’t followed him. “Mes chéris ... Marie Ann ... Louise Françoise ... quelle surprise! À venir voir votre Papa, vous devez avoir m'a raté beaucoup.”

“Papa, so good to see you again,” Marie Ann said, a sweet smile playing across her delicate features. Her blonde hair was combed back into a soft chignon. “Louis Armand sends his greeting, with what little voice he has these days. Poor thing has been having a problem with his voice box lately.”

Louise Françoise drifted a bit from her sister, but her eyes shined. “If it weren’t for the traveling, I would have brought the children. Even Louise Ann,” she said, her words trailing off.

For a woman who’d given birth less than two months prior, she looked well.

After a few moments, Louis opened his arms to envelop one, then the other, with hugs before walking back upstairs.

His daughters bickered something fierce whenever there was a status change, and he, for one, wasn’t going to stand here and listen to it. He’d already felt the tension palpably stirring between them, thick like static in the air.

Now that his duty of greeting was finished, he wanted some peace. Would he have to avoid all these females in order to get anything done?

Because for all he knew, Françoise would be suggesting a dinner party. Here. At the palace.

Simply because two of his daughters had come for a visit.

James cupped Louis shoulder in greeting as he returned to his viewing post, and he shook him off.

What good was he if he wouldn’t even come in support of him to greet his daughters? Why, it was as good as treason.

The man knew his daughters all quarreled something fierce between themselves, and if there had been an incident just now, why he’d never have forgiven him.

He’d felt like a deer surrounded by wolves, no matter what their smiles said.

Thirty Nine

Portland, OR… August 23, 2002

Arthur grunted under the weight of his uncle’s body as he moved it for the third time. The man was alive; both were, but they were still unconscious. “Guess it be time ta take ya t’ the hosp’tal. Been long ‘nough dey shouldn’ tink I done nothin’ t’ yas.”

With a glance at Ken to make sure he hadn’t fallen over again from where he’d propped the man up on the couch, he set his uncle next to him and went to wash his hands, as had the couch he’d tossed the lamp on.

He’d replaced the lamp and tossed the old one in a dumpster miles away, wiping it down and taking it apart meticulously to make sure he wasn’t discovered. The floor had been cleaned five times since he’d been forced to take matters into his own hands.

And as much of a clean freak as he was, he’d hated cleaning that rug, with all its various colors in it. Hated it.

It was just as bad as it looked in the movies, and it still made him uneasy. In the movies, they could always find blood anyway… along with all sorts of other bodily fluids. So no matter how much he cleaned, he wondered if it would even be enough.

If it wasn’t for others seeing him buying a new rug, he’d have done it.

“You shouldn’a threaten me, Unc,” he said, almost to himself. “Scarin’ me like dat wasn’ good fo’ ya well-bein’ or your friend’s. I did what I had ta do ta protet myself… hope ya’ll won’t be havin’ no hard feelins ‘bout it ‘n the long-run.”

Finally, taking a deep breath, he reached for the phone.

Now that he’d hidden the women and cleaned up the evidence, he’d have no worries having paramedics come get the old geezers… at least he sure hoped not.

He’d go back for the women later. Along with those weird clocks and mirrors he’d taken.

Arthur smiled as he thought of the place he’d found to keep them captive. Nobody in their right mind would think to look there, would they?

And he had to see what was happening from all angles, didn’t he? Especially in a place like the one he’d found the day before.

Them women can’t be heard in dere, I’s sho of it
, he thought to himself as he glanced back at the men on the couch and dialed the number.

After three rings, there was finally an answer.

“Nine one one, how may I help you,” a calm yet cheerful voice said as he was about to hang up.

Now… it was show time.

“Yeah, I been out a couple days from home and came back and it’s my unca and he friend, see? Someb’dy done knocked ‘em out cold or somethin’. Don’t know any ways how long they…”

He forced tears to come and hoped they sounded genuine… and then, all of a sudden, they were, just for a moment, before he reigned himself in.

He hated hurting his uncle, but you do what you’ve got to do, right?

“Excuse me, Sir, but give me the address and I can have someone on the way, then finish your details,” the man said.

After reciting the address, Arthur continued, trying to keep a panic in his voice. “I prop em’ up on da couch so’s dey c’ get air and stuff, man, but I jus’ don’ know what else I c’ do ‘cept call ya’ll. And I cleaned a lil; dere was dirt all over. I think mebbe my unca been in da garden or somethin’, cause there was footprints all over dat was like, his size an’ ever’thing.”

“Sir, are you saying you cleaned up the evidence at a crime scene?”

Man, he hadn’t thought of that! And after he’d been so careful, too.

“Lissin, I don’ need nob’dy tellin’ me I done wrong. I’m on p’role, man. I don’ need dis mess. What if someb’dy ‘spects I had somethin’ to do wit dis? I mean, it isn’ like I gots no record, but I swear, I love my Unca Dabney, man. Had no reason to….”

“Calm down there, Buddy. What’s your name? Give it to me in full, and that of your P.O. and I’ll make sure someone comes to check on you.”

“Man, dat’s the las’ thing I need. I’ll go see her t’morrow once I know dem two’s aright, ya unerstand?”

Dabney moaned and moved his head, and Arthur began to panic, truly. What would he do if one of these two woke up and told the paramedic or hospital he’d clobbered them? He figured they’d be out long enough to get rid of the girls and skip town.

Now what?

Arthur chanced a look at the men, walking a few steps closer. In the background, he could hear sirens and knew it was likely the ambulance coming for them.

“Sir, I need your name, at the very least. It’s protocol.”

“Arthur. Jus’…. Jus’ call me Arthur. Don’t need ta know no mo’ dan dat,” he said and abruptly hung up the phone.

Within moments, there was a knock at the door, and he went to greet the paramedics. As he opened it, he noticed there were also some police officers.

Great!

Just what he needed!

With a sigh, he ushered them through the house. They barraged him with questions, and he did his best to answer truthfully without saying anything to incriminate himself.

Once the paramedics had loaded Ken and Dabney onto stretchers, one of the officers pulled him aside. He was solidly built, with balding auburn hair. He stood an inch and a half taller than Arthur himself.

“You Arthur Reynolds?”

Why did all this have to happen now, and to him? He nodded. “Yeah, but dat was my gran’father; I be da thir, and don’ ya foget it.”

“We need to look over the house, then take you in for questioning. Your parole officer said she’ll meet us down at the station.”

“What? I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, Off’cer….” He looked at the name tag. “O’Carroll. Hey, what girly kinda name is that, anyway,” Arthur asked, sniggering.

He hoped if he got the man upset about something else, he’d forget about the haul downtown.
Kirk O’Carroll? That jus’ be wimpy,
he thought.

It wasn’t the best idea he’d had, but neither had clobbering his uncle and Mr. Traylor.

Not that they didn’t have it coming!

“Listen, it’s Irish, and it’s a more manly name that Reynolds, in my book. No offense to your grandfather, I was a big fan… but you, you’re scum, and you’re up to something. I can smell it.”

The other officer finished his search of the main floor and headed upstairs. “Hey, you gots a warrant or somethin’? You can’t just… barge in here and search the place? What if Uncle Dabney has something he don’t want people to see?”

There… at least if there was still evidence he wasn’t able to get rid of all the way, they might suspect Dabney now.

Why, maybe this would work out after all.

“I mean, that guy he was arguing with the other day before I left sure was mad over somethin’ and who knows… maybe ol’ Dabney went back to his ol’ ways,” he continued, trying to further plant doubt in Officer O’Carroll’s mind.

The other officer, an Officer Basuki Tuah, looked some kind of weird Asian. He was on the shorter side, with a wiry build and a kind face. His eyes looked right through Arthur, though, when they met his, and made him shiver.

“Hey, man, what are ya, anyway,” he said, pointing to Officer Tuah. “You don’ look nothin’ like nob’dy I know. Were ya even born here?”

The man’s face went from kind to frustrated in a hurry. Other than that, he ignored Arthur’s question and continued on upstairs.

“O’Carroll,” the officer said. “Why don’t you get that guy to the car so we can finish this all in some quiet?”

“Oh, no, ya ain’t,” Arthur yelled, backing away and knocking over the newly replaced lamp that was behind him.

Great!

There went another seventy bucks he didn’t have to spend.

“Officer Tuah’s right, and you aren’t helping your cause any by getting on our bad sides. We know you’re frontin’ about something, Young Man. Now, move,” Officer O’Carroll told him, pointing to the door as he stepped closer to grab Arthur’s wrist. “Or I’ll have to cuff you and then it’ll be a circus for your neighbors.”

Exasperated and panicked, Arthur knew better than to fight.

If he did, then what would happen to Andrea and Rosemary… and that stupid kid Andrea kept insisting was his? The woman had lost so much weight, her belly was beginning to protrude more than it probably otherwise would have.

Maybe if all went well and he cooperated, he’d be out by morning. Then he could go give them some water and question them more.

And dat ain’t all I’s ready ta do, neither,
he thought, smirking as he allowed the officer to place him in the backseat of his patrol vehicle.

“I’ll be back with Officer Tuah pretty quick; no funny business out here. A warrant’s on the way, considering the circumstances. And I’ll call the hospital when we’re done searching the house.” At that, Officer O’Carroll slammed the car door and made sure everything was locked up again before returning to the house.

With nothing left to do, Arthur began to pray.

“God, I know I done mess up agin, but, please help ‘em not find nothin’ on me, a‘cause I can’t be goin’ back t’ da big house, Man. I jus’ can’t. It ain’t the place fo’ me, and I tink You knows it, too, right, God?” He paused a moment to think.

What could he promise God?

“So, lissin… here be ma deal, see, God. Ya get me out o’ this jam, and keep me out o’ pris’n, an’ I won’ kill dem girls,” he whispered. “I take ‘em somewheres an’ drop ‘em where dey c’ get help, long ways from here, an’ let em live. A‘course, den I’d gotta move, but dat’s alr’dy in da works, ‘member?”

Thankful he’d spoken with his P.O. the day before about an approval to move to New Jersey and stay with friends there, he was sure she’d approve it.

Well, as long as Officers O’Carroll and Tuah didn’t make any trouble for him, and neither did Uncle Dabney and that odd duck, Ken.