Page 26 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception (A Midnight House Mystery #1)

FIFTEEN

What no one ever tells you about attacking a sweaty man in broad daylight with nothing but your unpracticed fists, is that it probably won’t work.

Not that I’m sure what I thought was going to happen. I guess that he would topple to the ground and I could pummel him with my fists until he admitted he was a horrible human being.

And maybe just for fun, Maggie could kick in the shins and a chunk of marble from a tomb would fall on his head.

But no. That’s not what happened.

Instead, I ran at him, my fists slipped off of his sweaty shoulder, and I went careening past him with my arms flailing.

I thought about Teddy, hopefully safe at home. I thought about the hidden room behind the pantry wall, about Aunt Odette's secrets, about all the women whose stories had been buried along with their bodies.

And how if I didn’t get myself out of this mess, I would fail them all. I would also fail four generations of my family who expected me to uphold the legacy of Midnight House.

Maggie was yelling, “Someone call 911! Someone call 911!”

I could only assume that was because she didn’t want to stop recording on her phone to call herself. Drawing inspiration from her and all the “smart women” that the Pelican Group had silenced, I immediately pivoted, determined not to give up.

"Where are they?" I shouted at Arthur, who was stomping toward me. "Where did you bury them? Their families deserve answers."

Arthur smiled, and it was the most chilling thing I'd ever seen. "Who says we buried them?"

Arthur Kellum, the quiet man who'd been staying in Room Five was a monster.

The one guest who'd chosen to remain at the B&B after Delia died.

The one who claimed he'd known Delia from previous conventions.

The one who'd had access to the house, to Delia's room, to Angel's trumpet powder if he'd brought his own supply of mystical herbs.

All right under our noses and very clearly touched in the head. Not even just a run-of-the-mill ruthless businessman but henchmen for a whole network of Really Terrible Men.

I’d hate to have seen him in his youth. But he was older now and I was still delusionally optimistic I could take him.

I could see beyond Arthur that a crowd had gathered. Beau was on the ground as if he was passed out and Maggie was halfway between us. She looked like she didn’t know which way she should go.

My goal was to knock the vial out of his hand and hopefully the syringe out of his sleeve all with one gigantic shove. Or maybe more like a cat batting at a ball of yarn. I went for it and ran at him for round two.

Arthur reached his hands out and grabbed my arms, holding me at bay.

We ended up like two bears dancing. I tried desperately to shake the vial out of his hand but he wasn’t letting go.

I could see the tour goers eyeing us curiously and murmuring to each other but no one was really saying anything.

Most eyes were on Beau. A woman was kneeling by his side and I could see someone was on their phone, probably calling for an ambulance.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Detective Broussard came around the corner of the tomb and said, “Let her go, Kellum. Now.”

To my shock, Arthur complied. I scrambled away from him and ran straight to Maggie. We clutched each other, not sure what else to do. Clutching seemed like a good option in the circumstances.

"Now drop the vial," Hollis said.

Arthur's confident expression crumbled. But he mustered up the courage to say, "What do you think you’re going to do?"

"I'm not going to let you drag another generation into this."

I was waiting for Hollis to pull out a gun or handcuffs or something but maybe he didn’t want to scare the tourists.

Maybe he thought he could deescalate the situation.

In any case, he seemed thoroughly calm and in control.

I was both impressed by him and annoyed that I hadn’t been able to escape on my own.

Arthur scoffed. "You think you can just arrest me? You think anyone will believe your word against mine? My family has criminal ties in this city for three generations."

That was an odd thing to brag about, but family pride is family pride.

"Maybe not. But I've got forty years of evidence. You may have blackmailed Beau to retrieve it from Harper, but neither he nor Lucien were idiots. They made copies of everything. Photographs, documents, recorded confessions."

That did seem rather shortsighted on Arthur’s part.

“That has nothing to do with me. Besides, maybe the kid did it.”

So that was his angle. Set Beau up as the fall guy.

“You can’t prove that I’ve committed any crimes at all.”

“Wrong. The girl you tied up in the Midnight House attic ID’d you as her abductor in a pic.

” He didn’t take his eyes off of Arthur but he did toss me a compliment.

“Harper, nice work on keeping up your social media game. Abigail was flipping through videos on the way to the airport and saw Arthur in the background of your garden shot.”

“Thanks. I try to keep it fresh and updated.”

We heard approaching sirens. Hollis must have called for backup on his way. Arthur made his move. He threw the vial of datura at Hollis and lunged toward one of the narrow pathways between the tombs.

"Stay with Maggie," Hollis shouted, taking off after Arthur. "And don't touch that vial!"

I looked down at the broken glass at my feet, the powdered plant matter already being scattered by the wind. Then I looked at Maggie, and we both rushed to Beau’s side.

He was awake but pale and sweating profusely. “I didn’t know what to do,” he said, his voice trembling. “I was just trying to protect you and my family. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t know murder was involved.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” I felt bad for him. I smoothed his hair back off of his forehead. “None of us have any experience with stuff like this.”

“Can I have some water? Arthur tried to inject me but I knocked the needle away. I think the tip did something weird to me though. I feel off.”

“I don’t know if we should do that,” I said, seeing EMTs coming into the cemetery. “I don’t know if you should ingest water or not. I’m not Poison Control.”

“That stinks,” Beau said, but he gave me a limp smile. “Glad you’re okay.”

“You too.” I squeezed his arm and moved out of the way for the professionals to do their job.

I stood up and shook my head at Maggie. “Well. This was something else.” I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart down.

"This is definitely going to be our best podcast episode ever."

Despite everything—the murder, the chase, the revelation that someone I'd hosted as a guest was a killer—I smiled. Because that was so perfectly, ridiculously Maggie.

And I took reassurance in knowing that Arthur was going to pay the price for his actions.

Three hours later, I was sitting in the NOPD station with a cup of terrible coffee, watching Hollis fill out what seemed like an endless amount of paperwork. My adrenaline had finally worn off, leaving me feeling like I'd been hit by a streetcar.

"So Arthur confessed?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. We'd all heard him admit to covering up murders in the cemetery. We’d handed over Maggie’s phone to the police, which had most of what Arthur had said to us on it.

"Oh yeah. Once we got him back here, he couldn't stop talking.

" Hollis looked up from his forms on his computer.

"Turns out he's been cleaning up after the Pelican Development Group for decades with several associates.

Not just Francine, but at least four other women who got too close to their business practices. "

"Four others." I felt sick thinking about it. "All those families never knowing what happened.”

“We’ll notify the victim’s families. Give them closure, finally." He sat back in his chair. "Harper, you were right to keep digging, even when I told you to back off."

"I almost got myself and Maggie killed. And Beau."

"But you didn't. You exposed a killer who's been operating for forty years. There might be some other guys who go down for this as well."

Before I could respond, the door opened and Maggie walked in, followed by a woman I immediately recognized. It was Ginger St. James, looking pale but very much alive and walking under her own power.

"Ginger!" I jumped up. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I accidentally snorted poison," she said dryly, settling into a chair. "Which, as it turns out, is exactly what happened."

Hollis leaned forward. "You want to tell Harper what you told me?"

Ginger sighed, looking embarrassed. "I was searching Arthur's room that night.

I knew he was hiding something. The way he kept asking questions about Delia, about what she might have left behind.

When I found that packet of angel's trumpet in his luggage, I got excited. I thought it might be evidence."

"And you accidentally inhaled it?"

"The packet tore open when I was examining it.

I got a face full of the powder before I could stop myself.

" She shook her head. "Forty years of working with herbs and I make a rookie mistake like that. I stumbled to Room Three because I didn’t want to pass out in Arthur’s room.

I tried to call for help but I fell unconscious. "

"So Arthur didn't try to poison you?"

"No, though he was certainly happy to let everyone think he had as the anonymous killer. Made him look more dangerous than he actually was." Ginger's expression hardened. "Don't get me wrong though. He's still a monster. But he wasn't particularly good at the hands-on killing part."

Hollis pulled out a file. "Arthur's confessed to being what he calls 'the cleanup crew.

' When Francine threatened to expose the Pelican Group's money laundering and property scams, his father and a couple of work-for-hire guys handled the actual... silencing. Arthur just made sure the bodies disappeared and that the paperwork got lost. It seems like Beau’s father had some kind of involvement but we’re not sure how deep or how much he knew the truth about what was happening. "

"Beau’s father?” I had to admit, I was shocked. I imagine Beau was devastated. But maybe his father really hadn’t known the truth. I hoped so for Beau’s case. “Was that his father there at my house the night Delia died?”

“To be determined,” Hollis said.

“So Arthur's been helping to cover all this up ever since?"

"Whenever someone got too close to the truth. But he was getting sloppy in his old age. Delia was supposed to look like a suicide, but he botched the staging."

Maggie, who'd been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "What about the women? Where are they?"

"Different methods, different locations. Arthur kept detailed records of various construction sites with suspicious labeling. He thought of himself as a historian, documenting his family's 'service to the city.' We've already started recovery operations."

I thought about all those families, all those cold cases that would finally be solved. "Will there be enough evidence to prosecute the living members of the Pelican Group?"

"Arthur's testimony, plus all those documents Lucien saved, plus your aunt's journals?

Yeah, we'll be able to build cases." Hollis's expression was grim.

"Though most of the main players are dead.

Arthur's father, the original Pelican Group leadership.

The other two men who actually did the killing. "

"But the son will go down for the cover-up," Ginger said with satisfaction. "Arthur will spend the rest of his life in prison."

"What about Francine?" I asked quietly. "Did he tell you where...?"

"She's buried in the basement of the old Pelican Group headquarters. Building's been renovated three times since 1984, but the foundation is original." Hollis's voice was gentle. "We'll bring her home, Harper. Give her family the burial she deserves."

I felt tears prick at my eyes. After forty years, Francine Darrow would finally be at peace.

"There's one more thing," Ginger said, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a tarot card. The Tower. "I found this in Arthur's room when I was searching it. I think it belonged to Delia."

I took the card, studying the familiar illustration. "She must have dropped it when she was confronting him. Then I found it later. Which meant he stole it back from me. I wonder why he bothered.”

“I never bother to try to figure out what motivates evil people. Otherwise I’d go nuts.” Hollis stood up. "We're going to need you to come back tomorrow to give formal statements. All of you. But for now, you should go home. Get some rest."

As we walked out of the police station into the New Orleans evening, I couldn't help but think about how different everything felt. The oppressive weight that had been hanging over Midnight House for the past week was finally gone.

"So," Maggie said as we reached our cars. "What now? Back to regular B&B life?"

"I guess so." I looked at Ginger. "What about you? Will you keep doing psychic work?"

"Oh yes. But I think I'll stick to helping people connect with their dearly departed loved ones instead of solving murders." She smiled. "Though I have to say, Harper, you have genuine intuitive gifts. If you ever want to explore that side of yourself..."

"I think I'll stick to hospitality and podcasts," I said quickly. "But thank you."

"The offer stands." Ginger hugged me goodbye, then Maggie. "Take care of yourselves. And Harper just know that your aunt would be proud."

That meant the world to me.