Chapter Seventeen
Drawing a deep breath, I stare at the intercom panel installed next to the glossy, black double door to High Point Bluff, preparing myself for the inevitable encounter to come. An hour ago, when Jack and I hatched this plan as he walked back home from Miss Delia’s, and I rode alongside, it sounded brilliant, but now, not so much.
“Are you going to buzz or not?” Jack nudges my side.
“I will. In a second.” Gnawing my lip, I adjust my messenger bag across my back, then turn to him. “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. It’s probably pointless anyway.”
He narrows his eyes. “Buzz, or I will.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. We’re here on a mission and can’t turn chicken now. Taneea’s slip about a “friend” teaching her magic raised too many questions. But one thing’s for sure. Someone taught her some pretty advanced hoodoo, enough to afford her awesome toys and the freedom she’s so desperately desired. If Miss Delia’s right and Claude is the one pulling the strings, then he’s no ordinary investigator—he’s a conjurer with a dark agenda. Is he really dedicated to uncovering the truth about the robbery at the museum, or does he have some other motive for pursuing Miss Delia like a hound on a fox? And why did he push so hard for Sheriff Walker to agree that Missy’s death was from natural causes? Could it have anything to do with why he’d sneak into Beau’s private study, then threaten me and everyone I know to keep my discovery secret? We can’t explain everything to Beau—how does one describe a three-hundred-year-old, soul-snatching curse?—but we can warn him not to trust Claude.
I mash the doorbell button on the panel. It’s one of the new security features Dad put in for Missy after she freaked out about the museum burglars being on the loose.
“Yeah?” Beau’s voice crackles from the intercom speaker near the door.
Depressing another button, I lean toward the speaker. “Hey Beau. It’s us. Emma and Jack.”
“My sweet, darling Emma!” His voice is even more slurred than usual. “Cooper isn’t home. And why are you calling on this contraption anyway? Y’all should just walk in.”
Jack steps close. “We’re actually here to talk to you if that’s okay. We didn’t want to assume you were free.”
A moment passes before he answers. “Come on in, then. And make it quick. I’m busy.” The front door buzzes and the latch clicks, allowing us entry.
The light in the library is on, casting a glow on the buffed hall floor. Heading toward it, we run smack into the scent of rancid meat that hangs thick in the air, proof positive of Beau’s presence. My eyes sting as I peek through the doorway. As expected, Beau is sprawled on the sofa, sunk into his favorite spot, the cushions slung low and nearly touching the floor.
He toasts us with his drink, a pint-size tumbler nearly filled to the brim with a dark brown liquid. “Set a while.”
Veering as far away as possible, I hold my breath as I steer toward the sofa opposite of him and ease into the red silk fabric, laying my bag on the Oriental carpet. Averting my gaze, I try not to stare at his chalky, gray skin that hangs slack and extra rubbery. Jack plops next to me.
“I barely recognize you without that son of mine in tow.” Beau drags in slow, heavy breaths. His chest gurgles like it’s filled with chunky globs of mucus. He takes a long gulp of his drink, downing half the glass.
“Cooper’s busy tonight,” Jack says.
Beau’s thin eyebrow arches. “Really? Without his sweetheart?” His rheumy eyes search mine as if he suspects there’s trouble in paradise. “If my boy isn’t treating you right, you best tell me. I’ll set him straight.”
Creepy unease works its way up my spine. “Thanks. But that isn’t necessary.”
“I mean it.” He swats his right hand, but the movement throws him off-balance and causes him to tip onto his left side.
Jack clears his throat. “If this isn’t a good time, we could always come back.”
I nod. “Yeah, like tomorrow.”
“Nonsense!” he bellows. The phlegmy sound bubbles up in his throat, causing him to cough. Pulling a soiled handkerchief from his pocket, he hacks up something dark and chunky, but quickly crumples the cloth in his fist and stuffs it back into his pocket.
Jack shoots me a look. From his pinched expression, I’m not sure whether he’s trying not to laugh or puke. I’m right there with him.
“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” I suggest.
“On the contrary,” Beau says. “This is my elixir of life, the only thing keeping the blood flowing through my veins. Did you know scotch is a vasodilator? My circulation isn’t what it used to be.”
Judging by the pasty pallor of his skin, I’d say it’s barely pumping at all.
Beau chugs another mouthful of the deep amber liquid. With great effort, he lurches forward and points to Jack. “Now listen here, there’s something I want you to remember. I may not be around forever, so you’ve got to make sure my boy doesn’t squander his youthful energy and vigor. He’s got to live every day to the fullest and take advantage of all that being a Beaumont affords him. Lord knows I did.” A smile edges across his wine-red lips as he rubs his gelatinous midsection. “And despite appearances, I don’t regret one day being Beau Beaumont. It’s been a fulfilling life.”
“Oh-kay,” Jack says. “Though hopefully you’ve got plenty more years ahead.” His mouth cracks into an uncomfortable smile.
“I certainly hope so. But life can be so unpredictable. Who’d have guessed I would have ended up with four wives? Though none of those delectable plums can hold a candle to our dear Emma.” Chuckling, he gives me the once over. “I’ve got to hand it to that son of mine. He does have good taste in women.” He winks.
My stomach churns. Where’s Miss Delia’s Semi-Invisibility powder when you need it?
“Oh, now darling, don’t be shy.” His eyes swim in their sockets. “I know you care for the boy. And that’s a good thing. Because I’ve got my legacy to think of. I’m counting on you two having a long and fruitful relationship. Together, you’ll combine forces to build an immense empire. He can’t squander his chances with you.”
“Uh, sure. But you know sometimes stuff doesn’t work out.” I hug my arms, uncomfortable with the whole empire-building thing.
He coughs out a laugh and wobbles back against the cushion. “Whatever that boy’s busy doing now, it’ll end the moment he comes into his manhood.”
My gut clenches and my mouth turns dry. That phrase. It’s exactly what Sabina said when she worked the Beaumont Curse. Does Beau know that, or is he just repeating an old island expression?
Beau laughs. “Your daddy and me? We got into our share of messes back in the day. But once we turned sixteen, everything changed. The same will happen to Cooper, no doubt. You’ll be amazed at the change in him.” He guzzles the rest of his drink, then smacks his lips. “Now, I doubt you came here to get relationship advice from a broken, old man. To what do I owe the pleasure of your clandestine visit?”
Sitting up straight, I remind myself of our task. Though considering how impaired Beau is, he probably won’t remember a thing we say. This is a waste of time.
Beau’s brow furrows. “Spit it out, girl!”
I gulp. “Jack and I wanted to talk to you about Claude Corbeau.”
“Ah, good man!” He raises his empty glass in salute.
“Actually we’re thinking maybe he isn’t.”
“What? He’s the best investigator either side of the Mississippi.”
Jack leans forward. “There are some things you ought to know—”
Beau raises his hand in protest. “Believe me, boy. I did my homework.” He digs his finger into his chest. “Examined his credentials myself. Corbeau’s the man for the job.” A thunderous belch works its way up Beau’s throat and a puff of something truly foul floats out of his mouth and across the room. It’s like rotten eggs mixed with day-old roadkill topped with liver-fried onions. Oblivious, Beau yammers on, pinching his fat forefinger and thumb together, then squints at his hand. “Besides, Claude is this close to uncovering the burglary ring that stole from the King Center. Would you believe it was one of our donors? A little old Gullah lady in a wheelchair, no less. Can you imagine that?” he whispers as his eyes goggle.