Webster glanced at the brown puddle that covered the floor and grimaced. “Unless you have a straw, I think it’s going to be tough for me to drink.”
The 6’6” servant stared at the steaming beverage for several seconds before his face broke into a gold-toothed smile. “For a minute, I thought you be serious, but then I says to myself, Master Webster ain’t no dog. He ain’t gonna drink his drink from no floor, even with a straw!”
“Well, that’s awfully clever of you, but before I congratulate you too much, why don’t you run into the other room and get a mop?”
“That’s a mighty good idea, sir. I guess I shoulda thought of it since it’s my job to clean and all.” Blount slowly backed away from the spill as he continued to speak. “Don’t ya worry now.”
Blount had been hired by the Plantation for his strong work ethic and knowledge of the local swamps. Nicknamed Gump for his intellectual similarities to Forrest Gump, the dim-witted character from the movie bearing his name, Blount lived in the guest wing of the white-pillared mansion. During the course of the day, he spent most of his time cooking and cleaning, but twice a week he was allowed to journey to the mainland for food and supplies.
When Blount returned to Webster’s office, he was disappointed to see his boss working again. He liked talking to his superiors whenever he could, even though they often got upset when he interrupted their top-secret duties.
“Gump,” Webster asked without turning around, “what are we having for breakfast?”
The question brought a smile to his lips, and his gold teeth glistened in the sunlight. “Well, I figure since this be a big week for y’all, I should fix a big Southern meal likes my momma used to make. I makes eggs ’n’ bacon ’n’ ham ’n’ grits ’n’ biscuits ’n’ fresh apple butter, too. Oooooooweeeeee! I think my mouth is gonna water all day!”
Webster nodded his head in appreciation, at least until Blount’s statement sank in. He turned from his computer and faced the dark-skinned servant. “What exactly did you mean when you said this was a big week for us? What do you know about this week?”
With the soiled mop in his hand, he shrugged. “Not much, sir, but I can tell somethin’s up. There be an excitement in the air that’s easier to smell than the magnolias in May. I figured maybe it’s your birthday. Or maybe it’s ’cause the Fourth of July is coming!”
Webster studied Blount as he spoke, and it appeared that he was telling the truth. “I think it’s just the holiday that has everybody excited,” he lied. “I know I’m looking forward to it.”
“Well, I be, too! In fact, I was wondering if I can go to the city for the fireworks show on Saturday night. I don’t know why they on the third, but they is!”
“Let me ask the other guys at breakfast, then I’ll let you know. But as far as I’m concerned, that’s fine with me.”
“Thank ya, Master Webster! Thank ya! That’d be nice of ya!” Blount picked up his bucket and backed toward the open door. “Oh! Speaking of breakfast, I almost forgets to tell ya that it’s ready to eat.”
CHAPTER 11
ARIANE’S place appeared to be in order, with the exception of her splintered door. An off-white sofa sat against the wall to the left and faced a tasteful entertainment center that held a television, stereo, and DVD player. A leather chair rested in the corner of the room under a halogen lamp.
Jones walked to the security panel near the front door and pushed the button for a system check. Within seconds, the unit beeped and a digitized voice filled the room. “The crime alert system is operational. Current status is deactivated. Push one to activate the system.”
“The unit is working, which means she probably turned it off to answer the door. Either that or she forgot to turn it on last night.”
Payne shook his head. “When I walked her to the door last night, I made sure she got in and turned the system on before I left. In fact, I always wait until the damn thing beeps.”
“Then she turned it off for some reason. And my guess is to open the door.”
Payne swallowed deeply while opening the tiny black box that was mounted to the inside of Ariane’s front door. He removed the recordable DVD from the peephole surveillance system and carried it to the player. “I don’t know if we’ll see anything, but it’s worth a look.”
After slipping the disc inside, he hit play and waited for it to begin.
“How does this thing work?” Jones asked.
“It’s activated by movement in the hallway. That way it doesn’t record hour after hour of nothing.” Payne pointed to the black screen to show Jones what he meant. “Since the opening is blocked, the camera interpreted that as someone standing directly in front of the door.” Payne glanced at his watch, then looked at the electronic counter on the DVD player. “What time did Mr. McNally say he saw Ariane?”
“He said it was about an hour before we talked to him.”
“Well, I got here about seven thirty, and there was no black van in the parking lot, so I’d guess we’re talking about seven or seven fifteen, right?”
Payne skipped back several minutes until his own face filled the screen.
“When was that filmed?” Jones asked.
Payne studied the image and recognized the clothes he’d worn the previous evening. “That was from last night, but I’m not sure if it was before or after my date with Ariane.” The faint beeping of the security system could be heard through the TV’s speaker as Payne’s image turned and walked away from the door. “See, I told you she set the damn system last night. I told you!”
Jones started to defend himself when a figure flashed across the screen. “Whoa! What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Payne said as he hit the pause button, then frame advance.
The picture crept by at a sluggish pace. After several seconds of nonaction, a gloved hand emerged from the right side of the screen. Moving an inch at a time, the arm eventually reached the lens of the peephole, and once it did, the picture immediately went black.
“Damn!” Payne cursed. “Not a goddamned thing!”
“Be patient.” Jones grabbed the remote from Payne and slowly rewound the image to the moment before the tape was applied to the door. “Just because we didn’t see a face doesn’t mean it’s a total loss. There’s more here than you think.”
“Like what?”
“What color was the man who put the tape on the door?”
Payne stared at the screen. “I can’t tell. He’s wearing black gloves and long black sleeves.”
“True,” Jones muttered as he placed his finger on the image. “But look closer. There’s a gap where the glove ends here, and the sleeve begins there.”
Payne moved closer to the screen and stared. “I’ll be damned! You’re right. I can see the edge of each garment.”