"I hate these old French doors," Corinne Beckwith announced as she stepped into the conservatory. "The frames always stick. This fancy stuff might have been okay a hundred and fifty years ago, but give me something nice and modern, preferably in anodized aluminum. No paint, no rust, no upkeep." She gazed around at the interior of the conservatory, and Janet could practically see her adding up the hours it would take just to clean this one room.
"The others are just as bad," Janet said.
The other woman shook her head slowly. "I don't know." She sighed. "I guess it's nice that there are people who want to take on projects like this, but if you want to know the truth, I've got a feeling that folks around here are only going to take your trying to restore this place as proof that they're right."
"Right?" Janet echoed, unsure what the sheriff's wife meant. "Right about what?"
Corinne Beckwith grinned. "That all the Conways are crazy!"
Corinne's words touched a nerve in Janet. "If that's why you came over here-" She bristled, but Corinne raised her hands as if to fend off her words.
"I'm sorry-I was just trying to make a joke." Her smile disappeared. "I really am sorry. It wasn't a very good joke, and I suspect you're not really in the mood for jokes anyway. Actually, the real reason I came over was to talk about your project. If you're really going to try to turn this place into an inn, you're going to need all the help you can get. And Father MacNeill's just going to be the beginning, although frankly I'm not sure exactly how you're going to get around him."
"But all he said was that there'd be some people who'd object."
Corinne's brows rose in a cynical arch. "That's code, Janet." Her eyes darted around as if searching for an unseen eavesdropper, and her voice dropped a notch. "Ray-that's my husband-would kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but Father MacNeill never does anything up front. He doesn't have to, since practically everyone who's anyone in this town is Catholic, and if they didn't go to St. Ignatius School themselves, then their kids are going there now. And they do what Father Mack wants them to do. If he said there would be objections, it's because he's planning to make very sure that there are."
Janet cocked her head quizzically. "I gather you're not Catholic?"
Corinne shrugged. "I still go to St. Ignatius because Ray does. But I like to think for myself." Once again she glanced around as if searching for invisible ears. "Ray doesn't always like it, but that's the way I am."
Janet decided she liked Corinne Beckwith. "May I get you a cup of coffee?"
"If I can drink it while you give me a tour of this place. I've been dying to see it ever since I was a little girl and heard all the stories."
For nearly an hour the two women wandered through the house, stopping briefly to play with Molly and pet Scout, who seemed to have appointed himself the little girl's baby-sitter.
When they were finally back in the kitchen and Janet had split the last of the coffee between them, Corinne Beckwith offered up her opinion of the house, and there was no trace in her voice of the enthusiasm expressed by her words. "Well, your husband's right. This place would make one hell of an inn."
"If you agree with him, why doesn't it sound like it?"
Corinne's lips pursed thoughtfully. "It's none of my business, but does the trust have enough money to pay for everything that needs to be done?"
Janet nodded.
"And your husband can run a hotel right, as long as he-" Corinne cut her words short, and looked as if she wished she could recall them.
She knows, Janet thought. She knows about Ted's problem. Janet felt a flush of anger. Who had told her? Or had she gone digging around, snooping into things that weren't any of her business, looking for something-Janet cut off her thoughts as sharply as Corinne Beckwith had stopped her own words a moment ago, reminding herself again that St. Albans wasn't Shreveport; here, everyone knew everyone else's business. There was no point in denying what everyone already knew. "As long as he stays sober?" she asked, finishing Corinne's question. When Corinne nodded, Janet took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "As long as he stays sober, yes, he can run a hotel. And I hope he does stay sober. So let's assume he does. And let's assume we can get the variances we need. What else is there?"
"The house itself, and your husband's family," Corinne told her, deciding to match Janet's honesty with her own and confirming Janet's suspicions about the St. Albans grapevine. "I can tell you that since yesterday the phones have been ringing off the hook. And apparently what I told you about your aunt being pregnant wasn't just gossip. There must be half a dozen people who remember that she was pregnant when her husband died. But when they found her, she wasn't. The assumption was the shock of finding her husband's corpse induced labor, and she delivered the baby that morning." When Janet said nothing, Corinne went on. "The problem, as far as I can tell, is that no trace of the baby was ever found. There is no record of it having been born."
"Perhaps it was stillborn," Janet suggested.
"Even with a stillbirth, there should be a record. And there's something else. You remember the man outside the cemetery yesterday. Jake Cumberland?"
Janet almost shuddered. "I'll never forget him. The way he was looking at us. It was like he hated us, even though he's never met us."
"He probably does," Corinne replied. "His mother was the housekeeper for George and Cora Conway. And she disappeared that day, too."
"Disappeared?" Janet repeated. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I'm not sure what I mean, either," Corinne told her. "I heard a lot of things, and I don't know what to make of it all. Apparently Jake's mother-her name was Eulalie-was some kind of voodoo priestess."
"Oh, come on," Janet began, but Corinne held up a hand.
"Let me finish. From what I've heard, Eulalie thought there was something 'evil'-that was the exact word she used, according to everyone I talked to-going on here, and she decided to put a stop to it. Apparently she made a doll."
"A voodoo doll?" Janet echoed, her voice incredulous. "Come on, Corinne, nobody believes in that stuff!"
"Actually, a lot of people believe in it," Corinne replied. "And certainly Eulalie Cumberland did."
Janet's lips tightened. "I can't believe anyone would think-"
"Just let me finish," Corinne interrupted. "Nobody I talked to knew the details, but apparently the doll was found. And there had been a fire in the yard the night before. And after George and Cora Conway were found, Eulalie and Cora's baby were both gone."
"If people think Eulalie took Cora's baby, why would they blame Ted's family for anything?"
"Nobody thinks she took it," Corinne replied. "Everyone I talked to says that Eulalie would never have left Jake. He was just a child, and she was all he had. It's the one thing everyone agrees on-that Eulalie wouldn't have left Jake. If she'd gone anywhere, with or without the Conways' baby, she would have taken Jake with her."
"So what do they think happened?" Janet asked, though in her heart she already knew what the answer was going to be.
Corinne hesitated. Then: "All anyone would say was that they're sure George and Cora did something to Eulalie, and that ever since the Conways left this house, nothing bad has happened here."
Janet's eyes met Corinne Beckwith's. "And they think that now that we're here, bad things will start happening again?"
Corinne nodded.
"I don't believe it!" Janet said, trying to contain her anger. "What are they going to do, come after us with pitchforks, like the villagers in Frankenstein?"
Corinne Beckwith's lips curved into a tight smile. "I suspect it will be a little more subtle than that, but I think you've got the general idea."
Janet's outrage coalesced into cold determination. All the doubts she'd had about Ted's ability to do what he'd promised vanished. If Corinne Beckwith-or anyone else-thought they would simply pack up and leave, they were wrong.