The Wicked Fringe of Mystery: A Severine DuNoir Historical Cozy Adventure Read online

  The Wicked Fringe of Mystery

  A Severine DuNoir Mystery

  Beth Byers

  For my Family

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also by Beth Byers

  Summary

  November 1925

  Severine DuNoir has discovered who has been hunting her. Now she needs to discover why. As the foes circle each other, their friends and family get drawn into the conflict.

  Just who can Severine trust? How can she stop him? And what will happen to those she loves if she fails? She’s all too afraid the answer is one she won’t be able to live with.

  Chapter 1

  When Severine DuNoir had taken the poisoned pin from her hair comb and shoved it into the wrist of the man who was holding a knife to her throat, she knew he would die. She would become a killer. The problem wasn’t what she had become. Jarrod Van Ausdell had already murdered at least three people when he’d held that knife to her throat. Her life had been saved with his death.

  The problem was now she had a man’s life on her hands and she had to wonder if her lack of nightmares about it made her as much of a monster as her father had been. Maybe that was why she loved him? Maybe she loved and missed her father because she was like him?

  She paced in the master bedroom. She’d given the old furniture away and had workmen come and take down the paper on the walls. It was as though she’d peeled away all signs of her father and mother in those rooms. New plaster was being placed in the bedroom while the closet with the hidden compartments was carefully left alone.

  If she knew what she’d liked, maybe she would have ordered things and made the room her own. But instead, the room was as unfinished and blank as she was. Empty in the obvious ways with secrets built into her walls. Severine closed her eyes and walked the perimeter of the room, with her fingers trailing along the newly plastered walls.

  In the closet walls were treasure and lies. If she found pirate treasure, and centuries had passed since people had been murdered and pillaged for that treasure, would it feel as bloody as the stacks of money buried in her closet’s walls?

  She pulled her fingers from the wall and looked at the room again. The wooden floors were lovely, but dust had gathered since they had last been cleaned. It moved across the floor with her steps, and she stopped to look out the window.

  Her neighborhood was full of tall mansions, thick with balconies. It was November but it was as hot as many an Austrian summer day. Severine’s black dress was loose and thin, for she had not fully adjusted to the change of temperatures. She hadn’t really adjusted to this world at all.

  There were moments when she longed for the bells of the nunnery. When she longed to escape those walls that kept them safe and wander in the woods with Anubis again. When she wanted nothing more than her tiny cell, her cot, and what books the nuns could offer. She wanted to wake early and have a cup of tea with Sister Mary Chastity and feed the chickens with Sister Sophie before kneeling in the quiet chapel. Severine needed something different than she had, but she knew if she went back—it wouldn’t fit her anymore.

  She pulled the small black book from under her arm and let the pages fall open to those pages where her father had once written a list of names. Before, she could focus on the names; however, she heard the touch of a paw against the closed bedroom door and the deep huff of Anubis announcing he’d found her, and he wanted to shadow her steps.

  She crossed to the bedroom door and realized that the house was up. Rather than letting Anubis into the room, she closed the bedroom door behind her, locked it, and made her way across the hall to her bedroom. She slipped shoes onto her feet and then made her way down to the kitchens. She could hear Chantae talking to the other dogs in the kitchens and the smell of bacon, sausage, and baking bread.

  Severine slowly walked down the front stairs to bypass where Lisette and her family were taking care of the house and protecting them against those who would cause them harm. The front door was locked and barred, and the front parlor—which had been redone—was empty. Severine took a seat near the fire and lifted the book that had once been read by her father. This time, she had selected A Scandal in Bohemia.

  Was a man who had enjoyed fiction as much as her father incapable of realizing where he’d fall on the spectrum from hero to villain? Or had he embraced his villain-hood? Did he lie to himself that what he was doing was for the greater good?

  She didn’t believe that, though she wanted to. He had known what he was, and he had done those things anyway. Maybe he’d just wanted to visit fairytales where he could pretend, if only for a while, that he wasn’t a villain.

  She set his small notebook next to hers and worked quietly until Charles found her.

  “Are you moping?” he asked from the doorway.

  She glanced at him for a moment, and then her eyes crinkled with humor. “Bernadette?”

  “She told me to come and get you and make you stop moping and eat breakfast.”

  “Moping?” Severine rolled her eyes and then rose. “Surely pondering isn’t moping.”

  “Pondering those names in your father’s book?” Charles asked.

  As her guardian, he was her best defender. As a man who owed his life to her father, Charles Brand had been the only man that her father had trusted with his fortune, his businesses, and his daughter. It seemed her father was as savvy in selecting who Severine could trust as he had been in who he could steal from.

  Severine shook her head and then said, “Pondering life in general.”

  “You’re thinking about Van Ausdell again and his deaths.”

  “More about my feelings regarding his death.”

  Charles’s kind eyes moved over Severine’s face, and he shook his head sympathetically. “You did what needed to be done, Severine. It was your life or his.”

  “I know.” Severine smiled and walked out of the parlor ahead of Charles. She would have liked to say that she was affected more than she was. The truth, however, was different. She had to wonder whether she had something wrong with her. She had killed a man. She had killed a man and as much as she wanted to toss and turn and weep and wail, she just didn’t feel that way.

  Her biggest worry was that her father would also have not been affected. He would have been able to shake off killing a man who he had killed, so if Severine also could move past it—was she like him? She had killed a man. My heavens, she thought, she had killed a man. And, dear heavens, she had slept just fine the previous evening after having killed a man.

  It was a statement she felt she should repeat. That she should drill into her head and make sure that she knew what she had done. She should carry that burden with…not with grace—something else. She should own what she had done. Feel it. She needed to realize what she was—not a murderer, but she had killed a man.

  There was a nagging little voice in her head that reminded her that she had defended her home and the children, but—it wasn’t quite enough. She’d never have killed him if he hadn’t been threatening herself and a child. Was that why it wasn’t haunting her?

  “Stop,” Bernadette told Severine, as she entered the dining room. “I can see you moping.”

  Severine took a seat and gratefully took a platter of sausages, bacon, and ham from Lisette. “You look better.”

  “That’s because the dark circles under my eyes have migrated to yours,” Lisette told Severine flatly. Lisette nudged Severine with the platter of beignets and she took one and passed the rest along to Sister Sophie, who simply took the tray and a beignet and then patted Severine’s hand.

  “Your headaches are better,” Sister Sophie said pointedly.

  Severine gasped in delight and Bernadette snapped, “Only one cup of coffee, Severine. No more than every other day until we’re sure your headaches remain away.”

  Severine had leapt to her feet and filled her cup until it was brimming with chicory coffee. She sipped softly, closing her eyes in bliss. She drank slowly, savoring until a third of the cup was gone and then added steamed milk to lengthen out the experience. She ignored the food until Lisette loaded Severine’s plate for her and passed the tray to Sister Sophie while Severine lingered over her coffee.

  When she finally was able to focus on the table again, she caught the amused glances sent her way. Mr. Oliver and Mr. Thorne were both carefully not looking at her while Lisette was overtly grinning. Only Bernadette acted as usual.

  “Should we go visit the children today?” Lisette asked Severine.

  She started to nod and then shook her head. “I have lessons with Sister Sophie today on the cello, and I have another request to meet Florette at the café near her father’s home.”

  “That is your cup of coffee,” Bernadette reminded Severine. “More than one will end poorly for your head.”

  “I’ll have cocoa.” As much as Severine was enj
oying her chicory coffee, not having headaches and sleeping, at least sometimes, was worth the sacrifice. Severine finished her plate of food under the steady eye of Bernadette and asked, “Is there any news from your ladies?”

  Bernadette’s ladies were the older women from the parish who needed money and were generally overlooked. Severine wasn’t even sure what they were doing, only that Charles looked pained whenever he was able to draw any information from her about what she had the ladies doing.

  Bernadette simply changed the subject rather than answering. “Sophie, you will check in on the children with Lisette?” She pretended it was a question, but it was more of an order.

  “Severine, you will visit with Florette and see if she’s still seeing your brother. Charles, you will get me the information on that law firm.”

  To Mr. Oliver and Mr. Thorne, who were members of their team, but not under her direct influence in the same way as Severine, she said, “I would suggest you visit these addresses and watch them. Mr. Thorne, you’ll find that there are ladies who might be welcoming of your advances with the appropriate monetary inducement. You’ll find, if alone, that a certain…ah…entertainer…will answer your questions for money.”

  “I find the idea of talking to a nun about a lady of the evening—alarming,” Mr. Oliver said, then cleared his throat, carefully keeping his attention on his plate.

  Mr. Thorne merely nodded in agreement and carefully picked up his coffee cup as though he had never actually held one before. Lisette giggled and Bernadette ended it all with a simple, “Former nun. And I was never an idiot.”

  Chapter 2

  Florette DuNoir was everything that Severine was not. Severine’s cousin was blond, bright, energetic, and popular. She was, in fact, everything that Severine had once wanted to be. In their school days, the two of them would come home at the same time and Florette would be cooed over while Severine was found—once again—unsatisfactory. She had then believed if she were blond too, or pink-cheeked, or capable of chattering like a cheery little magpie, she might have been loved.

  “Florette,” Severine said, attempting and failing at bright. Anubis, Severine’s dog and constant companion, wagged his tail and nosed Florette for a hello before sitting directly next to Severine once again. “Hello, love.”

  Florette rose and kissed the air next to Severine’s cheek before perching on the edge of her seat again. “It’s not fair how you carry off that dress and that lipstick. Somehow, rather than looking dour, you look exotic and sleek, and I feel like a wilted daisy.”

  “You are a rose,” Severine said kindly. “With perfect pink cheeks and lips, and you smell good too.”

  Florette laughed, without the usual stiff edge to her amusement. “I smell good?”

  “I’m hot. There should be snow,” Severine frowned, her mouth twisted, and she asked, “Why did our family come here? Why New Orleans and not…not…Buffalo, New York where they have snow?”

  “You are from here,” Florette reminded Severine. “From here and not from Austria.”

  Severine nodded glumly and then smiled softly. “I do like snow.”

  Florette’s head cocked and a look of envy filled her gaze as she asked softly, but fiercely, “Then why don’t you buy a house in New York? Or take an apartment in Manhattan? Or, I don’t know. Severine you can do anything. Why are you even here?”

  Severine didn’t bother to explain, once again, that the freedom of her parents’ murderer kept her awake at night. “How are things at home again?”

  “Father wants me to tell you to come live with us again,” Florette said. There was enough of a wince that Severine guessed her uncle was blaming Florette for Severine’s denial to join them.

  “Tell him I appreciate the generous invitation but prefer to linger in the home where my parents lived and their memories provide me comfort.”

  “Father doesn’t believe that for one second. He told me you never liked your home or your parents.”

  Severine set her hand on Anubis’s collar for comfort and then she said honestly, “I always loved Father.”

  “But he was so austere. I used to be quite afraid of him. I felt as though he always found me an annoyance.”

  Internally, Severine guessed that her father found Florette to be just that. He was not particularly warm even with Severine, and Florette was the giddy daughter of a brother that he was not close to. Severine kept her thoughts to herself and instead just said, “I’m sure it was different because he was my father.”

  Florette’s laugh returned with that stiff edge and a touch of bitterness as well, and Severine winced. She’d only just discovered that Florette’s father was free with his fists when it came to his temper and his daughter.

  “Any news?” Severine asked after ordering a plate of beignets and cocoa.

  “None,” Florette sniffed. “Father refuses to let Andre call on me. I was visiting with Ellery Durand for a bit, but Father refuses to let him visit now also.”

  Severine played with her cup before she asked, “Did he say why?”

  Florette shook her head and frowned deeply. “He suggested that I might consider Lucien Ruggles.”

  “Is that Harland Ruggles’s grandson?” Severine asked.

  “Son,” Florette snapped. “He’s old enough to be my father, and—in fact—has a daughter two years older than me who has three children.”

  Severine winced and just held back her comments. Her uncle was far too wealthy to need to sell his daughter, so why would he suggest such a ridiculous uneven match? It made Severine sick to think of it. She hadn’t particularly liked the elderly Harland Ruggles, and he’d left her grateful to not be under his thumb. The last thing Florette needed was to end up under the fierce care of another controlling, cruel man.

  “What is so wrong with someone like Maximilian Banks?”

  “He’s rather…unmanly, isn’t he?” Florette asked.

  “My dear cousin,” Severine countered. “That’s exactly my point. He’s kind and he’ll care about what you want.”

  “But he’s—”

  Severine cut in, hiding her exasperation. “He wouldn’t beat you, Florette.”

  She seemed unconvinced and Severine just held back a derogatory scoff. Did her cousin see her father as a manly man? Did she want to just put herself in the same situation again? This time with a husband?

  “Listen,” Severine said sourly and then stopped. Instead, she changed the subject and asked, “And how is your mother?”

  Florette laughed. “I appreciate your self-control, and the lack of lecturing.”

  Severine tried to smile, but she didn’t feel it because she was watching Florette create her own nightmare. Instead, Severine tried, “Well, what are you up to next?”

  “Next?” Florette shrugged and a look of ineffable boredom crossed her face. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you want to do?” Severine asked softly.

  Florette lifted a brow and then said, “I should very much like to get on a ship to somewhere…”

  “Where?” Severine asked with real curiosity. She wasn’t sure where she would want to go, so there was real envy when Florette immediately answered.

  “The Mediterranean. I want to see buildings that were built before America was a place.”

  Severine laughed again and then said, “This was always a place, darling. But I know what you mean.”

  “Oh!” Florette turned, pulling her small drawstring bag out. “I went through Grandmother’s things. I found a whole chest that belonged to our Aunt Solange. I couldn’t get it all for you, but I found this. I would have asked Father about her, but—”

  “I understand,” Severine murmured, her wide gaze fixed on Florette’s hands as she pulled out a small frame and handed it to Severine. It was unmistakably Sister Mary Chastity, Severine’s aunt. In the photograph, however, she didn’t wear a nun’s habit.