Nuit Aux Trois (2 page)

Despite her dislike of haunted houses, she nodded. “Go on."

"Well, in those days a daughter did as she was told—for the most part, anyway. Alison and Amedee wed in 1829. Her father built them a ‘small’ house on the grounds, near the cane fields. The house has ten bedrooms, four living areas, a kitchen, and now has three bathrooms added. The couple lived there for a few years."

"And Alison continued to meet her lover while living in that house with her husband, right?"

"You're so smart,” Fletch said.

Quinn smirked at him. “So, Amedee killed his wife and her lover?"

Dev nodded. “On Halloween night, 1832. He caught them making love in Cyrille's house. He killed Cyrille and set his house on fire. Then, he made Alison watch as it burned before he dragged her back to their house and killed her."

"Horrid,” she said, dropping her fork on her plate. “So, she haunts the house?"

"Yes,” Dev said. “But there's more. Amedee married Alison's sister, Delphie."

"Are you serious?” Quinn shook her head. “The man murdered her sister and she married him?"

"Well, they considered it justified,” Fletch said. “She was cheating on her husband. And old Gerard, he still needed an heir. Plus, Amedee needed to be compensated for being made a laughing stock."

"He was a murderer!"

"Different times, Boo,” Fletch said.

"Can I finish?” Dev asked.

She turned to Dev and nodded. “Sorry."

"So, on Halloween 1833, good old Amedee was found at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck. Delphie swore she saw Alison push him down the stairs."

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And you want us to stay there?"

"Oh yes,” Dev said. “The house was closed up for quite a while before changing hands several times. The current owners, the Forshees, bought it for back taxes. They say Alison is quiet for most of the year, except for October. She always makes her presence known, and it's not always pleasant."

"The Forshees usually close it down for two weeks around Halloween, and then everything is fine until next year. This year, they want us to try and make contact with Alison."

"They want you to send her toward the light?"

Dev smiled. “No. She's too good for business. They want us to get some sort of concrete evidence that she exists; photos, readings—basically anything that will verify the haunting. We're having a séance on Halloween night."

Quinn nodded and took a slow sip of her coffee. “So, you want us to spend Halloween with a murdering ghost?"

Fletch laughed. “She hasn't killed anyone since Amedee, and you can't say he didn't deserve it."

"Good point."

"It's gonna be fun,” Fletch said. “You know you wanna go."

"I don't know, guys. I mean, I understand your fascination with the paranormal, but I don't share it. You know that."

They scooted closer to her and Quinn felt her clit twitch in pleasure.

"Look at it this way, Boo,” Fletch said, gently rubbing her arm. “It's a few days of vacation, a few days away from the city. A few days of clean air and free time to relax or do some reading."

Do some fucking, maybe?

Her thoughts grew increasingly desperate as Fletch continued to stroke her arm.

Stop that, stop that! Don't touch me like that. I might jump you both.

"Plus, you can take your laptop and send out resumes,” Dev said, his finger tracing her other arm. “You need this time. You know you do. Just say yes and we'll be on our way."

She took a bite of her sausage, chewing thoughtfully. A picture of her boss Mark's face as he told her she'd never make it as an anchor popped into her brain. Maybe Dev and Fletch were right. If she left for a while, they'd see how much she did around there. How popular she was with the viewers. The idea just might work.

She nodded, coming to a decision. “Fine, I'll do it. But, one floating candlestick and I'm out of there. I mean it!"

They laughed and Dev poured more coffee into the cups. They clinked them together and both took a sip.

Quinn whipped her head back and forth between them. “I mean it. Tell me you understand when I say I mean it."

The men stood and picked up the dishes and trays, heading back toward the door.

"Hey, answer me!” At the doorway, they both blew her a kiss and stepped outside.

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Chapter Two

Rachel Forshee pointed toward a large oak tree fifty feet from the back porch of the plantation house. “Last night, Alison made a move toward the main house. But, she turned back at that tree right there."

Quinn plastered a fake smile on her face. “Did you see her?” She turned toward Dev and Fletch, and her face twisted into a grimace.

"No. But several of the guests reported a white figure dancing around the trees right at dusk."

"Really? And they didn't consider the possibility it could be Spanish moss dancing in the wind?"

Dev stepped forward and put his hand on Quinn's arm, gently pushing her backwards.

"Did anyone happen to take a photo? Have a digital camera, or a cell phone? Although, black and white film works the best for capturing ghostly images."

Rachel's smile dropped. “No. No photos. But I'm sure you can take care of that.” Her smile reappeared and she bounded off the stairs.

"Come on. I'll show you Alison's house. It's been closed since October first and we think that's why she's venturing toward the main house. She's lonely."

Quinn rolled her eyes and Fletch shook his finger at her and mouthed, “Behave,
chér
."

She nodded, but it would be a tough thing to do. She had no interest in the paranormal, and they knew it. Still, talking about ghosts was a great way to take her mind off the two hours she'd spent sandwiched between the two of them in Dev's pickup as they drove from New Orleans to Alison's.

Each brush of a thigh, each knowing smile, had almost driven her nuts. She'd wanted to beg them to pull over so they could have a quickie in the bed of the truck. Sometimes, from the looks they gave her, it was almost as if they knew what she was thinking.

She knew her nipples had been hard, and still were. Worse yet, she knew her panties were wet. It was a terrible thing to know she was so attracted to two men who felt nothing more for her than deep friendship.

Alison's House was about 1,500 feet from the main house, set back in a copse of trees. The two-story house stood out amid the greenery, gleaming with a coat of fresh, white paint. Four large columns supporting the upstairs porch, giving the home a majestic feel.

Quinn sized it up as they drew closer. It was early in the afternoon and it didn't look too spooky. She said as much to Rachel.

"Oh, it's a great house,” she said softly. “Very popular with our guests. It's just around the time of her death that Alison makes things unpleasant. Other times during the year she does things like tickle guests, or move furniture around. Cold spots. Nothing too spooky."

"Does she provide turn-down service?” Quinn gave Rachel an innocent look, and the older woman laughed.

"You don't believe in ghosts, do you?"

"No. I'm a reporter, trained to look at the facts. I'm afraid tickling guests, moving furniture, and cold spots don't give me much to work with."

Rachel's smile softened. “Then it's a good thing you're here in October. Because Alison does much more than that, as I've said."

Quinn eyed Dev and Fletch, who stood on the porch, waiting for the ladies. They both had amused expressions on their faces. Dev's eyes twinkled as Quinn drew near.

"She's a skeptic, Rachel. Do you think we can turn her?"

"Oh, I think we can,” the woman replied. She opened the door and stepped aside as her guests walked inside.

Quinn moved through the large door and stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She'd never been in a plantation house until today. The larger house was magnificent, but the smaller one was even more so. Stunning area rugs and runners protected gleaming hard wood floors, while silk-covered cushions adorned the antique wood furniture and provided guests with a comfortable place to rest. The drop leaf tables looked as if they'd just been polished, and sitting near the open floor to ceiling windows was a chair unlike anything Quinn had ever seen.

She crossed to it and circled it, riveted by its beauty.

"You and Alison are going to get along just fine,” Rachel said. “That's her favorite piece of furniture. We've tried to move it out, but it always ends up back in the same spot. The upholsterer had to come out here to finish his work because Alison wouldn't let us take it from the house."

Quinn continued to circle. “What is it?"

"It's called a confidante,” Rachel said. “Four seats in a circle, separated by arms that rise up and taper to meet in the center. It's a beautiful piece."

"It's extraordinary,” Quinn said. “I've seen a double seated chair, where they sit side by side so they're facing each other, but I've never seen a piece like this before."

"I'm glad you like it,” Rachel said. They stood for a few more minutes, and then Dev cleared his throat.

"Perhaps you could show us our rooms?"

Quinn vaguely heard the woman say she'd prepared two rooms upstairs, right next to each other with a shared bathroom down the hallway. She stayed in place until Fletch called out her name.

"Com’ on, Boo, let's go see our home for the next few days."

She nodded and moved toward him. When she stepped away from the chair a feeling of cold invaded her body. The Arctic chill was so sharp, so invasive, that she shivered and moved faster across the room.

At the doorway, Fletch put his arm around her and kissed her forehead.

"Something hauntin’ ya?"

"
No
. I'm fine."

"You sure? Looked to me like you were bewitched for a minute or two."

She pushed away from him. “Stop trying to scare me."

His laughter followed her as she headed for the stairs. She pushed her inexplicable attraction to the chair aside, along with the cold she'd just felt. It was no more than two weeks worth of talk making her react to a supposedly haunted house; nothing more at work than the power of suggestion.

She turned her thoughts to Mark. He'd been horribly upset with her for taking two weeks of vacation but she'd refused to back down. She needed this time to think. She'd done quite a bit of it at home, while Dev and Fletch had worked. Now, in the country, she was going to put her thoughts together and come to a decision about what to do, while Dev and Fletch hunted for their ghost.

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Chapter Three

If she'd been impressed by the downstairs, she was more so by the upstairs. Long, grand hallways were decorated with drop-leaf tables and carpet runners in shades of deep, rich red. Portraits lined the walls and Quinn longed to stop and examine them, but knew there was no time now. She would have to come back later.

"This is your room, Quinn,” Rachel said. “The windows and balcony face the gardens. I thought you might enjoy the view."

She opened the door and Quinn's mouth dropped to the floor. The room looked as if it were fit for royalty. A large tester bed, covered in a deep green satin spread, occupied the middle of the floor. Matching, gauzy curtains hung from each bedpost. Numerous antiques filled the room, and the French doors opened onto a patio that ran the entire length of the top floor.

"Wow. That sounds really lame, but
wow
."

She turned toward Dev and Fletch, who stood in the doorway, smiling. She returned their smile, then walked toward the French doors.

"This was Alison's room,” Rachel said softly. “It connects with the room next door, which belonged to Amedee. His room is larger, so I put the two of you in there, Dev. I hope that's satisfactory? If I need to open another, well, I thought, you know, that you two..."

Rachel blushed and Dev smiled.

"It's perfect,” Dev replied. “Absolutely perfect."

The sound of his voice sent a shiver up Quinn's spine. Perfect because they belonged to the ghost? Or perfect because they were close to each other?

She straightened her back.
Don't go there, Quinn.

"How do you know this was Alison's room? Did she leave a map, or lead someone here?"

"She left diaries,” Rachel said. “I have them at the main house if you'd like to see them."

"We'd love to see them,” Fletch said with a nod. “They may give us good information. Can we get ‘em today?"

"Of course,” Rachel said. “Dinner is at seven. I'll have the diaries ready for you then. Oh, and Alison's portrait is right across the hall if you want to see it. We have Amedee's and Delphie's hanging up there as well. Delphie was Alison's sister and Amedee's widow."

"We'd like to see a family tree, also,” Dev said. “For research purposes."

"Of course,” Rachel replied. “Alison never had a child, despite the fact she and Amedee were married for three years. Delphie was pregnant at the time of Amedee's death, but the child also died. She had several children with her next husband, though."

"Is there anyone left from the Badeaux family?” Dev leaned against the doorjamb.

"No, not that I know of,” Rachel said. “The house has passed from hand to hand, as you know. No one has ever claimed to be a member of the family."

Dev and Fletch nodded, then Rachel cleared her throat. “Let me show you your room, then I'll need to go up and see to dinner."

Rachel stepped back through the door and Quinn turned toward the gardens.

"You comin'?” Fletch asked.

"No. I'll check it out later. I just want to get my bearings."

"Then come next door later. We'll show you our equipment and discuss the plan of attack."

Fletch left without getting an answer. Quinn swallowed a question about which “equipment” she would get to see. Then she turned, slowly taking in the paintings of horses and southern ladies in hoop dresses which decorated the walls. Moving on, she examined the mirrors and then turned toward the bed.

No feeling of cold invaded her bones as she ran her hand down one wooden post. Probably, the feelings she'd experienced downstairs were produced from the anticipation of being in a “haunted house.” Surely if Alison were haunting the house, her spirit would be felt in her bedroom.

She jumped up onto the high bed and bounced a few times. “Are you here, Alison? Come on out and greet me."

Quinn's laugh broke the resulting silence.

"Haunted indeed.” She leaned back on the bed and stretched. “Well, at least it's a few days of vacation."

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