Chapter Eleven

Eleven

"A ch! Morning!" Jeannette realized and jumped out of Daniel's bed, still somewhat amazed at herself that she'd acted without really thinking it out, that she followed through...

On my instincts , she thought with a smile.

But it was morning, 7:00 a.m., and time for the day to start. The professional day.

"See you at the coffeepot!" she told Daniel.

He laughed softly, rising himself, grabbing his towel and heading for the shower.

She grabbed her towel from the floor and fled into her own room and en suite, happy to stand under the hot water. She wondered if she should feel ashamed. She had brazenly walked in on a man.

She didn't feel ashamed in the least. She felt good. But...

She didn't know what lay ahead. She did know that, as of this moment in the day, Blackbird was what mattered. Being on the case...

Keeping another girl from dying. That was what mattered. And since it was daytime, it was time to wonder again if Jules Bastien aka Matisse was as real as he seemed. And if the equally wondrous Delphine was a true wonder of the world or...

If the facade hid a sickness of the human spirit that was beyond horrendous and cruel.

Showered and dressed—today in good boots that would easily travel over the growth in a long-dormant field—she left her bedroom to make her way quickly along the hall and to the coffeepot.

Daniel was already there, along with Gervais, Della and Luke.

"Among the great computers and other fantastic working conditions that Gervais has arranged, he has managed the best coffeepot known to man!" Luke said. "Jeannette, how would you like yours?"

She laughed. "I'm willing to bet Gervais has also arranged for sugar, artificial sweeteners and creamer that doesn't go bad. But as a cop my first year out of college, I learned to drink it black due to nothing else being left for rookies, or soured stuff. So, black will be fine for me!"

"Hey, we can make espresso and cappuccino in this thing, and we are in France! Café au lait! " Della told her.

Jeannette grinned. "I'll bet it's good black stuff," she said.

Della handed her a cup. She looked at Gervais. "Mason and I were going to head straight out with the maps created by the Reims police, showing where the bodies were found. I know many of the fields have just about been trampled flat, but—"

"That's fine," Gervais said. "My plan is this. To be there when the morning tour group arrives at the Deauville estate for their wine tasting. Luke, Carly and I will leave here soon, stop in at the police station, and be there if you need us for anything at any part of your search. Luke and Carly will be trying to track down Aristide Broussard from this end, and we'll all be ready to research and find the man you saw in the surveillance who was working at the Deauville estate."

"That's a good plan. What about backup if this man is at the Deauville estate—and ready to get violent? Or if Giselle or Tomas Deauville decide the gig is up and do something rash?" Jeannette asked.

Mason made an appearance just as she spoke, interrupting her with his arrival and a, "Hey! No slouch here. We'll be ready for anything. Also, we'll be stopping by to have a chat with the local police. Don't forget, before our very brief vacation, Della and I were working on the last touches of one of the first cases, so we're becoming quite comfortable in France, and with French behavior."

Jeannette grinned. "Whoa! Sorry. Mason, I know you're quite capable, but one never knows how many people—"

"Seriously, French police are on notice," he assured her. "So is this group," he said, looking at Gervais. "Heading out?"

"Heading on out," Gervais said. "Remember, everyone, three directions. Speed dial hits up everyone, including the Blackbird home offices, Jackson, Angela, or managing Krewe director at any time of day or night."

"So...?"

Daniel was speaking, addressing her, and Jeannette responded with, "Coffee to go, I guess."

"We have big carry cups in the cupboard," Gervais assured her. " Alors! I bought those myself."

"Well, thank you!" Jeannette assured him.

There was bustle around the cupboards and the sink as they all chose carry cups and passed out coffee. "And while Carly and I will be in Paris, we'll be ready to go anywhere we're needed," Luke reminded them all.

With nods of acknowledgment and waves, they all began to move.

She and Daniel were soon out in the car. Gervais pulled out ahead of them, and then they were on their way.

Jeannette had been afraid at first that they might be awkward with each other now. But Daniel asked, "Before I go too far, you brought a tablet, right? With the maps?"

She smiled and told him, "Yes, of course, I have the tablet and the maps."

"Of course. Thank God!" he teased. "It's a good thing one of us is perfect, since I'm just okay!"

She laughed, taking a long sip of her coffee, putting the cup in the holder and digging out her tablet. She studied the maps on the screen. They showed where the victims had been found, the identified victims, Patricia Gutterman, Virginia Bond and Catherine Blakely, and those still unidentified. They showed as well where the foot-by-foot searches had been carried out, surrounding the bodies and in some of the empty fields.

She began to frown as Daniel made his way through the Paris traffic and headed toward Reims and the vineyards surrounding the city.

The map also showed the field owned by the major companies—and the three that they had concentrated on owned by the Houses of Matisse, Deauville and Montague.

"Daniel," she murmured. "There's one field here...it's not far from the position where Patricia Gutterman's body was found." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry to say it seems to border land owned by the Matisse family, but...to the other side, there is land owned by the Montague family."

"And the police didn't search it?"

"She was found right by the road. They searched the peripheral area, but not very deep in. I don't know. Maybe the local police were not willing to start something that might be trespassing on private property? Or she was found before we discovered the still unidentified remains. But..."

He glanced over at her. "You know, I do trust your instincts."

"Well, is it just me? Or do you think there might be others out there and that eventually we might get a break with fingerprints, DNA or something that would be definitive about a direction to go in, at least?"

He looked straight ahead at the road as he replied, "It's all a strange mix. The older remains showed signs of torture. The bodies of the girls Shelley knew—Patricia, Virginia and Catherine—were pristine other than being drained of blood. But I think this is something that has been going on for a long time. And it brings me back to your theory. Whether it was Elizabeth Báthory—with or without her husband—or someone else within her family who wanted her property and thought that blaming the torture and death on her would be a good idea, the deaths went on a long time before they stopped. We haven't identified the decomposed corpses. Most probably, as we discussed before, they were homeless. They were poor. I believe we're far better today as human beings in society. The girls we know about weren't rich or poor, and it wouldn't have mattered. Gervais LaBlanc would have been right on the case. But..."

"You think the homeless—or wanderers, perhaps, hitchhiking through Europe—might have been killed over several years?" Jeannette asked.

"Exactly."

"Daniel, I want to start in that field. And if we wander onto private property, we'll apologize profusely. But if it was something someone wanted to pursue, I don't think a court anywhere in the world would find us guilty of anything when we were desperately trying to find truth and stop more murders from occurring."

He laughed. "Better sometimes to ask forgiveness rather than to ask for permission?"

"Something like that. Except most of the land I'm looking at is in flux—absentee owners, property for sale, property forgotten... I think we're all right."

"When we get to Reims, you tell me where you want to go."

"Pull over when you can. I'll explain on the map."

"Let me get out of all this traffic and we'll figure out the best place to pull off the road and stop."

"Right!"

Twenty minutes later, the congestion eased up. Cars still went by now and then, but with much less frequency.

Daniel pulled off the road, and Jeannette showed him her tablet with the map drawn up. He studied the terrain. "This is land that appears to be owned here—by the Matisse family—and here—by the Deauvilles. And then not far over there, you have a plot that belongs to the Montague dynasty. But you're right, the body was so close to the road, they probably figured they were wasting resources to go too far back."

"Maybe we're wasting time—"

He grinned and shook his head. "No, lass, honestly, I love your instincts!"

Daniel put the car back in gear and headed to their new destination.

When they arrived they left the car and started out, traveling over land already trampled by police. Then they began to push their way through bracken, twisted long grasses and the occasional small trees.

"You ready for this?" Daniel asked her.

He had planned well as he wore denim jeans, a denim jacket and boots.

She thought she'd done almost as well, though she had opted for jeans, a flannel shirt, a sweatshirt and boots.

"I'm good," she assured him. "I can face any snagging twig!" she promised him. But then she caught his arm and said, "This is a lot of territory. I'm going to head to the west and straight. You want to take things toward the east and straight?"

"Got it," he told her. "If anything—"

"Scream blue blazes. You do the same."

He nodded and reached into his pocket for a pair of gloves to be ready if he discovered anything. She did the same.

Jeannette did as she had said and headed in a westward direction. At one point, she stopped and frowned.

While everywhere she walked now was overgrown and wild, it looked as if sometime in the past there had been something of a footpath through some of the foliage.

Before she could go any farther, though, she heard Daniel calling to her. "I'll keep talking so you can make your way to me," he told her.

"Oh, no, another body?" she called, hurrying toward the sound of his voice.

"No, not exactly!" he said.

She burst around a tree and saw him standing in an area of tall grass.

He wasn't alone. She blinked and knew the tall man in uniform who stood before Daniel wasn't a body.

Neither was he alive. And yet...

She could have sworn the uniform was American. One of her grandfathers had been a paratrooper in World War II, and she was sure he was wearing the same uniform.

He must have realized the way she was looking at him, because he nodded with a smile and said, "Yes, ma'am, 92nd Airborne Division. Name is Jake Clayton."

"I am so pleased to meet you and so sorry. And thankful. Thank you, sir, for serving your country—and giving your life in that service. Did you arrive—" she began.

"June 6th, 1944, part of the Normandy invasion," he said. "And it's all right. I was career military and left no wife or little ones behind, and I was able to see the victory of the Allied forces. In fact, did you know that a schoolhouse in Reims was where the Germans came to sign their first surrender? On May 7th, 1945, General Alfred Jodl of the German High Command was there when the first surrender papers were signed. Jodl wanted special terms—a surrender of those fighting the Western Allied forces. But General Dwight Eisenhower would not have it, and the surrender was unconditional. And I was here to learn about it when Dwight Eisenhower became president of the great nation we fought for! So... Well, I was able to see the world somewhat straighten itself out—for a time, of course. We are warlike creatures I fear, but...history is not helpful to the two of you now."

"Sir, we are both deeply respectful of history," Jeannette assured him.

"So this Scotty here has said!" the spirit of Jake Clayton told her. "But you're here about the happenings here, dreadful happenings. For several years now. At first... I didn't realize what was happening. Men came carrying or dragging bags, going through the brush, avoiding the planted fields. And at first, I didn't pay much attention, and you realize I am not always here. I enjoy a café in town. I have learned to speak and understand French well. I enjoy the news...and sometimes, I like to travel to the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. It's where my earthly remains rest, but as you both must know, those of us who remain also grow adept at hitchhiking and sometimes, but oh, so rarely, we find those who are like you, who see and hear us!"

"But you have seen people coming out here for—for years?" Jeannette asked.

He nodded gravely. "A little over two years, perhaps close to three... I believe the first time I saw something—and to this day, I'm not sure that what I saw was one of the bodies being left—might have been about three years ago. And then it was months...after that, months... But now, I have seen the police, and I know that they know. And I have been furious but ineffectual. Naturally, I would have spoken. I would have done something, but...you are the first of your kind I have seen in several decades now. I wish I could have helped earlier!"

"But you're helping now, so very much!" Jeannette said.

"I told Jake your theory has been that this has gone on for a very long time," Daniel said. "And you were right from the beginning."

"And you think that if we look, we will find human remains in the fields near here," Jeannette said.

"And I will help you look," Jake promised.

"Oh!" Daniel said, pulling out his phone and showing Jake a picture captured of the man from the Deauville estate who had been leaving the magic show. "Have you seen him?"

Jake barely looked at the image.

"Yes. I saw him! He was one of the men who dropped the poor girl by the road. I saw that. I so desperately wanted to do something! But now... I am helping you. I will look as you will look. And if I find something, it will be incredible—because I will be able to tell you!"

"Thank you," Daniel said, and Jeannette nodded her sincere appreciation.

"Oh!" she said, realizing she and Daniel were both impressed by their new friend, and they needed to think clearly despite him. "I saw grass that had been flattened at some point not too, too long ago," she said. "I'm going back that way."

"I'll keep heading my way. We all call out if we find something," Daniel said.

"I'll call out—and you'll hear me!" Jake said.

Jeannette quickly retraced her footsteps, finding the location where she had seen the almost-flattened grass and brush.

Nothing, nothing and nothing.

She was beginning to lose heart when she came to a dead stop and stared.

She had discovered something that she had not expected.

It was a corpse, but...

Not so badly decomposed, and it had not been here long. It had not been brought through the trail she had just followed!

And it was not that of a young and beautiful woman.

It was the corpse of a man. Not just any man. The man that Gervais, Mason and Della had gone to the Deauville estate to try to find.

There was no reason to panic or rush; Jeannette's voice was strong and loud as she shouted that Daniel needed to join her.

When he reached her position, he saw she was crouched over a dead man.

The man they had just seen at the wine tasting, serving at the House of Deauville.

"Did you call the troops yet?" Daniel asked Jeannette.

"No. I—I called you and I looked at him, and...they're cleaning house, Daniel. I think they're trying to make sure anyone who might have been caught on surveillance, or anyone who might fall under suspicion in any way—and who might talk and reveal what is happening—is no longer able to do so."

He pulled out his phone and quickly alerted the team regarding what they had discovered.

Gervais promised that teams would arrive as quickly as possible. Of course, he reminded them to preserve the body as it now lay.

Daniel ended the call and looked at Jeannette. She was staring off into the distance.

"What?" he asked her.

"He wasn't brought here through the field the way that I came, the way you followed me," she said.

"No, this grass hasn't been flattened in a while," he agreed. "So..."

He pointed around the lone tree in the area, and they walked around it. He pointed.

"That's the Matisse property in that direction," Jeannette murmured, "according to our map, and it was prepared by the local authorities, so..."

"And the Matisse estate is in that direction, too," Daniel said, shaking his head. "This is baseless, but I can't help feeling our friend Jules Bastien was honestly and sincerely broken up about the deaths of the girls. And he was sincerely worried about Shelley."

"I know. He comes off as real," Jeannette said. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What?"

He looked at her. She was wearing a truly pained expression.

"Daniel."

"What is it?"

"I believe, I'm, um, standing on...another corpse!" she said. "I need to move. I'm afraid to move. I don't want to mess up..."

"All right, you must move, you know that. But stay still and let me get to you. You can..."

He broke off.

She was right. She was standing on a corpse. This one was in a more advanced state of decomposition than they had expected.

Disarticulated bones were held together in places by drum-tight remnants of skin and bits and pieces of what appeared to have been leather material.

Had he been tortured? Stabbed dozens of times?

Walking through the tangle of grass, Jeannette had managed to step right where the stomach had once met up with the rib cage.

He stopped before his own feet could fall upon any of the bones or remnants of body and reached out but then drew back, telling her.

"Wait! Stand dead still. I'm just going to pick you up and move you."

"Can you do that from there?"

"Can and will," he promised.

He bent and balanced carefully before picking her up just below the arms and swinging her over to his side.

"Good job," she murmured.

"I try."

"Hey!" they heard, as she steadied herself.

It was their newfound ghost, Jake Clayton.

"I believe I have found someone... Oh! And so have you," he said.

"A few. Long gone and recent," Daniel said. "Around the tree."

Clayton walked around the tree and returned, frowning.

"That's the man you were looking for!" he said. He shook his head. "Cleaning out the trash, I imagine. Killers don't kill themselves. And not like that! He has a million cuts on him."

"Tortured," Jeannette murmured.

"In the way that a conquering warrior might torture a despised enemy," Daniel murmured.

"Never! That would be against—"

"Today, it would be a war crime. Hundreds of years ago, people got away with atrocities. And even now..." He thought about some of the recent events in the world. "Well, none of us can control certain people in warfare, but there was a Hungarian nobleman years ago who was known for torturing the Turks when they fell to him."

"Ah, I know exactly who you are talking about," Jake said. "Ferenc II Nádasdy, husband of the Blood Countess, Elizabeth Báthory. Now, finding the truth of history there is...for another time!" Jake said. "The other body is just steps ahead of where we were, Daniel. You turned when Jeannette called out, and I went forward. I found one similar to this, but I believe the victim was a woman, and she's been there months to a few years." He paused for a minute. "I'm sorry—I don't know how to judge. The dead I'm familiar with died because of bullets or bombs, and sometimes in my arms."

"I'm so sorry for that," Jeannette murmured.

"Of course, of course," he murmured.

They could hear sirens, the sound coming closer and closer.

"I'll get to the road and lead them back here," Daniel said.

"And when we need to get to the third corpse," Jake said, "just say you're going to lead them. I'll be here. No one else will notice."

"Ah, you explain to Jake!" he told Jeannette, because if Mason and Della were there with Gervais, they would see their new friend, Jake Clayton, as well.

Daniel hurried on out to the road. At first, he could hear Jeannette's voice, and he smiled, thinking Jake was going to be amazed when he met Mason and Della. They would be able to explain that there was a man like Adam Harrison, a man who had seen something special possessed by a limited amount of people—a man who had gained the prestige needed and had the necessary financial resources to create a special unit of those with the ability to ask the dead to help stop crime.

Jake Clayton would like it, he knew. The man must have been one hell of a soldier.

Of course, that was the problem with meeting ghosts. Too often, it was difficult to imagine the pain they must have endured.

But it was also good to meet a man like Jake Clayton. A soldier who had fought for his country and now wanted to fight for humanity. He was a man who created his personal war on monsters in defense of the innocent.

Police cars drove up first with Gervais, and Mason and Della were in his car, following behind. Gervais got out of the car and directed the officer to pay heed to Daniel.

"Are you sure that you've discovered the man—"

"Yes. We are sure. But we found more as well. Just around a tree and about ten feet from the body of the man is a rotting corpse. I think male as well. Then there's another body... Gervais, this has been going on for some time."

"We have two medical examiners on the way along with a forensic team," Gervais told him. "If you'll lead the way?"

Daniel nodded. Gervais, Mason, Della and an officer followed him. Jeannette waited a foot from the body that couldn't have been there more than fifteen hours or so.

Their World War II ghost was by Jeannette's side. Mason and Della looked at him, arching a brow, but giving no clue whatsoever to Gervais or his French officers that they were seeing the spirit of a man long gone in the last great conflict to tear apart the world.

The officer said something to Gervais, who nodded, and the officer headed back toward the road. "He'll bring the others out as soon as they arrive. So, there is a dead man here," he said. "And there is another right around the tree. I don't think even the most experienced medical examiner in the world could say exactly how long this one has been here. Ah—"

"The corpse is so decomposed we might not have realized it was there in the tangle of roots and grass around it," Daniel told the new arrivals.

"He's being kind," Jeannette said. "I was literally standing in it before I looked down and realized I was looking at human remains."

"And there's another?" Della asked.

"Aye, there is," Daniel murmured, looking at the spirit of Jake Clayton.

Clayton nodded, intrigued, aware that at least a few—if not all—of the newcomers could see him as well.

He started to lead the way.

"I'll stay here for the medical examiners and forensic team," Jeannette told the group.

"Yes, good," Gervais said. "They'll need to know where not to step on the remains that have been left here."

Daniel followed Jake Clayton—as if he were the one leading the way himself.

They came upon the corpse Jake had discovered. Like the remains beneath the tree, these had been there some time. Jagged bone stuck out here and there. The eye sockets were empty. Creatures and critters had long since consumed the organs and the soft flesh of the deceased.

"This is...a nightmare," Gervais murmured.

"What happened with Giselle Deauville and her husband? Were you able to speak with them, ask them anything about the man we know now to be dead?" Daniel asked as they all stood, studying the corpse.

"We never had a chance to talk," Mason told him, staring down at the remains. "We arrived with the tour and slipped in. In her, oh, so sweet welcoming speech, Giselle noted Gervais and nodded, indicating she knew we'd come to talk. But we received your call and came out here immediately. The conversation will change now. We'll be wanting to know how their employee of yesterday wound up sliced to ribbons and dead in a field today."

"The conversation will change, indeed," Daniel agreed. "I'll go back to Jeannette if you three can see what you can find out here," he murmured, turning around.

Jeannette was still waiting for the medical and forensic people to arrive, but she was hunkered down, staring at a piece of paper in her gloved hand, when he reached her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This is a card. It can't have been here too long, but..." She looked up at him.

"What is it?"

"It's an advertisement with a phone number and website," she said, frowning and evidently not happy at all. "A business card, Daniel. A business card for Monsieur Illusion Incroyable. Daniel, this card is from Jules Bastien, née Matisse. Could we have been so horribly fooled by the man? Is he part and parcel of all this? Did he kill this man, aware that we were after him?"

Daniel studied the card. And he just didn't know.