Tom Hoke - Murder in the Grand Manor

She nodded. "Yes. It was hand drawn in the late 1850s. It had always been on the library wall. It added perspective to the development of the Bay St. Louis area. You could see where the city developed, and you could see all the way along the Old Spanish Trail to New Orleans to the west and to Mobile to the east.

It seemed to be well drawn." She blinked her lashes at him.

The Old Spanish Trail was now Highway 90.

There was no bridge back in the 1850s, so probably Highway 90 had run north of Bay St.

Louis on land, perhaps where Highway 12 now flowed both ways. Jim wished he could see the map.

He looked at Janet Wharton. "Wind or no wind, I have to get to the other part of the hotel. I would like it if you came with me, but it's up to you. You can stay here and be relatively safe or come along with me?"

Jim finished his drink slowly, but his mind covered a lot of ground while Janet looked at him questioningly.

With all the pieces coming together, he was beginning to believe the legend of the stolen mint money could actually be true. But what had Edith Benning found beside the one coin?

And who had bumped her off? Who had killed the fat bellboy and why? How did Beau Mitchell fit into the equation? Maybe the letter he had intercepted was the key. Jim vividly remembered his enjoyment in reading the hastily scrolled letter from the late Mrs.

Benning. What had it said, something about

"finding the markets?" How involved was Aunt Annie, and had she really stolen the map from the library wall? Maybe Janet was trying to lead him astray, but at least so far she had been honest and apparently very truthful. He remembered uneasily the expression appearances are deceiving. No, Janet was beyond questioning. The person he really needed to talk to was Mrs. Benning's only heir, Jerry Duprey, and by this time he might be long gone. Jim had to get to the other side of the hotel, and now was his chance.

He put down his glass and gave Janet his full attention. "I have changed my mind. I doubt if you will be safer here. Whether you like it or not, Janet, you are going with me to the other part of the hotel. Maybe you have to powder your nose. We can't go through the lobby, so we'll go through the south door of the bar and around the back of the hotel. We'll get wet, but we won't get as much wind there. Try looking anxious!" He should tell her!

The south door of the bar was hinged open, probably due to Aunt Annie's orders. Jim looked around the room. The wind had taken over, whining and growling and throwing branches past the door. His ears hurt with the pressure. He doubted this was a hundred and fifty miles an hour. It had to be more.

Aunt Annie was asleep. The rest of them had joined her or were simply apathetic. Janet rose unsteadily to her feet. He put an arm around her. She dropped her head against his shoulder and they made their way toward the door. The air was thick and sticky, but an occasional gust swirled through the door, cooling things off a little.

Aunt Annie was snoring. He could tell from the movement of her lips. He felt Lena's eyes on them. Janet felt them too because she put her arm around him and snuggled closer. He gave Lena a realistic leer and dragged Janet over to her and whispered, "Mrs. Wharton has to…powder her nose." Lena just stared at him with a blank expression on her face. Her hat slid over her forehead. Maybe she slept with her eyes open.

He felt the warmth of Janet as they made the door. What a way to go, he thought, as he reached for George's flashlight. There were plenty of candles on the bar for the others.

If the wind or a falling tree didn't get them, Beau or the bristly one might. He couldn't figure their association, but Beau Mitchell was mean enough by nature to tackle anything. Jim couldn't discount him, wherever he was. And he couldn't ignore Jerry Duprey. He could only hope he was too scared to venture out from under the bed, if he had come to yet.

He said to Janet, "The corner of the hotel is about three or four yards to the right as we go out the door. Then we'll be behind the hotel and partially out of the big wind. If I lose you, stand next to the building. There's an overhang there which will protect you a little."

She nodded and they stepped out of the door and into the wind. He didn't lose her. She hung onto his arm for dear life. They stumbled over branches, made it to the corner of the hotel with the wind shoving them, and turned the corner, flattening their bodies against the back of the building.

In the darkness the random sounds of butane tanks exploding was eerie. A spot of fireworks cracked over their, heads and Jim saw the shed with the door swung open. He decided on a detour and pointed at the shed yelling, "Let's go!", which probably saved their necks. A live wire cut loose and dangled close to where they had been standing. They groped and fumbled their way through the rain and wind to the shed and ducked inside. Jim shut the door behind them and turned the flashlight on Janet.

She was breathing heavily and wringing out her hair.

Finally she got her breath. "My, isn't this a cozy little nest?" she said, looking about the shed. "Are we going to set up housekeeping here?"

Jim didn't answer. He was playing the flashlight about the dilapidated building. The dirt floor had not been restored to whatever its original condition might have been. It had been well dug up. The guy hadn't missed an inch. Footprints were all over the place. To the right, on rickety shelves, were stacks of paper toweling and bars of soap. On top of them was a long roll of what appeared to be linoleum, half wrapped in paper. This was squashed down on the toweling. The shovel his foreign friend had been so industrious with, was pitched into the middle of the dirt floor. It did not indicate his digging had been fruitful.

Jim sloshed over to the wall and pulled at the paper on the long roll. Something was bugging him. But it wasn't coming through.

He called to Janet who was standing beside the door, "Let's try the inside room." He turned the light on the inside door at the back of the shed.

There was a step up to this room at the end of the shed. Above was wooden flooring and pieces of carpeting spread around in a pitiful attempt to make the room more appealing.

There were a couple of kitchen chairs and a scarred table holding old magazines. A few girlie pictures had been tacked up on the walls.

Along the east wall was a rack, and on it hung a few white coats. From the looks of them, this had been the sanctuary of the late, lamented bellboy. For the first time he felt a little sorry for the guy.

A cot and old dresser made up the rest of the furnishings. The mattress on the cot had been turned over and the dresser drawers hung half open. The mess in the room said the guy with the shovel hadn't missed this room while he rooted around the shed.

On the west wall of the room all sorts of tools hung on pegs. There were wire cutters, hedge clippers, and even a chain saw. In the far corner was a row of shelves, and a board covering the bottom shelf had been torn loose by the wind which was pouring through a gaping hole in the shed. When Jim saw the contents of the bottom shelf he caught his breath. Stacked there were five boxes, identical to the one he had seen in Mrs. Benning's room on her dresser…candy boxes. The top one had been pulled out and the contents dumped on the floor. "Candy boxes! Somebody was nuts about sweets." Janet said, "I wonder whose room this is?"

"Was, my sweet," he corrected her. "The guy came up dead." He leaned over and looked at the contents of the box. They were all silver-wrapped, but they were not candy. He could have told her: You are now looking at a shipment of heroin wrapped to resemble candy. But he didn't.