Reichs, Kathy - Death Du Jour

“Sister, did you read the information I sent regarding Élisabeth Nicolet?”

The pause at her end was longer. It ended with a deep sigh.

“Yes.”

“I’ve done a lot of research on Abo Gabassa. He was a well-respected philosopher and public speaker, known all over Europe, Africa, and North America for his efforts to end the slave trade.”

“I understand that.”

“He and Eugénie Nicolet sailed for France on the same ship. Eugénie returned to Canada with an infant daughter.” I took a breath. “The bones don’t lie, Sister Julienne. And they are not judgmental. From the moment I looked at Élisabeth’s skull, I knew she was a person of mixed race.”

“That doesn’t mean she was a prisoner.”

“No, it does not.”

Another pause. Then she spoke slowly.

“I agree that an illegitimate child would not have been well received in the Nicolet circle. And in those days a mixed-race black baby might have been impossible. Perhaps Eugénie viewed the convent as the most humane solution.”

“Perhaps. Élisabeth may not have chosen her own fate, but that doesn’t diminish her contribution. According to all accounts, her work during the smallpox epidemic was heroic. Thousands may have been spared by her efforts.

“Sister, are there any saints from North America whose bloodlines included Native American, African, or Asian ancestry?”

“Why, I’m not sure.” I heard something new in her voice.

“What an extraordinary role model Élisabeth could be to people of faith who suffer prejudices because they were not born Caucasian.”

“Yes. Yes, I must speak to Father Ménard.”

“May I ask you a question, Sister?”

“Bien sûr.”

“Élisabeth appeared to me in a dream and spoke a line I cannot place. When I asked who she was she said, ‘All in robe of darkest grain.’ ”

“‘Come pensive nun devout and pure; Sober steadfast and demure; All in robe of darkest grain; Flowing with majestic train.’ John Milton’s Il Penseroso.”

“The brain is an amazing archive,” I said, laughing. “It’s been years since I read that.”

“Would you like to hear my favorite?”

“Of course.”

It was a lovely thought.

When we hung up I looked at my watch. Time to go.

During the drive I turned the radio on and off, tried to identify a rattle in the dashboard, and just drummed my fingers.

The traffic signal at Woodlawn and the Billy Graham Parkway took a lifetime.

This was your idea, Brennan.

Right. But does that make it a good one?

I arrived at the airport and went directly to baggage claim.

Ryan was draping a garment bag over his left shoulder. His right arm was in a sling and he moved with an uncharacteristic stiffness. But he looked good. Very good.

He’s here to recover. That’s all.

I waved and called to him. He smiled and pointed to an athletic bag circling toward him on the carousel.

I nodded and began sorting my keys, deciding which should go to another chain.

“Bonjour, y’all.”

I gave him a minimal-contact hug, the kind people use when picking up in-laws. He stepped back, and the too-damn-blue eyes looked me up and down.

“Nice outfit.”

I was wearing jeans and a shirt that didn’t bunch too high with the crutches.

“How was your trip?”

“The flight attendant took pity and moved me up front.”

I’ll bet she did.

On the ride home I asked about the state of his injuries.

“Three fractured ribs and one perforated a lung. The other bullet preferred muscle. It was no big deal, except for some blood loss.”

The no big deal had taken four hours of surgery.

“Are you in pain?”

“Only when I breathe.”

When we got to the Annex, I showed Ryan the guest room and went to the kitchen to pour iced tea.

Minutes later he joined me on the patio. Sunlight was slanting through the magnolia, and a troupe of song sparrows had replaced the mockingbird.

“Nice outfit,” I said, handing him a glass.

Ryan had changed to shorts and a T-shirt. His legs were the color of uncooked cod, and athletic socks bagged around his ankles.

“Been wintering in Newfoundland?”

“Tanning causes melanoma.”

“I’ll need shades for the glare.”

Ryan and I had already reviewed the events in Ange Gardien. We’d discussed it at the hospital, then later by phone as more information came to light.

Ryan had used his cell phone to call the Rouville district SQ post while I was outside scraping the road sign. When we didn’t appear there the dispatcher sent a truck to clear the road so a unit could investigate. The officers found Ryan unconscious and called in backup and ambulances.

“So your sister is through with cosmic healing?”

“Yeah.” I smiled and shook my head. “She came down here for a few days, then headed back to Texas. It won’t be long before she becomes enthused by some other alternative agenda.”

We sipped our tea.

“Have you read the psychiatric stuff?”

“Delusional misidentification with significant components of grandiosity and paranoia. What the frig does that mean?”

That same question had already sent me to the psychiatric literature.

“The Antichrist delusion. People see themselves or others as demonic. In Elle’s case, she projected the delusion onto Heidi’s babies. She’d read about matter and antimatter, and believed everything has to be in balance. She said one of the babies was the Antichrist, the other some type of cosmic backup. Is she still talking?”

“Like a DJ on uppers. She admits to sending the hit team to St-Jovite to kill the kids. Simonnet tried to intervene, so they shot her. Then the killers downed the drugs and started the fire.”

I thought of the old lady whose bones I’d examined.

“Simonnet must have tried to protect Heidi and Brian. All those calls to Saint Helena, then the rescue mission to Texas after Daniel Jeannotte showed up at the Schneider home.” My fingers made oval prints in the condensation on my tea glass. “Why do you suppose Simonnet kept phoning after Heidi and Brian left Saint Helena?”

“Heidi kept in contact with Jennifer Cannon, and Simonnet phoned for reports. When Elle found out, she had Cannon killed.”

“The same exorcism by dogs, knives, and scalding liquid she’d ordered when Carole Comptois got pregnant.”

The image still made me shudder.

“Was Comptois still working as a hooker?”

“She’d given it up. Ironically, she was introduced to Elle by a former customer. Though Comptois lived with the group off and on, apparently she maintained outside interests, since her baby’s father was not a member and therefore not an approved sperm donor. That’s why Elle ordered the exorcism.”

“Why Amalie Provencher?”

“That’s unclear. Amalie may have gotten in the way of the elimination of Jennifer.”

“Elle believed she needed the psychic strength of fifty-six souls to muster the energy for the final crossing. She hadn’t counted on losing Comptois. That’s why she needed Harry.”

“Why fifty-six?”

“It has something to do with the fifty-six Aubrey holes at Stonehenge.”

“What are Aubrey holes?”

“Small pits that were dug and filled in immediately. They were probably used to predict lunar eclipses. Elle has woven all kinds of esoterica into her delusions.”

I took a sip of tea.

“She was obsessed with the idea of balance. Matter and antimatter. Controlled coupling. Exactly fifty-six people. She chose Ange Gardien not just because of the name, but because it’s equidistant from there to the communes in Texas and South Carolina. It’s an amazing coincidence, isn’t it?”