The Haunting of Anna McAlister (20 page)

“Yes, Paris is home, although I did travel to America quite often when my grand parents and my mother’s sisters were alive.”

“Did they live in Syracuse?” Anna asked.

Tom yawned. He had never been one for small talk. “I’m just glad you didn’t pretend that you didn’t speak English. That seems to be the big joke around here.”

“In France, my boy,” Madam Lapautre sounded as patronizing as possible. “Most people speak more than one language. Tricking Americans is a game many enjoy. Foolish? Perhaps, but very French. Besides,” she looked directly at Tom. “Aren’t you just pretending that you don’t speak French?”

Anna squeezed Tom’s knee hard. It was one of her signals that he should consider shutting up if he ever wanted to have sex again. The threat never failed to convince him of the benefits of being a good listener.

What had appeared to be idle conversation to Tom was quite the opposite to Anna. She wanted to learn as much as possible about Madam Lapautre and her great aunt Ariene LaMoreau.
 

What Tom didn’t catch, Madam Lapautre did. She returned to the subject that was the cause of this visit.
 

“I believe that we should discuss why you’re here. I don’t suppose that you would do me, and yourself the enormous favor of returning the music boxes to Monsieur LaRoche and simply going home.”

“Okay by me,” Tom smiled.

Madam Lapautre didn’t hear him. She was waiting for Anna’s response.

“I can’t,” Anna met her gaze with her own. “They won’t let me.”

“Very well,” Madam Lapautre looked a bit shaken and nervous, but not the least bit surprised. She glanced around the room as if making sure that they were alone. Her fingers squeezed tightly around the embroidered handkerchief she held in her hand.
 

“I do not want to know what happened that caused you to come to Paris. That is not my concern. But, I will try to give you as much information as I can.”
 

“Please tell me about Ariene LaMoreau.”

Madam Lapautre hesitated, as if deciding which story to tell. She looked out a window and began to speak. “Ariene LaMoreau was very beautiful and filled with life. I remember my father telling me when I was very little that the Hotel Baronette was her home, and that Paris was her playground.”

“We’re staying at the Baronette,” Tom said.

“Of course you are, ” Madam Lapautre continued. As she did she became increasingly apprehensive. Every sentence was accompanied by looks around the room. She was like a rabbit searching for a wolf that she knew to be near by.
 

“Ariene lived in grand style and was truly the toast of Parisian society. She was murdered in her bed at the hotel in the summer of 1924.”

Anna shuddered at the mention of the date. She hoped Madam Lapautre hadn’t seen. With a nod of her head, Anna knew she had.
 

“It was on her 20th birthday. I understand that the summer that year was unusually hot, much like this one. She died horribly.”

Madam Lapautre stopped speaking. Anna was about to ask a question, but the older woman held up her hand. “That is all I have to say. I am afraid that I have said too much as it is.”
 

“Please,” Anna begged. “I have to know more. You must understand, people have been hurt. One person has died.”

Madam Lapautre closed her eyes as if in contemplation, or pain. When she opened them she asked Tom to get her a silver box that sat on a table across the room.
 

“I do have some old photographs.”
 

When Tom rose, Madam Lapautre took his place on the couch next to Anna. As soon as he delivered the box, she gestured for him to sit in a nearby chair.
 

Once she’d opened the box, Madam Lapautre pulled out several ancient black and white photographs secured together by a red ribbon. She quickly untied the bow and shared the first photo with Anna. It showed a stunning young woman standing in front of a photographer’s set, complete with palm trees and painted birds. Anna stared at her face.
 

“She was so beautiful.”
 

“
Oui
. It is said that she was the most beautiful in all of France. My father told me that her eyes were the color of flaming emeralds and could stop any man, or woman in his or her tracks.”

“Can I see?” Tom started to come over.

“No,” both women said without looking away from the photo.
 

Tom sat back down.

Madam Lapautre pulled the first photo away from Anna and handed her another. This one showed Ariene sitting with a small boy on her lap. The boy had one hand in Ariene’s hair.

“I’m told her hair was the color of fire, or a magnificent sunset.”

“Who’s the boy?” Anna asked.

“The boy was my father,” Madam Lapautre’s voice cracked slightly. “He is now long gone, but here in the photo he is forever a child waiting for a future, now past.”

Anna sipped her tea and took the next photo from Madam Lapautre. When she looked at it, she dropped her teacup, shattering it against the table.
 

The photo was of Ariene and a man. It was the same man Anna had just seen at the cafe.
 

Anna ignored the broken china. She stared at the picture in her hands until Madam Lapautre angrily snatched it away. “You’ve seen Renee, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Anna hadn’t yet looked up from her now empty hands.
 

“Oh, please, Anna,” Tom smirked. “If that guy was with Ariene he must have died a long time ago.”

Madam Lapautre tied the photos back together with the ribbon and put them into their box. “There are times, young man, when the dead do not stay buried.” Turning back to Anna, she asked. “When did you see him?”

“Several times, but also just before we came to you, in the cafe, across the street.”

All color drained from Madam Lapautre’s face. She crushed her hanky into a ball and held it in her fist. Her eyes misted over and she began to tremble.
 

“Are you all right?” Tom asked.

Madam Lapautre rose to her feet. She was shaking so badly that she had to use the armrest of the coach for support. Picking up a small golden bell, she started ringing in loudly until Henri rushed into the room.

“You must leave now,” Madam Lapautre was very frightened. “And never return.”

Chapter 19

Henri rather brusquely escorted Anna and Tom to, and then out of Madam Lapautre’s front door. Stepping outside, they walked into a wet blanket of heat. As soon as their feet touched the scorching cement they heard the door slam and lock behind them.
 

“So, how do you like Paris so far?” Tom smiled.

“Is that where we are?” Anna took a deep breath. The air felt heavy in her lungs. She pointed to a small park across the street. “Come on, let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”

Before Tom could say anything, Anna led the way to the park. She sat down on a bench that was backed by a wall of red roses in full bloom. Anna had hoped to learn more from Madam Lapautre, but what the woman had told her was enough to frighten Anna to the center of her being.

There was no doubt the man in the photograph had been the same man Anna had seen in the cafe and back home. Still, her intellect and adult mind kept denying what they deemed to be impossible.
You’re being a silly child,
Anna kept saying to herself.
Afraid of ghosts under the bed and monsters in the closet.
 

Anna’s animal senses told quite a different story. Every pore and molecule in her body was ordering her to run.
 

But, somewhere deep inside, Anna’s spirit knew she could neither dismiss nor escape what was still to come. Whatever was planned was going to happen. All Anna could hope to do was prepare herself and be ready.
 

Be ready to die,
a voice screamed in Anna’s mind.

“Or not,” Anna answered out loud.
 

Tom sat down on the bench next to her. “Or not what?”

Anna just shook her head. “Just talking to myself.”

“Sounds more like your answering yourself,” Tom patted her on the knee. “Which should put you in the fast lane to the funny farm with no potty stops along the way.”

Anna didn’t say a word. She looked tired and drained.
 

“I think you need a break, kid,” Tom said. “Maybe we should just forget about all this, at least for a few hours. We could play tourists. I hear-tell this Par-ee place has a couple of thangs worth given a once over to.” Tom tried to sound like John Wayne, but again impressions were not even his weak suit. “We could wander on yonder to that eye-full tower and . . .”

“No!” Suddenly Anna’s eyes were sharp and her focus apparent. “I have to find out more.”

“What else can we do?” Tom snapped. “We talked to that God damn exporter and the old bit. . .woman. The hotel won’t let us go near that room. Excuse my American, but I still say let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“It’s too late. Can’t you tell? I have to find out what happened to Ariene.”

“Yeah, and what then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can help her. Free her somehow? Remember back home how I kept writing ‘help me’ in French? I think that’s what she wants me to do, help her escape or something. I know I have to try.

“Anna,” Tom sounded both patronizing and annoyed. “She’s dead. D E A D dead.”

“I don’t think that matters much.”

Tom started to shout, but he was more scared than angry. “You want to go chase ghosts? Well then you go right fucking ahead.”

Passerby’s stopped and looked before walking on.

“But you go right fucking ahead alone.” Tom got up and walked away.
 

When he got about half a block away, Tom turned and looked back. He now regretted his outburst and hoped Anna had followed him. Instead, he saw her walking in the opposite direction before disappearing into the crowd.
 

* * *

When Tom left, Anna had been tempted to go after him. But, before calling out his name she glanced in the opposite direction. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away this time.”

Not fifty feet away, she thought she caught sight of a top hat and the bottom of a long black coat in a crowd of people waiting for a light to change.

“Wait!” Anna called out. “Renee, wait!”
 

Anna started to run toward the group.
If I have to meet a ghost
, she thought,
I want to do it in the middle of the day in the middle of a crowd of real flesh and blood people.
 

Before Anna could reach the corner, the light changed. She kept seeing glimpses of the hat and coat. But, when she caught up a block later and pushed through the pack, the closest thing she found to a top hat and tails were a West African man wearing a pill box cap, and a woman in a long black skirt.
 

“Shit!”
 

The crowd turned and looked at Anna. Was there another face in it that hadn’t been there a moment ago? Anna slowly backed away, and then turned around.

Heading back toward Madam Lapautre’s, Anna saw that she had chased this latest shadow for over two blocks and that Tom was nowhere in sight. Anna started to panic but quickly forced herself to stop. She just didn’t have the luxury, or the time.
 

Okay, calm down. What would you do back home to find out about a crime. It’s like doing a history paper for school. Like looking up something from old newspapers.
 

Anna pulled the guidebook of Paris from her purse and looked up government buildings. She quickly found the Biblioteque De France and within 15 minutes she stood before a very confused looking librarian.

“Old newspapers,” Anna spoke very slowly, hoping that somehow her rate of speech would miraculously increase the Liberian’s comprehension of what she was saying.

“Pardon. Perhaps I can be of assistance.” A man of maybe 20 had stepped up to the desk. He stood next to Anna and smiled.
 

Anna turned, and despite herself said, “Oh my.”

The man was, in a word, beautiful. The kind of human beauty that makes people stop their lives for a second or two and stare at the man or woman who possesses it. The kind that causes mouths to drop ever so slightly open and for eyes to widen a bit more than usual.
 

The young man looked uncomfortable with the pause in the conversation. “I’m sorry. I asked if I could help you by translating.”

Anna swallowed and let out the breath she was holding. “Yes,” she stammered for a moment and put her hand up to her chest. When she did, Anna felt her heart racing. This time it was not out of fear.
 

Stop it
, Anna told herself.
You’ve got ghosts popping up all over and here you are getting turned on by some kid?

Anna glanced down at his body.
Stop it!
 

“I’m sorry,” Anna reestablished eye contact with the man. I can’t seem to get the librarian to understand what I need. I don’t speak French, but I guess that’s pretty obvious.”