Murder on Faux Pas Island by Casey McKittrick

Author:Casey McKittrick [McKittrick, Casey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Lethe Press
Published: 2015-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

DELLA ROBICHEAUX COLLAPSED in a faint, prompting Merman to cease his heavy breathing and offer his assistance to the faded woman. Raymond ran to the side of his husband, who was sprawled on the floor. Almost as soon as he reached his knees, he began to vomit. The rest of the crowd made sounds and movements without rhyme or reason.

Joe was the first to come to his senses, and he took control of the group with a loud clearing of the throat, to which everyone responded immediately. “It seems there’s been an intruder here. Did anyone see someone in the house who doesn’t belong?”

The group exchanged bewildered looks, and shook their heads.

“I suggest we all go downstairs and figure out what to do next. Mr. Dangler, if you’ll carry Mrs. Robicheaux back to her bedroom and get her some brandy, I think all the men should convene in the library to decide our next move.” Joe halted a moment, looking curiously at the man he addressed. The rest quickly followed suit. “Dangler, are you alright? You’re sopping wet!”

In this most stressful of moments, the thoroughly soaked Monroe appeared almost sheepish. “Couldn’t sleep so I took a shower.”

Joe said, “Does anyone know the whereabouts of Mr. Robicheaux or Mr. Suggs? Or Mr. Wideman, for that matter?”

“Beau was asleep when I left the room,” Sonya said weakly, “He sleeps very soundly.”

“I’m sure Armand is in his chambers,” Marvin said. “He sleeps heavy as well, and doesn’t have the best hearing to start with.”

“And Mrs. Wedgewood?”

“Still in bed, I imagine, sir,” said Merman, “The servant bell you rang doesn’t ring in her quarters. I can go fetch her.”

Fifteen minutes later, at 4:30 am, according to the grandfather clock in the library, the men, plus Sonya and Pancetta, convened in various states of dress. They had left Raymond on the third floor, to mourn his lover alone. After Mrs. Wedgewood was roused from the cellar, she and Merman checked all the rooms of the first and second floors. The search yielded, to Mrs. Wedgewood’s great surprise, an unconscious Uncle Marvin, sprawled on a sofa in the conservatory, a bottle of whiskey nestled in his bosom. Evidently, he had slept through the entire debacle.

Merman’s call through to the parish police had revealed that, due to the hurricane, all forces were out redirecting traffic and rescuing the stranded. Monroe had deposited the catatonic matriarch in her bed. Sonya had gone to wake her groggy husband, and insisted on accompanying him downstairs to the meeting. Armand Robicheaux had been found inexplicably in the kitchen with a sandwich, and had known nothing of his son’s murder. No one had bothered to wake up the Contesa, figuring there was no need to worry their outside guest until morning.

Pancetta’s mind was reeling. Decanters of brandy, and sugar cubes for shock, were being passed around, and when she realized this, she jumped up to serve the group. Of course, liquor was going to be the first order of business. Everything had happened so quickly.

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