But Mr. Morrell has enough money to pay for silence, so I guess anything’s possible. If he wanted her dead, he could arrange for it, even if he didn’t do it himself.”
Selene wasn’t sure she wanted to explore those possibilities, though she didn’t really view Adrien as a murderer. But what did she really know about him? Not much, other than he was a physically attractive, powerful man. “Maybe she just left on her own accord.”
“Maybe she was a ghost.” Abby attempted a reassuring smile. “You know how it is with gossip, Selene. People are like coon hounds with a rawhide bone. They chew on it for a while, then bury it for a time, but they always bring it out, along with more dirt.”
Selene wanted to believe that that’s all it was—idle gossip from the depths of idle minds. Rumor or not, she was still uneasy. “Do you know anyone who knows about the plantation’s previous owners? Maybe a historian of some kind?”
“Unfortunately, the town doesn’t have a library, otherwise I’d point you in that direction. You could try the courthouse, but I don’t know how far back their records go. They don’t even have a computerized system yet. And they lost quite a bit during a flood in the 1920s.”
That sounded like a surefire dead end to Selene. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try that.”
“Good luck,” Abby said. “In the meantime, I can ask around and let you know if I find someone who knows the history.”
“That would be wonderful.” Selene rummaged through her purse, withdrew a pen and paper, jotted down her number, then handed it to Abby. “This is my cell phone. You can call me anytime.”
Abby reached beneath the counter, took out a notepad and began to write. “I’m going to give you the address of a friend of mine, Linda Adams. She’s in Baton Rouge and she specializes in antique restoration.” She tore off the page and slid it in front of Selene. “She can help you with fabric selection and anything you need done with the furnishings. Her husband’s a contractor and he’s worked on several historical homes in the area, so he might be willing to help you out.”
Selene took the paper and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. “Thanks so much. I’ll pay her a visit today.”
After giving her thanks and a goodbye to Abby, Selene slid into her car for the trip to Baton Rouge. But before she could pull out into the street, a name jumped into her mind, as clear as the sound of the church’s bell now tolling in the town square. The name meant nothing to her at all, but the voice that spoke it did.
Adrien Morrell’s voice.
* * *
“Who’s Chloe?” Following the query, Selene watched her dinner companion’s expression herald first shock, then caution.
“Where did you hear that name?” Ella asked.
“In town.” She didn’t dare tell her exactly where the name had originated—in her mind.
Ella sent her a suspicious glance before pushing the pile of peas around on her plate. “That’s not possible. No one in town knows about her.”
“They believe a woman named Chloe was here for a while with Mr. Morrell, and then she was gone. Rumor has it she died.”
Ella dropped her fork, pushed her plate aside and folded her hands tightly before her on the table. “First, you can’t always believe what you hear, Selene. Second, I don’t know who told you about her, but if I were you, I’d drop it. Now.”
Selene couldn’t ignore Ella’s adamant tone, or the hint of anger. She worried that if she pushed too hard, Ella might push back. Or worse, dismiss her immediately regardless of the contract. “I drove into Baton Rouge today and found a woman who’s going to help me restore the furniture. Her husband has agreed to come by and give us an estimate on repairs. But he’s busy until next week.”
Ella thankfully smiled. “You definitely accomplished quite a bit today.”
“I also went by the courthouse,” Selene added. “The woman told me it would take several days for her to locate any plans, and that’s if they actually have any. Do you think I might find some here?”
Ella shrugged. “I’m sure Adrien probably has a set, but you’ll have to ask him.”
Not something Selene wanted to do, at least not tonight. “Is there some kind of attic where I might find old documents, maybe original abstracts?”
Ella picked up both hers and Selene’s plates, then stood. “Yes, there’s an attic. You’ll find the door at the end of the hallway past Adrien’s office. Feel free to explore it.” The look Ella sent her said, “If you dare.”
“Think I’ll check it out in the next few days.” In the daylight, Selene decided, because she definitely didn’t want to traipse around in a dusty attic in the dark, in case she should come across the stuff scary legends were made of, including an idiot. That thought almost made her laugh. Almost.
Selene pushed back from the table and stood. “Let me do the dishes.”
Ella waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll do them, dear.”
“I insist,” Selene said as she began to gather the serving bowls. “I could use something to do while I think.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a dishwasher.”
Selene had noticed, and that would be the first appliance on the purchase list. “I have no problem using my own two hands.”
Ella sent her a cynical smile. “Have you ever washed dishes before, dear?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Much to her mother’s horror.
“Then I’ll gratefully take you up on your offer. I need to speak with Adrien before I retire, anyway.”
Most likely reporting to him about the new employee, Selene decided. But that didn’t really matter. So far, she had done nothing wrong other than bring up the name Chloe. And although she’d decided to steer clear of that topic for now, she suspected Ella knew much more than she was willing to reveal. A mystery that might never be solved, unless Selene made a conscious—or subconscious—effort to solve it.
No. She wouldn’t invade someone’s mind to gain information. She’d done that before, only to suffer for it. If she discovered anything at all, it would have to come from someone verbally volunteering the information, not by her intruding into an unsuspecting mind. She highly doubted Adrien Morrell would serve as that volunteer, even though she instinctively knew he held the key. But then again, she might not want to know.
* * *
Adrien didn’t bother to look up from the newspaper, even when Ella slid the covered plate and utensils in front of him. “If it’s cold, don’t blame me. You should come to dinner like a normal person.”
He sent a disinterested glance at the food before finally bringing his attention to Ella. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
Ella remained in the same spot, obviously in the mood for a little chat. “Don’t you want to know what our new houseguest has been doing?”
He
