Page 61 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
With good reason, clearly.
I honestly couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Arthur Kellum had killed Delia, attacked Ginger, and terrorized my guest. He'd been hiding in plain sight for days, playing the role of the harmless paranormal enthusiast while planning his escape.
But now he was cornered. Beau’s research, mine and Maggie’s poking around, Lucien’s envelope, Odette’s journal, Hollis’s constant police presence had all brought him here, where the dead were laid to rest, his back against the wall.
And cornered animals were the most dangerous of all.
The question was could we disarm him before he bolted and disappeared?
Or before he decided to eliminate the two people who could identify him as Delia DuMont's killer?
He pulled something from his jacket pocket. Not a gun, thank God, but a small glass vial filled with what looked like crushed leaves.
"Datura," he said. "Amazing plant. The Creoles used to call it zombie cucumber. Makes people very compliant, very confused. Easy to lead around, easy to... arrange. You’re both going to take a swig like good girls."
The problem was, Aunt Odette hadn’t taught me to be a good girl.
She’d taught me to stand up for myself.
“Why the hell would any smart woman do that?” I asked.
Then I gave a mighty roar and went at Arthur with everything I had inside me.
FIFTEEN
What no one ever tells you about attacking a sweaty man in broad daylight with nothing but your unpracticed fists, is that it probably won’t work.
Not that I’m sure what I thought was going to happen. I guess that he would topple to the ground and I could pummel him with my fists until he admitted he was a horrible human being.
And maybe just for fun, Maggie could kick in the shins and a chunk of marble from a tomb would fall on his head.
But no. That’s not what happened.
Instead, I ran at him, my fists slipped off of his sweaty shoulder, and I went careening past him with my arms flailing.
I thought about Teddy, hopefully safe at home. I thought about the hidden room behind the pantry wall, about Aunt Odette's secrets, about all the women whose stories had been buried along with their bodies.
And how if I didn’t get myself out of this mess, I would fail them all. I would also fail four generations of my family who expected me to uphold the legacy of Midnight House.
Maggie was yelling, “Someone call 911! Someone call 911!”
I could only assume that was because she didn’t want to stop recording on her phone to call herself. Drawing inspiration from her and all the “smart women” that the Pelican Group had silenced, I immediately pivoted, determined not to give up.
"Where are they?" I shouted at Arthur, who was stomping toward me. "Where did you bury them? Their families deserve answers."
Arthur smiled, and it was the most chilling thing I'd ever seen. "Who says we buried them?"
Arthur Kellum, the quiet man who'd been staying in Room Five was a monster.
The one guest who'd chosen to remain at the B&B after Delia died.
The one who claimed he'd known Delia from previous conventions.
The one who'd had access to the house, to Delia's room, to Angel's trumpet powder if he'd brought his own supply of mystical herbs.
All right under our noses and very clearly touched in the head. Not even just a run-of-the-mill ruthless businessman but henchmen for a whole network of Really Terrible Men.
