"How is he doing?" I asked softly. His face was in repose, but his lips were crooked, reacting to some nightmare, no doubt, I thought.

"He's having a restless sleep," she said. "I couldn't get him to eat any more, but he did drink some water. He felt a little warm, but he has no fever."

"Okay," I said sadly.

"Mademoiselle," she called as I started to turn from the doorway. "He did mutter something."

"What?"

"He's calling for his mother," she said. "Where is your mother, if I may ask?"

Mrs. Hockingheimer wasn't being nosy. Anyone would have wondered why Pierre's mother wasn't at his side, I thought. "My mother is very troubled by what happened, the whole tragedy. She believes herself responsible, and she's disappeared. We've got to call the police and . ." My lips started to quiver badly. It was as if my face had mutinied. I couldn't pronounce the words. They got choked up in my throat.

Mrs. Hockingheimer saw what was happening and rose quickly to come to me. "You poor dear. I didn't mean to upset you," she said and embraced me.

"No one has seen her. My father and I are at our wit's end. We're calling the police right now."

"I'm so sorry. There, there," she said, patting my hand. "You must remain strong. Don't worry about Pierre. I will watch him very closely."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hockingheimer." I took a deep breath.

Mrs. Hockingheimer dabbed away the tears that lingered on my cheeks and smiled. "You're a strong young woman. You'll find a way to help your mother," she assured me.

I thanked her again and went downstairs to be with Daddy when the police arrived.

A detective and two uniformed patrolmen came to our door. The detective introduced himself as Lieutenant Ribocheaux. He was about as tall as Daddy, but with much wider shoulders and a square jaw. He looked like an ex-football player. The patrolmen stood in the doorway of Daddy's study and listened with Lieutenant Ribocheaux as Daddy described the terrible events that had unfolded. Daddy showed him Mommy's letter, and I then told him about Mommy's visiting the cemetary. I hadn't spelled out the details before. Daddy's eyes went as wide and round as quarters when he heard me talk of the screeching, the black cat, Mommy's walking about with a candle, and the whispering.

"This young woman who came to your door with the letter," Lieutenant Ribocheaux asked me, "had you seen her before? Was she at the cemetery too or at this house where your mother went to see the dead lady?"

"No, sir."

"And when you ran after her, you say she threw a snake's head out of the streetcar window?"

"Yes. I dropped it. It's probably still there. I can show it to you."

"I imagine it's only one of those souvenirs that the tourists buy in the voodoo shops in the French Quarter," he said.

"Still, I couldn't bring it home."

"I understand," he said, smiling. He turned to the uniformed policemen. "Ted, you and Billy take a look. Maybe it's still there, and it might give us some clue," he said, but from the looks on their faces, I knew they were doing it only to placate me. I told them where it would be, and they left.

Lieutenant Ribocheaux turned back to Daddy. "Monsieur Andreas, was your wife under a doctor's care?"

"Not in the sense I believe you mean," Daddy replied, "but our physician had given her sedatives."

Lieutenant Ribocheaux took out his notepad. "You've called all her friends, people she might go see, I imagine?"

"Everyone we could think of," Daddy said. "No one has heard from her or seen her."

"Relatives?"

"We have none presently in New Orleans. My parents are in Europe for the summer."

"Well, where are your closest relatives?"

"My wife's family comes from the bayou, around Houma, but she wouldn't go to them," Daddy added. "We don't get along that well."

"Except with Aunt Jeanne," I reminded him. "Yes, but I don't think she would have gone to Jeanne," Daddy said.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Landry Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net