Journey’S End

By Jacqueline Pere

With no husband and no children, and no prospects on the horizon, twenty-nine-year-old Judith Marchand believes shes destined to lead a lonely librarians life in her small town. But a classified ad intrigues her, and shes soon on her way to restore the private library of the de Lanvilles, a prominent southern Louisiana family. What she doesnt know is that this ideal job will also lead her down a path rife with seduction and murder.

Shes enthralled with Journeys End, the familys mansion. Against her better judgment, she finds herself falling in love with her mysterious employer, David de Lanville, a man who admits he once tried killing his brother Beau. Tensions run high at Journeys End, and the situation worsens when David is arrested for the beating and rape of a local young womanjust one of several suspicious incidents in this rural area near New Orleans. David proclaims his innocence, and Judith must make some difficult decisions.

Drenched in Cajun lure, Journeys End travels through the winding moss-covered bayous and New Orleans at Mardi Gras, following a killer who pursues his victims via the silent waters of Bayou Tech.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jan 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426948787

Jacqueline Pere

Jacqueline Pere graduated from Loyola University and worked in the medical field until her retirement. An avid reader and storyteller, she travels throughout the United States with her husband. She has three children and two stepchildren. Pere divides her time between Louisiana and New Mexico. This is her debut novel.

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Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

PROLOGUE

The Louisiana swamp at night, always alive with the sound of a million insect voices, is ominously quiet tonight. Only the presence of a large predator can invoke such respect. The serpentine wake of an alligator breaks the still surface of the bayou. A night heron takes flight. It’s not this ancient reptile that has created the silence, but an even more lethal predator…….man.

Clouds hide the moon and only a brief parting illuminates the scene. A pirogue, silent and sleek, cuts its way through the dark water. A large bundle thrown over the side barely creates a splash. The water parts and then closes. Silent as a tomb it keeps its secrets forever hidden.

As the pirogue and its sole occupant retreat down the bayou, the local inhabitants once again start their nightly serenade.

CHAPTER 1

Life in south Louisiana has long had the reputation of colorful and exciting living, the lazy bayou, moss draped and misty, carrying the dark and mysterious French gentleman to a rendezvous at the stately mansion. Oh really! Get a grip. Perhaps somewhere there is just such a lovely fantasy taking place, but not for me. Little do any of us know what the future has in store and perhaps that is as it should be. Would we embark on many of life’s journeys if we knew the hardships that were to follow? I think not. Throughout the ages, fear of the unknown has been the bain of mankind. For someone who has lived a sheltered life in the bosom of a loving, but slightly overbearing family, to decide that the world must hold something better is, in itself, a horrifying yet exciting decision.

I had spent my adult years as a librarian and a restorer of old books. A career spent, in closed rooms, with nothing but moldy old books can stifle a girl’s social life faster than a hairy mole on the point of your chin. I was twenty-nine years old, no husband, children, or home. Already living like the shriveled old maid, I was bound to become, and settling into a position that would undoubtedly be a life sentence.

The older lady who had taught me my trade was retiring and going to live with her married sister. What a roll model. She would, without a doubt, spend her last years watching others live the life she never had. My role as a spinster was weighing heavily on me and there seemed to be no prospect of ever changing my fate. When a woman passes twenty-nine years of age in a small town without a single marriage proposal, word gets around that their must be some deep, dark reason for such a sad predicament. It was said that I thought I was too good for the men of our town or that I saw too much of the men of our town. However, no one could explain why I never fell in love with any of the men of our town. I had been told innumerable times that there were a few very good prospects: there was Bret Hebert the high school jock who went to college for two years and came home to run his father’s car dealership. Of course let’s not forget Claude Aucoin who as a kid was the town resident nerd and later became a city councilman in charge of environmental facilities. Two or three other equally eligible prospects had been shunned by me because as everyone said; I thought I was too good for them. I could almost hear them murmuring behind my back, ‘poor girl she had so many good prospects’. Little did they know that all I wanted was to find some one to love who would love me back.

If I were ever to start a new chapter in my life, I would have to face the unknown, meet new people, embrace new ideas, and try to add some sparkle to my life. Right! That’s when I started reading the classifieds. Jobs for people with my narrow range of skills were not only few but almost non-existent. Besides, I was supposed to be launching a new career, not getting right back in the same old rut. A new career was important but I also had to keep a roof over my head, and food was also a big priority.

Returning from Mass one beautiful spring morning I cautiously balanced my large mug of strong Louisiana coffee and chicory and the ever large Sunday paper outside to the front veranda. How was I to know, as I sat on my porch sipping my coffee, that those small, typed, black letters, would be able to change my life so drastically. We often forget that the things we wish for may be the very things that rise up to bite us on the ass.

WANTED

QUALIFIED PERSON TO CATALOG

AND RESTORE PRIVATE FAMILY LIBRARY.

MUST READ AND WRITE FRENCH

SALARY OPEN

ONE-YEAR GARENTEED REFRENCES

SEND RESUME P.O.BOX 75863 N.O.LA.

Like so many lonely people who have wrapped themselves up in their dull, little, ordinary life I found it difficult to take the big step and truly look change in the face. This advertisement looked promising but it didn’t look like the change I was looking for. It took some coxing from my friend Bessie for me to get the nerve to answer.

What do you have to lose? For the past months you have been reading the classifieds, sending out your resume, and whining about the sad turn your life has taken. I am tired of listening.

She promptly left her chair, went to my locker, got the resume, an envelope, a stamp and a pen–- She’s a very thorough girl–-. She laid them in front of me with a flourish.

Send, she said.

Thinking she had made her point, Bessie plopped back in her chair and sat glaring at me with her best, I dare you stare. What else could I do? I sent it off.

This add did look promising. I speak Louisiana French fluently, complements of my Tante Julie, who insisted that we keep our Cajun French ancestry alive and well. I had also studied French grammar in college. My qualifications were good. Perhaps, I thought, it might be at one of those old, stately houses in New Orleans. They always look so cool and inviting with lush tropical plants surrounding lovely brick enclosed courtyards. The glamour and romance of the old city had long fascinated a small town girl like me. Little did I know what fate had in store for me. It’s truly a good thing we don’t know the future. All I could do now was wait and try not to let my wild imagination run away with me. Maybe there was a dark, mysterious Frenchman waiting to stir up my life.

CHAPTER 2

Who would have thought I could move so fast. Two weeks after I sent off my resume I was sitting in the office of a well-known law firm in New Orleans waiting to be interviewed. I was rather overawed at the splendor of the J.P. Benoir Law Office and almost made a getaway before I even saw the notable solicitor. Just as I was working up the nerve to quietly slide out the door his secretary informed me, ‘Mr. Benoir would see me now.’ The dye was cast. From that moment on there was no turning back.

Fate had decided to answer my plea, to alleviate my boredom, and send me on the adventure that was to change my whole life.

How do you do Mr. Benior, I am Judith Marchand. You wrote me about a position you have open. Not very original but my mouth felt full of cotton.

To say I was intimidated by the beautiful and probably authentic paintings that graced the walls or by the large mahogany desk that seemed to span the group of windows, that looked out over the port on New Orleans, would be quite an understatement. I was petrified.

Good morning Miss Marchand. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Actually it’s not myself who has this offer but a client of mine. I’m acting as the agent of Mr. David de Lanville. He is the one who is interested in finding someone who is capable of putting an old library back in order.

Wow! The de Lanville’s were a prominent society family in southern Louisiana. They were members of the Southern jet set.

Mr. de Lanville wants the library at Journey’s End restored. Many of the old books are in need of new bindings and there are some documents that need to be translated from French. I saw in your resume that you have taken a great interest in restoring old books. He leaned forward his arms on his desk. "The biggest drawback that I can see is that you would be staying at Journey’s End. Mr. de Lanville has read your resume and feels you would be quite capable. But he does want this done as soon as possible. He feels that your staying at the house would facilitate things. I can assure you that the accommodations there are quite nice and the estate is only two hours drive from New Orleans. You could easily come here on your day off to shop or be with friends.

If he hadn’t spoken of salary next I would have turned his offer down. I certainly didn’t want to get right back in the rut I was so desperately trying to leave. It was escape that I wanted, a chance at something new. His offer of a year’s salary guaranteed, no matter how quickly I did the work, plus room and board for as long as it took, changed my mind. I could save almost all I made. Travel and adventure could wait a year. Couldn’t they? And besides if I could get it done sooner I would still get the year’s salary. I hate to admit it but greed was behind my acceptance of this offer. I could give up my apartment and put my things in storage. There wasn’t much, just some furniture from my parent’s house and a lot of sentimental junk that I collected over the years.

Mr. Benoir went into some detail about the state of the library. There were some very old volumes in French and English to be cataloged, old family manuscripts to be translated and bound, and everything was to be organized and brought into the twenty-first century. A new computer had been installed for cataloging. As we talked I realized that an agreement had been made and inquired when I was to meet my new employer.

A strange hesitancy entered his speech as he started to tell me about my employer.

Mr. de Lanville has left all the arrangements to me. There was an accident a few years ago and since then David de Lanville has become somewhat of a recluse. He travels a good bit on business and keeps an apartment in Baton Rouge.It may be months before you meet him. But that shouldn’t trouble you for the other members of the family will be willing to help you should the need arise. He paused briefly before he continued. But you must remember that you are in Mr. David’s employ. The library is his and he controls most of the de Lanville assets. He and he alone will be your employer. If you do have any problems with any members of the family or your accommodations don’t suit you, contact me and I’ll get in touch with him for you.

I was given an outline of what was needed to start, which I found to be quite clear and precise, directions to the estate, one month salary in advance and told to begin in two weeks if that was fine by me.

My journey begins.

CHAPTER 3

The highway sign I had just passed informed me that the turn off to Journey’s End–only the rich seem to name their property–was five miles further.

Mon Cher, a little country girl like me was going to live in the big house, mais oui. What was the world coming to?

I was very excited and when that happens my Cajun French slips out.

I had been trying to stifle my Cajun accent because it was thought to be very gauche. For years the Cajuns of Louisiana were forced, to quite using their French language and a lot of our heritage was being lost. In the last decade, though, our pride in our culture has been resurrected and the world now has a different view of Southern Louisiana. My ancestry in the United States was older than most Americans. Maybe our accent was strange but we stood proud of our place in American history.

Trying, to rationalize my hasty actions of the past two weeks and make the butterflies disappear I once again reviewed, in my mind, all I knew about the de Lanville family. Jean Jules Batiste de Lanville, a French Aristocrat, fled France during the Revolution and settled in southern Louisiana. He established a large sugar cane plantation which prospered in the hot climate. He married Honore Torres, a French and Spanish Creole, from New Orleans, whose ancestry was as noble as his. They settled on Bayou St. Pierre where they built ‘Journey’s End’ and raised two lusty sons and three healthy daughters. The present owner of the estate, Jean Jules, named for his great grandfather, wasn’t my employer. The younger brother, David, was the one who had hired me to restore the books he owned in his brother’s house. This was certainly a strange arrangement.

David was certainly a man of mystery. Try as I might I couldn’t find out very much about him. He seems to shy away from publicity. There had been a very bad automobile accident three years ago in which a girl had been killed and David seriously hurt. The whole