Mysterious Mister Part II, a Historical Mystery set in 19th century New Orleans

Part II

Slowly Marguerite opened her eyes and looked around her. Quickly she realized she had somehow managed to make it home last night and climb the narrow staircase up to her room. Amazingly, she had also removed her boots and tucked herself in. ‘Doubtful’ she thought.

"Sadie" she called out weakly, her throat was dry and her lips terribly chapped.

She heard Sadie her maid quietly enter the room.

"Water" she almost pleaded as she forced herself to sit up and lean against a mass of down pillows. She suddenly realized her head felt like it had been removed, thrown around, kicked, and reattached.

Sadie poured a small glass from her bedside pitcher and slid it into Marguerite’s hand with a knowing look.

Marguerite drained the glass in one swig, waited for Sadie to pour another which she finished just a little bit slower.

"Ahh" she sighed. "And don’t give me those pitiful looks Sadie, it was my birthday. A perfect cause for celebration."

"Don’t look like you celebrating much right now, it look mo’ like dying to me. But what I know…" She mumbled quietly but loud enough so her mistress could hear.

"Alright Sadie, I get the point. No need to scold me, I feel bad enough. Please tell cook don’t worry about breakfast, my stomach couldn’t take that type of excursion right now."

Sadie nodded and left her to her misery.

She should have stopped much earlier in the night but Jean Paul had insisted on those last to glasses of rum. She almost gagged as she thought about it but deep down she couldn’t wait until next year…

It took her much longer than usual to dress and ready herself this morning. She felt tired and weak but she had a new case to begin so she had to get started. She stopped by the agency quickly to get the name of Mr. Posey’s hotel from Artula, who made a point to comment on her shabby appearance, suggested that if she enjoyed drinking herself into a stupor she should open up a tavern instead of a detective agency. Marguerite then offered her a position as the bar maid for which Artula had no response.

He was staying at The Lavigne, one of the more prestigious hotel in New Orleans, located in the Vieux Carré district. She asked one of the hotel attendants to see if he was in and if he was that she would be waiting in the Hotel’s café. A few moment later she saw him walking through the doorway and she was in awe again of his magnificent form. He was taller than she thought and he looked very handsome in the blue suede coat her wore, an expertly tied neckcloth, and brown knee britches that revealed his muscled. On any other man it might look foppish but on him, it was perfect.

She was beginning to feel warm and could imagine how read her face must be, especially against today’s pallor. She willed herself to get a grip and she calmly outstretched her hand.

"Mr. Posey, you are looking well today."

"Ms. Hasting, I am but a speck of dust in comparison to your beauty." His eye’s twinkled and he looked quite pleased with his cleverness.

"If only we were all so blessed with such a nimble tongue Mr. Posey…but I digress" she smiled, giving him a triumphant look. "I came her today to get a description of Simon." She pulled out a thick stack of parchment paper from a bag she was carrying on her arm and a few sticks of charcoal.

"Are you much of an artist, Ms. Hasting?"

"I am not" She replied honestly, "but I can draw moderately satisfactory."

She leaned back in her chair, "Now please close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?" He seemed puzzled.

"Yes so you can visualize Simon, try to remember his features. How his nose was shaped, how far apart his eyes were, hair style. Think of it all and tell me as it comes to you. I will do several sketches until a create the final copy."

He reclined, crossing his leg. He tapped his lips for a few moments and appeared to be in deep thought.

"Let’s see. His eyes were black, very round and they were extremely close together. I remember that, how odd he looked. His had a wide mouth and very thick lips almost feminine they made him look." He paused for a moment and opened his eyes looking at Marguerite for approval.

"That’s good Mr. Posey, go on."

"Well, he had black curly hair worn short. It barely covered his forehead. He also wore a thin mustache…"

This continued on for quite a while until she was forming a clear picture. She drew several features separately like his nose and jaw-line to check with Mr. Posey before she added them to the whole picture.

She continued shading and darkening for a while until she felt it appeared human, not just a one dimensional flat image, but a person.

"So what do you think, is this our man?" She held it up for him to inspect.

He stared for several minutes and appeared visibly shaken.

"Yes, it’s perfect. I almost thought for a moment he would jump from the paper and spring to life. I thought you said you weren’t an artist."

She smirked as she began gathering all of her supplies .

"An artist has a natural gift, one that flows out with no effort or great thought. When I draw I must think of my every movement constantly and plead with my hand to cooperate with my head. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t"

"You are a complicated women, Ms. Hasting and I would love to get to know you more, if I am not being too bold." He waited for her reaction.

"Mr. Posey, when I am solving a case it becomes my life and I don’t want to confuse my interest in the case with my interest in you. We will see when it is over."

"What about just dinner at the Hotel restaurant? I have heard excellent things about their duck."

He was handsome she thought, "Well, I will consider it Mr. Posey."

"Edward, let us loose the formalities."

"Marguerite then" she glanced at him once more. "I am sorry, I must be off. You are paying me by the hour , if you recall."