were somewhat better. She came up with the idea of poisoning the master; they say she had some skill in doctoring and knew they would call her to the big house to come and heal him. Her plan was that she would cure him, and he would be so grateful that he would let her back into the house."
"What happened then?" Blooey was captivated by the grisly story.
Tyber looked over at Zanita. His lady-love was just as captivated. He smiled to himself. His baby always loved anything that smacked of weirdness. He laughed to himself. Including me.
"So," Calendula continued, "she baked some beignets. Only problem was that she laced them with something that made him a wee bit too sick. He died."
Hambone s eyes closed halfway and he began to purr in a low tone.
Damned if the cat isn't enjoying the lurid story, too! Tyber shook his head. Bloodthirsty heathens, the lot of them. Oh, what the hell, they're my heathens. "So that's when they hanged her?" he asked in spite of himself.
"Yes. But before they did, she put the sign of the curse on them. To this day, a decent beignet cannot be fried at Hollow House. We found the sugar-dusted plate on the anniversary of her death, crawling with ants. Later that day we spotted ants in the slave quarters."
Everyone in the room was suitably awed.
Everyone except a certain physicist.
Tyber stared at her stone-faced. "And you don't think it possible that the establishment, which I am sure runs a healthy tourist trade, may have placed the beignets in the tree to add to the legend?" He didn't even bother to comment on the ants.
"Absolutely not. Mark and I thoroughly checked it out, didn't we, Mark?" She didn't wait for his answer. "Do you know, there is an indentation of a beignet on the master-bedroom ceiling? No matter how many times they paint over it, it comes back. It's uncanny."
A curved line of amusement grooved Tyber's cheek as he tried to imagine the terrifying image of a depressed pastry having a tenacious hold on the ceiling. He quickly sipped his drink to hide his expression.
"Maybe we have a similar phenomenon here with the waffles, Calendula?" Mark's face was alight with the possibility.
"Manifestation of a breakfast item is very rare." Calendula almost dismissed the connection, then reconsidered. "Although it might explain some of the other occurrences."
Tyber set his drink down on a side table. "Before you all run away with this scintillating supposition, might I dare to suggest that there has to be a rational explanation for all of this?"
"Bravo, Doctor! Bravo!"
Everyone turned in the direction of the basso profundo voice that boomed from the doorway like the blast of a foghorn.
Blooey took one look at the dark, burning eyes, the flyaway grayishblack hair, and the blacker than night suit, and immediately came to a conclusion.
"'Tis the blackguard hisself! Attack, I say! Attack!"
Hambone, as gullible as his sidekick in matters of superstition, immediately launched himself into kitty attack mode. He hurled through the air in a streaking blur of orange fur.
And hightailed it directly out the door.
"Come back here, ye yellow-bellied scalawag!" Blooey hightailed it after Hambone.
Zanita and Tyber looked at each other and shook their heads.
"Gramercy Hubble, I presume," Tyber calmly stated.
"At your service, Dr. Evans."
At that, the dark specter of Cognitive Reasoning floated into the room like a cloud of gloom.
Chapter Four
"Nonsense! It's all nonsense!"
Gramercy Hubble had been repeating that phrase every five minutes since he entered the parlor. Unfortunately, he carried it right into the dining room with him and continued to dish it out at regular intervals as if it were part of the menu.
To say it caused some irritation with Calendula and Mark was a severe understatement. Every time the proclamation issued forth, Calendula pursed her lips and Mark looked ready to hurl a punch.
Zanita had to admit that the man was truly annoying. It was especially abrasive to her
"What happened then?" Blooey was captivated by the grisly story.
Tyber looked over at Zanita. His lady-love was just as captivated. He smiled to himself. His baby always loved anything that smacked of weirdness. He laughed to himself. Including me.
"So," Calendula continued, "she baked some beignets. Only problem was that she laced them with something that made him a wee bit too sick. He died."
Hambone s eyes closed halfway and he began to purr in a low tone.
Damned if the cat isn't enjoying the lurid story, too! Tyber shook his head. Bloodthirsty heathens, the lot of them. Oh, what the hell, they're my heathens. "So that's when they hanged her?" he asked in spite of himself.
"Yes. But before they did, she put the sign of the curse on them. To this day, a decent beignet cannot be fried at Hollow House. We found the sugar-dusted plate on the anniversary of her death, crawling with ants. Later that day we spotted ants in the slave quarters."
Everyone in the room was suitably awed.
Everyone except a certain physicist.
Tyber stared at her stone-faced. "And you don't think it possible that the establishment, which I am sure runs a healthy tourist trade, may have placed the beignets in the tree to add to the legend?" He didn't even bother to comment on the ants.
"Absolutely not. Mark and I thoroughly checked it out, didn't we, Mark?" She didn't wait for his answer. "Do you know, there is an indentation of a beignet on the master-bedroom ceiling? No matter how many times they paint over it, it comes back. It's uncanny."
A curved line of amusement grooved Tyber's cheek as he tried to imagine the terrifying image of a depressed pastry having a tenacious hold on the ceiling. He quickly sipped his drink to hide his expression.
"Maybe we have a similar phenomenon here with the waffles, Calendula?" Mark's face was alight with the possibility.
"Manifestation of a breakfast item is very rare." Calendula almost dismissed the connection, then reconsidered. "Although it might explain some of the other occurrences."
Tyber set his drink down on a side table. "Before you all run away with this scintillating supposition, might I dare to suggest that there has to be a rational explanation for all of this?"
"Bravo, Doctor! Bravo!"
Everyone turned in the direction of the basso profundo voice that boomed from the doorway like the blast of a foghorn.
Blooey took one look at the dark, burning eyes, the flyaway grayishblack hair, and the blacker than night suit, and immediately came to a conclusion.
"'Tis the blackguard hisself! Attack, I say! Attack!"
Hambone, as gullible as his sidekick in matters of superstition, immediately launched himself into kitty attack mode. He hurled through the air in a streaking blur of orange fur.
And hightailed it directly out the door.
"Come back here, ye yellow-bellied scalawag!" Blooey hightailed it after Hambone.
Zanita and Tyber looked at each other and shook their heads.
"Gramercy Hubble, I presume," Tyber calmly stated.
"At your service, Dr. Evans."
At that, the dark specter of Cognitive Reasoning floated into the room like a cloud of gloom.
Chapter Four
"Nonsense! It's all nonsense!"
Gramercy Hubble had been repeating that phrase every five minutes since he entered the parlor. Unfortunately, he carried it right into the dining room with him and continued to dish it out at regular intervals as if it were part of the menu.
To say it caused some irritation with Calendula and Mark was a severe understatement. Every time the proclamation issued forth, Calendula pursed her lips and Mark looked ready to hurl a punch.
Zanita had to admit that the man was truly annoying. It was especially abrasive to her
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