Cast An Evil Eye Read online

  CAST AN

  EVIL EYE

  THE THIRD NOVEL OF THE STUART TRILOGY

  By

  RUTHE OGILVIE

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  © Copyright 2012 Ruthe Ogilvie.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-2107-8 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-2093-4 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-2111-5 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904912

  Trafford rev. 06/07/2012

  www.trafford.com

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER XVI

  CHAPTER XVII

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CHAPTER XIX

  CHAPTER XX

  CHAPTER XXI

  CHAPTER XXII

  CHAPTER XXIII

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CHAPTER XXV

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CHAPTER XXVII

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  CHAPTER XXIX

  CHAPTER XXX

  CHAPTER XXXI

  CHAPTER XXXII

  The Stuart Trilogy is dedicated to a chosen few; those whose inspiration, dedication, and talent combined to encourage the finished works to flow forth from my pen or keyboard. To my husband, Frank (Bud) Ogilvie, who continually supported me through the long, arduous process; to my twin sister, Rubye Macdonald, the encourager who urged me to start writing in the beginning; to Kevin Thompson, whose business acumen and friendship guided me through publisher duress; to Linda Cruz, sounding board and organizer extraordinaire; and to Doug Warner, friend, computer expert and fixer of the word processing messes that I too often created (although I always blamed the computer).

  -Year 2000-

  CHAPTER I

  Courtney Stuart Dubonnet sat on the terrace of the Chateau in Biarritz, France, her childhood home. She gazed anxiously out over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun, now a bright orange ball of fire, was on its slow descent into the sea, so she knew there wasn’t much daylight left. A frown puckered her forehead, giving her pretty face a petulant appearance as she tapped her fingers nervously on the arm of her chaise lounge.

  “Where is that plane?” she fretted with all the youthful impatience of her twenty years. “I should have stayed in New York and waited for the reviews,” she muttered, “instead of running away like a sniveling coward.”

  Courtney had flown back to her childhood home on the opening night of her very first musical, “Déjà Vu,” feeling a little timid about attending the gala affair at the most prominent theater in New York City. Her home was her security blanket, the place where she always felt safe when she was troubled or apprehensive about something, and this was no exception. She felt terribly insecure about her attempts at writing musicals, afraid she could never measure up to her grandmother, Hildy. She was in awe of Hildy’s success, and always had been, ever since she was old enough to understand the tremendous accomplishments of Grandy Hildy, as she called her, and whom she loved dearly.

  Being the daughter of the very talented dancer and singer, Countess Cameron Stuart Dubonnet, and granddaughter of the famous Lady Hilary Stuart, foremost writer and composer of musicals in the world, gave Courtney a lot to live up to. Sometimes she wondered why she even tried, but her talent insisted on expressing itself, refusing to lie dormant. She could no more stem the tide of its natural flow than put a plug in Niagara Falls.

  Cammie had offered to help Courtney with her singing and dancing, and she had done very well with it, but the tremendous urge she felt to write and compose couldn’t be ignored. So Grandy Hildy was the one she finally turned to for guidance.

  Everyone knows who I am! They’re expecting great things! she lamented. They’ll compare me to my mother and grandmother! How can I face anyone if “Déjà Vu” is a flop?

  She looked out over the horizon once more and heaved a big sigh as she looked up to heaven. Please, God, she prayed, let the reviews be good!

  Suddenly her ears detected the slight hum of motors. She sat up and grabbed the binoculars, peering anxiously through the lenses. Soon the plane was in clear sight, even without the use of the binoculars. The pilot landed gracefully on the landing strip outside the Chateau.

  Courtney jumped up and flew down the three flights of stairs to the door and out to the ramp. She couldn’t have gone any faster if she had wings. Her long, blond hair blew in the wind and bounced excitedly as she ran out to the plane.

  The pilot saw her and grinned, waving a package as he climbed out. “Les voila!” he exclaimed, handing her a bundle of newspapers. He hurriedly climbed back into the plane to continue his overnight deliveries.

  “Merci! Au revoir!” Courtney called after him. She turned and ran back into the Chateau and up the stairs to the terrace.

  Her knees felt a little wobbly as she collapsed into the comfortable chaise with the package of newspapers on her lap. Now that she had them in her possession she hesitated, afraid the reviews wouldn’t live up to her high aspirations.

  She sat there, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she tried to muster up the courage to at least take a peek at them. Her emotions seesawed from fear and doubt to hope, then back to fear. She welcomed the interruption as she heard the sliding glass door open, and she turned to see her beloved Grandy Hildy standing there smiling at her.

  The passing years had taken very little toll on Hildy. She was as beautiful as ever with her angelic face and blonde hair, brushed back now in an updo rather than tumbling over her shoulders as it used to. Anyone seeing Courtney and Hildy together would know they were related. Courtney looked like a young carbon copy of her beloved grandmother.

  “Well,” Hildy greeted her granddaughter, “what are you waiting for? Why don’t we see what the reviews have to say? You couldn’t wait to get them, and now they’re here!”

  Courtney looked at Hildy with a pleading expression.

  Hildy laughed. “Honey, I understand your reluctance. But you know I have great faith in your talent. I don’t doubt for a minute that the reviews are good.”

  She reached for the papers that were in Courtney’s lap and opened the first one. A triumphant grin lit up her whole face as she read the headlines.

  “A great new talent!” it said. “‘Déjà Vu’ is a wonderful new musical—one that we’ve all been waiting for! Mark it on your schedule! This is a must see!”

  Hildy held up the paper to show Courtney.

  The relief that washed over Courtney was too much for her. The anxiety and hope which had grown to mammoth proportions gave way like a pent up dam whose waters suddenly broke through the walls and came pouring out, and she burst i
nto a flood of tears.

  Hildy sat down beside her and took her in her arms. “Hey—hey—I know how you feel,” she consoled her. “I’ve been there many times, remember? With each one I went through the same thing. It never got easier. Just let go and enjoy it, sweetie. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Suddenly Courtney jumped up. She brushed away the tears as the sobs quickly turned to a cry of triumph. “Yippee!!” she shrieked. She could be heard all over the Chateau.

  Cammie and Jeremy came running out to the terrace. When they saw their daughter’s face and the newspapers that were in clear sight, they didn’t need to guess. They knew.

  “Mommy! Daddy!” Courtney exclaimed, reverting to her child-hood names for her parents, “they liked it! No—they loved it!” She turned to Hildy. “Thank you! Thank you!” she said, throwing her arms around her beloved grandmother. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

  “Oh, you would have managed,” Hildy told her. “Talent like yours would have found a way to express itself, with or without me.”

  “No,” Courtney disagreed, “you taught me things I would never have known without you.” She tilted her head to one side and grinned. “It’s all your fault, and I love you for it!”

  At this point Courtney’s grandfather, Lord Jay Stuart, Hildy’s husband, appeared. In spite of the combination of white-blonde hair that now crowned his head, he was as handsome as ever. Neither he nor Hildy looked old enough to be grandparents.

  “What’s all this commotion about?” he asked. A grin broke over his face as he saw the headlines. “Now why doesn’t this surprise me?”

  He opened his arms and Courtney rushed into them.

  She squealed with delight. “Sir Jaybird!” the nickname she had called him since she could talk, “I can’t believe it! They loved ‘Déjà Vu!’ They loved it! Oh!” She broke away from Jay and danced the full length of the terrace.

  Zack Davis stood in the doorway, a wide, affectionate grin on his face—Zack, the detective and dear friend who had saved both Hildy and Cammie from the devious schemes of Gregory Wilcox, Sr. and his son, Gregory, Jr., as well as Gregory’s mother, the Countess Lilli Claude. Zack was a frequent visitor at the Chateau in Biarritz. Gregory, Jr. and his mother Lilli had been in prison for twenty-one years, and would be there the rest of their lives.

  “I told you ‘Déjà Vu’ would be a hit!” Zack chided Courtney. “You wouldn’t believe me, would you? I don’t mean to brag, but my intuition is always right. I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do!” Fran—Count Francois I, who was Jeremy’s father—joined them on the terrace. He had just risen from his usual afternoon nap. He was still the distinguished looking gentleman they had first met years ago—older, but still vital for his years.

  “Jeremy,” he said to his son, “why don’t you ask Andre to bring that champagne you’ve been saving for a special occasion? I think this is it!”

  Jeremy looked at his father. The deep love he had for him was unmistakable. They had become very close since being reunited after the long years of separation caused by Gregory, Jr. and Lilli when Jeremy was just a boy. “I certainly do, Sir,” he replied. He turned to Courtney. “I think you’re old enough to have some champagne. After all, this is your party.”

  He pressed the buzzer for Andre, his faithful butler, who had saved his life when he was only five.

  Andre, all smiles, appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Sir,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

  “Andre, would you please bring the champagne I’ve been saving? The one with the special label on it? We’ve just had great news! Courtney’s musical, ‘Déjà Vu,’ is a smash hit on Broadway! We’re going to celebrate, and we want you to join us in a toast.”

  “Oui, Monsieur!” Andre wholeheartedly agreed. “Thank you for including me.”

  “Don’t we always?” Jeremy asked him. “You’re part of our family.”

  There was much gaiety as Jeremy opened the bottle of champagne and shot the cap off the terrace into the ocean. The staff had prepared a sumptuous feast which would be served overlooking the Atlantic.

  It seemed that nothing could spoil this joyous occasion.

  CHAPTER II

  The sun had disappeared and the moonlight was waltzing merrily over the waves as the group sat on the terrace enjoying each other’s company and the dessert and coffee that topped off the delicious meal they had just finished.

  While dessert was being served, Jay picked up one of the other papers. The contented smile was quickly replaced by an expression of utter disbelief and horror as he read the headlines. He sat forward in his chair in a state of shock.

  “Jay?” Hildy put her fork down. “What is it?”

  “This has to be a mistake!” he told her.

  “What?”

  Jay handed her the paper.

  On the front page was a picture of Gregory Wilcox, Jr., the former Count Francois II, and his mother, Countess Lilli Claude.

  “JUST RELEASED FROM PRISON,” the headline read.

  Hildy put her hand over her mouth to hush the sound of horror that tried to escape from her lips.

  Cammie looked frightened.

  Courtney rushed over to them.

  “Grandy Hildy? Mom? What’s wrong?” She studied the picture, then turned to them. “Do you know these people?”

  “I’m afraid so, honey,” Cammie answered when she managed to catch her breath.

  Andre reached out and took the paper from Hildy. His face paled as he read the headlines. It was this man and his mother who had hired someone to kill him years ago. Would they try again? His voice shook as he spoke. “They weren’t supposed to be released this soon. This is a mistake, n’est pas?”

  Zack looked deeply troubled. “I think the time has come to tell Courtney the whole story,” he told them. “She has a right to know.”

  Silence. Courtney waited. What was it they were about to tell her—that she had a right to know? “Mom? Dad? What’s this all about?” she asked with all the curiosity of a twenty year old.

  Zack turned to Hildy and Jay. “Do you want me to tell her?” he asked. “Perhaps it would be easier for you if I did.”

  Hildy nodded, unable to utter a word. This was terrible news. She felt numb.

  What happened? They had been sentenced to life imprisonment. Why were they released so early? Or at all, for that matter?

  An awful premonition crept over her that the chaos Gregory Wilcox and his son had caused so many years ago was about to strike again. Greg, Sr. had been dead for many years, but now Greg, Jr. and his mother were free to create more havoc in their lives. When would it end?

  She shuddered. There was that old familiar punch in the stomach that she had experienced long ago when Gregory Wilcox, Sr. threatened her life. Again he was wielding power from the grave. Would he ever stop haunting her?

  Cammie sat in numbed silence, remembering those terrifying days when she had been held hostage by this unbelievably cruel man, Gregory Wilcox, Jr., and his mother, Countess Lilli Claude, who had engineered the whole thing.

  Jeremy put his arm around Cammie and reached out to Andre with a comforting gesture.

  Fran looked grim. “These people should be locked up for good,” he said. “I hope they learned their lesson while they were in prison, and won’t cause any more trouble.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Zack warned. “I have a strong feeling we haven’t seen the last of them.”

  He motioned for Courtney to sit down opposite him.

  “Honey,” he said, taking her hand in his, “I want you to listen carefully. This has happened twice now, and that’s quite enough. History has already repeated itself once. I only hope it won’t repeat itself again. It’s best for you to know everything so you’ll be on your gua
rd. We may never see them again. I hope we don’t. But, just in case, we must be prepared.”

  He proceeded to tell Courtney the whole story—how Gregory Wilcox, Sr. had stolen Hildy’s musicals, “The Ginger Jar,” and “La Fleur Rouge,” and Roger Fielding’s musical, “The Happy Heart;” how he had planted a bomb on Hildy’s plane to kill her, and when that didn’t work, had kidnapped both her and Roger to prevent them from exposing him for the fraud that he was; their rescue; how Countess Lilli had killed Vivienne, Fran’s first wife, so she could marry him; how she had plotted to have Jeremy killed when he was only five years old so that her son, Gregory Wilcox, Jr., could become Count Francois II; how Andre, unknown to Fran, had saved Jeremy’s life by kidnapping him so he could be adopted by a couple in the States, placing him as far away from danger as he could, but thereby causing him and his father to be separated for twenty-one years; how Gregory, Jr. had taken Cammie hostage with the intent to kill her, and had demanded that Hildy admit to a lie—that of stealing his father’s musicals; Cammie’s rescue; how Gregory and Lilli had hired a hit man to kill Andre; and finally, the arrest of Gregory, Jr. and Countess Lilli.

  Courtney sat speechless!

  “They almost got away with it,” Zack continued. “They’re very clever. You never know what scheme they’ll come up with next. This is why we felt you should know about it. Being warned ahead of time is your protection. Just because someone looks innocent or has a title doesn’t mean that person can be trusted. Sweetheart, you can’t be too careful. They’re out of prison now, and it’s anyone’s guess what they may be plotting next. I think Gregory, Jr., and his mother would do anything to regain his title of Count Francois II.”

  “Over my dead body!” Fran declared vehemently.

  Zack grimaced. “I wouldn’t put that past them, either. You know how treacherous they are!”

  Courtney jumped up from her chair. She ran over and hugged Fran as if by so doing she could ward off any impending danger to him. “Oh, Grampa Fran!” she exclaimed. “Are they really that bad?”