Chapter Six
The next morning, Isadora, Quigley and Duncan woke and put on some borrowed clothes, as Tiana offered to wash theirs for them. The crossing of the swamp had smeared and soiled their clothes with mud and swamp water. Isadora offered to help Tiana wash the clothes, but the girl shook her head. ‘We got one o’those machines that do it for us, girl! It ain’t no bother! You go to the kitchen, the three of you. I’ll fix you breakfast! Corn cakes with bacon grease! You’ll thank the heavens when you eat it!’ Tiana then cheerfully went to the laundry area of the house carrying the Quagmire triplets’ clothes. While the prospect of corn cakes with bacon grease was exciting, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something very wrong was happening, or would happen at that house. After the events of last night, the Quagmires weren’t exactly at ease in that house.
‘Maybe Mr. Hudson won’t be too drunk today. We can talk to him, see if he can point us to Dr. Nebra, or if he really is our second cousin.’ Duncan tried to convince Isadora and Quigley. Isadora did not want to go near the drunk Hudson, which was understandable, and Quigley was angry at the whole situation. ‘Second cousin? I wish we’d never heard of him, I wish we’d never come to this Bayou.’ Quigley told Duncan. ‘We didn’t exactly have a choice, Quigley.’ Isadora reasoned. Quigley silently concurred, and the three Quagmires descended the stairs. As if their situation was not unpleasant enough, René Chenier was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Ah.
Bonjour!’ René said with his thick cajun accent. Bonjour of course, means ‘good day’ or ‘good morning’ in french, which was one of the two languages that had come together to form that dialect. ‘Ga, Monsieur Hudson’is takin’ a bat, ‘e ‘as said sorry ‘bout last night. Says ‘e’ll talk ta you layta.’ René nodded at Quigley and Duncan, stopping to take a long look at Isadora before walking out the door. ‘That guy is just asking for it, I swear.’ Quigley told his siblings. ‘It’s alright, Quigley. He didn’t do anything. Let’s just try to get through the day without a fight, okay?’ Isadora did not care for those looks René gave her, but the man was a lot larger and stronger than even Quigley, and had a malicious air about him to boot. Not exactly the type of guy who wouldn’t have a knife hidden somewhere, and Isadora was not taking any chances. When the three Quagmires entered the kitchen, they found Caroline Hudson taking her breakfast. ‘Oh, ‘morning!’ Caroline rose from her seat and then showed each Quagmire to a chair around the large kitchen table. ‘Tiana will make you the most de-licious corn cakes for breakfast! She already made me some. I was just reading the morning newspaper, apparently that ol’ submarine thing sunk into the bog last night.’
‘Did it now?’ The Quagmires shared a momentous glance which passed unoticed to Caroline. ‘Yes! Whole parish frettin’ about it! Guess they’ll have to change the name of that shrimp place that they opened next to it! Coffee?’ Caroline then poured each Quagmire a steaming cup of black coffee. ‘
Catherine Hudson came into the kitchen, this time in a white dress which was very becoming, making her almost seem innocent, but the Quagmires knew better by now. ‘What is this?’ She said, examining the newspaper. ‘You know the ol’ submarine down by the swamp? It sunk last night.’ Caroline replied politely. ‘Oh. Wonder that it took it so long.’ Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee and eyed the three Quagmires across the table. She leaned back on the counter, against the window, examining the Quagmires one at a time. ‘Good morning, you three. Did the bugs let you catch some sleep?’
‘Oh, yes. We have bug repellant. They didn’t trouble us at all.’ Duncan replied. ‘Good. You wanted to talk to my husband, is that right?’ The Quagmires nodded affirmatively. ‘Well, you’re in luck. He’s sobered up today. For today, at least. It
is Caroline’s birthday, isn’t it?’ Catherine turned her dark eyes to Caroline, who still read the newspaper. ‘It’s your birthday? Well, congratulations!’ Quigley told Caroline. The girl gave a half-smile, and continued to read. ‘It’s just a day like any other. It’s not like he remembers, really.’ Caroline said. Catherine put down her empty cup in the sink. ‘Well, darling, I’m sure your father decided to spend the day with you today. If he sobered up for
you, you should be thankful, and spend some time with him before he starts drinking again.’ Catherine then made for the door that led to the backyard. ‘Oh, Quagmires.’ Catherine whirled before going out, to face the triplets. ‘My husband wishes to see you when he gets out of his bath. Apparently, everyone else is worth his time but me.’ Catherine then closed the door behind her. Surely, she was going to meet up with René. He
was outside. Catherine Hudson was a harlot, but it was true that her husband neglected her. It was hard to see her as evil, but she was no good either.
When Catherine left, Caroline put aside the newspaper, which Duncan promptly picked up. He was in dire need of news of what was happening in the world, and what happened when the Quagmires were in stasis. ‘Do you guys believe in the afterlife?’ Caroline asked them. An unusual topic for breakfast, but Caroline seemed to also be very spiritual, if a bit more gullible about it than Tiana. ‘Well, we never really gave it much thought. We hope there is. You know, because of our parents.’ Isadora told her. ‘Oh, yes. You said your father died in a fire? Your mother too? How sad. I’m lucky to still have my daddy, but he is…’ Caroline did not finish her sentence. Her eyes started tearing up, but she immediately took control of herself. ‘No, no. I shouldn’t cry, not in front of you. It’s not your problem. If you’ll excuse me…Ah, Tiana will be back in no time. She’ll fix you breakfast!’ Caroline left the kitchen and the Quagmires were by themselves. ‘So, any news?’ Quigley asked Duncan, who eagerly read the newspaper, as his own coffee cooled, untouched. ‘Not really. This is a really shabby newspaper. It’s called
Bog Daily, and other than the article on the submarine sinking there really isn’t much else. Full of grammatical errors, factual mistakes, inconsistencies…We’re stuck in redneck country, and this paper won’t tell us of what has happened while we were out.’
‘Duncan, mind your words. Don’t use that word near any of the Hudsons. People get offended easily around these parts.’ Quigley told him. ‘Sorry.’ Duncan apologized. Luckily, neither of the Hudsons were around, René was out and Tiana was doing laundry in the innards of the house. The Quagmires really were by themselves in that house. That must have creeped them out a little, as Quigley was the first to propose they go out and explore the grounds. Isadora and Duncan eagerly accepted.
The Hudson property was large, with equal parts solid ground and swamp, all around a very large area, encircled by the woods, and many ancient willows. Behind the house, there was a pond with lilypads with beautiful white lillies on them. Isadora wanted to catch one, but they were too far and she would have to go into the water. All around them, the constant croaks of hundreds of frogs composed a melody, the music of the Bayou. Further away, there was a second wooden quay with a
hovercraft which is a kind of boat with a very large fan that propels it and is very suitable to navigating marshlands and streams. ‘This is nice. Violet would go crazy over it.’ Quigley said, climbint onto the hovercraft and taking seat. ‘Where do you think they are?’ Isadora asked. ‘I don’t know. They went into a different escape pod, they could be anywhere.’ Duncan said. ‘We’ll find them. You’ll see.’ Quigley told his siblings. ‘I’ll find Violet and Klaus and Sunny and Beatrice if I have to cross the world to do it.’ Their resolve had to be admirable. Against all odds, the Quagmires had escaped the Great Unknown, and the clutches of the terrible duo and their evil plan. Others had been as fortunate to escape, others…not so much. But one thing was true; the Quagmire triplets would never give up on the Baudelaires. The Baudelaires never gave up on them.
Chapter Seven
‘We should head to the house. Best not keep Mr. Hudson waiting, or else he’ll take up drinking again.’ Quigley told Isadora and Duncan and the three made for the house. From a distance they saw Tiana hang their clothes to dry in the backyard. By now it was very hot, like it usually is in the South, and the Quagmires were tired and parched and sweaty when they made it to the house. The three drank their fill of clean, sparkling, cold water from the refrigerator, and then Tiana walked in. ‘Where was the three of you? Mr. Hudson’s been waiting. He’s in the living room, go before he decides to have a drink.’ The Quagmires went to the living room, and found Jeremiah Hudson waiting for them.
Jeremiah Hudson did sober up and take a bath to meet with them, that much was true, but they only wished he’d have the decency to put on proper clothes. He was wearing nothing but his long-johns, which is a kind of underwear that covers the whole body, but is underwear still. Awkwardly, the Quagmires announced themselves. ‘Good morning, Mr. Hudson.’ The three said sitting on the couch across from the one where Jeremiah sat, his right foot over his left knee, his arms spread in both directions on top of the couch. ‘Oh, good morning. Haven’t ya had your breakfast yet?’
‘Not yet, sir. But it doesn’t matter. We came here to talk to you, but last night…’ Quigley spoke, but Jeremiah interrupted him. ‘Yeah, yeah, I was drunk yesterday. I didn’t know I was going to have guests, else I’d have left the liquor for later. You three kids could have called before coming, couldn’t you?’ That much was true. The Quagmires
had arrived unnanounced at a stranger’s house in the middle of the night, which is almost always a dangerous thing to do, as you never know what sort of person your friends or family are when there isn’t anyone around to see, and you might see embarrassing things. ‘We’re sorry. We didn’t have time to call.’ Duncan said, hoping it would stick. They had come up with a story that their father had died and it was in his last will and testament that they should come to Bayou Lafayette and meet with Jeremiah Hudson, his alleged cousin, but Quentin Quagmire, the triplets’ father, had died more than two years ago. Right there the Quagmire’s story lost most of it’s plausibility, but it was better than to tell a complete stranger they spent two years inside the submarine that had become a touristic spot of the parish. ‘Right, right.’ Jeremiah said. ‘Oh, I’m sorry I’m still in them long-johns, but Tiana put all my clothes to wash and it is an awful hot day today, don’t you think?’
‘By all means sir. This is your house, we’re just passers-by.’ Quigley politely said. ‘See, it came to our knowledge you are our second cousin on our father’s side. Our father, Quentin Quagmire, who died recently.’ Duncan told the man. ‘Quentin. Oh, yes, Quentin. Haven’t seen him in twenty years, when he married that Oakley woman. Your mother, may she rest in peace.’
Apparently, Jeremiah Hudson
was their second cousin, however ambiguous the Quagmire triplets might have felt about it. Only one more thing to find out now.
‘We were told that you could have certain information concerning the whereabouts of a Dr. Jill Nebra, a scientist, friend of our father’s.’ Quigley said. It was only a half-lie. By the look of Jeremiah’s expression, the Quagmires realized they had wasted their time. ‘Do I look like I know any scientists, kids?’ Jeremiah smiled, pointing at himself in his long-johns, sweating and with a hangover. ‘I don’t know who told you this, but I never met this Dr. Nebra you seek. I don’t know why your father would tell you to come all the way down here just to ask me that.’
The Quagmires were deeply frustrated. What was Dr. Nebra thinking when she told them to set the course for the Gulf, to go upstream to Bayou Lafayette, stay in stasis two years later and then somehow ask a complete stranger of her whereabouts? What were her intentions? What then, were they doing in that house, with those people?
‘Well, actually…’ Jeremiah began to speak after thinking long and hard for some minutes, while the Quagmires had been silently and mentally chastising themselves. ‘Well, my father, he…He knew all sorts of people. He died fifteen years ago, just before my Caroline was born. Sad thing, that. He could have been the father Caroline needs. But anyways, my father, rest his soul, he knew all sorts of different people, strange folks with stranger sayings and books and the like. There was some sort of trouble between those people years ago, before even he died. His name too was Jeremiah Hudson. I’m Jeremiah Hudson Junior.’
Now
that brightened up the moods of the Quagmires a lot. Of course. Jeremiah Hudson Senior must have been the one Dr. Nebra knew. ‘Well that makes sense then, sir. Your father is the one we were looking for, and he is dead…’ Quigley said. ‘He is. I wish you could have met him. He’s buried back there in the graveyard.’
‘Graveyard?’ Duncan asked. ‘Yes. We Hudsons have our very own graveyard in the property. Would you like a tour? I’ll take you there, my special way of apologizing for my behavior last night. I do wish y’all hadn’t seen me like that. I’m not
always drunk, you know. Don’t listen to Catherine and the others.’ The Quagmires ignored the last comment, but they were thankful. They had a feeling about the graveyard. A feeling that at least part of the questions would be answered.
‘It would be best to wait a bit before we leave though. It’s too hot to do anything right now, and it’s not even nine in the morning! Sometimes I feel like moving to some snowy town in the north and feel cold for once in my life!’ Jeremiah stood up, towering over the Quagmires. He was
scary he was so big and strong, and scarier when drunk. ‘Now if y’all excuse me I’m going to put on some clothes and go shoot some ducks for lunch. Shouldn’t take long! Go have breakfast, and please, entertain my poor Caroline. She never has the chance to make friends.’ Jeremiah then took the stairs and disappeared. ‘Well, at least this isn’t all a big waste of time.’ Isadora said, getting herself between Quigley and Duncan, her arms around both’s shoulders, and the three headed to the kitchen. A
very pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen, and when they entered, they found a busy Tiana and a plate full of tiny hot yellow pancakes which looked very appetizing.
‘Did you three get what you came looking for?’ Tiana was a girl that did not beat around the bush – an expression which here means ‘was bluntly and brutally honest, all the time’ – as she eyed the Quagmires inquisitively. ‘Not exactly. The Jeremiah Hudson we came to meet is Jeremiah Hudson Senior.’
‘And he’s dead.’ Tiana said, bluntly enough. ‘Yes.’ Duncan agreed. The three Quagmires sat down and each took a bite out of the delicious pancakes. ‘Wow! Tastes like bacon!’ Tiana smiled. ‘It’s the only way to make them, with bacon grease! There’s bacon too, over there.’ Tiana pointed to a big plate full of bacon.
‘Well, what are you going to do? If the Jeremiah you’re lookin’ for is dead, then what? Are you gonna leave?’ Tiana sat down, and nibbled on a piece of bacon. ‘No. Mr. Hudson Junior was kind enough to offer to take us to the graveyard. We hope to find some answers there.’ Quigley said. ‘Oh boy. Bad juju, that place. I wouldn’t go near it.’ Tiana was very superstitious, the Quagmires had noticed.
‘Why? It’s just a graveyard.’ Isadora said. ‘You haven’t been there, white girl. Down here in the South, we take these things
seriously. Did he say when he’s gonna take you?’ Tiana asked. ‘Later. Mr. Hudson went out to shoot some ducks, he said.’ Duncan told her. ‘Oh boy. That’s gonna take a while. If he said he’s gonna shoot some ducks, he’s gonna shoot some ducks, only he’ll shoot some ducks down by the Bayou proper, and that means he’s takin’ the hovercraft.’
‘Oh no. How long is he going to be out there?’ Duncan asked. ‘Long enough for me to try to convince you not to go the graveyard. There are some disturbing stories about things happenin’ on that place.’ By now the Quagmires were almost fed up with Tiana’s faith in the supernatural. ‘Look Tiana, we don’t believe in voodoo or any of that. We’re just going to take a look around Jeremiah Hudson Senior’s grave, see if we can find anything, and we’ll be back in no time.’ Isadora told the girl.
‘Voodoo? I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about voodoo. What’s with you white folks thinkin’ all of us down here are voodoo practicioners? I’m talking about
real stuff, Isadora. You see, there’s a farm not far from here, upstream. We hear some disturbing stories about that farm, and the people who live there…I mean, you think this is a bad place? You don’t know nothing!’ Tiana said. ‘I’m talkin’ about real messed up stuff that would give you nightmares at night.’ Tiana then looked up at the clock, on the kitchen wall. ‘Hell, I shouldn’t be talkin’ about stuff like this at this hour! Y’all are havin’ breakfast. Anyways, you people eat, I’ll go find Caroline.’ Tiana walked out of the kitchen. She hadn’t said anything relevant, really, but the Quagmires felt a chill. ‘Did it just get cold here or is it just me?’ Isadora asked, unnerved. ‘Yeah me too. Well!’ Quigley tapped on the wooden table, snapping the three Quagmires out of that eerie feeling. ‘I think I’ll go take a bath myself. I’m sweating like a pig, and Jeremiah was right about one thing: it’s
hot today!’
Chapter Eight
The Quagmires then spent a rather pleasant if not a bit too hot afternoon at the Hudson house. After the three had taken their baths, Caroline Hudson showed up at their room. ‘Hey y’all. Need anything?’ She asked. ‘No, thanks, Caroline. Well, actually…’ Quigley said just as Caroline was about to leave and she reappeared on the doorway. ‘Yes?’ She asked sweetly. ‘Some books would be nice. You know, to pass the time.’
‘Oh, of course. C’mere! I’ll take you to daddy’s study. He has all kinds of books, mostly about the swamp creatures, but there’s a lot of my grandaddy’s books there too.’
Jeremiah Hudson’s study had two bookcased filled with books. It was a small private library, nothing like the ones the Quagmires had seen, nothing like the library at Prufrock Prep – their only fond memory of the place other than meeting the Baudelaires for the first time – but it was a library still. Like Caroline said most of the books were centered around Bayou Lafayette and it’s creatures. There was a book on the alligators, with a picture of their powerful jaws and fangs, which were truly fearsome. There was a book on the shrimp, and the various ways to cook them – they found out it was a recipe book – and there was even a guide on how to survive on the wild, which greatly interested the Quagmires. ‘This one…Can we borrow it?’ Quigley asked. The Quagmires had no idea where they were going next, but they figured out they should ensure their own survival above all things. It was fortunate that they assumed this stance on things, as it greatly affected everything that they did. ‘Oh, yes, take it, by all means. That one belonged to my grandaddy. He used to spend weeks out there on his own, and he would come back in one piece from the swamp. I’ll never understand how he did it, but I guess it’s all in that book.’ Caroline said, presenting the book to the Quagmires.
Isadora picked up another book from the bookcase. ‘Oh I guess I’ll leave you three alone. I’ll make some tea for us. Tiana is resting, the poor thing. Enjoy the books, y’all! Caroline said, disappearing through the adjacent doorway.
‘Guys, this is the personal diary of Jeremiah Hudson. Senior.’ Isadora said. Quigley and Duncan shared a glance. ‘Lucky us. Let’s see if we can find anything on Dr. Nebra.’
And the Quagmires read sections and passages of the diary. It’s normally considered unpolite to read someone else’s diary, but when they are deceased, and there is just so much at stake, I guess it’s understandable. After half an hour, they had read through most of the diary – it was rather incomplete, as if Jeremiah Hudson Senior had one day decided that diary keeping was for little girls and not a respectable land owner, which I guess was not the case – and just as they were about to give up, a photograph fell from between the timeworn, yellowed pages of the diary. When Isadora picked up the photo, and the three Quagmires looked at it, they let out a single whimper of dark surprise.
It was a picture from long ago. Jeremiah Hudson Senior was standing next to another two men, and a young boy who was somewhat tall. As they had seen Jeremiah Hudson Junior, it was fairly easy to recognize the strong build of his father, an the similar facial features, but it was not that that startled the Quagmire triplets. It was his company. Two men. Two men the Quagmires knew too well. And that meant the tall boy could only be one person.
‘What’s Jeremiah Hudson doing with Dr. Lugae, Vladimir Ivankov and Olaf in the same picture?’ Duncan asked, picking the photo from Isadora’s hand to get a better look at those familiar, evil faces. They made Jeremiah Senior’s face comparatively angelic, that needed to be said. ‘I don’t know. But I now we have a connection. And now, we can form a theory.’ Quigley said, taking the photo from Duncan’s hands. ‘Jeremiah Hudson must have at one point or another known, worked with, or at least, met these three.’ Duncan’s investigative journalistic self had stirred. His mind was reeling, the juices of his brain running like ink running on paper, leaving behind the marks of his theories. ‘That can only mean that Jeremiah Senior was involved in V.F.D. Jeremiah
Junior mentioned some kind of confusion, trouble. Which, given the presence of these three in the photo, can only mean one thing.’
‘The schism.’ Isadora cemented Duncan’s theory, and he elaborated further. ‘After the schism, Jeremiah Hudson must have moved back to Bayou Lafayette. To escape, to hide. One doesn’t live here for the pleasure of other people’s company, Catherine Hudson said it herself.’ Duncan continued. ‘Shortly after, he died. Strange that no one came to set fire to his house. We all know how well they like to set their fires.’
‘This was taken before the assassination of Olaf and Vladimir’s parents at the Opera house.’ Quigley stated. ‘We should hold onto this. I say we take the diary as well. It’s not like Jeremiah Junior is using it anyway.’
Stealing other people’s property is not condoned by law. But stealing the journals ans photograph of a deceased man from his alcoholic son to try to find clues to discover anything that might lead them to Dr. Nebra was well worth breaking any stupid old law. The Quagmires had no time to waste, and they barely had time to hide the diary and the Survival Guide in their room when someone knocked on the door. ‘Who is it?’
The honey-coated, slimy voice of René Chenier was heard. ‘Monsieur Hudson is back from’is hunt. Told me ta tell ya ta come down for lunch, you. After he’ll take ya to da graveyard.’