The Locked Door

THE LOCKED DOOR

Azul Beard lived deep in the bayou of southern Louisiana in a huge, ramshackle house that had once been the home to the Beniot family, an important family who grew cotton and tobacco. The same family had held the property as late as the mid-twentieth century, when Bernard Benoit made a number of ill-advised investments, and the family was no longer able to afford their lavish lifestyle. Unable to pay the taxes, or pay off the second and third mortgages Bernard had taken out on the house, they had fled the lowlands for Baton Rouge, abandoning the property and debts, never to return. The plantation soon fell into disrepair, succumbing to the rain and humidity of the region. When Azul Beard purchased it in the second decade of the twenty-first century, the house was a mouldering pile, the only inhabitants being birds, insects, rodents, and the occasional alligator. 

Azul Beard, whose family, it was said, came from money, saved the old mansion. From the outside the transformation was nothing short of spectacular. The property had been taken back from the ever-encroaching Bayou — grasses were mown, cypress trees were wrestled into submission, and the wildlife sent back to the wilds surrounding the manse. Siding was painted, porticos rebuilt, roofs repaired, and new windows installed. Elaborate gardens were planted, the carriage house converted into a garage, the front gates restored to their former imposing grandeur.

The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. People would travel from all over the parish to peek through the gates to see the extensive renovations to the main house and grounds. What was once a long-forgotten, dilapidated plantation house was now magnificent. Word spread of the superb workmanship that had been used to restore the Benoit mansion, and there were many requests to feature the home in national and international magazines, but all were politely declined by Azul Beard. 

Azul Beard was an extremely private man. He retained no staff from the local population. No one had been hired for the domestic or external positions — no gardeners, no maintenance people, no cook, no cleaners, no majordomo. Surely a single man did not manage his own home, ruminated the townsfolk. There was speculation that Azul Beard had brought his staff with him from whence he came. Not that anyone had ever seen staff of any kind. The only member of Azul Beard’s staff that the village folk had ever seen was his driver, Wendell. A large bald man, Wendell chauffeured Azul Beard around in a black vintage Rolls Royce Phantom. It was Wendell that people in the village first contacted if they needed to an appointment with Azul Beard.

Azul Beard himself was an enigma. He received no mail, according to the letter carrier. He received no packages according to the UPS driver. In fact he received no deliveries at all. Some of the people in town believed that he had all of his purchases delivered in the dead of night off of the bayou. But who would do that, especially with perfectly good roads available?

Little was known about Azul Beard. Rumour had it that he was a famous musician of some renown, although finding any mention of his name anywhere online was difficult. There was talk that he was related to Frank Beard of ZZ Top fame, but that could never be verified. All people knew for sure was that he no longer played in public, if he ever had.

Azul Beard was a fairly striking man, always immaculately dressed and groomed. No one was exactly sure how old he was, but he looked to be in his mid-forties. In fact, some of the folk who remembered when he arrived at the plantation more than ten years previous remarked that he looked much the same as when he had first arrived. He was over six feet tall, with an athletic build, and walked with a certain purpose, straight and true. His hair was jet black, almost blue-black, thick and straight, which he wore long, below his shoulders, sometimes tying it back low on his neck with a leather thong. His eyes were an intense, icy blue, that held a stare. His eyelashes were as dark as if augmented by eyeliner, and as long as if enhanced by mascara. But closer inspection would reveal that no unnatural enhancements had been used.  

The one thing that kept Azul Beard from being a stunningly handsome man was his beard. Not that his grooming was in question.  No, his facial hair was immaculately trimmed — full-faced, with a neatly trimmed moustache, his beard was beautifully shaped ending in a point that almost reached his chest. No, it was the colour. Azul Beard’s beard was dark like his hair, but more blue than black. The townsfolk wondered why he would spend such effort dying it. After all, beards didn’t grow blue, did they? A strange vanity.  

As far as the villagers knew, Azul Beard had been married four times since coming to the bayou. Each time he took a bride, he would have Wendell drive him into town, where he and his new bride would stroll around the village, talking to the villagers. Azul Beard would introduce his new wife to those he met. All of his wives had been young and beautiful.

But strangely, after the initial debut of each wife, they were never seen again. The townsfolk may have wondered about this odd behaviour, but it wasn’t until a private investigator from Atlanta had shown up looking for Azul Beard’s last wife, that they had to consider the odd circumstances under which each new Mrs. Beard was presented. The investigator had been hired by the woman’s family, concerned that she hadn’t been heard from her since the wedding late last year. The investigator asked around the village, but all the villagers knew was that she had been seen shortly after the wedding when she and Azul Beard had been seen strolling about town, but not a single soul had seen her since that one and only sighting. 

"Surely Azul Beard would know what had happened to his bride," the villagers suggested.  "You should ask him."

The last time the investigator was seen in the village, he was heading toward the Beard mansion. The investigator was never heard from again, but his car was found abandoned in a parking lot in New Orleans a month after he had visited the mansion on bayou. 

But now there was a fifth Mrs. Beard. She was a lovely young woman in her mid-twenties, named Sophia Dejardin. She had met Azul Beard at a late evening gathering at the New Orlean’s mansion of Andre Broussard, a man of some renown and influence.  

Sophia, who worked as personal assistant, was joyously surprised by the invitation. She was relatively new to the city, and had developed a limited circle of friends. To have been invited to one of Mr. Broussard’s soirees was quite the honour.

The dress had been for a cocktail party, and Sophia had purchased a sophisticated little black dress for the evening. Nothing too fancy, but nice enough for a late evening cocktail party at a mansion.  

When she had arrived, invitation in hand, she had been nervous. She knew no one at the party, including the host. But, she put a smile on her face and mingled with the guests. They were an eclectic group — the rich, the famous, politicians, and a surprising number of young, single women, much like herself.  

Azul Beard had approached her early in the gathering. She had been taken by his courtly behaviour, and deferential manner. He was so attentive, hanging off of her every word, to the displeasure of the other women who tried to insinuate themselves into Sophia and Azul Beard’s conversation.

After the party, Azul Beard had sent flowers to her home and work. He invited her for picnics, and horse drawn carriage rides through the city. He invited her to the opera in his private box. They sailed on Lake Pontchartrain in his catamaran. They dined at the best restaurants, where Azul Beard was treated like a king. Their courtship was a whirlwind. On a beautiful sunny day they had rented a rowboat and were meandering through Bayou St. John that wended its way through New Orleans City Park when Azul Beard had asked Sophia to marry him. She was, of course, surprised at the timing. They had been dating less than a month. But she said yes. They were married within the week at Andre Broussard’s mansion. Sophia had no family, few friends, so the wedding was attended only by Andre Broussard and Wendell, who served as witnesses, and Azul Beard and Sophia.

After a one month honeymoon in Europe, Azul and Sophia Beard returned to their home on the bayou. Sophia had never been to the mansion, but Azul had spoken to her about it. She was stunned by its opulence and grandeur. Never had she seen such magnificence and grandeur. And now this was where she was going to live. She was excited to start her life with Azul Beard.

After she had settled in, Azul Beard took her to town to introduce her to the local citizens. It was an odd outing, she had thought, almost like he was showing off his newest possession, like a purebred dog, perhaps.

The next day, Azul Beard joined Sophia at breakfast.

“My dear Sophia,” he said, “I have to leave for a few days. I have a business trip that will take me first to New Orleans, then to Baton Rouge, whereupon I will travel to Lake Charles to conclude my business, then return home to you my love. This business should take me approximately ten days.”

Sophia looked stunned. “Ten days! Such a long time to be apart! What ever will I do without you.”

“You will manage, my dear.”

“May I accompany you on this trip?”

“No, I’m afraid that will not be possible.”

“Will Wendell be here with me?”

“No, Wendell will be driving me, so you will be on your own.”

Sophia looked crestfallen. This was not how she expected her first week at her new home to unfold — alone, and, for all intents and purposes, stranded on the shores of the bayou in this beautiful but remote home.

Azul Beard smiled at her indulgently. “You can do anything you wish while I’m gone. In fact—“ He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Here are all the keys to all the rooms in the mansion. Let me show you around your new home.”

They spent nearly an hour going from room to room. Azul Beard showed her magnificent salons, and serene lounges. There were so many rooms. Sophia was enchanted. Such an opulent home.

When there was only one key left on the ring, they walked to the end of a dark hall, in a part of the house not quite as opulent as the rest of the home.

“And this key will open this lock, the door to the basement.”  

Azul Beard held up a key that was different from all the others. While the other keys were brass or steel, this key was wrought iron. While the other keys were modern with teeth cut along the ridge, this key was an old fashioned barrel key with the bit at the end of the shank.

He held it up so that she could see it.

“But,” said Azul Beard, “you must never unlock this door. Under no circumstance are you be allowed to go through this door into the basement.”

Sophia looked from the key to Azul Beard.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

Sophia nodded her head.

“You can have everything and anything in this house. What I have is yours. Unless you open this door and go into the basement. If you do, you will feel my wrath and rage.”

Sophia was shocked. Azul Beard had never been anything but courteous and charming. His harsh words hammered home the seriousness of this one condition.

“I understand,” she said. “And I will respect your wishes.”

Azul Beard smiled his captivating smile. He bent to kiss her.

“Thank you, Sophia. I’m pleased that you understand the gravity of the situation.”

They walked back to the main part of the house. Before Azul Beard left for his trip, he handed Sophia the key ring.  

“Remember, Sophia, do not open the door and do not go into the basement.”

She watched as Azul Beard and Wendell drove down the driveway until she could no longer see them.

 Once Azul Beard had disappeared from sight, a change came over Sophia. The love besotted look left her face, replaced by one of determination. She stood tall and confident, taking off her wedding ring, and putting it in her pocket. It was as if she were another woman. In fact she was. Her name was not Sophia Desjardin but Sophie Cormier. Her sister had been Marguerite Cormier, the fourth wife of Azul Beard. It was Sophie who had hired the private detective to find out what had happened to her sister.  The same private investigator who was now missing. Marguerite was Sophie’s only family, the two sisters having been orphaned after a tragic automobile accident involving their parents.  

Sophie had never met Azul Beard before that night in New Orleans, as she had been abroad studying when Marguerite and Azul Beard began courting. But Marguerite had told Sophie about the new love of her life. Sophie had been surprised at the speed at which Azul Beard had wooed and married Marguerite, but Marguerite was smitten with her new husband, and the lap of luxury he had brought her into.  Then, suddenly all contact stopped. Sophie called her cell phone over and over, leaving messages, to no avail. Then the number was no longer in service. Once the private investigator had disappeared, Sophie knew that she had to find her sister herself. She had insinuated herself into Azul Beard’s life, hoping to find her. 

Now she had the keys to the kingdom. This was her chance to find out what had happened to her beloved Marguerite.

Sophie marched toward the back of the house, to the basement door, the key held out in front of her, like a talisman. Without hesitation she inserted the key in the lock, and turned it. The hinges squealed as she opened the door. She flipped the light switch and a dim, naked bulb sputtered to life at the bottom of the stairs. Sophie felt no trepidation as she descended the stairs. But she was unprepared for the horrible scene unfolded before her at the bottom of stairs. There were four women chained to the wall. All were filthy, the basement in squalor. Rats scurried away across the dirt floor at her approach.

The woman closest to Sophie lifted up her head weakly.

“Marguerite!”

Sophie ran to her.

“You must leave now.” Marguerite croaked, “This is a trick. The monster with come back, and imprison you with us. Flee while you can!”

Sophie ignored her sister. Instead she inserted the basement door key into the shackle binding Marguerite's wrist, and turned it. The chains fell to the floor, freeing Marguerite.

Sophie ran to the others, and freed them. The fourth woman, who was farthest from Marguerite, tried to speak. Sophie bent nearer so that she could hear what the woman was trying to say.

“Wendell?”

“The chauffeur?” asked Sophie.

The woman nodded.

“Brother.”

At that moment, Sophie heard footsteps on the floor above her, moving quickly towards the back of the house, and the basement door. She heard the squeak of the stairs as someone descended. Azul Beard rounded the corner, rage changing his usual handsome face into a horrific mask.

His eyes blazed.  

“What have you done!” his eyes sweeping the basement. “I warned you! I told you, 'Do not open the door!' But you did! Now you will feel my wrath!”

Azul Beard strode towards Sophie. The four other women shrank away in fear, huddling in the back corner of the room in the shadows. Sophie grabbed the chain that had imprisoned her sister, and swung it hard at Azul Beard, hitting him hard with the cuff across the back of his head.

He looked shocked and stunned. She swung it again, making a direct hit.

Azul Beard fell face first onto the dirt floor. Sophie heard another set of feet coming down to the basement. It was Wendell. Sophia grabbed the chain again, ready to confront Wendell.

“Brother!” came from the other end of the basement.  

Wendell ran past Sophie, not stopping, eyes focussed on the women in the corner.

Sophie grabbed Azul Beard’s wrists and snapped the locks closed. He was now a prisoner in his own prison.

“I thought you were faithful to Azul Beard, Wendell,” said Sophie, watching as he helped the four women out of the basement.

“No! Never! My sister Mauve was Mr. Beard’s first wife when he moved to the property. When she disappeared, I was in a murderous rage. Mr. Beard told me that he would not kill Mauve, but I would have to work for him.” Wendell shock his head. “He has magic, Miss Sophia. He entrapped me, and made me his slave. He would have done the same to you.”

“No,” said Sophie. “I am not afraid of him. Blue Beard has no power over me.”