Chapter 6: The Truth About the Engagement Party
1763words
The opportunity came soon.
A few days later, I received a call from Luna. Her voice sounded exhausted, almost desperate.
"Ms. Carter, I'd like to invite you to my engagement party. It will be held next Saturday at the St. Charles Hotel in the Garden District."
"It's truly an honor, Luna. But I must ask, why invite me?"
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then, her voice became even quieter: "Because I want someone... to witness. Someone who knows the truth."
This invitation made me feel both excited and uneasy. Luna was clearly experiencing some kind of mental crisis, and I had a feeling that this party might become a key turning point in the entire mystery.
The engagement party is set for 7 PM next Saturday. In preparation, I decided to learn some information about Jim Turner in advance. As William Turner's son, he is not only Luna's fiancé, but might also be part of this complex conspiracy.
I contacted a friend who works in the local legal community to inquire about Jim Turner's background.
"Jim? He's a very talented young lawyer," my friend told me, "but he's also under enormous family pressure. William Turner expects him to inherit the family's legal empire."
"Does he know about his father's relationship with the Miller family?"
"It's hard to say. Jim has always focused on commercial law, rarely getting involved in criminal cases. But he must know about some of his father's... unusual clients from the past."
"Do you think he's innocent?"
My friend considered for a moment. "I think he might be. Jim seems like an honest man, but he's also very naive. I suspect he has no idea what kind of family he's about to join."
This assessment made me even more curious about the upcoming party. If Jim really didn't know the Millers' secrets, what did it mean that Luna had invited me to "witness" the truth?
On the day of the party, I arrived at the Hotel St. Charles an hour early. It was one of New Orleans' most elegant hotels, with a long history and gorgeous decorations. The engagement party was held in the hotel's grand ballroom, which was adorned with exquisite flowers and candles.
Mrs. Miller was already busy in the kitchen, supervising the food preparation. I noticed she had brought her own equipment, including several thermal boxes and some containers I couldn't identify. Most notable was a small stainless steel bucket, clearly a temporary substitute for the famous oak barrel.
"Ms. Carter, you're here early," Mrs. Miller said when she saw me. Her expression was calm, but I noticed an intensity in her eyes that I hadn't seen before.
"I wanted to see your work process," I said, "for our special feature."
"Of course. Tonight is a special night, and I want to make sure everything is perfect."
I observed her preparations. Her movements were more precise than usual, more ritualistic. When she began handling the meat—tonight's main course was roast beef brisket—her entire demeanor changed.
She picked up each piece of meat, examining it carefully with her fingers, almost as if conducting some kind of assessment. Then, she began applying that dark barbecue sauce. But this time, her application method was very peculiar—not random brushing, but following some specific pattern.
"Does this pattern have special meaning?" I asked.
Mrs. Miller paused, looking at me. "Every family has its own traditions, Ms. Carter. This is our way."
Then, to my surprise, she began to chant softly. Not in English, it sounded like a mixture of Creole and other languages. This matched exactly the sounds described by the neighbors from that terrible night.
"Mrs. Miller, what are you chanting?"
Her gaze grew profound. "For blessing. To ensure those who consume our food truly... absorb its essence."
This answer sent a chill through me, but I struggled to remain calm.
The guests began to arrive. Jim Turner looked handsome in an expensive tailcoat, but I noticed he seemed nervous. Luna wore a beautiful blue evening gown, but her face was pale, with an expression in her eyes that was almost fear.
The party guests were mainly from New Orleans high society—lawyers, doctors, government officials, businessmen. I recognized some of them, including Judge Hansen, several city councilors, and some people whose names I had seen in my archival research.
"Friends," Jim said in his opening speech, "thank you all for coming to celebrate Luna's and my engagement. Special thanks to Mrs. Miller for preparing her famous barbecue feast for us."
The guests applauded enthusiastically, but I noticed Luna wasn't smiling. She just stood there, looking as if she was forcing herself not to run away.
Dinner began. Mrs. Miller personally served each guest, with every dish meticulously plated. The roasted beef brisket looked flawless, emanating that rich aroma I had already become so familiar with.
I observed the guests' reactions. Almost everyone displayed expressions of surprise and satisfaction after tasting the first bite. That intense feeling of fulfillment I had personally experienced spread throughout the room.
"This is simply magical," one guest commented.
"I've never tasted anything so delicious," said another.
But what troubled me most was that I noticed some guests exhibiting subtle changes after eating. Their eyes became deeper, their voices lower. Even stranger, they began unconsciously mimicking certain gestures and expressions of Mrs. Miller.
I recalled Dr. Ravi's words—about mental connections and fusion. Was I witnessing some kind of supernatural process?
In the middle of dinner, Luna suddenly stood up. Her face was deathly pale, her hands trembling.
"I... I need to get some air," she said, leaving the banquet hall in what was almost a run.
I waited a few minutes, then quietly followed her out. I found her in the hotel garden, sitting on a bench, vomiting.
"Luna, are you alright?"
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with fear and despair. "I can't do this, Ms. Carter. I can't let Jim become... part of this."
"Part of what?"
She took a deep breath, then began to tell the terrible truth I had been suspecting all along.
"That night, ten years ago, my father didn't disappear. He died. But it wasn't an accident," her voice trembled, "My mother... she killed him."
Although I had suspected this, hearing it confirmed still shocked me. "Why?"
"Because he threatened to kill both of us if my mother tried to leave him. He became increasingly insane, increasingly obsessed with those Vodun rituals. He believed that if he performed a specific ritual, he could control us forever."
"So your mother killed him in self-defense?"
Luna shook her head. "No, it's more complicated. She... she used his ritual. She learned how to perform that spiritual transfer ritual, but she reversed it. Instead of letting herself be bound, she bound him."
I felt a chill. "Bound to what?"
Luna looked at me, with absolute terror in her eyes. "To the barbecue sauce. To that barrel. She... processed his body, then fused both his spirit and flesh into the sauce."
This explanation confirmed my most horrifying suspicion. "That smell for three days..."
"It was a cooking process. My mother spent three days... preparing him. Then added him to the sauce." Luna's voice was barely audible, "Since then, anyone who has tasted the sauce has established a connection with my father. He could... influence them, through the food."
"Are you saying that everyone who ate the barbecue sauce..."
"Became his extension. His spirit continues to exist through them. My mother thought she could control this process, but my father's will was too strong. He began to act through those people, influencing their decisions, manipulating them to serve our family's interests."
This explained why police investigations were stopped, why media reports were deleted, why the Miller family had such powerful political protection. All influential people who had tasted the barbecue sauce had become part of Robert Miller's spiritual network.
"Luna, why are you telling me this now?"
"Because tonight isn't just an engagement party. Tonight, my mother is going to conduct a new ritual. She's going to bind Jim permanently to our family. And I... I can't let that happen."
"What kind of ritual?"
"She has added special ingredients to the barbecue sauce. Everyone who tastes the food tonight will form a deeper connection with our family. But Jim... he will become the new core. The new vessel."
I realized the urgency of the situation. "We must stop her."
"How do we stop her? She has already completed most of the ritual. And..." Luna paused, "I think my father already knows about my plan. He's watching me through other people."
Just then, we heard sounds coming from the banquet hall—not ordinary party noise, but some kind of rhythmic chanting. Luna and I looked at each other, both realizing the ritual had already begun.
"We must go back," I said, "We must find some way to stop all of this."
But when we rushed back to the banquet hall, the scene we witnessed shocked us all.
All the guests were standing in a circle, surrounding Mrs. Miller and Jim. They were chanting, the same Creole chant I had heard before. Jim stood in the center of the circle, looking confused and helpless, clearly not understanding what was happening.
Mrs. Miller held a small bowl containing that dark barbecue sauce. She handed the bowl to Jim and said in a powerful, authoritative voice I had never heard before:
"Drink it, my son. Become part of our eternal family."
I knew once Jim drank that sauce, there would be no turning back. He would become a new node in Robert Miller's spiritual network, possibly even its new host.
In that moment, I made a decision that probably saved Jim's life. I rushed forward, knocked down Mrs. Miller, and the bowl crashed to the floor, the dark liquid spilling everywhere.
A wave of chaotic sounds erupted in the banquet hall—angry shouts, confused questions. But most unsettling was a collective, furious roar coming from those guests, sounding almost inhuman.
In that moment, I truly understood what we were facing—not just a mad woman and her dead husband, but an evil network composed of dozens of mentally bound individuals.
And now, this network knew I was a threat.
