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The EMTs were climbing out of the ambulance, and while An’gel watched, a St. Ignatiusville Police squad car came to a halt several feet away from the ambulance. A
heavyset man got out of the passenger side, while a tall, much thinner man climbed out from behind the wheel.

Estelle and Jackson stood at the railing, watching the scene unfold. An’gel joined them. Horace, Trey, and Thurston stood in the yard on the gravel path about a dozen feet from where Sondra’s body lay. Benjy, she realized, must have gone back to the den to stay with Endora and Peanut.

The EMTs went to work with the body, while the two police officers came up to Horace, Trey, and Thurston. They spoke in low tones, and An’gel was frustrated that she couldn’t hear anything.

After a few moments’ conversation, Horace jerked his head toward the verandah, then he turned and pointed up at the house. An’gel figured he was pointing out the location of Sondra’s room, at the front of the third floor, on the right side if one were facing Willowbank.

An’gel decided to join the men. She walked around the silent Estelle and Jackson and down the steps. As she approached, she heard Horace say, “. . . fascinated by storms. Didn’t bother her at all. It would be like her to go out on the balcony to watch.”

“Don’t reckon on it myself,” the heavyset man said. “Pure-dee old dangerous, doing something like that.”

“Sondra was fearless,” Trey said with a catch in his voice. “I argued with her I don’t know how many times not to pull a stupid stunt like that, but she never paid any attention to anything I said.” Those last words sounded bitter to An’gel.

“Such a tragic thing,” Thurston said. “And on the eve of her wedding.” He shook his head dolefully.

The heavyset cop, whose name badge An’gel couldn’t
read, nodded. “Yep, just like that Melusine Devereux. Y’all heard tell of that old story?”

Horace nodded. “Just last night, as a matter of fact. The housekeeper was carrying on about it while she was serving dinner. Even said Sondra had chosen the same wedding date as her.”

“Well, I’ll be,” the cop said. “Is that a fact? Downright spooky if you was to ask me.”

The taller, younger officer tapped his superior on the arm. “Coroner’s just arrived, sir.”

The older cop grimaced. “She has, has she? Well, I hope she don’t mind getting her dainty little feet muddy, ’cause this is sure messy after all that dang rain. Well, why don’t y’all go on up to the house? No point in y’all standing around here while we investigate. I’ll let you know what Dr. Kovacs has to say.”

Horace, Trey, and Thurston turned away and headed back to the house, but An’gel lingered. She wanted to see the female coroner. She didn’t appreciate the officer’s attitude toward a professional woman. The officer had his back to An’gel, and she hoped he stayed that way.

A tall, slender, dark-haired woman dressed in a rain slicker and rubber boots came into view and made her way up the path to where the policemen waited.

“Evening, Lieutenant Bugg, Officer Sanford,” she said in a clear, confident tone. “What have we got here?”

He
would
be named Bugg
. An’gel had to suppress a smile because the man did make her think of a giant beetle somehow.

“Howdy, Dr. Kovacs,” Bugg said. “Got a young woman
who was apparently watching the storm up yonder on the third-floor gal’ry. Reckon the wind was so vi’lent it snatched her right off and dropped her down on the ground and killed her.”

Dr. Kovacs stared at the policeman with what seemed like polite skepticism to An’gel. She found it rather hard to believe herself. It was simply too bizarre an explanation. The doctor nodded and turned away. She strode over to where the body lay. The EMTs had finished, and one of them waited nearby. After a hurried consultation with him, the coroner approached the body and knelt on the plastic sheet the EMTs had laid beside it.

An’gel kept still, hoping Lieutenant Bugg wouldn’t notice her and try to send her back into the house. Unfortunately for her, the younger man, Sanford, spotted her and nudged his superior. Bugg walked over to An’gel.

“Ma’am, there something I can do for you?” he asked. “Nice lady like you shouldn’t be standing here looking at something like that.” He waved a hand in the direction of Sondra’s body. “Why don’t you go on back up to the house with the menfolk?”

An’gel did not appreciate the man’s patronizing tone. He had at least not called her a
little lady
, as some had done in the past and lived to regret. “I’m simply concerned,” she said. “I want to be sure that everything is done properly to find out what happened.”

Bugg’s face darkened. “I can assure you right here and now, ma’am, we know what we’re doing. We don’t need nobody standing over us telling us how to do our jobs. So if you don’t mind, I think you’d better go back to the house.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned away and walked back over to within about three feet of where the coroner was still examining Sondra’s body.

An’gel could cheerfully have snatched off what few hairs the man probably had on that insufferable head of his, but she knew she was in the weaker position in this situation. Her mouth set in a grim line, she marched back up the path and up the steps onto the verandah.

“Let’s all go back inside,” Richmond Thurston said. He opened the door and motioned for everyone to enter. “Let’s let the police and the coroner do their work. Bugg will come and give us an update. I’m sure he’ll probably have more questions, too.”

“Surely he’ll also want to go up to Sondra’s bedroom,” An’gel said as she stepped into the hallway. She was tempted to go right up herself but knew that she could make things difficult if she did. Still, she was extremely curious about the state of Sondra’s bedroom and whether it would yield any information to help explain the girl’s bizarre death.

“No doubt he will,” Thurston said blandly as he shut the door. He walked with An’gel into the front parlor. “Bugg may look and sound like a hick cop, but he’s actually pretty shrewd. If there’s anything—odd, shall we say?—about Sondra’s death, he’ll spot it.”

An’gel glanced quickly at the lawyer’s face, but his expression was every bit as bland as his tone. Did he suspect foul play? She had to admit to herself that she did. She simply could not believe that Sondra had stood out on the balcony in such a violent storm and been swept off to her
death by the wind. If the girl hadn’t been dressed in her bridal gown, she might have been less suspicious. A young woman wouldn’t expose her wedding dress to the elements like that.

Or would she?
An’gel asked herself as she took a seat on the sofa. Had Sondra been so angry that the wedding was being postponed that she had, in a self-destructive fit of temper, put on the gown and deliberately put herself in the storm’s path?

No, An’gel decided after a few moments of reflection, Sondra wouldn’t have done it. Sondra might, in her self-absorption, do something harmful to another person, but she would never harm herself by such an idiotic gesture.

So caught up with her thoughts as she had been, An’gel failed to notice that only she and Richmond Thurston occupied the front parlor. He sat in a nearby chair, looking at his cell phone.

“Where did everyone else go?” she asked.

The lawyer looked up. “Estelle and Jackson went to the kitchen to make coffee and sandwiches. Horace and Trey went upstairs to check on Tippy.”

“I imagine my sister is still with the child,” An’gel said. “Surely they aren’t going to try to tell her about her mother’s death tonight. I should think that could wait until the morning.”

“I don’t believe they intend to tell her. Horace needs to communicate with Jacqueline first.” He grimaced. “Poor Jacqueline. Her mother fighting for her life in the hospital, and her daughter dead in a freak accident.”

Loud footsteps and voices raised in anger startled both
An’gel and Thurston before An’gel could reply. She turned her head to see Horace and Trey dragging a struggling Lance Perigord into the room with them.

Trey looked murderous, and Horace was obviously in a rage. An’gel felt sorry for Lance. What could he have done to cause such fury?

“Would you believe what this idiot’s just told us?” Horace demanded. “We found him in Tippy’s room, of all places. Go on, Lance. Tell them why you were here, hiding in the house.”

Lance appeared too frightened to speak. He kept struggling to free himself, but Horace and Trey held on to him. Trey had one of Lance’s arms twisted behind his back in an obviously painful position.

“Let the poor man go.” An’gel rose from the sofa. “Right this minute. How do you expect him to say anything when you’re hurting him like that? Let him go.” She put considerable force behind the last three words.

Horace and Trey abruptly released their hold, and Lance stumbled forward, barely missing a table with knickknacks and a vase of artificial flowers. He righted himself and grabbed on to the back of a chair. He glared resentfully at the two men who had dragged him downstairs.

“Now, Lance, they won’t do anything else to harm you,” An’gel said with a pointed glance at the two men. “You go ahead and tell us why you were hiding in the house. I expect Sondra invited you, didn’t she?”

Lance nodded. “Yes, ma’am, she did. I don’t see why they had to be so mean to me. I wouldn’t be here if Sondra didn’t tell me to come over.” He rubbed his right shoulder and appeared to have forgotten the point of the conversation.

“Was there a reason she asked you to come here?” An’gel asked.

“My shoulder hurts,” Lance said. He focused on An’gel after she spoke his name sharply. “Sondra told me I had to come spend the night here, because we were going to run away and get married in the morning.”

CHAPTER 16

A
n’gel wasn’t much surprised by Lance’s revelation. She had halfway expected Sondra to elope. Sondra had always wanted to have her way, no matter the cost to anyone else.

Trey let out a stream of foul language, and An’gel wanted to walk over and slap him. There was no excuse for such behavior.

Evidently Horace agreed. “Shut the hell up, boy. Right now.”

Trey shut up. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared balefully at his father.

“Oh, sit down, Lance,” Horace said wearily. He came over to the sofa and plopped down.

An’gel resumed her seat, curious to see what would happen next.

Lance, still rubbing his shoulder, did what Horace told
him. “I don’t see why everybody has to pick on me and order me around. I told Sondra a while ago that once we were married, she couldn’t boss me around anymore.” He nodded. “I am the man, after all.”

Trey hooted with derisive laughter while An’gel gazed at Lance, concerned. Obviously, neither Horace nor Trey had informed Lance of Sondra’s death.

Lance flushed red. His hand dropped from his shoulder to join the other in his lap, and he stared down at them.

An’gel glanced at Horace, and he shrugged.

“Lance, I’m afraid there’s bad news,” An’gel said. “About Sondra.”

Lance’s head snapped up, and he frowned. “She changed her mind, didn’t she?”

“No, she didn’t,” An’gel said. “I’m afraid Sondra is dead, Lance.”

He shook his head. “No, she can’t be. Unless
he
killed her.” He pointed suddenly at Trey. “He’s jealous because Sondra wanted to marry me and told him to go away and leave her alone.”

“Why, you—” Trey let out another string of obscenities, but Horace told him to shut up again, and he did.

Horace faced Lance. “I’m sorry, son, but Miss An’gel here is right. Sondra’s dead. We reckon she went out on the balcony during the storm, and the wind must have picked her up and dropped her on the ground.”

Lance made a face, as if he’d smelled something rotten. “That’s crazy. It’s like that old story my granny used to tell me about a girl in St. Ignatiusville who died that way. I bet you’re making it up because you don’t want anybody to know Trey killed her.” He stood and picked up the vase
he’d nearly knocked to the floor only minutes ago. He threw it toward Trey, but the vase fell about a foot short of its mark. It shattered on the floor near Trey’s feet.

Before anyone could intervene, Trey stepped over the debris toward Lance and decked him with a punch. Lance went down and stayed down. Horace jumped up and grabbed his son.

Thurston got up and went over to the fallen young man. He got down on one knee and checked Lance’s eyes. “Out cold,” he said. “Better get the EMTs in here. He could have a bad concussion. Trey hit him pretty hard.” He stood and then strode out of the parlor.

An’gel heard the front door open and close. She stared at Horace, who was still visibly restraining his son from attacking Lance again.

She stood. “Young man, you had better control yourself and that temper of yours. If Lance is seriously hurt, you could find yourself in jail for assault. I will be happy to serve as a witness on his behalf. No matter what he said or did, there was no cause to hit him like that. You could have killed him.”

Trey appeared stunned at An’gel’s words, while Horace glared at her.

Thurston reappeared then, preceded by a couple of EMTs.

Horace hustled Trey out of the room while the EMTs examined Lance. An’gel kept out of the way but watched with keen interest. She was worried about Lance because Trey, as muscular as he was, had hit Lance hard enough to cause serious damage.

One of the EMTs spoke into his walkie-talkie and asked for a gurney. Finished, he looked up at Thurston. “We’re
taking him in. Probably a concussion but there could be internal bleeding, considering he was hit as hard as you said. Are you related?”

“No,” the lawyer said. “I know his family, however, and I’ll get in touch with them and tell them to meet you at the ER.”

“Thanks,” the EMT said. His coworkers came through the door with a gurney and other equipment, and An’gel watched while they got Lance ready to make the journey to the hospital. She said prayers for Lance as well as for Mireille and Jacqueline.

An’gel felt exhausted. She was a bit shaky as well. Reaction from all the dramatic events had begun to set in. She decided her presence wasn’t necessary, and she slipped out of the room and went to the den. She opened the door with care, in case Benjy and the animals were asleep.