1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart (8 page)

A
n’gel wasn’t sure she had heard Juanita correctly. Then the import of the young woman’s words sank in. “That’s monstrous. Surely you don’t think your grandmother is a murderer?”

Juanita’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Please, let me explain.”

“I surely hope you will,” An’gel said. She pulled out a chair and sank into it. She felt her pulse racing from the shock.

“I’m so sorry if that upset you badly,” Juanita said. “Can I get anything for you?”

An’gel shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Please explain what you meant.”

“First, let me say that I don’t believe Grandmother would have intentionally harmed anyone.” Juanita paused. “This is a difficult thing to say about my own grandmother, but I think she might have planned it so she could pretend to fall and continue with the charade that one of us was deliberately trying to harm her. She put the water on the stairs, but for some reason Marla got there first. And, well, the unthinkable happened.”

An’gel felt the tension radiating from the young woman as Juanita awaited her response. She was in no rush to respond because she needed to choose her words carefully.

Perhaps bothered by the silence, Juanita spoke again. “I know it must sound like I think she’s a terrible person, but I really don’t. Grandmother is impulsive and doesn’t always think things through. She’s a bit like a child sometimes. She does whatever enters her head without considering the consequences.”

An’gel had no trouble believing that part. Rosabelle had been exactly like that during their college days. An’gel and Dickce had helped the headstrong girl out of more than one scrape that resulted from lack of foresight. Age and experience apparently hadn’t taught Rosabelle much, An’gel reflected sourly.

Even so, she balked at the notion of Rosabelle’s having put water on the stairs so she could fake an accident. An’gel realized she had knowledge that could allay Juanita’s fears, but she couldn’t share it with the young woman. In An’gel’s mind, the use of the Vaseline on the banister was proof of intent to kill. She could see that Rosabelle might put water on the stairs, but she wouldn’t put the petroleum jelly on the banister. The risk would be too great.

An’gel knew she had to speak at this point. “I’ve known your grandmother for over sixty years, child. I can’t argue with you over Rosabelle’s need to be the center of attention all the time, because she has always been that way. I just don’t happen to think that this was one of her stunts gone badly wrong.” She paused to gauge Juanita’s reaction.

The young woman looked relieved for a moment, but then the full implications of An’gel’s statement appeared to sink in.

Juanita paled. “Then you think someone really
is
trying to kill Grandmother?” She groped for a chair and lowered herself into it.

“I’m afraid so.” An’gel touched Juanita’s arm lightly. “We have to protect her until Deputy Berry and her men get to the bottom of this.”

Juanita shook her head, as if she was still in shock. “I almost wish this was one of Grandmother’s little schemes for attention.” Suddenly she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better get upstairs right away and keep an eye on her.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried from the room.

An’gel sat back in her chair and pondered the conversation. One possibility had struck her that she didn’t want to bring up to Juanita. It was a terrible thought, but one that had to be faced.

What if Rosabelle was responsible for the water and the Vaseline? What if she had deliberately set a trap for one of her family members? Even Rosabelle, who blithely tended to ignore the consequences of her actions, would have had to realize her target could be seriously injured or die as a result.

An’gel didn’t want to think her friend capable of such a terrible deed, but she had never been one to shy away from the truth, no matter how disturbing.

Dickce walked into the dining room and interrupted her reflections. “Sitting down on the job, I see. I don’t suppose any of them volunteered to help clear away?”

“Do you
see
one of them helping?” An’gel got to her feet and started piling plates.

“Well, who put the fly in
your
mashed potatoes?” Dickce shook her head as she began to help her sister.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” An’gel said in a milder tone. “Tired and upset, that’s all.”

“I know.” Dickce picked up her stack and headed for the kitchen. “These people are enough to make you want to put your head through a brick wall.”

An’gel followed behind her. “We need to talk, but I am just too tired to do it now.” She set her pile of dishes on the counter near the dishwasher. “Let’s leave all this for the morning.”

“I don’t feel right leaving it for Clementine to have to deal with.” Dickce opened the dishwasher and pulled the rack out. “You go on up to bed, and I’ll handle this.”

“You don’t have to,” An’gel said. “I talked to Clementine before she left, and she agreed we need extra help as long as Rosabelle and her family are here. She’s going to get her granddaughter Antoinette to come. Antoinette isn’t due back to college for another two weeks, and Clementine said she’d be glad of the money for schoolbooks.”

“All right then.” Dickce closed the dishwasher. “I wish I had half the energy that girl has. She makes that battery bunny look like he’s walking through molasses.”

“Being sixty years younger doesn’t hurt,” An’gel said wryly.

“Or in your case, sixty-four.” Dickce grinned on her way out of the kitchen.

“Touché.” An’gel turned off the kitchen light and shut the door. “I told our guests breakfast would be served at eight.”

An’gel decided they should leave a couple of lights burning downstairs, one in the hall and another in the parlor, where the off-duty deputy named Kilgore was keeping watch. “There are sandwiches and iced tea in the refrigerator for you,” An’gel told him. She was happy to see that he was young, tall, and muscular. He ought to be able to handle any situation that might arise.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kilgore said, his voice deep and calm. “Y’all have an easy night. I’ll be moving around the house every so often, and I’ll do my best not to disturb anyone.”

An’gel and Dickce thanked him before they made their way upstairs on the left. An’gel averted her gaze as she neared the top. It would be a long while before she could look at the staircase without seeing Marla Stephens falling down it.

The second floor was quiet. Two lamps with low-wattage bulbs along the wall provided a dim but adequate glow as An’gel and Dickce strode down the hall to their rooms at the back of the house. No light shone under the doors as they passed, and An’gel hoped that meant all their guests were in bed and asleep.

At the end of the hall An’gel whispered “good night” before she opened her door, and Dickce responded in kind.

An’gel closed and locked her door. She didn’t fear for her safety—the lock was old and easily broken through—but at least the sound of a person attempting to get into her room would wake her up.

After she cleaned and washed her face and donned her nightgown, An’gel climbed into her four-poster bed with a grateful sigh. She couldn’t remember when she had been this tired. Having a houseful of guests—and unwelcome ones to boot—was exhausting.

She smiled in the darkness. She had thought having a
cat
as a houseguest would be a burden.

The cat
.

An’gel’s heart skipped a beat. She pushed aside the covers and slid to the floor. Where was Diesel?

She turned on the lights and began a frantic search through her bedroom, closet, and bathroom. She had left him here before dinner and then forgotten all about him.

She called him, softly at first, then with increasing urgency. After five minutes she had to conclude that he was not in her room. Her heart skipped a few more beats.

An’gel’s legs trembled as she unlocked her door and stumbled across the hall to Dickce’s room. She called Dickce’s name as she tapped on the door, then tried to open it. Locked. She tapped again, harder this time.

The door swung open to reveal her sister’s scowling face. “What on earth is it?”

“Diesel is missing,” An’gel said. “He’s not in my room anywhere.”

Dickce’s scowl turned to an expression of dismay. “Oh, dear, I knew I forgot something.”

“What did you forget?” An’gel glared at her sister. “Is Diesel all right?”

Dickce took hold of her arm and pulled An’gel into the bedroom. “Yes, Diesel is fine. He managed to get out of your room a couple of hours ago
and
out of the house, too. I found him in the garage apartment when I went there to check on Benjy.”

“If I weren’t so relieved,” An’gel said, her heart rate beginning to slow, “I’d snatch you bald-headed. Do you realize what a scare you gave me?”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” Dickce said, obviously contrite. “I meant to tell you, but I forgot. I’m just as tired as you are.”

An’gel nodded. “All right. I forgive you. Do you think Diesel will be okay with that young man? After all, we don’t know anything about him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Benjy wants to be a veterinarian, or so he said earlier today. Besides, Diesel obviously thinks he’s a good person; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to be with him.”

“I can’t believe we’re accepting a character reference from a cat,” An’gel said, shaking her head. “But I’m too tired to argue. If anything happens to Diesel, though, you’ll be the one to explain it to Charlie.”

“I’m not worried in the least.” Dickce glared at her.

An’gel knew that mulish expression all too well. There was no point in further argument. “Good night, again.”

Back in her room, door once again locked, An’gel got comfortable in bed. She decided she was not going to worry about the cat, nor about Rosabelle and her family and their assorted troubles. She decided for once to take the advice of the South’s most notorious belle.
After all, tomorrow is another day
.

T
hunder rumbled in the distance, and the overcast skies promised rain. Ordinarily Dickce enjoyed such days, so long as the storm wasn’t violent. Today, however, she didn’t relish being cooped up inside with Rosabelle and her family during a downpour. At least a good rain might break the oppressive heat for a while. That thought cheered her slightly as she finished setting the table for breakfast.

Dickce checked her watch. Quarter to eight. Their guests would start turning up any minute. She scanned the room. The orange juice and coffee carafes were on the sideboard, and Clementine and Antoinette ought to be bringing in the large chafing dishes with scrambled eggs, sausages, and biscuits any minute now. An’gel had prepared a small platter with grapes, pineapple, sliced apples, and two kinds of cheese for those who wanted a lighter repast.

“Surely that will be enough,” Dickce said.

“Beg your pardon?”

Startled, Dickce turned toward the door, where Junior Pittman stood, his expression puzzled.

Dickce laughed. “Sorry, talking to myself. Bad habit.” She waved a hand toward the table and the sideboard. “Please help yourself to coffee and orange juice. The hot food will be here in a few minutes, I’m sure.”

“Thank you.” Junior headed straight for the coffee. “I’ve been dying for caffeine.”

Dickce smiled at that. “I hope you found your bed comfortable.”

“I sure did.” Junior stirred cream and sugar into his mug. “I was pretty much tapped out last night, and I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

“Good. Was Benjy up when you left to come over here?” Dickce had thought a lot about the bereft young man before she was finally able to sleep.

“He was taking a shower,” Junior replied. “Ought to be here soon. Said he was hungry.” He sipped his coffee.

“Miss Dickce, Miss An’gel wants you in the kitchen.”

Dickce turned to see Clementine wheeling in the serving cart, followed by her granddaughter Antoinette carrying the fruit and cheese tray. Once the two women were clear of the doorway, Dickce headed out. What did An’gel want now? Dickce had already polished the dining room table and the sideboard, before setting them up for the meal, at her sister’s insistence.
You’d think we were entertaining the Queen of England
, Dickce thought grumpily.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found An’gel chatting with Benjy. Diesel sat beside the young man, his eyes focused on Benjy.

An’gel looked up. “This young man was asking for you.” Diesel warbled in agreement.

“Good morning, Benjy. You, too, Diesel.” Dickce smiled. She was pleased to see that Benjy looked clean and rested this morning. He wore pants with no holes in them and a tucked-in button-down shirt. Diesel looked just fine, too. Spending the night with Benjy in the garage apartment didn’t seem to have done him any harm.

“Good morning, Miss Dickce,” he said. He glanced sideways at An’gel. Dickce got the impression he wasn’t keen to talk in front of the elder Miss Ducote.

Diesel chose that moment to head to the butler’s pantry, where Clementine had put down a water bowl, a litter box, and a bowl of dry food. A few seconds later Dickce could hear him crunching away.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Benjy?” Dickce asked. She stared hard at her sister, and An’gel appeared to realize what Dickce wanted, made her excuses, and left the kitchen.

Benjy waited until An’gel was gone before he spoke. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to eat in here. I don’t really feel like dealing with the Wart and his family right now.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer,” Dickce said, “then of course you can.” She paused. “You’re going to have to face them all at some point, though.”

He shrugged. “I wish I could hit the road right now and get away from all of them. They didn’t like my mom, and they don’t want me hanging around.”

“I know it’s difficult for you because you don’t think of them as family,” Dickce said. “But I like you, and so does An’gel.” She hoped the latter statement sounded convincing, because she actually wasn’t sure of her sister’s attitude toward Benjy. “We want you to stay. Besides, don’t you want to be here to find out who is responsible for what happened?”

Benjy looked away. He didn’t appear convinced by her words.

Dickce decided to press a little harder. “An’gel and I want to see this figured out so the person who harmed your mother won’t be able to harm anyone else. With the exception of Rosabelle, whom we haven’t seen in probably twenty years, we don’t know
any
of those people. You do, however, and you could help us with your knowledge of them so we’ll know the right questions to ask.”

“Isn’t that the sheriff lady’s job?” Benjy regarded her with obvious skepticism.

“It is,” Dickce said. “But Deputy Berry can’t be here every moment. I think the others are likely to talk more freely to An’gel and me than they are to the deputy. We might be able to find out important information that could help solve this.” She paused. If that wasn’t enough to persuade him, she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t think his trying to isolate himself was a good idea.

Clementine and Antoinette returned, and the housekeeper said, “Don’t be letting that food get cold, Miss Dickce. Y’all go in there and have something to eat.” She glanced around. “Where’s the kitty?”

As if on cue, Diesel padded back into the kitchen and meowed loudly three times. Antoinette laughed as he came up to her and rubbed his head against her jeans-clad leg. “Gram, he’s answering you.”

“He sure does like to talk,” Clementine said. “He can stay in here while y’all finish breakfast.” She glanced pointedly toward the door.

“Thank you,” Dickce said. “I
am
hungry, now that I think about it. How about you, Benjy? Will you join me in the dining room?”

Benjy hesitated a moment before nodding. He followed when Dickce left the room.

Rosabelle and her family were at the table. Dickce wasn’t sure whether she was ready to have them all in the room at the same time, but at the moment they appeared to be concentrating on their food.

Juanita, seated next to Rosabelle on An’gel’s left, looked up when Dickce and Benjy entered. She pushed back her chair and came around to Benjy. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “How are you doing?”

Dickce watched the interaction between the two, trying not to be too obvious about it, while she began to load her plate. She saw Benjy shrug.

“I really am sorry about your mother,” Juanita said softly. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

Benjy nodded, and Dickce heard him say “thank you,” though his voice was hardly above a whisper.

Dickce wondered whether she should have let the boy remain in the kitchen to eat as he had asked. Perhaps she shouldn’t have urged him to join everyone in the dining room. Accepting sympathy could cause emotions to well up, she knew from past experience.

No one besides Juanita, however, made any approach to Benjy. After the girl resumed her seat, Benjy came over to the sideboard and picked up a plate. He stared for a moment at the eggs but then added two large spoonfuls to his plate, followed by three sausages and three biscuits.

Dickce, her own plate full, chose a seat at the end of the table opposite her sister, a couple of chairs away from any of Rosabelle’s clan. Benjy took the chair to her right.

The room remained quiet except for the sounds of eating. Dickce exchanged glances with her sister. An’gel gave a slight shrug. Even with their extensive experience in social situations, they had never had to sit down to breakfast after a murder and try to make polite conversation with a group that included a murderer.

What would Miss Manners do?
Dickce suppressed a giggle at the irreverent thought. She checked on Benjy and was pleased to see that he was eating, and not simply picking at his food.

An’gel cleared her throat, and Dickce, along with everyone else, faced her.

“I trust that you are all enjoying your breakfast.” An’gel paused but no comments were forthcoming. “Clementine will be serving a light lunch at one o’clock. In the meantime there will be light food and drinks in the front parlor if you have need of them.” She had a sip of orange juice before she continued.

“I have spoken this morning with Chief Deputy Berry. She has informed me that she will return at nine thirty to talk to each of us again about the events of yesterday. She will be using the library for this purpose. She would like everyone to remain in the house until she has finished her interviews sometime later this morning. The weather will be inclement today. In fact, there is a strong chance of thunderstorms and high winds, so it is advisable that everyone remain in the house.”

An’gel sounded like a prison warden or a school principal—Dickce couldn’t decide between the two. At times like this, she was happy that An’gel was the elder. Acting the heavy came so much more naturally to her. Dickce glanced around the table to gauge the reactions to her sister’s words.

“I suppose we have to sit around twiddling our thumbs while we wait for our turn?” Maudine glowered at An’gel. “I don’t knit, and I don’t play cards. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do.” She snorted. “Don’t you even have a television set in this house, or is it too modern?”

Maudine could hardly be more ungracious if she tried, Dickce thought. “There is a television,” she said in a pleasant tone. “It is in the library, however, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to watch it until after the chief deputy has finished her interviews.” She paused, as if struck by an idea. “The library does have shelves and shelves of books, though. You’re welcome to choose one to read.”
If you know how
, she wanted to add.

Dickce kept her expression bland as Maudine turned to her. “I’m far too upset to read, thank you very much. This situation is intolerable. I think you people are making a big fuss over what was simply a terrible accident.”

“That’s enough, Maudine.” Rosabelle’s tone brooked no argument. She folded her napkin and set it down by her empty plate. “You were a stupid child, and I’m sorry to say you’ve learned very little since. If you think what happened yesterday was an accident, then you have even fewer brain cells than I realized.”

Dickce exchanged an appalled glance with An’gel.

“Mother, how could you?” Maudine’s face crumpled, and she began to cry.

“Mother, you should apologize to her right this minute.” Bernice shook a finger at Rosabelle. “You’re not in your right mind. I think Marla and Wade were right, you need to be committed to a psychiatric facility.”