Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (9 page)

“They can stay here. I told Candace I’d take care of them until she got out.”

“Ma, you can’t. You sound totally frazzled. And what about Dad?”

“I can manage. I don’t want them in foster care. They’d probably be split up. They’re darling children and . . . I want to do this, Angel. I need to.”

“A day or two, maybe, but Candace could be in jail for a while.”

“That woman is innocent. I can feel it in my bones. You’ve got to get her out of there.”

“I’ll do what I can. Which isn’t much, I’m afraid.”

“We can at least get her a lawyer.”

“Good thinking,” Angel agreed. “Maybe Rachael will represent her.”

“That’s exactly who I had in mind.”

Angel struggled into her jeans, not an easy task with one shoulder supporting the phone against her ear. “Okay, I’ll take Gracie to school, then go down to the station to see what I can find out.”

Anna released a heavy sigh. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Angel finished getting ready while she mulled over the conversation. Taking the children on wasn’t a very good idea, but she wouldn’t argue the point. At least not today. When Anna Delaney made up her mind, nothing could change it. But maybe after a day or two, Anna would reconsider. Even the best-behaved children could be a handful. She was sixty-two and already had more than she could handle with her invalid husband.

Angel pulled on socks and shoved her feet into her loafers, then ran a brush through her hair, trying to rearrange the curls into some sort of order. Her hair would have to air-dry this morning.

The minute Angel stepped inside her parents’ house, Dorothy squealed. Holding her teddy bear in a death grip, she scrambled off the sofa and threw her arms around Angel’s legs. “I knew you’d come. I knew it.”

Angel picked her up and hugged girl and bear. When she let go, Dorothy looked up at her. “Mrs. Delaney said you were a real Angel.”

Angel laughed. “That’s my name, but I’m not—”

“That means you can help my mommy, right? Mrs. Delaney said you would take care of everything.”

Angel blinked back tears. “I’ll try.” What was her mother thinking, telling the kids she’d take care of everything?

“Breakfast is ready,” Anna called from the kitchen.

Angel set Dorothy down. “Better go eat.”

“Are you coming too?”

“In a minute.” She turned her attention to the other side of the room, where Tom was bringing Frank out to his chair.

“Hey, Angel. Haven’t seen you for a while.” Tom nodded at her.

“That’s because I’m usually sleeping at this hour.”

Tom’s comment pushed a guilt button. The half-teasing, half-accusing look in his eyes told her he thought she should come around more often. Angel shed her coat at the hall closet and waited until her father was seated before leaning over to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. “Morning, Dad. You’re looking good.”

He teared up as he so often did since his stroke. Once again expressing his disappointment. He glanced away as if he wanted nothing to do with her. Angel straightened and headed for the kitchen, determined not to feel the sharp barbs of his dismissal.

“Did you make enough for me?” She headed straight for the cupboard and extracted her favorite coffee mug, one from a local artist, with clusters of grapes painted on a pale yellow background speckled with purple.

“Don’t I always?”

Angel kissed her mother’s cheek and helped herself to a cup, then dished up a portion of the eggs that had been scrambled with mushrooms, onions, broccoli, and yellow pepper then topped with cheese. “The kids have settled down.”

“Yes,” Anna whispered. “I told them their mother would be home soon.”

“Right,” Angel said, “and that I’d take care of everything. Ma . . .”

“Shush. We’ll talk about that later.”

Once they were seated around the table, Anna offered the blessing.

Dorothy peered at her eggs and wrinkled her nose. “Mommy never puts green stuff and shrooms in our eggs.”

“Pick them out, then,” Gracie told her.

“You’re lucky Dad isn’t here,” Brian said, “or he’d make you eat it for a week.” He paused, giving Anna a stricken look. “I guess he can’t do that anymore, huh?”

Anna smiled. “Would you like me to make some plain eggs for you, Dorothy?”

“Yes, please.” She handed her plate up.

Brian lifted a bite of the eggs to his mouth and grimaced. He swallowed without chewing and washed it down with milk.

“Broccoli isn’t your favorite, either?” Angel grinned.

He glowered. “I eat whatever’s on my plate.”

“Better make some plain eggs for Brian too.” Angel reached over and patted his arm. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “My mom used to have to leave stuff out of my omelettes when I was your age.”

“I’m sorry, kids. I wasn’t thinking—it’s been a busy morning,” Anna said. “How about you, Gracie?”

“It’s good.” She was halfway through. “I like my eggs this way.”

Anna good-naturedly scrambled more eggs and put the untouched portions of the original omelettes into a container for the refrigerator. Serving the untarnished eggs, she asked, “Is this more to your liking,
Signor
Brian?
Signorina
Dorothy?”

They giggled at her Italian accent and thanked her with a unique version of their own accents.

While they ate, Angel made a point of watching each of the children. They were already dressed and ready for school, eating greedily, now that they had eggs with no gross stuff, and acting as if yesterday had never happened and that their mother hadn’t been arrested. What were they thinking? Their actions gave little indication of the trauma they had to be going through.

“Are you sure you want to go to school today?” Anna asked, apparently picking up the thread of a previous conversation.

“I have to,” Gracie said. “I have a test in language arts and after school I have cheerleading practice.” She bit her bottom lip. “I mean . . . it’s not like we could do anything except sit around if we stayed here.”

“It’s better if we go.” Brian propped his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands.

“Yeah, better.” Dorothy mimicked his pose.

“All right,” Anna relented. “But if you change your mind, you can come back. One of us will come get you. Now, elbows off the table,” she admonished. “Use your manners.”

The children quickly complied.

“We’ll be fine,” Gracie said. Her anger from the night before seemed to have dissipated, though she seemed thoughtful and subdued. “As long as we don’t have to talk to the cops anymore.”

“Officer Caldwell questioned all of you?”

“Yeah, before he took our mom away.” Brian frowned. “We told him she didn’t do it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Angel was determined to talk to Nick about his actions, but she had some questions of her own. “Gracie, were you in school all day yesterday?”

Gracie’s head snapped up. “Yeah. Where else would I be? I don’t have a car.”

Angel shrugged her shoulders. “I just wondered. A lot of kids go home for lunch, and I wondered if you had and if you might have seen or heard anything unusual if you’d been there.”

“No. I didn’t.” She picked up her orange juice and started drinking.

Something about her demeanor told Angel she was lying. She wanted to pursue the conversation but decided now wasn’t a good time. Not with her mother giving her the not-at-the-table glare. Anna liked to reserve mealtimes for pleasant conversations, not controversy.

When they finished eating, Anna sent the children to the bathroom to brush their teeth and finish getting ready. “Angel, could you see to the children while I feed your father?” She set their lunch bags on the counter and walked into the living room without waiting for Angel’s response.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything, Tom?” Angel heard her mother ask. Always the hostess.

Angel paused in the doorway. “I can get it, Ma.”

“I’m fine.” Tom smiled at Angel then picked up his jacket from the sofa and shrugged into it. “Thanks anyway.”

“Are you finished for the day?” Anna asked. “He hasn’t exercised.”

“I have another client to look in on this morning. Thought I’d come back around 10:00 and work with him on his exercise routine, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” She glanced at Frank. “Is that okay with you, sweetheart?”

Frank grunted and dipped his head in the affirmative. She squeezed his hand. “Good. That will give us some time to have a cup of coffee together. We need to talk.”

Talk?
Angel didn’t know how they’d manage that. For days after having the stroke, Frank had tried to communicate with them. When nothing came out right, he’d tear up and stop trying. Though everyone would reassure him, he eventually stopped trying to talk altogether. Her mother had learned to interpret Frank’s signals, and much of the time she could tell what he wanted.

“Well, I’ll leave you then.” Tom lifted Frank’s limp right hand and shook it. “I have a surprise for you today. If the weather holds up, I thought maybe we’d go to the pier this afternoon and take in a little fishing.”

Frank lifted his head and gave him a lopsided grin. At least it looked like a grin to Angel. Her heart did a little flip. He so rarely displayed any emotions but sadness and anger.

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Anna hesitated. “Tom, are you sure?”

“Trust me, Anna. A guy needs to get out every now and then. Frank was telling me the other day how much he missed fishing.”

He’d talked to Tom? Well, apparently Tom had found a way to communicate with Frank. Better than Angel had done. She envied the rapport Tom had with her father.
You might have the same rapport if you’d stick around a little more.

Anna smiled. “What would we do without you, Tom?”

When Tom left, Anna brought a cup of coffee and a plate of food and set it on Frank’s tray. As if it were the most ordinary task in the world, she tied the ends of his terry cloth napkin around his neck. She refused to call it a bib and told Angel and her brothers that babies wore bibs, not sixty-five-year-old men. “There you are.”

With a shaky left hand, Frank raised the cup to his lips. Anna always cooled his coffee slightly so he wouldn’t be burned if he
happened to spill it. He looked almost like his old self this morning, except for the drooping facial features on his right side.

Anna settled herself on the ottoman to Frank’s left. She gave him a warm smile and tipped her head to the side. “This is nice.”

Angel had to admire her mother for taking everything in stride, and wished she could have a little of that patience.

Frank picked up his coffee and took another sip. He had always been such a handsome man, rugged and strong. He looked thinner now, pale, but his hair was still ample with that wonderful salt-and-pepper look. Anna’s hair was still black and thick, thanks to Nice ’n Easy. Had he ever noticed that while he was graying, his wife never had? Probably not.

“I suppose you’re wondering what these children are doing here,” Anna said to him. “I didn’t have a chance to talk much about it yesterday, and when I finally got to bed, you were already asleep.” She told him what had happened to Phillip Jenkins and that Candace had been arrested.

He grumbled and wagged his head from side to side.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Anna squeezed his good hand. “We shouldn’t get involved. And you’re worried that Candace may have killed her husband. And that we were taking a risk having her here.” Anna took a sip of her coffee and set the cup back in the saucer then scooped up a spoonful of eggs and eased it into his open mouth. “Not that we need to worry now. While you were in the shower this morning, Nick Caldwell came by. He questioned the kids and arrested Candace.” Anna shook her head, not bothering to hide her disgust. “I thought that boy had better sense than that.”

A frown creased Frank’s forehead, leaving Angel to wonder what he thought about the situation or if he even knew what his wife was talking about.

Angel turned away and began making her way down the hall to check on the kids. The hall bathroom door was closed, and she knocked. “Hurry up in there. You’re going to be late.”

“Coming,” Gracie said. “I’m helping Dorothy.”

Brian stepped out of the room once occupied by her twin brothers, Peter and Paul. “I’m ready.”

“Grab your lunch and get into the car,” Angel said. “Hopefully the girls will be out soon.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t count on it. We taking your car?”

“No.” She chuckled. “We won’t all fit in mine, and I’m not driving you separately.”

Brian sighed and headed outside, letting the door slam behind him.

Turning to her mother, Angel said, “I’ll have to use your car.”

“The keys are in the usual place.” Anna glanced at Angel, then turned back to Frank and continued the one-sided conversation. “Nick seems to think Candace killed her husband. She didn’t. I’m quite certain of that. You should have seen the way Nick came in here and Mirandized her. I wish you had been out here. Maybe he’d have treated her with more respect. Not that he was mean, just brisk. Barely said a word to me. In fact, when I told him he had no right to take her, he told me it wasn’t my concern. Can you believe that? We practically raised that boy.”

Anna sighed and went on. “Of course, they’ll give her a polygraph—he offered her that much, and that will show she’s telling the truth.”

“Hopefully,” Angel murmured.

Brian raced back inside, grabbed his lunch from the kitchen counter, and hurried to the door. “Can I start the car for you?” he asked Angel.

“No.”

He shrugged and headed outside again at the same time the girls emerged from the bathroom. “Dorothy wanted me to braid her hair,” Gracie said. “That’s what took so long.”

“Looks nice.” Angel eyed the two evenly spaced French braids.

Before going to the car, Dorothy, still clutching her teddy bear, gave Anna a hug then placed the bear on Frank’s lap. Frank patted her small hand, and Angel saw the makings of a smile.

Tears clouded her own vision as she waved at her parents and followed the children outside.
Oh Dad, why can’t you look at me like that?