Dead with the Wind Page 10

  “Would you like me to cut it up for you, dear?” she asked.

  Tippy nodded. “Yes, pwease.” She scooped cereal and milk into her mouth and chewed.

  While Dickce cut up the banana, An’gel found a half-full pot of coffee, and she poured cups for herself and Dickce.

  Dickce accepted her coffee with a quick smile. She pulled out a chair across from Tippy and sat. An’gel chose a seat at the end of the table, to Dickce’s left. They watched the child eat for a moment. Tippy seemed content as she continued to work her way through the bowl of cereal.

  Dickce glanced at her watch and realized to her surprise that it was nearly nine o’clock. Why was the child out of bed at this hour? Surely she went to bed earlier than this. Perhaps, Dickce reflected, Estelle’s screaming woke her. She certainly didn’t appear to be affected by the storm that had passed over.

  Dickce noticed that An’gel was fidgeting with her coffee. That meant An’gel was restless, and Dickce knew her sister was anxious to go back to the scene at the front of the house. “Why don’t you go check on Benjy?” she suggested. “He might need help.”

  An’gel stood quickly. “Good idea. You don’t mind staying here?”

  “Not at all,” Dickce said. She loved small children, whereas An’gel felt uneasy around them. She was as curious as An’gel about what was going on out front, but she knew Tippy needed an adult with her and was content to watch her.

  An’gel hurried out of the kitchen, and Dickce watched Tippy eat. The child finished her cereal and pushed the bowl away. She reached for the saucer with the pieces of banana and examined them carefully before she chose a piece to pop into her mouth.

  “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.” Dickce nodded at the bear in the chair beside Tippy. “I’d like to say hello to him, but I don’t know his name.”

  “He can’t tawk.” Tippy stared at her for a moment. “But if you want to say hewwo to him, his name is Wance.” She stuck another slice of fruit in her mouth and chewed.

  Dickce was in a quandary. Was the bear’s name really Wance? With the child’s lisp, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps his name was Lance instead.

  “Oh, is he named after your mommy’s friend Lance?” Dickce asked.

  Tippy giggled. “Yes, Wance is siwwy wike my bear, and that’s why I named him Wance.” She regarded the bear with affection. “Siwwy bear.” She went back to eating her banana slices.

  What a dear little thing she is. Dickce’s heart ached at the thought of having to explain to the child that her mother was gone and wouldn’t ever come back. She knew it was not her place to do it, but unless Jacqueline returned soon, she didn’t know who would.

  Poor Jacqueline. Dickce ached even more. She couldn’t imagine how the loss of a child, even one as difficult as Sondra, would affect a mother. She prayed again that Mireille would recover, but Sondra’s death might be too much for Mireille. Then Jacqueline would be doubly bereft.

  Dickce mentally shook herself for dwelling on the tragedy. I need to try to be cheerful for Tippy’s sake. She gave the child a bright smile.

  “I like silly bears especially,” she said, and Tippy rewarded her with a smile. “Has anyone ever told you the story of a very silly bear named Winnie the Pooh?”

  Tippy nodded. “Gweat-gwanny telled me about him and Pigwet and Tigger. I wike Pigwet because he’s funny. We watched dem on TV, too.”

  “I bet I know some stories about Winnie and Piglet and Tigger that no one else knows,” Dickce said, improvising. “When you finish your banana, how about we go to your room, and I’ll tell them to you?”

  Tippy nodded. “Yes, pwease. I wuv stowies.” She stuffed the two remaining slices in her mouth and chewed rapidly. After she swallowed, she grabbed Lance’s ear and got out of her chair.

  Dickce insisted on washing Tippy’s hands first. The right one was sticky from the banana. Tippy submitted patiently to the washing, and then they left the kitchen. Dickce prayed that she could get the child up the stairs without her seeing any of the activity that by now must be going on outside. She’d heard the siren of the arriving ambulance not long after she and An’gel entered the kitchen.

  To her relief, the front door was closed, and the hall was empty. Tippy scrambled up the stairs ahead of her, poor Lance bouncing on most of them, and Dickce did her best to keep up. Tippy reached the third floor when Dickce had barely made it to the second-floor landing. When she made it up the last flight, she spied Tippy coming out of a door to the right of the stairs.

  Tippy had a finger to her lips, and Lance was no longer in evidence. “We has to be quiet,” she said in a loud whisper. “Wance is asweep in my woom.”

  Dickce smiled. “Okay,” she whispered back.

  Tippy turned and walked slowly into her room. Dickce followed, trying to be quiet, but her shoes squeaked on the polished wooden floorboards. When she stepped into the room after Tippy, she expected to see the bear tucked up in bed.

  Instead, to her shock, she found Lance Perigord sound asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  CHAPTER 15

  An’gel was glad to escape the kitchen. Small children made her nervous, but Dickce didn’t seem to mind them at all. An’gel’s curiosity wouldn’t let her rest until she knew what was happening in the front yard. On the way she said more prayers for Mireille. If her cousin survived to come out of the hospital, she might well collapse again when she learned of her granddaughter’s death.

  She closed the door behind her when she stepped onto the verandah. There was no point in letting a lot of bugs in the house, and heaven only knew how many had already gotten in. Although, she reflected, the storm might have blown or washed most of them away.

  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 t
apped 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

  An’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 agr
eed. “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.