Dead with the Wind Page 12

  Bugg thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe. I reckon we’ll have to give it some thought. What I want to know, though, is why would someone kill her?”

  “That, Officer Bugg, is your job to find out.” An’gel smiled tiredly, suddenly exhausted by the effort of talking with the policemen and overwhelmed by the chaos of Sondra’s room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my sister, who is looking after little Tippy.” She turned and walked down the hall and pretended not to hear a rude comment from Bugg about nosy old biddies.

  CHAPTER 18

  Her shoulders slumped as she trod the hallway toward the back of the house where Tippy’s bedroom lay, An’gel knew she would have to seek out her own bed soon. All the stress of the day and the adrenalin released by multiple incidents had left her dragging. Before she went to her room downstairs, however, she wanted to talk to Dickce.

  The door was shut, and An’gel knocked lightly so as not to startle her sister when she entered. Inside the room, she discovered she need not have bothered. Dickce sat, sound asleep, in a rocker near the bed. Tippy lay asleep on her stomach, one arm thrown over Lance the teddy bear.

  An’gel hated to wake her peacefully reposed sister but she knew Dickce ought to eat something before bed. She could sit and watch over Tippy while Dickce went downstairs. A little nap in the rocker wouldn’t keep her from falling asleep in her bed a little later—not as tired as she was.

  Dickce roused easily when An’gel lay a hand on her shoulder. She stared blankly up at An’gel for a moment, then her vision cleared and she whispered, “Have you heard anything from the hospital?”

  An’gel shook her head. “Come out into the hall with me for a minute.” When she opened the door and looked out, she spotted two heads disappearing down the stairs.

  Dickce followed her out, and with the door nearly shut behind them, An’gel told her sister about Estelle’s claim that Mireille had died earlier during the storm.

  Dickce’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a load of bull hockey, Sister. Surely you don’t believe her?”

  “I certainly don’t want to,” An’gel said sharply, “but you know as well as I do, sometimes these things happen. Remember how Vidalia Williams always knew before anyone else when someone in Athena had passed on?”

  “She was on the front porch at Riverhill with a casserole before we even called the doctor for Mama.” Dickce shivered. “I’ll never forget that. We’ll just have to pray that Estelle’s simply looking for attention. She likes to shock people.”

  “I have been praying that,” An’gel said. “I have more to tell you, but it can wait till morning. I’m exhausted, and you must be starving by now. Why don’t you go downstairs and get something to eat? Estelle and Jackson made a stack of sandwiches. I’ll stay here with Tippy for a while.”

  Dickce patted her stomach. “It does feel a bit empty in there. Thanks.” She turned to leave, but then turned back. “I’m going to ask Benjy to change rooms with me. I’ll feel better if I’m up here close to Tippy.” She grimaced. “I can’t sleep in that chair all night, but if I leave both our doors open, I’ll hear her if she gets up during the night.”

  “Or what’s left of it,” An’gel muttered. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Dickce departed, and An’gel went back into Tippy’s room. A nightlight glowed softly near the bed, and An’gel thought Tippy did look angelic in her sleep. She wondered how much of her personality Tippy had inherited from her mother. Not much, An’gel hoped. The last thing they needed was a demanding toddler running around the house.

  She lowered herself into the rocker and after a moment closed her eyes and began to rock slowly. She remembered her mother rocking her when she was little, and how comforting that was. She had gone to sleep happily in her mother’s arms in that old rocker. She had it in her own bedroom now. Soon the rocking slowed, and An’gel drifted into sleep.

  When An’gel stepped into Tippy’s room and closed the door, Dickce moved quickly to the front of the house. She wanted to peek inside Sondra’s bedroom.

  She gasped in shock when she witnessed the extent of the devastation. The French doors to the gallery were shut now, and Dickce figured the police must have closed them. She stared at the mess for a few moments longer, then forced herself to move away. Her rumbling stomach reminded her that she needed food.

  At the foot of the stairs on the first floor she met Jackson, carrying a mop and bucket, with several towels tucked under one arm.

  Upon her inquiry Jackson explained that he was going to Sondra’s room to mop up the water. “Got to keep it from ruining the floor,” he said.

  Dickce nodded, and Jackson stepped past her. She wondered at the police not bothering to close off Sondra’s room. They must be satisfied that Sondra’s death was an accident. She, like her sister, thought it too bizarre to be believable.

  She found Benjy in the kitchen with Endora and Peanut. The cat climbed out of the tote bag to come hop into Dickce’s lap, where she turned around several times before finally curling up and closing her eyes. Dickce wasn’t fond of cat hair on her good clothes, but she didn’t have the heart to dislodge Endora.

  Benjy insisted on serving her, nodding at the napping cat. “You don’t want to disturb her by getting up. I’ll get whatever you want.”

  While Benjy prepared her food—after washing his hands, she was pleased to note—Dickce told him her plan to switch bedrooms with him. He offered to transfer her things to the third floor, and she thanked him. Even restored somewhat by food, she still didn’t feel like going up and down those stairs any more than necessary.

  Peanut followed Benjy out of the kitchen, but Endora remained in Dickce’s lap. Dickce polished off her sandwich quickly, drained the glass of milk, and then gently dislodged the cat while she put her dishes in the sink. Endora followed her back and forth, and Dickce nearly stepped on her once.

  Her cleanup finished, Dickce leaned down and scooped the cat into her arms. “Come on, missy, let’s get back upstairs. I suppose you’ll want to sleep with me tonight.”

  Endora purred and rubbed her head against the underside of Dickce’s chin. Dickce took that for the feline equivalent of “yes.” She carried the cat upstairs, puffing slightly by the time she reached the third-floor landing. She paused for a moment to listen. She heard Jackson working in Sondra’s room.

  Resisting the temptation to look inside again, Dickce moved down the hallway to the back bedroom opposite Tippy’s room. When she turned on the light, she saw her things on the bed. She deposited the cat on the pillow and admonished Endora to stay there. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

  Endora blinked and meowed, then started her routine of turning round and round on the pillow, kneading it into the proper shape before she settled down. Dickce smiled as she pulled the door shut behind her.

  In Tippy’s room she found An’gel snoring lightly in the rocker. Tippy still slept soundly. Dickce shook An’gel gently awake, and An’gel leaned forward, yawning. She pushed herself up on the arms of the chair and stretched.

  The sisters exchanged whispered “good nights” and An’gel headed for her room on the second floor. Dickce stood watching Tippy for a few moments to satisfy herself that the child was still asleep. Then she moved quietly out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, and crossed the hall to her room.

  She undressed and changed into a nightgown, then made one last visit to the bathroom next door before climbing into bed and turning off the lamp. Endora protested sleepily when Dickce dislodged her in order to pull down the bedspread, then the cat settled once more on the pillow beside Dickce’s.

  Dickce turned onto her side facing the door, with the cat behind her. As she spied the open door and heard the cat purring, Dickce realized that there could be a problem if Endora decided to go exploring during the night. She debated briefly taking the cat downstairs to Benjy’s
room but then decided Endora would probably stay with her. Anyway, she was too tired to traipse up and down the stairs again tonight. Minutes later, she was asleep.

  Dickce heard a cat meowing somewhere close by, and the sound woke her. At first she thought she had dreamed it, but then she turned her head to check on Endora. The cat wasn’t on the bed.

  The cat meowed again, and this time Dickce realized the sound came from out in the hall. She groaned as she thrust the covers aside and got out of bed. She hoped Endora wasn’t in Tippy’s room, trying to engage the child in play. The last thing she needed right now was to have to settle Tippy down again.

  Dickce stepped into the hall and glanced around. Someone had turned most of the floodlights off, but at least one cast a dim light into the hallway. She started to cross the hall to Tippy’s room when she heard Endora meow again. This time she also heard a scratching sound.

  Dickce gazed toward the front of the house and spotted a small dark shape at the closed door of Sondra’s room. Endora was scratching and meowing, wanting entrance. Dickce hurried forward, calling out softly. “Endora, stop that. Bad kitty. Come here to me.”

  Endora turned to gaze in Dickce’s direction but evidently was not to be deterred from her occupation of scratching at the door and meowing.

  Dickce reached the cat and picked her up at the same instant the door swung open. Startled, Dickce took a step back.

  Trey Mims, still dressed in his day clothes, glared furiously at Dickce and Endora. “Go away and leave me alone.” He shut the door hard.

  Dickce frowned at the young man’s rudeness and started to turn away. Then she stopped.

  What was Trey Mims doing in Sondra’s bedroom in the middle of the night?

  CHAPTER 19

  When An’gel awoke that morning, she was disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then her brain cleared, and she remembered where she was. A glance at her watch on the bedside table informed her that it was a few minutes before seven. She got out of bed and padded over to the window to pull back the curtains from the French doors. The sun was up, and it promised to be a fair day. Not a cloud in the sky from what she could see.

  An’gel checked the floor of the gallery and noted that it looked dry enough. She opened the doors and stepped outside. The cool, clear air woke her further, and she moved to the waist-high railing.

  She glanced down at the front lawn at the spot where Sondra’s body had lain, and she sighed. The events of the previous day flooded her memory, and all at once she felt the full weight of her eighty-four years. With a heavy heart she closed her eyes and said another prayer for Mireille.

  She left the French doors open while she went to shower in the bathroom next door. The hot water eased the ache in her shoulders, and she felt more ready to face the day by the time she finished dressing and putting on her makeup. The cool air coming in off the gallery refreshed her as well. She was ready by seven thirty. As she walked down the stairs, she wondered what news she would hear.

  The dining room was empty, and there were no dishes on the sideboard. An’gel wasn’t all that surprised, given the chaos of the day before. She would be perfectly happy to fix her own breakfast if Estelle wasn’t up to it.

  In the kitchen she found the housekeeper busy at the stove. The aroma of frying bacon tantalized An’gel’s taste buds, and she smelled biscuits baking in the oven.

  “Good morning, Estelle,” An’gel said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not a blessed thing,” Estelle said. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, thank you. Got off to a late start this morning, but food’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” She scowled at the frying pan.

  An’gel decided to let the rudeness pass, at least for now. “Are Jacqueline and Horace back from the hospital, do you know?”

  “They’re back.” Estelle flipped several strips of bacon with a spatula. She continued in a tone devoid of emotion. “Got in around two. I expect they won’t be down to breakfast, although Jacqueline has to start making the arrangements for Mireille and Sondra.”

  An’gel felt the last words as if Estelle had struck her in the face. She had hoped the housekeeper was completely wrong about Mireille’s death. Now the reality began to set in, and her eyes began to well.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered as she turned away and fumbled for the tissue she had tucked in her sleeve.

  “Told you last night,” Estelle said. “I could tell you didn’t believe me. Makes no difference, though. I know a lot of things, but nobody ever pays any attention to me.” She chuckled, and then the chuckle turned into a deep-throated laugh.

  An’gel turned to look at the housekeeper. She was taken aback by the woman’s evident mirth. What could possibly be so funny? She hoped Estelle wasn’t about to get hysterical, although if she did, An’gel would take pleasure in throwing a glass of water in her face to calm her down.

  “What kind of things are you talking about?” An’gel asked in a neutral tone.

  Estelle shot her a sly glance. “Just things. Things people don’t think I know. Now that Mireille’s gone, I have to look after myself, because there sure isn’t anybody else going to.”

  An’gel wanted to press Estelle further, because the housekeeper’s boastful tone made her uneasy. An’gel thought Estelle’s words sounded like a veiled blackmail threat.

  “I’d be careful if I were you.” The words came out more sharply than An’gel intended. “All this talk about ‘knowing things’ could get you into a difficult situation.”

  Estelle turned to face her. “I don’t need any advice from you. Why don’t you mind your own business and go to the dining room? Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  An’gel decided she’d had enough. If the woman wouldn’t listen to good advice, there was nothing more she could do. She turned and walked out of the kitchen without bothering to reply. At any other time she would discuss the housekeeper’s rudeness with Jacqueline, but An’gel didn’t want to add to her goddaughter’s burdens. She was mighty curious about the things Estelle claimed to know and wondered how the housekeeper planned to make use of her so-called knowledge.

  Perhaps she ought to discuss the matter with Horace. An’gel considered that option as she made her way to the dining room. But what if Horace was the object of Estelle’s plans? For once she was unsure what to do, an unusual state for her. She finally decided she would discuss the matter with Dickce before she took any action.

  She met Benjy and Peanut at the foot of the stairs.

  “Morning, Miss An’gel.” Benjy smiled. “I hope you had a good night. Peanut and I sure did. I guess Endora spent the night with Miss Dickce.”

  “I slept well once I finally got to bed.” An’gel patted the dog’s head, and Peanut’s tail thumped against the floor. “Breakfast will be ready before long.”

  “Good,” Benjy said, “because I’m starving. I’m going to take Peanut out for a few minutes, though, and then give him his breakfast. We won’t be long.”

  An’gel nodded and watched as young man and dog opened the front door and stepped out onto the verandah. She sighed. What it would be like to be that age again. Then she shook her head. No use pining after long-spent youth.

  “Good morning, Sister.”

  An’gel glanced up the stairs to see Dickce and Endora coming down toward her. The cat moved as sedately as Dickce, as if she were escorting the woman. An’gel smiled briefly and returned the greeting.

  “Any news?” Dickce asked when she and Endora reached the bottom.

  “Afraid so,” An’gel said. “Mireille did pass away last night.”

  Dickce closed her eyes for a moment. An’gel squeezed her sister’s arm, and Dickce opened her eyes, blinking back tears. An’gel felt the cat rub against her legs. She looked down, and she would have sworn Endora was looking at her with sympathy.

  “Breakfast
should be ready in a few minutes,” An’gel said. “Let’s go into the dining room. I have a few things to tell you.”

  “I have a few things to tell you, too,” Dickce said.

  “What about Tippy?” An’gel asked. She had almost forgotten the child.

  “Jacqueline is with her,” Dickce said. “Sound asleep on the bed with her when I looked in earlier.”

  An’gel could only hope that Jacqueline found some solace in the company of her grandchild. Jacqueline faced bitter days ahead as she grieved for her mother and her daughter.

  The sisters met Jackson coming out of the dining room. He looked at them with sorrow-filled eyes. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. An’gel and Dickce each took a hand and held it tightly.

  “I just can’t believe Miss Mireille’s gone.” Jackson’s voice was rough with grief. “Known her since she was a little bitty girl.”

  “I know,” An’gel said softly. She had to keep it together, or all three of them would be crying any minute now. “She thought the world of you. Be strong now, for her sake. That’s all any of us can do.”

  Jackson attempted a smile. “Thank you, Miss An’gel.” He sighed deeply. “There’s coffee ready in the dining room now. I’ll go see if Miss Estelle’s ready to bring out the food.”

  The sisters gave his hands one last squeeze and released him. An’gel watched him as he walked, shoulders slumped and head down, toward the kitchen.

  “I hope Jacqueline and Horace will take good care of him,” Dickce said.

  “I’m sure they will,” An’gel said. “I imagine Mireille provided for him.” Her tone turned brisk. “I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use some coffee right about now.” She headed into the dining room.

  Dickce and Endora trailed behind her. The cat began to meow when An’gel poured coffee for herself and her sister.

  “She’s hungry,” Dickce said. “I’d better find Benjy and get her food; otherwise, she’ll keep talking and complaining.” She glanced fondly at the cat.