1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart (11 page)

A
n’gel checked her watch again. Quarter to one. Where was Dickce? She should have been home half an hour ago. A run to the grocery store shouldn’t take nearly two hours.

Plus she had either turned off her cell phone or was simply ignoring it, like she sometimes did, An’gel knew, when she didn’t want to talk.

“I’m sorry, Clementine,” An’gel said. “I don’t know where Dickce can be. I guess we’ll just have to set lunch back an hour.”

“Don’t fret about it, Miss An’gel,” Clementine said. “I made a big batch of potato salad. When Miss Dickce gets here, we can serve a cold lunch. I had sandwich meat on the list, and there ought to be plenty.”

“Provided Dickce didn’t forget it.” An’gel knew stress was making her grouchy, but she was frustrated by the unforeseen hitch in her plans. She had told her guests lunch would be at one thirty, and she didn’t want to have to tell them it would be delayed. They were fractious enough as it was, being cooped up in the house and subject to interrogation.

“You go on and stop worrying,” Clementine said. “Antoinette ought to be done with the bedrooms soon, and we’ll start getting everything ready for when Miss Dickce gets back from town.”

“I hope Diesel isn’t a hindrance,” An’gel said. “I’m not sure it was such a good idea for Antoinette to take him upstairs with her.”

“He was getting a bit stir-crazy cooped up in here.” Clementine laughed. “He won’t be no trouble. He’s been real good so far.”

“All right,” An’gel said. “I’ll be back to help when Dickce gets here with the groceries.” She headed out of the kitchen to the small room next to it that served as the study. She and Dickce had a desktop computer there that they used for e-mail and Internet searching. An’gel figured she might as well check her e-mail. She was in no hurry to rejoin her guests in the front parlor. A few minutes of quiet would do her good.

She left the door slightly ajar so she could hear her sister when she returned. Seated at the desk, she booted up the computer and logged in to her e-mail account. She stared at the screen for a moment but didn’t see anything that demanded an immediate reply.

An’gel leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She tried to clear her mind, but to no avail. Her thoughts were full of the morning’s activities and her talk with Kanesha.

The chief deputy had departed twenty minutes ago after waiting as long as she could for Dickce to return. She finally told An’gel she would come back later in the day. Kanesha arranged for another off-duty deputy to be on hand through the day, and another would report for overnight duty that evening. On that score, at least, An’gel could rest easy.

She kept thinking about the water pistol. According to Kanesha, none of the guests admitted to having seen it before. One of them was obviously lying, just as he or she had lied about the tube of Vaseline. The problem was, any one of them might have had the Vaseline in his or her luggage. It was a fairly common item in a person’s toiletries.

The water pistol, however, was not. Its presence argued premeditation. Someone had brought it to use for a nasty purpose. Otherwise, why would an adult travel with such an item?

From conversations with her guests, An’gel discovered that Rosabelle had described the house to all of them on a number of occasions. They were all therefore aware of the presence of a marble staircase in the house.

A long and potentially deadly marble staircase. An elderly woman like Rosabelle would likely not survive a bad fall on it.

An’gel recalled one story from family lore in which the staircase had claimed another victim less than a year after it was installed. A neighbor’s son, part of a group of rowdy young men “with more hair than sense,” accepted a dare after a night of drinking to ride his horse bareback up the stairs at Riverhill. While the group cheered, the young man urged his horse up the steps, and all seemed well until they reached the top. One of the servants upstairs, hearing the fearful racket, had come to see what was going on. When she neared the staircase and a horse came lunging at her, she threw up her arms and screamed. The startled horse reared, and the drunken rider lost his grip on the reins. He cracked his head on the way down and died on the spot. The servant, though frightened, was not injured, nor was the horse.

An’gel sat up. What good were these morbid thoughts?
You’re hiding in here to avoid Rosabelle and her family. Get up and do something; don’t sit there like a big bump of nothing
.

With a heavy sigh she left her chair and headed for the front parlor.

Dickce and Benjy stayed at the veterinary clinic for about thirty minutes. The first sign of skittishness the animals betrayed was when they took them into an examination room. At first Dr. Romano was going to separate them, but Benjy protested politely.

“I think they’re used to being with each other,” he said with a shy smile. “They’ll be happier if you can keep them together.” Since the dog had whimpered earlier when Dr. Romano started to take the cat from the room, Benjy seemed to be right.

“No problem, then.” Dr. Romano, a cheerful, attractive woman in her late thirties, motioned for Benjy to place the dog on the examination table. She then positioned him so that the cat remained in his sight line. “Let’s check for a microchip first, since neither of them has a collar and tags.” She ran the scanner over the back of the dog’s neck.

“No chip?” Benjy said.

“Correct.” The vet turned to Dickce. “Miss Dickce, if you don’t mind holding the cat in your lap, I’ll check her now.”

“Certainly,” Dickce said. She put one hand under the cat’s stomach and patted her head with the other.

Dr. Romano scanned the cat. “No chip here either.” She put the scanner aside, then leaned against the cabinet to look at her patients and the humans with them. “From just a cursory glance, neither of them looks malnourished, so I’d guess they weren’t on the roadside long before you found them. No more than a day or two. They’re reasonably clean, too, though the dog has a few burrs and other debris in its coat.”

“You don’t recognize them, do you?” Dickce asked.

Dr. Romano shook her head. “They haven’t been in this clinic before, I’m certain. My best guess is either they got loose from a car passing through or someone deliberately dumped them by the road.”

“People who would do such a thing should never have animals in the first place,” Dickce said. “I’d like to see them dumped on the side of the road and left to fend for themselves.”

“I’d take a bat and knock them upside the head myself,” Benjy said.

Dr. Romano smiled. “I agree with both of you, though please don’t tell anybody I advocated the use of a bat upside the head.” She stood and came back to the examination table. “What is the plan for these two? I can call someone from the animal shelter and have them picked up after I’ve finished examining them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Dickce said. “They will be coming home with me. If anyone comes looking for them, I want to have a little chat with that person before he tries to take them back. Run whatever tests you need to run, and give them whatever shots they need. How long will all that take?”

“If you’ll leave them here overnight, that will be sufficient,” Dr. Romano said. “You can pick them up after lunch tomorrow. But give Wendy a call first to check.”

“That sounds fine. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Dickce rose and set the cat on the table with the dog. “Come along, Benjy. Dr. Romano and her staff will take excellent care of our new friends.” The cat rubbed against the dog and purred.

Benjy scratched the dog’s head behind an ear. “You’ll keep them together, won’t you? Let them sleep together, I mean.”

“We won’t separate them unless we have to,” Dr. Romano said. “They’ll be fine. After my examination I’ll be able to give you a ballpark idea of their age. They both look pretty young to me, I have to say.”

“Thank you, Dr. Romano,” Dickce said. She laid a hand on Benjy’s shoulder. “Let’s go now. An’gel will be wondering where we are before long.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Benjy gave the dog a quick hug and tickled the cat’s chin, and then he was ready to go with her. “You two be good, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The dog yipped, as if in acknowledgment, and Benjy smiled.

On the short drive to the grocery store, Benjy was quiet. Dickce knew he had much on his mind in addition to the welfare of the two animals. He would talk if he had something to say.

Forty-five minutes later they stowed the last bags of groceries in the back of the car, and Benjy pushed the two carts over to the cart rack. In the car, Dickce said, “That should be enough to keep us eating for a few days.”

Benjy nodded and looked out the window as Dickce backed the car out of the parking space and headed for the street.

She suspected that one of the boy’s concerns was where the dog and the cat would live. He seemed attached to the dog already, and he might be thinking about trying to take them both back to California with him. She didn’t think that was a practicable solution. For one thing, she didn’t think Wade Thurmond would permit it. He might not even want Benjy to remain with him, though since it was Rosabelle’s house, it would really be up to her, Dickce supposed. Rosabelle might allow the animals in her house, but Dickce didn’t think it likely.

She had already decided that the animals could stay with her and An’gel. That was the simplest solution, but it might be hard for Benjy to accept. In the emotional devastation resulting from his mother’s death, he might latch on to the two pets as a lifeline. Dickce was worried about what would happen to him once the investigation was successfully concluded.

Dickce sped along the highway toward Riverhill, and Benjy stared fixedly out the window. When she turned into the driveway, he stirred a bit and glanced over at her.

She had the feeling he was trying to get up the nerve to say something, probably about taking the animals home with him. When he did speak, however, he shocked her.

“Miss Dickce, I know where that water pistol came from.”

D
ickce hit the brakes a little too hard, and the car started to skid on the still-damp surface of the driveway. She kept control of the car, however, and brought it out of the skid. She eased down the brakes and stopped the vehicle.

“Sorry,” Benjy said, his face pale. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

Dickce waited a moment for her heartbeat to settle down before she responded. “I’m okay. How about you?”

“Okay, too.” Benjy loosened his grip on the door handle and the seat belt strap.

“What’s this about the water pistol?” Dickce asked.

Benjy glanced sideways at her, then stared out the windshield. “I’m pretty sure I know where it came from. I pretended not to recognize it when the deputy showed it to me. I was too scared.”

Dickce reached over and patted his arm. “I can understand that. You have to remember, though, the deputy knows you couldn’t have been the one to use it to squirt water on the stairs. You had no opportunity to get into the house to do it. Now, where did it come from?”

“It’s mine. Last time I saw it was a couple years ago, when I used it with a Halloween costume.” Benjy leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. “It was a toy I got when I was about ten. It was in a box of stuff when my mother and I moved into the house where the Wart lives with his mother. After that Halloween I stuck it back in the box in my closet and forgot about it.”

“But you’re sure it’s the same one?” Dickce asked.

“Pretty sure.” Benjy turned to look at her, and she could read the fear in his eyes. “I swear I didn’t bring it, and I didn’t use it to squirt water on the stairs.”

“I know you didn’t,” Dickce said, making her tone as reassuring as she could. “Like I said, you didn’t have the opportunity. I’ve already told Deputy Berry that.”

“I hope she really believes you,” Benjy said. He looked less fearful now, Dickce thought.

Dickce put the car into gear again and drove on down the driveway. “I do think you need to tell Deputy Berry where the pistol came from, though. She needs to know that, and it will look better if you tell her. Someone else might remember that you had one anyway.”

“The Wart probably does,” Benjy said. “I used it a few times to play jokes on him. He complained about it to everyone, so they know about it.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to her next time she’s here.”

“Good,” Dickce said as she halted the car behind the house. “Let’s get these bags into the house. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some lunch.”

“Me, too,” Benjy said as he unbuckled his seat belt. He met her at the back of the car and picked up several of the plastic bags. “Miss Dickce, are you going to tell your sister about the animals?”

“Yes,” Dickce said. She headed for the back door. “But I’m not telling her just yet that they’re going to be coming here. I’ll tell her we stopped to rescue them and then took them to the vet. She’s got enough to think about for now.”

“All right, I won’t say anything,” Benjy promised.

The back door opened, and Antoinette came out, accompanied by Diesel. She stepped forward, hands outstretched. “Here, Miss Dickce, let me have those. You go on in the house, and Benjy and I will unload the car.”

Dickce happily gave her bags to the young woman. She went back to the car for her handbag, and on her way toward the house again she saw Diesel sniffing Benjy’s pant legs as he walked. She wondered what the cat would make of the strange animal scents on Benjy’s clothing.

She continued to think about Diesel and the two rescued pets as she went into the downstairs bathroom to wash her hands. She hadn’t really considered the effect on Diesel in bringing two strange animals into the house. She knew Diesel was used to a dog, namely Stewart Delacorte’s poodle, Dante. But she didn’t know if he had been around other cats that much. She decided the best thing would be for the rescues to stay in the garage apartment with Benjy, and they would have to keep Diesel in the house until they had time to introduce the animals to one another.

Besides, having them in the garage apartment would keep them out of An’gel’s way, too. Dickce wasn’t sure how her sister would react to the news that she had suddenly acquired a dog and a cat. An’gel was softhearted, despite her often crusty demeanor, but that didn’t mean she would welcome two strays into the house.

“If you have to,” Dickce told her reflection in the mirror as she dried her hands, “you can move into the garage apartment with them. They’re going to stay no matter what An’gel thinks.” She turned out the light, opened the door, and almost stepped on her sister’s foot.

“Who were you talking to in there?” An’gel asked. “Yourself?”

“I
am
rather fond of intelligent conversation,” Dickce said.

An’gel did not look amused. “What took you so long? We’re having a cold lunch instead of the hot one Clementine had planned because you were so late getting back with the groceries.”

“Sorry about that,” Dickce said, “but Benjy and I encountered an emergency on the way.”

“What kind of emergency? Was either of you hurt?” An’gel looked her over. “You look fine to me.”

“I’m fine, and so is Benjy,” Dickce said. “Right after we turned on to the highway, Benjy spotted a stray dog by the side of the road. We stopped to pick it up, and it turned out there was a cat with the dog.”

An’gel glared at her. “You didn’t bring them back here, did you? The last thing I need right now is stray animals in the house.”

“No, I promise you I didn’t bring them back with me.” Dickce smiled. “We took them straight to the veterinarian’s office and left them there.” She hadn’t lied to her sister. She hoped An’gel would let the subject drop for the moment. “Now, what can I do to help get lunch ready? I’m starved.” She headed back to the kitchen.

“Ask Clementine,” An’gel called after her. “I’m going to tell our guests that everything will be ready soon.”

The front parlor was empty when An’gel checked it. She crossed the hall to the library, and there she found Junior and Wade watching golf on television. She had never understood men’s fascination with the sport. She found it tedious in the extreme and much preferred tennis.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said to gain their attention.

Wade lowered the volume with the remote, and he and Junior turned in the chairs to face her. “Yes, ma’am?” Junior said.

“Lunch will be served in the dining room in about fifteen minutes,” she said. “Sandwiches and potato salad, so go along and help yourselves when you’re ready.”

Wade grunted and turned back to golf. Junior smiled and said, “Thank you.”

An’gel nodded and left them to their golf. She headed for the stairs. Not for the first time she thought about installing an intercom system in the bedrooms as she climbed. That would save wear and tear on the knees. Somehow, though, she never got around to acting on her idea. They didn’t have guests that often, after all.

Upstairs, she tapped lightly on Rosabelle’s door. She waited a moment, then tapped again. This time it opened, and Juanita stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Grandmother’s still napping,” Juanita said. “I had to give her a mild sedative. She was terribly upset over what happened at breakfast.” She shook her head. “She’s not used to being thwarted or crossed.”

“No, she isn’t.” An’gel sighed. She harbored a bit of guilt over her confrontation with Rosabelle, but at the time she had felt it was the right thing to do. Someone had to call Rosabelle’s bluff, and at least she wouldn’t have to live with her after this mess was settled. Rosabelle could go back to California, and her family could deal with her. Rosabelle might even learn to behave more kindly toward her family after this if any of them made an effort to do the same toward her.

And I’ll go to church wearing a pink tutu
.

“Will she be awake anytime soon?” An’gel asked, trying to quell that cynical inner voice. “Lunch will be ready in the dining room in about fifteen minutes. It’s basically self-serve, with cold cuts and potato salad.”

“She ought to be up soon,” Juanita said. “I might just come down and have a bite myself, and then put together a plate for her. You don’t mind if she eats in her room?”

“Of course not,” An’gel said, feeling relieved. With Rosabelle absent from the dining room, there was less chance for more histrionics.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Juanita smiled before she went back into the bedroom.

An’gel crossed the hall to the bedroom Maudine and Bernice shared. Bernice opened the door before she finished knocking.

“Good afternoon, Bernice,” An’gel said. “I came to let you and your sister know that lunch will be served in the dining room in about fifteen minutes.” Before she could share the menu with Bernice, Maudine appeared in the door.

“What are we having?” She frowned. “I have an upset stomach. Your cook must have put something in those eggs that didn’t agree with me. I’m not sure I can handle anything other than plain food.”

An’gel reckoned it was the four helpings of scrambled eggs and seven sausages and biscuits that were to blame for Maudine’s gastric problems. An’gel did not offer her opinion, however. Instead she said, “Plain food, for sure. Cold cuts for sandwiches, with some of my housekeeper’s potato salad. Nothing highly spiced to cause you further distress, I can assure you.”

“Cold cuts?” Maudine grimaced. “Well, if that’s the best you can do.” She turned away.

Bernice smiled timidly as she leaned toward An’gel and said in an undertone, “Don’t mind Maudie. She’s really upset over the things Mother said this morning. We’ll be perfectly happy with whatever you have.”

An’gel nodded. She pitied Bernice, having to trail around after her sister to make one apology after another for Maudine’s rudeness. An’gel suspected it might be a full-time occupation.

When she reached the bottom step, she heard the doorbell ring. She went to the door, expecting to see Kanesha or one of her officers on the other side. Instead there stood a tall, handsome, and distinguished-looking man of perhaps sixty. He was nattily dressed in white linen trousers, a pale blue silk shirt, and a navy blazer. His stylishly cut hair, black with gray streaks, was thick and luxuriant. An’gel caught a hint of a mellow cologne as the stranger proffered a hand.

Slightly bemused, she returned the gesture. He clasped her hand and bowed over it, then straightened.

“Good afternoon, signorina. You must be one of the charming Ducote sisters that my beloved Rosabella has spoken of to me so very often.”