Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

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The New York Times bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks Mysteries and Digging Up the Dirt returns with the latest Southern Ladies Mystery...
It's autumn down south, and An'gel and Dickce Ducote are in Natchez, Mississippi, at the request of Mary Turner Catlin, the granddaughter of an old friend. Mary and her husband, Henry Howard, live in Cliffwood, one of the beautiful antebellum homes for which Natchez is famous.
Odd things have been happening in the house for years, and the French Room in particular has become the focal point for spooky sensations. The Ducotes suspect the ghostly goings-on are caused by the living, but when a relative of the Catlins is found dead in the room, An'gel and Dickce must sift through a haunted family history to catch a killer.

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“Since Mary Turner isn’t here, why don’t we ask Marcelline?” Dickce said. “She probably knows as much about this house as anyone, she’s been here so long.”

“Good idea,” An’gel said.

Benjy rose from the sofa. “I’ll go. She wasn’t in the kitchen when I came in a little while ago, but she might be back now.”

“Thank you,” An’gel said.

Benjy departed the parlor, and An’gel turned to her sister. “Did you bring any old clothes with you? If we’re going to go grubbing around in a basement, I don’t want to get my dress filthy.”

“You’re assuming that, if there is a basement, it hasn’t been cleaned in decades.” Dickce laughed. “I didn’t bring any old clothes because I didn’t think they’d be needed. Let’s wait to hear what Benjy finds out, and we’ll worry about clothes later.”

“Very well,” An’gel said. “I suppose I always think of attics and basements as dirty places. And that reminds me, it’s probably time we gave ours a good turnout. They could both use a good cleaning, and goodness knows there are things stored in both that we could probably part with.”

“I agree with you,” Dickce said. “At our age, though, I don’t really think we need to be doing all the cleaning and organizing. We can get help for that.”

“I’d already thought of that,” An’gel said. “Give me credit for some sense. I’m no more keen on clambering around over things and risking a fall than you are. I’d like to keep my bones intact.”

“With you, I’m never completely sure,” Dickce said. “You’re inclined to forget your age sometimes and get into things that you shouldn’t.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” An’gel retorted. “Let’s face it, Sister, we’re exactly alike in that regard.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose I simply don’t want to admit I’m an old woman, with more time behind me than I’ve got ahead of me.”

Dickce winced. “Don’t go getting morbid on me, for heaven’s sake. After all, I’m only about four years behind you.”

“As you remind me quite often,” An’gel said.

Dickce did not reply, and An’gel did not say anything further. They waited in silence for Benjy’s return.

An’gel checked her watch, and though it seemed an eternity until Benjy reentered the front parlor, it was probably no longer than six or seven minutes.

“Marcelline was back in the kitchen.” He paused near An’gel’s chair. “She told me that there is a basement, used mostly for storage. She keeps some canned goods down there, old furniture, things like that. She thinks it runs under most of the house, too.”

An’gel smiled. “Excellent. I think an investigation of the basement is in order.”

“That will have to wait,” Benjy said. “Marcelline looked for the key. It’s usually kept there in the butler’s pantry. The door to the basement is there. The key was missing, though, and she doesn’t know where it is.”

“That’s interesting,” Dickce said. “Someone has taken the key to keep others out of it. No investigation.”

“We’ll have to ask Mary Turner about it,” An’gel said. “Did you happen to ask Marcelline where Mary Turner is?”

“She told me Mary Turner has gone into town to pick up more food,” Benjy said. “Because of the additional people who will be needing breakfast the next few days. She hadn’t left long before I talked to Marcelline in the kitchen, according to her, so it will be a while before she gets back.”

“And Henry Howard is gone until sometime this evening,” An’gel said. “Then we have no choice but to wait.” She felt thwarted. She really wanted to get into the basement and dig around in it and didn’t want to have to wait.

“I need to go check on Peanut and Endora,” Benjy said. “They’ve been alone in the room for probably half an hour now. They’ll be getting restless. Do you think it would be okay to bring them into the house?”

“I think so,” An’gel said. “Mary Turner and Henry Howard are both fond of animals.”

“I think as long as we keep an eye on them and don’t let them scratch up anything, it should be fine,” Dickce added. “Besides, I’d like to take them through the house and see how they react.”

Benjy frowned. “I don’t want to frighten them.”

“No, I don’t either,” An’gel said. “Dickce has this idea that animals are supposed to be sensitive to otherworldly presences and thinks they’ll react if there is one present.”

“I’ve read that, too,” Benjy said.

“If they act like they’re afraid of anything,” Dickce said, “of course we won’t force them to stay. It would be a shame for them not to be able to come in the house, though.”

“I’ll go get them, and then we’ll see how they react,” Benjy said. “Back in a few minutes.”

Moments after Benjy left the parlor, Marcelline came in.

“Beg pardon, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce. I was wondering if y’all would like something to drink, like tea or coffee? And maybe a little something to nibble on? I just baked a lemon loaf cake.”

Dickce smiled. “That sounds wonderful, Marcelline. I sure would love to try your lemon loaf cake. How about coffee to go with it, An’gel? Or would you rather have tea?”

“Coffee is fine,” An’gel said. “Thank you, Marcelline. It’s thoughtful of you to offer.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” Marcelline said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy. Coffee’s almost ready, and I’ll slice up the cake.” She hurried from the room.

“I don’t know what Mary Turner will do when Marcelline decides to retire,” An’gel said.

“The same thing we’ll do when Clementine decides to retire,” Dickce said. “Feel like we’ve lost our rudder.”

“What a depressing thought,” An’gel said. “I will feel really old then, because she’s younger than we are.”

Peanut rushed into the room, woofing happily at the sight of An’gel, who never failed to make a fuss over him. She did so now, and Peanut rested his head on her knee. He gazed adoringly up at her while she stroked his head and told him how handsome and clever he was.

Benjy, carrying Endora, walked into the room moments later. He resumed his seat near Dickce, and Endora jumped from his arms to climb into Dickce’s lap. She accepted Dickce’s stroking as her due and meowed to encourage its continuance.

“Did they show any signs of hesitation or fear when you came by the stairs?” Dickce asked.

“No, ma’am,” Benjy said. “They’ve been fine since the moment we walked into the kitchen.”

“I think the true test will be when we take them upstairs,” An’gel said. “Other than the business with the door, we haven’t experienced anything except on the stairs and on the second floor.”

“So you’re admitting that animals might be able to sense spirits?” Dickce said.

“Not necessarily,” An’gel said. “We’ll have to see what, if anything, happens.”

Marcelline interrupted the discussion by rolling in the tea cart. “Here we go,” she said as she brought the cart to a halt near An’gel’s chair. “Would you like me to serve?”

“Thank you,” An’gel said, “but we’ll do that.”

Marcelline nodded and turned to go. Then she turned back, her expression hesitant. “Miss An’gel, I couldn’t help overhearing what y’all were talking about.” She gestured toward Peanut, sniffing at the cake slices atop the tea cart, and Endora, resting in Dickce’s lap.

“That’s all right,” Dickce said. “Do you have something to tell us? Please do.”

“Well, it’s about Miss Mary’s little dog,” the housekeeper said. “He died a few months ago. He was old, and Miss Mary’d had him since he was a pup, before she and Mr. Henry got married. Anyway, that little dog, there were times when he wouldn’t go up or down those stairs to save his life.” She shook her head. “Miss Mary’d have to carry him, and he’d whimper the whole time.”

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