Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

An’gel wished the housekeeper hadn’t used those unfortunate words.

“That’s crazy talk,” Serenity said hotly. “There aren’t any ghosts here. That’s just Mary Turner trying to scare Nathan away from this place. She’s never wanted him to have what was rightly his. Whatever happened to him, I know she did it.” She tried again to get out of her chair, and Wilbanks forced her down again.

“Take your hands off me,” she told him. “I’m not going to rip her face off, though I sure the hell would like to. I’ll wait and tell it all to the police.”

“I think you’d better take her out of here, Truss,” Henry Howard said, a steely glint in his eye. An’gel was happy to hear him finally speak up and take charge of the situation. “Why don’t y’all go out to the kitchen with Marcelline, and she can give you breakfast there if you feel up to eating anything.” He held up a hand when Serenity started to protest. “I’ll let you know as soon as the police are ready to talk to you, I promise.”

“Come on,” Wilbanks said. He stepped back to allow Serenity out of her chair. “We’ll do that.”

An’gel could almost feel the heat pouring off Marcelline. If looks could kill, she thought, Serenity Foster would be joining her brother soon if Marcelline had her way.

“Please, Marcelline,” Mary Turner said.

“All right, Miss Mary,” the housekeeper said. “For your sake.” She marched out of the dining room and didn’t look back to see whether Serenity and Wilbanks followed.

Serenity stared hard at Mary Turner. “You’re not going to get away with this.” She allowed Wilbanks to lead her from the room after that parting shot.

“We never should have let any of them in the house,” Henry Howard said in an undertone. “What a nightmare this is going to be.”

“I know you’re both upset,” An’gel said to the couple, “but there isn’t much time before the police and the doctor arrive. Henry Howard, how closely did you look at Mr. Gamble?”

Henry Howard stared at An’gel as if he weren’t sure he had heard her correctly. “I looked close enough to see that he was dead. I also felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. He wasn’t breathing. What are you getting at, Miss An’gel?”

“Did you notice anything unusual about the body?” she asked. “Other than his expression. Mary Turner said he looked terrified.”

Henry Howard frowned. “I didn’t notice anything else. He was lying there.” He thought a moment. “His hands were clutching the bedclothes, I remember now.”

“Tightly?” An’gel asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Henry Howard replied. “Is it important?”

“It could be,” An’gel said. After another look at Mary Turner, she decided to let it drop. The poor girl looked sick, despite having had more coffee, and An’gel couldn’t blame her. Gamble’s death had come as a great shock. She would only look worse if An’gel started talking about rigor mortis. Depending on what time Nathan Gamble actually died, if his hands were tightly holding the bedclothes, that would indicate he had died most likely less than twelve hours ago. It was barely 8 a.m. now, according to An’gel’s watch. She wondered what time he had gone to bed.

The doorbell sounded, and Henry Howard left to answer it. He shut the door behind him.

An’gel heard sirens coming nearer and nearer the house. The police and the emergency responders were arriving.

Mary Turner looked up at An’gel. “What are the police going to think, Miss An’gel? We can hardly tell them that a ghost frightened Nathan to death.”

“My dear, don’t start thinking things like that,” An’gel said. “We don’t know that any such thing happened. More than likely, he had a heart condition. He might not even have known about it. That kind of thing happens even to men his age. And to women, too.”

“Maybe,” Mary Turner said, “but I can’t help thinking about what I said to you and Miss Dickce yesterday, about hoping that a ghost scared the life out of him.” She started crying. “I didn’t want him to die.”

“We know you didn’t,” Dickce said gently. “It’s a terrible thing to happen to one so young, but you’re not to blame. Even if your cousin did happen to see something spooky in his room during the night, it wasn’t anything you did. If there truly is a spirit loose in this house, it’s going to do what it wants to. Not what you want or tell it to do. Right, Sister?”

“Right.” An’gel spoke with far more assurance than she felt, and she knew Dickce did as well. “All this speculation isn’t going to do anything but keep you upset. The doctor will have to sort it out. There will likely be a postmortem if the doctor can’t determine the cause of death after examining him. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Mary Turner seemed calmer after that little speech, An’gel was relieved to see. She urged the young woman to try to eat something. “I’ll go ask Marcelline to fix you something,” she said.

“No, thank you,” Mary Turner said. “I really don’t think I could eat anything right now. Coffee is fine for the moment.”

“All right,” Dickce said. “But if you change your mind, let us know.”

“Thank you all for being so kind,” Mary Turner said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t think I could bear any of this otherwise.”

An’gel gave her a hug, and she felt the young woman tremble. “Everything will be okay,” she said before she released Mary Turner.

Silence ensued in the dining room but An’gel could hear sounds of activity in the hallway. Voices, footsteps, everything muffled by the closed door but still audible. They all sat looking at the door, waiting for someone to come in.

An’gel noticed again that Primrose Pace wasn’t with them. Where had the woman gone? Had she packed her bags and run off? If she had, An’gel reckoned, that would be a strange thing to do, unless she had something to hide from the authorities.

Even if she hadn’t done a bunk, her behavior was still odd. An’gel had a new thought. Had the woman gone up to the French room to see the dead body?

CHAPTER 18

What reason could Primrose Pace have for going to look at Nathan Gamble’s corpse?

An’gel considered that question. Simple morbid curiosity was one answer. Or perhaps Mrs. Pace might consider it professional interest? After all, she professed to be a medium, so maybe she went upstairs to try to communicate with the spirit of Nathan Gamble to help him move on to the next plane of existence. Wasn’t that what they called it?

That sounded wacky but plausible to An’gel, though she really had no idea how a medium would behave in a situation like this. She felt certain, however, that the reason Mrs. Pace had disappeared from the room had something to do with Nathan Gamble’s death. She certainly hadn’t acted or looked like she was ill from what An’gel had noticed in the brief moments she was aware of the woman’s presence.

The police would not be amused if they caught the medium in the room with the body but somehow An’gel didn’t think Mrs. Pace would be caught off guard like that. She suspected that the medium was far too canny.

An’gel remembered what Mrs. Pace told them about Nathan Gamble’s family, that his father or grandfather had been in the construction business in some fashion. She looked at Mary Turner, who now appeared calm. She hoped what she was about to ask wouldn’t unsettle the young woman any further.

“Mary Turner, Mrs. Pace mentioned earlier that your cousin’s family, either his father or grandfather or both, was involved in building or remodeling. Also that your cousin himself was a realtor. Is that true?”

Mary Turner nodded. “Yes, Nathan’s grandfather was a builder, and his dad specialized in renovations. Nathan was more interested in selling real estate than in building, but he inherited the construction company from his father.”