Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

“What about Serenity?” Dickce asked. “Is she involved with the company?”

“No, she isn’t,” Mary Turner said. “Their grandfather and their father didn’t think women had any business in construction, although I think Serenity’s dad did let her help some with redesigns. From what I’ve heard, though, she doesn’t have any real talent for it.”

“So she has no financial interest in the company?” An’gel asked.

“Not that I know of,” Mary Turner replied. “I believe her father set up a trust fund for her, but that’s separate from the business. They were quite successful over the years, although there were a lot of complaints about the quality of their work.”

“What will happen to the company now, do you think?” Dickce asked. “Will Serenity inherit?”

“I have no idea,” Mary Turner said. “That depended on Nathan, whether he even had a will.” She frowned. “There’s not really anyone else to leave it to, except for Serenity’s boys, but they’re really young, under ten, I think.”

An’gel exchanged a look with Dickce, sure that they were thinking similar thoughts. If there turned out to be anything funny about Nathan Gamble’s death, Serenity Foster might have a strong motive to want her brother dead. An’gel recalled the bitter words the young woman had spouted yesterday about her need for money for setting up a proper home for her children.

You’re getting way ahead of yourself , An’gel thought. Most likely Nathan Gamble died of natural causes. The fact that he died in a room allegedly visited by a mischievous spirit probably had nothing to do with it. Just because you’ve been involved in several murders recently doesn’t mean that this is going to be another .

The reasonable part of her agreed with this, but there was that niggling little voice that seemed convinced natural causes weren’t the answer in this case. An’gel was, like everyone else, curious to hear what the doctor had to say about Nathan Gamble’s demise.

“I wish Henry Howard would come back,” Mary Turner said. “I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to go out there and find him. Why doesn’t someone come and tell us what’s happening?”

“There is a lot to do when the authorities first arrive at a scene,” An’gel told her. “It might be a while yet before we find out anything. I’ll go stick my head out into the hall, though, and see what there is to see.” She patted Mary Turner’s shoulder before she headed to the door.

An’gel stuck more than her head out because all she could see was a hallway devoid of people. She could hear voices emanating from upstairs. Various sounds floated down the stairs, but she had trouble making out the words. She took a couple of steps out of the dining room toward the stairs, thinking she might actually go up a little way in order to hear more clearly.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

An’gel had barely put her foot on the first tread when the voice from behind her startled her so badly she nearly stumbled and fell up the stairs. A strong, uniform-clad arm reached out to steady her. She looked up into the face of a young, tall police officer. He had to be at least six foot five, she reckoned, because she had to crane her neck back in order to look him in the eye.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” the young officer asked, his voice a deep baritone. He let go of her arm.

“Yes, Officer, thank you,” An’gel replied. “I was only a little startled.”

“Was there something you wanted?” the policeman said.

“I was looking to see whether anyone was around,” An’gel said. “There are several of us in the dining room, and naturally we’re wondering what’s going on.”

The officer nodded. “I see, ma’am. Someone will be in to talk to you soon. They’re all upstairs at the moment. How many are there in the dining room with you?”

An’gel thought for a moment. “Three others. My sister, our ward, and Mrs. Catlin.”

“Thank you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind going back to join the others, I’d appreciate it.” The officer smiled.

“Certainly.” An’gel felt like a guilty child caught out doing something she’d been expressly told not to. She headed to the door and slipped inside, nearly bumping into her sister. Dickce had apparently been at the door watching everything.

“Did you find out anything?” Dickce asked the moment the door closed behind An’gel. “It didn’t sound like it.”

“No, only that everyone is upstairs now. Someone will be coming to talk to us soon,” An’gel said. “Though I wouldn’t place any bets on how soon soon really is.” She shared the news with the others and resumed her place beside Mary Turner.

Soon turned out to be nearly twenty minutes later, when the door opened to admit Henry Howard and the young policeman An’gel had met in the hallway.

“The doctor and the paramedics are still upstairs with the police,” Henry Howard said.

“Come sit down,” Mary Turner said. “Right here.” She indicated the chair next to her. “You look terrible.”

Henry Howard smiled tiredly as he sat next to his wife. “It’s a terrible thing. This is the first time we’ve had a guest die in the house.”

An’gel noticed that the policeman did not leave the room. He had stationed himself near the door but well within hearing distance of those in the room. She knew that anything they said might be reported to the officer in charge of the investigation. Dickce and Benjy were aware of that as well, based on their previous experiences with sudden death. She didn’t know whether the Catlins would realize it, however.

“Has the doctor seen him yet?” Mary Turner asked. Her anxiety was obvious, although Henry Howard appeared too tired and stressed himself to realize it, An’gel saw.

“Yes, the doctor looked at him, the paramedics looked at him, and the police looked at him.” Henry Howard slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Thank the Lord I only had to look at him the one time. I don’t like looking at dead people, I can tell you that, especially in that room.”

Mary Turner laid a hand on his arm. “I know, none of us do. Did anyone say anything about how he died?”

“Not that I heard,” Henry Howard said. “They kept me out in the hall after I showed them to the room.”

“Did you happen to notice anyone else upstairs?” An’gel asked. “Other than police and medical personnel?”

Henry Howard sat up. “What do you mean?”

An’gel caught sight of the policeman. She knew he was paying close attention. He had moved a couple of steps away from the door.

“Mrs. Pace left the room abruptly right after you did earlier,” An’gel said. “I wondered if she had gone upstairs to her room, that’s all.”

“I didn’t see her,” Henry Howard said.

Mary Turner looked at An’gel. “Do you think she might be in the kitchen with Marcelline and the others?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” An’gel wondered why she hadn’t thought of that. Instead she had immediately come up with much less innocent ideas. That’s what getting involved in murder will do for your thought processes .

She noticed Dickce and Benjy across the table, their heads together, whispering. Then Benjy looked at her. “Miss An’gel, Peanut and Endora have been alone in the room for over an hour now. I really need to go check on them. They both get bored, and they might tear something up.”

“You can bring them in here with us,” Henry Howard said. “We don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Mary Turner said. “I hate to think of them locked up by themselves all this time.”

An’gel rose and approached the policeman. “Officer, we have a dog and a cat with us. They’re in the annex in Benjy’s room, and as I’m sure you heard, they’ve been there over an hour. Would it be all right if Benjy goes and gets them and brings them here?”