Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

He continued through the links until he reached the point that he found himself reading through information in which the words primrose and pace appeared somewhere in the same article. He refined his search to look for the two words together, and his results narrowed immediately to only one screen’s worth.

Benjy stopped for a moment to consider his next move. Mrs. Pace had never mentioned where she came from, but the stories he had read with her in them had all taken place in Louisiana. One of them happened not far across the Mississippi River from Natchez.

He found it odd that the woman didn’t have a website to advertise herself. Idly he searched Louisiana psychics and after about ten seconds had a result list of over 300,000 hits. He even found a directory of psychics, but there was no listing for Primrose Pace. Idly he clicked on several of the different psychics listed and read their descriptions and scanned some of their testimonials. He found it all fascinating, especially since a few of them listed missing persons as a specialty.

Maybe Primrose Pace was one of those people who didn’t like the Internet and preferred to find her clients via word of mouth instead of social media. That thought reminded him he needed to check other social media sources, and he proceeded to do so. He didn’t find an account anywhere for Primrose Pace on the most popular social media sites or even a mention of her.

Next he tried a genealogical database, but the only hits he got showed the two words in the same entry, usually with the word Primrose part of a street name and Pace as a surname.

Benjy searched every source he could access through the Athena Public Library. He had no access to the library at Athena College, though come spring he would. He was excited about enrolling for his first semester of college and couldn’t believe how lucky he was that he had been accepted. Access to a college library would open whole new worlds to him, and he couldn’t wait for that to happen.

Before he became too lost in happy thoughts about college, he made himself refocus on the search for information on Primrose Pace. He couldn’t think of anywhere further to look. He would report his findings to Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, and see whether they had any ideas about next steps. He knew they would find it as interesting as he did that there was so little to be found on the mysterious medium.

Benjy shut down the laptop and sat for a moment, watching the sleeping dog and cat. He enjoyed these quiet times with them. They were still so young, and he hated to think of them getting old and suffering from ailments like arthritis or kidney disease. He had read a lot about such things because of his interest in animal welfare, and he was determined to be prepared for their care in old age.

That made him think of Miss Dickce and Miss An’gel. They were already old, but they appeared to be pretty healthy and spry despite their age. He couldn’t imagine them any other way and dreaded the thought of their becoming infirm or incapacitated in any way. When the time came, he would do his best to take care of them.

“Enough of the old-age stuff.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he needed to get his mind off the subject. Otherwise he’d get depressed, and that wouldn’t do anybody any good.

Peanut woke up at the sound of his voice and began to stir. That in turn got Endora awake, and Benjy happily began to give them the attention they now demanded.

• • •

“Are you sure about what you overheard?” Dickce asked. “I thought some more about what you told us, and I think there could be a different interpretation for it.”

“What would that be?” An’gel asked.

“Maybe it referred to a business relationship, not a sexual or romantic one,” Dickce replied. “People use similar terminology with business relationships when things go bad, don’t they?”

“I suppose so,” An’gel said. “If it weren’t for the way he was adjusting his clothing, I would agree that your idea is a more likely answer. Of course, what Wilbanks said to Gamble could refer to both a business and a sexual relationship. The two might have been involved in both ways.”

“Double jeopardy, then,” Dickce said.

“If you want to put it that way, yes.” An’gel thought about it for a moment. “That would certainly add to the bitterness if both had gone sour. And Wilbanks definitely sounded bitter.”

“Either way, there is still a strong motive for Wilbanks,” Dickce said. “With the two aspects combined, I’d say it becomes even stronger.”

“I agree,” An’gel said. “I’m beginning to like Wilbanks as the chief suspect myself.”

Dickce wagged a finger at her. “You still don’t know that Nathan Gamble was murdered. We’ve spent so much time dealing with murder recently that I swear you’re starting to see a murder everywhere you go.”

An’gel started to protest but then admitted to herself there was a great deal of truth in what her sister had said. She was being premature in this case, though she had been proven right in the past when she stated that a suspicious death resulted from murder.

“You can’t deny it, can you?” Dickce said.

“No,” An’gel said. “I can’t. But you can’t deny that Nathan Gamble’s death is odd. The first time he ever spent the night in that room he was so desperate to own. The contents, of course, not the room itself, but you know what I mean. I think it’s too great a coincidence myself, and it might have been really convenient for someone.”

“Except that we don’t know for whom and why it is convenient,” Dickce said.

An’gel made a sound of disgust. “We keep going in circles. I wish we knew whether Nathan Gamble was murdered.”

“Let’s look at the situation from a different angle, then,” Dickce said. “Let’s look at the how instead.”

“How he was murdered, if he was murdered, you mean?” An’gel said.

Dickce nodded.

“Mary Turner said he looked frightened,” An’gel said. “Maybe someone went into the room and scared him to death.”

“If he had a weak heart, I suppose that could have happened,” Dickce said. “I wonder if he had locked the door before he retired for the night. I don’t think either Henry Howard or Mary Turner said anything about having to unlock his door, did they?”

An’gel thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t remember. We can ask Henry Howard.”

“It could be important,” Dickce said.

“Yes, depending on the method the killer used,” An’gel said. “Unless the room is somehow rigged to frighten a person. I suppose I might have found out if I had spent the night there.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Dickce said. “You could have been the one frightened to death instead of Nathan Gamble.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that easily frightened.”

“You don’t know what Nathan Gamble might have seen. It might have terrified the life out of you.”

An’gel rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt it. My heart is in excellent condition, according to my cardiologist.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t put to the test,” Dickce said wryly. “You’re annoying, but I’d rather be annoyed by you than by anyone else.”

An’gel grinned. “Same to you, Sister.”

A knock sounded at the door, and An’gel called, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Mary Turner. She hesitated in the doorway, and An’gel could see that the young woman was upset about something.

An’gel got up and went to her. “Come in, my dear. Tell us what’s wrong.”

Mary Turner responded with a weak smile. “Thank you, Miss An’gel. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but have you seen my husband recently?”