Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

“I could come and attempt to communicate with this spirit,” Alesha Jackson said. “I would have to stay in the house, and I can’t say up front how long it might take. So much depends on the willingness of the spirit to communicate.”

“I understand,” An’gel said, interested despite her determination to move on to other subjects. “What is your fee?”

“Room and board, and five thousand dollars for up to a week. If it takes longer, then it’s twenty-five hundred a week after that.”

An’gel was taken aback. Alesha Jackson had quoted Mary Turner a much lower price. For hourly work, however, it was far less than a lawyer’s fee, An’gel realized after a little mental arithmetic. Then she had to remind herself that the woman was most likely a con artist. An’gel wasn’t about to pay Alesha Jackson a nickel for her services, much less five thousand dollars plus.

“I’ve been wondering about any references you might have,” An’gel said. “Benjy is talented when it comes to finding out things online, and he did a little research on Primrose Pace’s activities.” She deliberately used the pseudonym rather than the woman’s real name.

Alesha Jackson tensed slightly, An’gel noticed. Her gaze, however, remained bland. “I know there are two or three things online that are pretty easy to find. About work I’ve done in missing persons cases in Louisiana.”

“Yes,” An’gel said. “I suppose it was through communicating with the spirits of the dead in these cases that led you to the vicinity of where they’d been buried.”

“To put it simply, yes, though the situations were all much more complicated than that,” Alesha said.

An’gel wondered if Alesha really was Primrose Pace, or had she taken the other woman’s identity temporarily for purposes of her own. She realized that Alesha Jackson was intelligent and wouldn’t be easily trapped into betraying herself. The police would have to sort out the question of Primrose Pace.

Time to push harder , An’gel thought.

“I found out something else about you, Ms. Jackson,” An’gel said. “Marcelline told me that your grandmother once worked here. For Mary Turner’s grandmother, to be exact.”

“Yes, my grandmother told me about that. It was a long time ago.” Alesha’s eyes narrowed briefly as she returned An’gel’s gaze.

“I wondered if that had anything to do with your coming here,” An’gel said. “I’m sure there are other houses with spirits you could communicate with. How did you really happen to choose this one?”

Alesha did not reply right away. Instead she stared at An’gel for a long moment. An’gel figured the woman might get up and walk out, but then Alesha surprised her by speaking.

“Curiosity,” Alesha said. “My grandmother didn’t work here long, but she encountered the spirit that is in this house while she worked here. I got my abilities from my grandmother, you see. I was at loose ends, and I thought I might come here and see if I could communicate with the spirit. She never would talk to my grandmother.”

“Interesting,” An’gel said. If it’s all true , she added to herself. “Is your grandmother still living?”

“Yes,” Alesha said. “She’s in poor health, but she’s still with us, praise His mercy.”

“I understand, however, that you recently lost your father,” An’gel said. “You have my sympathies on your loss.”

“How did . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Online, of course, because there have been articles about the accident.” Alesha looked disgusted. “Benjy found all that out for you. What business is it of yours? Why are you so interested in my life and my family’s lives?”

“Because a man was murdered in this house,” An’gel said simply and waited for a reaction.

“So?” Alesha responded. “It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“The murdered man owned the company your father worked for at the time of his death,” An’gel said. “The company your mother has been considering bringing a lawsuit against. For wrongful death, I imagine.”

“You think I killed him because he was responsible for my father’s death?” Alesha asked.

“I think it’s possible,” An’gel said. “It’s a powerful motive, don’t you think? Perhaps you thought that, with Nathan out of the way, it would be easier for your family to get his company to make a settlement of some sort. I’m sure that will occur to the police.”

Alesha stared at An’gel, her expression now one of hatred. “You have a filthy mind, old woman.”

“That may be,” An’gel replied, refusing to let the other woman rattle her. “I can’t abide murder, you see, and I can’t stand the thought of a killer getting away with it.”

“So you think you’re going to try to pin this on me? You think that arrogant policeman is going to take your word for it?” Alesha laughed.

“He might,” An’gel said. “I know he’ll be interested when he finds out about your connection to the deceased, if he hasn’t already.” She paused briefly. “Especially when he finds out it was your own cousin you might have murdered.”

CHAPTER 33

An’gel was surprised when Alesha Jackson reacted to her words by laughing. She laughed so hard, in fact, that it took at least a minute for her to stop.

When she did finish, she shook her head at An’gel. “I think you need a serious reality check, lady. Where did you get the idea I’m related to Nathan Gamble? You’re out of your mind.”

Perhaps her grandmother had never told her father about his true parentage. Or her father never told her, An’gel thought. Or maybe she’s simply bluffing . Should she tell Alesha Jackson what Marcelline had confided in her?

“I’m serious, lady,” Alesha said, her tone becoming heated. “I want to know who’s spreading that kind of garbage about me and my family.”

An’gel reckoned she had little choice now. She had started this, and now she had to finish it, within limits. “According to my source, when your grandmother worked here, she became pregnant with your father. My source says that Marshall Turner Senior was the father. He’s Mary Turner’s grandfather and related to the Gamble family.”

“Your source is lying,” Alesha said. “I don’t know why this person made up such a story, but it’s absolutely not the truth. My grandparents were married two years before my father was born. That was after my grandmother worked here. I’ve seen their marriage certificate. No way was that old man my grandfather.”

An’gel was shaken. If Alesha Jackson was telling the truth—and An’gel was beginning to believe she was—that meant what Marcelline had told her was a lie.

“I apologize, Ms. Jackson,” An’gel said after she managed to gather her wits. “It’s beginning to sound like I was grossly misinformed.”

“It was the housekeeper, wasn’t it?” Alesha asked. “She’s the only one old enough in this house to have known my grandmother when she worked here. You tell her from me she’d better shut her mouth and stop lying. I’m not going to put up with crap like this about my family.”

“I certainly understand that,” An’gel said. “I will speak to her, I can promise you that.”

“If it’s family you’re worried about killing Nathan Gamble,” Alesha said, “then maybe you should start with his sister. Ask her what she and her brother were arguing about around eleven thirty last night.”

“Where was this?” An’gel asked sharply.

“Upstairs, in his room,” Alesha said. “I’ll bet she hasn’t told the lieutenant about it. Well, I heard them, and I know what time it was. I’m a night owl, and I didn’t go to bed until after midnight. I heard people going up and down the hall several times last night.”