Миранда Джеймс - Digging Up The Dirt

“Sounds fine,” An’gel said. “If you need help with anything, let me and Dickce know. We’ll be happy to do what we can.”

Arliss nodded. She picked up a pad and pen from the table by her chair and started jotting things down as the group discussed the service.

Thirty minutes later the board had a plan everyone agreed upon, and An’gel was relieved that there had been no further mention of Hadley Partridge. He seemed to bring out the worst among the members, and An’gel was weary of dealing with their behavior. She said as much to Dickce as they climbed into the car after the meeting ended.

“Some women think their lives aren’t complete if they don’t have a man on their arm,” Dickce said. “You know that as well as I do, Sister.”

“Yes, I do, but it still aggravates me to no end when otherwise intelligent women carry on like they were doing today over Hadley.” An’gel sighed and cranked the car. “I’m beginning to wish Hadley had never come back.”

CHAPTER 18

“I understand how you feel,” Dickce said, “but they’ll all settle down soon, especially when they see that Hadley is not going to rescue them from the loneliness of widowhood.”

An’gel snorted. “What a ridiculous phrase. Rescue them from the loneliness of widowhood . Spare me the purple prose.”

“My choice of words aside,” Dickce said, slightly nettled by her sister’s reaction, “the point is, Hadley’s only been back a short while. They’ll get over this silly competitiveness for his attention.”

“I certainly hope so,” An’gel said.

Dickce decided it was time to move on to a different subject. “When are you going to call Kanesha and tell her about our little talk with Mrs. Turnipseed?”

“Right now,” An’gel said. “I’m heading to the sheriff’s department since’s it not all that much out of the way. We might as well talk to her in person if she’s in the office.”

“Good idea,” Dickce said.

Moments later they pulled into the parking lot at the Athena County Sheriff’s Department. Inside they inquired whether the chief deputy was available. She was, and soon an officer ushered them into Kanesha’s office.

“Good afternoon, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce.” Kanesha rose as they entered and waited until they were seated before she resumed her own seat behind the desk. “Have you got information to share with me?”

“Yes, we do,” Dickce said. “We went to talk to Mrs. Turnipseed this afternoon.”

“That was fast,” Kanesha said. “Did you find out anything useful?”

“Not directly, no,” An’gel said. “The woman kept saying everything wasn’t her business. According to her, she was out of town visiting her sister when Hadley and Callie left Ashton Hall.”

“She claims all that Hamish said to her was that Callie was gone,” Dickce added. “Then she said he never mentioned Callie’s name again for the rest of his life.”

“What did you think of her responses? Was she telling the truth?” Kanesha asked.

“She’s holding something back,” An’gel said. “We both thought so.”

“Yes, we did,” Dickce said. “The other thing is, her living room is full of antique furniture and things that we think came from Ashton Hall.”

Kanesha frowned. “Do you think she stole all this stuff?”

“No,” Dickce said. “We don’t think she’d be that stupid.”

“We think Hamish gave it all to her,” An’gel said. “But we’re wondering exactly why he gave it to her.”

“For years of faithful service?” Kanesha said, one eyebrow raised.

“One of the pieces—in fact, the very sofa that An’gel and I sat on during the visit—came from Hamish’s mother’s bedroom,” Dickce replied. “Both Hamish and Hadley were devoted to their mother, and I can’t see Hamish just handing over something of hers, even as a reward for faithful service.”

“Hamish was never known for his generosity,” An’gel said. “We approached him time after time to contribute to different charitable causes, and the most he ever gave at one time was fifty dollars.” She shook her head. “Getting that much out of him was a major triumph, I can tell you.”

“So if I understand where you’re going with this, you think he gave Mrs. Turnipseed all these valuable antiques and furnishings in exchange for her silence?” Kanesha asked.

Dickce and An’gel shared a glance, then they said in unison, “We do.”

“I agree that it could be a possibility,” Kanesha said. “Especially with what you’ve told me about Mr. Partridge’s stinginess and devotion to his late mother. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I also asked Mrs. Turnipseed if she knew anything about the whereabouts of Callie Partridge’s housemaid, Coriander Simpson,” An’gel said. “Her answer to that was extremely nasty and rude.”

A faint smile crossed Kanesha’s lips. “I can certainly imagine. I’ve had experience with Mrs. Turnipseed before.”

“We both think the housemaid might know something useful,” Dickce said. “Do you know anything about her?”

“Only that she’s no longer in the area, as far as we can determine,” Kanesha said. “We haven’t found any family of hers, either, and that’s a bit odd.”

“We’ll check with Clementine,” An’gel said. “If anyone knows anything about her, Clementine will. I meant to ask her this morning but I forgot.”

“If you do get any leads, I know you’ll pass them on to me,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, I have a little news for you.”

“What?” Dickce said eagerly.

“The police department investigated the ghost that was allegedly roaming around in Miss Hetherington’s house,” Kanesha said. “According to them, there was evidence of an intruder. The lock on the back door was forced, and several rooms were disturbed. They are checking with her lawyer for an inventory of property to determine whether the intruder took anything of value.”

“Sarinda had some jewelry handed down through her family,” An’gel said. “We believe she kept that in a safe deposit box at the bank, though.”

“Do you think it was just someone who heard about her death who broke in to steal?” Dickce asked. “Or was there some other purpose behind it?”

“A little too early to tell, frankly,” Kanesha said. “Until the police and the lawyer check everything and determine whether any valuables are missing, we don’t really know.”

“If it would help,” An’gel said, “Dickce and I would be happy to go through the house with the lawyer. We knew Sarinda for many years and are familiar with much of the contents of her home.”

“I will let the police department know,” Kanesha said.

“Thank you,” Dickce said. “Have you found out anything more about the remains from Ashton Hall?”

“Not yet,” Kanesha said. “We’re consulting with a faculty member from the college who is a physical anthropologist. He has extensive experience with Native American remains and funerary practices. He should be able to tell us pretty soon whether we’re dealing with an old burial or a comparatively recent one.”

“That’s excellent,” Dickce said. “We both hope it turns out to be a really old burial. Neither one of us wants it to be poor Callie.”

“Either way, there will still be a mystery about what happened to her,” An’gel said. “Someone knows the truth, and I frankly think it’s Mrs. Turnipseed.”

“Would you like for us to try talking to her again?” Dickce asked.

“At the moment, no,” Kanesha said. “I will send one of my deputies over to talk to her. He’s a good-ole-boy type, and he may have better luck with her. If he doesn’t get anywhere, I might ask you to try one more time.”