Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

“Can we do something for you, ma’am?” the younger, taller cop called out to An’gel from where he stood with his superior just inside the room by the French doors onto the gallery.

“No, only looking,” An’gel said. “I can’t believe the amount of destruction in this room.” She shook her head, still aghast at the damage.

“Well, I reckon this is what happens when you leave the doors open during a vi’lent storm,” Bugg said in a pompous tone. “Girl couldn’t’a been in her right mind going out there like that and standing on the gal’ry. No wonder the wind swooped her up like that.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” An’gel asked sharply. “Doesn’t that seem peculiar to you?”

Bugg smiled as he walked toward An’gel. “Now, ma’am, what else you reckon could’a happened here?” He waved a hand to indicate the state of the room. “Her stepdaddy and his son done told us she liked to stand out there during a storm. She was lucky it didn’t happen to her before now.”

In the face of this irritating condescension, An’gel felt her temper rise rapidly. “Don’t you think it strange that she was standing out there in a storm wearing her wedding dress?” An’gel put heavy emphasis on the last two words.

Bugg looked confused. “Weddin’ dress?” He shook his head. “She was wearing a blue dress, as I recall. You trying to tell me she was gonna get married in a blue dress? Never heard tell of such.”

“Sondra and her grandmother argued over an antique wedding gown that Mireille wanted her to wear. Sondra didn’t want to wear it, however, and said she would wear a blue dress instead.” An’gel went on to explain briefly what happened to the antique gown and the consequences of Sondra’s destructive act.

“I can’t believe that girl would do something like that to Miss Mireille,” Bugg said. “Miss Mireille’s the sweetest lady in the world.”

“My youngest sister went to school with the deceased,” Sanford said with a grimace. “Said she—the deceased, that is—could be real spiteful if she didn’t get her way. All the girls was scared of her and didn’t dare cross her. Don’t surprise me a bit she’d do something like that, even to her own grandma.”

An’gel didn’t need further evidence of Sondra’s self-absorption. She wanted the policemen to consider the idea that Sondra hadn’t died in a freak accident.

“Back to the point about the wedding dress,” she said. “I think it’s highly unlikely Sondra would have stood out there during a storm in the dress she intended to wear at her wedding.”

“Maybe you got a point,” Bugg said. “But if it wasn’t no accident, then are you saying somebody pushed her over during the storm?”

An’gel smiled grimly. “I’m not saying that’s what actually happened, but I think you ought to consider the possibility.”

Sanford shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t think that can be right.”

“What do you mean?” Bugg asked.

“All you gotta do is look at where the body was lying,” Sanford said. “It was too far out from the house. If somebody’d pushed her over the railing, or even picked her up and dropped her, she would’ve landed much closer to the house.” He looked smug at his own reasoning. “So the wind must’ve picked her up and dropped her where she was, away from the house.”

An’gel had to admit, if only to herself, Sanford made a good point. The location of Sondra’s body did complicate her theory. She had a potential answer, however.

“The wind might not have plucked her off the gallery,” An’gel said. “But it could have moved her body after she had fallen. Don’t you think that’s possible?”

Bugg thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe. I reckon we’ll have to give it some thought. What I want to know, though, is why would someone kill her?”

“That, Officer Bugg, is your job to find out.” An’gel smiled tiredly, suddenly exhausted by the effort of talking with the policemen and overwhelmed by the chaos of Sondra’s room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my sister, who is looking after little Tippy.” She turned and walked down the hall and pretended not to hear a rude comment from Bugg about nosy old biddies .

CHAPTER 18

Her shoulders slumped as she trod the hallway toward the back of the house where Tippy’s bedroom lay, An’gel knew she would have to seek out her own bed soon. All the stress of the day and the adrenalin released by multiple incidents had left her dragging. Before she went to her room downstairs, however, she wanted to talk to Dickce.

The door was shut, and An’gel knocked lightly so as not to startle her sister when she entered. Inside the room, she discovered she need not have bothered. Dickce sat, sound asleep, in a rocker near the bed. Tippy lay asleep on her stomach, one arm thrown over Lance the teddy bear.

An’gel hated to wake her peacefully reposed sister but she knew Dickce ought to eat something before bed. She could sit and watch over Tippy while Dickce went downstairs. A little nap in the rocker wouldn’t keep her from falling asleep in her bed a little later—not as tired as she was.

Dickce roused easily when An’gel lay a hand on her shoulder. She stared blankly up at An’gel for a moment, then her vision cleared and she whispered, “Have you heard anything from the hospital?”

An’gel shook her head. “Come out into the hall with me for a minute.” When she opened the door and looked out, she spotted two heads disappearing down the stairs.

Dickce followed her out, and with the door nearly shut behind them, An’gel told her sister about Estelle’s claim that Mireille had died earlier during the storm.

Dickce’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a load of bull hockey, Sister. Surely you don’t believe her?”

“I certainly don’t want to,” An’gel said sharply, “but you know as well as I do, sometimes these things happen. Remember how Vidalia Williams always knew before anyone else when someone in Athena had passed on?”

“She was on the front porch at Riverhill with a casserole before we even called the doctor for Mama.” Dickce shivered. “I’ll never forget that. We’ll just have to pray that Estelle’s simply looking for attention. She likes to shock people.”

“I have been praying that,” An’gel said. “I have more to tell you, but it can wait till morning. I’m exhausted, and you must be starving by now. Why don’t you go downstairs and get something to eat? Estelle and Jackson made a stack of sandwiches. I’ll stay here with Tippy for a while.”

Dickce patted her stomach. “It does feel a bit empty in there. Thanks.” She turned to leave, but then turned back. “I’m going to ask Benjy to change rooms with me. I’ll feel better if I’m up here close to Tippy.” She grimaced. “I can’t sleep in that chair all night, but if I leave both our doors open, I’ll hear her if she gets up during the night.”

“Or what’s left of it,” An’gel muttered. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Dickce departed, and An’gel went back into Tippy’s room. A nightlight glowed softly near the bed, and An’gel thought Tippy did look angelic in her sleep. She wondered how much of her personality Tippy had inherited from her mother. Not much, An’gel hoped. The last thing they needed was a demanding toddler running around the house.

She lowered herself into the rocker and after a moment closed her eyes and began to rock slowly. She remembered her mother rocking her when she was little, and how comforting that was. She had gone to sleep happily in her mother’s arms in that old rocker. She had it in her own bedroom now. Soon the rocking slowed, and An’gel drifted into sleep.