The conversation was brief. Officer Bugg was not at the police department, but the dispatcher assured An’gel he would get the word to call as soon as possible. An’gel gave the man her number rather than Jacqueline’s. She ended the call and replaced the phone on the table.
“He’ll call soon, I’m sure,” An’gel said after she explained that Bugg wasn’t available at the moment.
Jacqueline rubbed her bare arms with shaky hands. “I’m terrified. What if I’m next on the list?”
An’gel had been hoping that Jacqueline wouldn’t hit on this frightening possibility for a while yet. But now that she had, the situation had to be acknowledged.
“Do you have a will?” she asked.
“Yes,” her goddaughter whispered. “I had Rich Thurston draw it up a couple of years ago, when Tippy turned two.”
“What are the terms?” Dickce asked. “We hate to pry, but we need to know.”
“Terence left me a lot of money,” Jacqueline said, apparently ignoring Dickce’s question. “He didn’t expect to die so young, and part of me never got over his death.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I didn’t realize how wealthy he was until he died. He left most of it to Sondra, of course, but he made sure I was well provided for.”
An’gel wanted to ask how much Terence had left her. She had never heard an amount mentioned in connection with Jacqueline’s portion, but it had no doubt been substantial. With Sondra’s share now hers, Jacqueline was a wealthy woman indeed.
“Your will?” Dickce prompted Jacqueline again.
This time she answered. “It’s split into thirds. One third to Horace, another to Sondra, and the last one to Tippy.” She shuddered. “Tippy would get Sondra’s third if she died before Tippy and me. Horace’s third is his to dispose of however he wants.”
An’gel felt the cold creep over her skin. She stared over Jacqueline’s bowed head at Dickce. She knew they shared the same thought.
Was Tippy now in danger from the killer?
Upstairs, Benjy shifted from his cramped position on the floor of Tippy’s bedroom and tried to ease the strain in his back. He couldn’t remember ever having a make-believe tea party with a little girl, but Tippy was enjoying it so much he couldn’t begrudge her.
He marveled at how patient both Peanut and Endora were being with the little girl. Peanut looked funny with the bows on his ears, and Endora kept losing her hat, but they didn’t shy away from the small hands that wanted to dress them. He was sure they sensed the child meant them no harm and went along with the play. The teddy bear, whose name Benjy finally realized was Lance, rather than Wance, watched over all the activities with a benignly vacant gaze and bedraggled smile.
Tippy chattered to the animals and occasionally to Benjy, and Benjy, realizing that she didn’t require a response, let his mind drift. He felt sorry for the kid. He knew what it was like to lose a mother, and he had to make an effort not to let grief overwhelm him. He didn’t want to have to explain to Tippy why he was so sad.
Then Benjy wondered whether anyone had told her about the deaths of her mother and great-grandmother. He wished he’d thought to ask before he started babysitting. The last thing he wanted to do was upset the kid by saying something out of turn.
Tippy chattered on, telling Peanut how much he would like the cake she had made and then insisting to Endora that she have another sip of tea. He smiled, and Tippy glanced at him and giggled.
“Peanut and Endora sure are enjoying their tea party,” Benjy said. “Thank you again for inviting us.”
“I wuv tea pawties,” Tippy said. She ducked her head and began cutting invisible slices of cake to dole out to the animals for a third or fourth helping.
Benjy thought the lisp was pretty cute, though it brought back uncomfortable memories. He’d had one when he was her age and hoped she would grow out of it sooner than he had. He remembered the teasing in kindergarten and first grade because he had trouble with l and r sounds.
He heard the word mommy suddenly and focused on what Tippy was saying.
“Mommy doesn’t wike the bad man,” she told Peanut solemnly. “He doesn’t wike her either and yewws at her.”
“When did you hear the bad man yelling at your mommy, Tippy?” Benjy knew he had to tread carefully. He thought this could be important, but he didn’t want to upset Tippy.
“A wot of times,” Tippy said. She poked a spoon at the teddy bear. “Wance, have some cweam.”
“Did you hear him last night?” Benjy said.
Tippy squinted, her head slightly to one side. “I think so. I was asweep, and dey woke me up. And den dere was a wot of noise. It was scawy, all the wightning and thunder.” She stared solemnly at Benjy. “Wance and I hid under de covers until we feww asweep.”
“I like to hide under the covers when there’s a bad storm,” Benjy told the child mendaciously.
Tippy nodded and went back to feeding the bear invisible cream. He scratched Peanut’s ears as he thought about what Tippy had told him. If the child was right, and a man had been yelling at Sondra about the time the storm hit, could that man have something to do with Sondra’s death? He knew Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce were concerned that Sondra’s death was not the result of a freak accident.
Those thoughts disturbed him, but another, more disturbing one came quickly. What would happen if the man knew Tippy had heard the argument?
CHAPTER 22
An’gel didn’t want to alarm Jacqueline any further by voicing her concern over Tippy’s welfare. Perhaps they could keep watch over the little one without letting on to Jacqueline they thought Tippy could be in danger. She, Dickce, and Benjy would take turns with the child until Sondra’s murderer was identified.
There was another subject she wanted to broach with her goddaughter, however, that could be almost as unsettling. An’gel felt she had little choice with this one.
In a gentle tone she asked, “Is Horace having any financial problems?”
Jacqueline closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Eyes open again, she looked at An’gel. “Yes, he is. He says it’s only a temporary cash-flow situation. Nothing really serious. He’s been through this before.”
“Do you think he’s telling you the truth?” Dickce asked, and An’gel wished her sister hadn’t been quite so blunt.
“Horace hasn’t ever lied to me,” Jacqueline said. “I have no reason to doubt him.”
An’gel thought her goddaughter’s statements lacked assurance. She hoped for Jacqueline’s sake Horace was as truthful as she claimed. If he was not, and the financial issue was truly serious, An’gel wondered to what lengths Horace would go to gain the money he needed. Would he kill two women to ensure that his wife inherited everything? A wife he could no doubt persuade to invest her considerable wealth in his business ventures?
An’gel wondered about that. She had never really felt she knew Horace beyond a superficial level. On past visits she and Dickce spent their time with Mireille and Jacqueline, seeing Horace mostly at meals. He was always on the go, attending to business, and on some visits they didn’t see him at all. On their last visit to Willowbank, almost five years ago, Horace had been out of the country the entire time.
Moreover, An’gel realized, Jacqueline’s letters—and later on, her e-mails—mentioned Horace and his activities only infrequently at best. She had nothing more than Jacqueline’s assurance that Horace was truthful. Mireille had always been reticent on the subject of her second son-in-law. An’gel didn’t think Mireille considered him a bad choice on Jacqueline’s part, but Mireille had adored Terence. An’gel thought her cousin had had only lukewarm feelings for Horace.
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