Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

For An’gel, Jacqueline’s confidence in her husband wasn’t enough. How could she question Horace discreetly? She would have to come up with a plan to introduce the subject of finances and business and hope that Horace would reveal himself in some way.

“Do you expect me to believe my husband is the one who cut the brake line on Sondra’s car?” Jacqueline demanded in a fretful tone. “That’s utterly ridiculous.”

“We have to consider every possibility,” An’gel said. “Look at it this way. Can you think of any other reason, besides money, that would lead someone to murder Sondra?”

“Not when you put it like that, I guess not,” Jacqueline said a bit more calmly. “Sondra annoyed many people because she was so self-centered, but that’s no reason to kill anyone.”

“You told us earlier,” Dickce said, “that Mireille had planned to drive into town with Sondra, but she changed her mind and didn’t go. Who all knew that Mireille was going to be in the car with Sondra?”

“Well, Estelle and Jackson knew, of course.” Jacqueline frowned. “I knew, and I’m sure Horace did, too. Trey probably did as well.”

“Anyone else?” An’gel asked. “What about your lawyer, Mr. Thurston?”

Jacqueline thought about that for a moment. “He probably knew, I think. Maman had planned to stop by his office while she was in town, but then she ended up calling to cancel the appointment when she had to stay home.” She regarded An’gel intently. “Do you think Rich drove out here and cut the brake lines on Sondra’s car without anyone seeing him?”

An’gel grimaced. “I know it sounds odd, dear, but we have to take everyone—and everything—into account. He doesn’t seem the type to go creeping through the underbrush and the trees, but you never can tell.”

“Sounds pretty ridiculous to me,” Jacqueline said. “I’ve known Rich Thurston all my life, and you never met a more fastidious man.” She sniffed. “Can’t stand to get his hands dirty on anything, and if he knows even how to find a brake line in a car, I’d be surprised.”

An’gel heard the conviction in her goddaughter’s voice. She wondered whether Jacqueline would understand the implications of what she just told them. If Thurston didn’t cut the brake lines—motive to be determined—that left Horace sitting in the seat of chief suspect, at least as far as An’gel was concerned.

“What about Trey?” Dickce asked. She looked oddly at An’gel. “Does he have money of his own? I suppose he works for Horace.”

“He does,” Jacqueline said. “He manages one of Horace’s dealerships in a nearby parish. I know Horace pays him well, and Trey isn’t extravagant.” She paused. “He can be pretty hotheaded at times, but he has nothing to gain from these deaths.”

An’gel reserved judgment on that. If Horace gained by them, then ultimately his son and only child would as well. She asked, “Do you know the terms of Horace’s will? Does he leave everything to Trey?”

“Yes, he does,” Jacqueline replied. “Horace knows that I’m already provided for.”

“I believe you said that if Horace inherited his third of your estate,” Dickce said, “he can dispose of it however he likes.”

“Yes.” Jacqueline nodded. “It would ultimately go to Trey.”

Dickce glanced again at An’gel. “I saw Trey last night. Or rather, in the morning.” She explained that Endora had been in her bedroom with her and how she heard the cat meowing and scratching somewhere. “When I picked her up, Sondra’s door opened, and there stood Trey. He looked mighty upset.”

“What was he doing in Sondra’s room at such a time?” An’gel asked. “That seems odd to me.”

Jacqueline sighed heavily. “He was head over heels in love with Sondra, but she wasn’t interested, despite everything. He was angry with her over her decision to marry Lance. I guess he might have wanted to spend some time with her things. He’s devastated by her death, I know.” Her face crumpled, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks.

An’gel didn’t want to distress her goddaughter further, but two words Jacqueline had said caught her attention. “You said Sondra wasn’t interested in Trey, despite everything . What did you mean by that?”

Jacqueline rubbed her tears away with one hand. “I guess I might as well tell you. He’s Tippy’s father.” She stood abruptly. “All this is giving me a bad headache. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go upstairs and lie down for a little while. I have to go back into town soon to take care of some things.”

“Of course, dear,” An’gel said vaguely, trying to grasp the truth of the bombshell Jacqueline had handed them. “You need to rest. Dickce, Benjy, and I will take care of Tippy for you.”

“Thank you.” Jacqueline gave them a brief smile before she strode out of the room.

“Well,” Dickce said. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“I didn’t either,” An’gel replied. “But I can’t say I’m completely surprised.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what Jacqueline and Horace were thinking, to allow such a thing to happen.”

“Poor Mireille was horrified, I imagine.” Dickce made a moue of distaste. “I know they’re stepsiblings, but still.”

“I imagine Mireille had a few choice words to say on the subject.” An’gel shook her head. “I still can’t believe she’s gone, and so suddenly. This whole mess is truly heart-rending.”

“Yes, it is,” Dickce said. They sat quietly for a moment, until the sound of the doorbell interrupted their thoughts.

An’gel waited, expecting to hear the footsteps of either Jackson or Estelle as they went to answer the door. There was only silence, and the bell rang again.

“I’ll go.” Dickce rose and headed out of the room.

She returned moments later, preceded by the policeman Bugg and trailed by his junior officer, Sanford.

“Mornin’, ma’am.” Bugg nodded at An’gel. “I don’t reckon either Mister or Miz Mims is around anywhere, are they? I got something I need to tell ’em.”

“I’m sorry, Officer.” An’gel rose to address the man. “I believe Horace is at work, and Jacqueline has just this minute gone upstairs to get some rest. She’s completely exhausted, and I don’t want to disturb her unless it’s of vital importance.”

Bugg didn’t appear happy at An’gel’s news. “That’s sure unfortunate, ma’am, ’cause I really need to talk to one of ’em.”

“My sister and I are cousins of Mrs. Champlain’s,” An’gel said. “I am also Jacqueline’s godmother. Can’t you tell us what it is? I’d rather not have Jacqueline hit with any more bad news at the moment. And that reminds me, we have something to tell you as well.”

Bugg nodded. “Yes’m, I got the message that Miz Mims needed to talk to me. How’s about you tell me what you got to say, and then I’ll do the same?”

“Very well,” An’gel said. “Won’t you both sit down first?” She waved a hand to indicate a couple of nearby chairs. Bugg nodded and motioned for Sanford to take a seat as soon as An’gel and Dickce took their places on the sofa.

“Now, ma’am, what is it you got to tell me?” Bugg asked after he sat and squirmed gingerly in the antique armchair to find a comfortable position.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, An’gel had to suppress a smile at Bugg’s actions. He was clearly not comfortable in that chair and probably afraid that he might damage it.

“Sondra had an accident with her car yesterday morning,” An’gel said. “She was coming down the driveway a bit too fast when her brakes gave out, and she ended up crashing her car into one of the live oaks. Luckily she wasn’t hurt and was able to walk away from it.”