Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

An’gel could imagine it. The person who killed Sondra might have incited the act for reasons of his own. Then Sondra might have repented of it in the wake of her grandmother’s collapse and threatened to confess. There was a twisted mind at work here, whatever the answer.

“If someone talked Sondra into doing it,” An’gel said, “it would seem to me that person wanted to hurt Mireille. Perhaps not to the extent of having her collapse, but to upset her if nothing else.”

Jacqueline must already have come to that conclusion, An’gel thought, because she didn’t appear at all surprised by the idea.

“I think you may be right.” Jacqueline looked troubled as she deposited the fabric once again on the coffee table. She took a deep breath and faced An’gel squarely. “There’s something neither Maman nor I told you and Tante Dickce. We probably should have, but Maman didn’t want to worry you.” She smiled briefly.

An’gel decided to let that statement pass. Mireille should have confided in them, and perhaps all this could have been averted. She didn’t want to upset her goddaughter by telling her that. Instead she said, “What didn’t you tell us?”

“There were a few other little incidents that upset Maman ,” Jacqueline said. “At first we thought they were just coincidences, but then they got a bit ugly.”

“Tell me about these incidents,” An’gel said.

Jacqueline leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed. “A set of Dresden figurines that Papa gave her on their tenth wedding anniversary were broken. Maman thought either Estelle or Jackson had done it and were too embarrassed to admit it. She didn’t want a confrontation, so she said nothing about it to either of them. Especially because Jackson is rather shaky sometimes, and Maman didn’t want to upset him.”

An’gel nodded. Typical of Mireille, she thought, to refuse to confront someone.

“A couple of other small, treasured possessions got broken,” Jacqueline said. “ Maman still refused to say anything, and she wouldn’t allow me to. I was surprised, frankly, that nobody owned up to it. Jackson, in particular, because he’s always been so honest. Because of that, I decided it had to be Estelle. She can be spiteful sometimes, and she’s angry whenever Maman doesn’t give in to her and do things her way.”

“I think I would have said something to Estelle anyway, no matter what your mother wanted,” An’gel said. “That kind of behavior can’t be allowed to go on unchecked.” Because it may have escalated into something far worse .

“I argued with Maman about it, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she would handle it in her own way. The incidents stopped for a few weeks, and then a couple of days before you arrived, the worst one happened.” Jacqueline shuddered.

“What was it this time?” An’gel asked.

“One of Papa’s gifts to Maman ,” Jacqueline said. “Probably the one she valued above all, a beautiful seventeenth-century French prayer book, still in its original binding. Maman found it cut loose from the binding, and the binding destroyed. I swear I thought she might have a heart attack then.”

An’gel felt sick to her stomach. “That was wicked. Mireille should have called the police.”

“I tried to get her to,” Jacqueline said. “Nothing I said could convince her. She kept insisting she would take care of it. I asked her point-blank if she thought Estelle was the culprit, but she just shook her head.” She paused. “I knew it couldn’t be Jackson, because he’s as devout a Catholic as Maman . Estelle isn’t devout by any means.”

“I agree with you about Jackson,” An’gel said. “He would never do something he would consider blasphemous. If it wasn’t Estelle, however, then who do you think it was?”

Jacqueline looked ready to burst into tears again. “I don’t want to think it, but I’m afraid Horace did it. He was trying to talk Maman into lending him money, but she refused. He wasn’t happy about it.”

CHAPTER 27

An’gel’s heart went out to her goddaughter because she could see how troubled Jacqueline was and how much it cost her to admit that she suspected her husband of such a vile act.

“Horace has always seemed like such a confident, successful businessman,” An’gel said. “Has he been having financial problems recently?” She began to suspect that this was more than a minor cash-flow issue.

“Horace has been very successful,” Jacqueline said, a note of pride in her voice, but it quickly turned bitter. “Horace also likes to gamble. Not at the casinos, mind you, or card games. He gambles with the stock market and investments in business ventures.” She looked angry now, An’gel thought.

“And lately those haven’t been going too well.” An’gel knew from her own experience as an investor that things could quickly turn against a person. She and Dickce, however, always exercised caution when considering any kind of new venture.

“He’s never had such a string of back luck,” Jacqueline said. “It’s like he’s lost his touch somehow. He’s also lost his confidence, and I hate seeing him this way.”

“Why did he approach Mireille for a loan?” An’gel asked. “Couldn’t you help him from your own income?”

Jacqueline shook her head. “Not without the permission of the trustees, one of whom is Richmond Thurston. The other is a cranky old stuffy banker in St. Ignatiusville who has turned down every request I’ve ever made. Both trustees have to agree. Rich would probably say yes, but old fussy pants won’t.”

“I see,” An’gel said. “Mireille obviously turned Horace down. Did she give a reason?”

“No, she didn’t,” Jacqueline said. “ Maman has always been secretive about her affairs. She seems to be comfortably off, and I know she and Estelle have made good money from the bed-and-breakfast scheme, but other than that, I don’t have a clue what her financial situation is. Daddy left her a fair amount of money, but Willowbank is expensive to maintain.”

An’gel certainly understood that last bit. She and Dickce spent a considerable sum every year keeping their own antebellum home in tip-top condition.

Jacqueline went on, “I know how important Willowbank is, er, was, to Maman , and I love it, too. But at the end of the day, it’s a house, and there are times when people are more important than houses. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, my dear, I do,” An’gel said gently. “I understand your mother’s feelings for her home, though. When you get to be our age, you often look back into your past, and there you see all the people you love who are no longer with you. People who lived, loved, and perhaps died in the house, and you want to cherish that house because it holds the memories of those loved ones. The house connects you to so much that makes you who you are.”

Jacqueline looked a little teary-eyed by the time An’gel finished, and An’gel felt slightly choked up herself. She always thought of her beloved parents whenever she talked about her home. In every room in Riverhill, she heard echoes of the past, of a time when she and Dickce were children and her parents were young and full of love for each other and for their daughters.

She rarely revealed her feelings to this extent to anyone other than her sister, and she was momentarily embarrassed that she had let her guard down, even to a loved one like her goddaughter.

“I understand,” Jacqueline said softly. “Thank you for sharing that with me. You’ve helped me understand Maman even better, and I can’t blame her for not wanting to put her home at risk for one of Horace’s uncertain ventures.”