Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

“Lance?” Dickce cast a doubtful glance up the stairs in the direction of Tippy’s room.

“She’ll be fine with him,” Benjy said. “He’s really good with her. Come on, let’s go find out what the sirens are all about.”

Dickce followed him down, but at a slower pace. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, Benjy was entering the kitchen. Dickce wondered where An’gel was. Probably smack-dab in the middle of the action . She hurried to the kitchen.

Dickce was thrilled to see Jackson when she walked out the back door. He stood with Benjy a few feet away. They were watching the scene unfold at the servants’ quarters, but from a safe distance. Dickce joined them.

The ambulance and the police car blocked the view of the far end of the building. Dickce thought Estelle’s apartment was on that end. Jackson’s, she remembered, was the one closest to the house.

“What’s going on, Jackson?” Dickce asked.

Jackson turned to her with a frown. “I’m not rightly sure, Miss Dickce. Miss An’gel went over to Estelle’s a little while ago, and the next thing I know, sirens are screaming, and they come tearing around the side of the house.” He nodded in the direction of the ambulance and the police car.

“Is An’gel still over there?” Dickce wished her sister would turn up.

“I believe so,” Jackson said.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Benjy said. “Look, here she comes.”

An’gel, escorted by Officer Sanford, was indeed walking toward the house. Dickce hurried forward to meet them. She wanted to assure herself that An’gel was all right.

An’gel looked okay, Dickce decided when she was five feet away. But she was holding on to the young policeman’s arm like a lifeline.

“Sister, what happened?” Dickce said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” An’gel said. “A bit shaken up, but I’ll do.” She released her grip on Sanford’s arm. “Thank you, young man. I’ll go on to the house with my sister. When you need me, you can find me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanford ducked his head, then turned and walked back to the action.

Dickce took her sister’s arm and led her toward the house.

“Tell me what happened,” she said. “Is something wrong with Estelle?”

“There sure is,” An’gel said grimly. “She’s dead.”

“Oh dear,” Dickce said. “Did she have a heart attack?”

“No,” An’gel replied. “She was poisoned, and I believe I saw her killer.”

CHAPTER 30

An’gel thanked her sister for the cup of hot tea. After she had a few sips, she said, “I’ve never seen someone die like that, and I hope I never do again.”

“Do you feel up to talking about it?” Dickce asked.

An’gel shuddered. “It’s probably better if I do.” She looked at her sister across the kitchen table, then at Jackson and Benjy on either side.

“I went there to ask her some questions,” An’gel said. “I was determined that she was finally going to talk to me. I wanted to know about the antique wedding gown.” She recounted her finding of the scrap that led her to search for the intact gown and its discovery in Mireille’s bedroom. “Estelle knew that the gown Sondra destroyed was a fake. I asked her if she put Sondra up to destroying it as a joke, and she said she didn’t.”

“Did she know who did?” Dickce asked. “That is, if anyone did put the idea in Sondra’s head.”

“I think she did know,” An’gel said. “She told me once before there were things she knew that others weren’t aware of, and I got the impression from that conversation that she expected to use that knowledge to her advantage.”

“She was nosy,” Jackson said. “Always poking her nose into everything. I told her once, she kept doing that, somebody was going to bite her nose off.”

“Somebody did, so to speak,” An’gel said grimly. “While we were talking, she poured herself some whiskey, several fingers in fact, then she knocked it all back at one go.” She paused as the mental image of Estelle’s death rictus flashed through her brain. “Then she started shaking and grabbing at her throat like she couldn’t breathe. Next thing I knew she was on the floor, dead.”

Dickce shuddered. “How awful.”

Benjy nodded. “Poor woman. She didn’t deserve that.”

An’gel told them about the figure she had seen earlier near Estelle’s apartment.

“Could you tell who it was?” Benjy asked.

“No,” An’gel said. “To be truthful, I’m not completely sure I really saw a person. It was only a fleeting impression, out of the corner of my eye, and by the time I looked, whatever it was had gone.”

“You think it was the person who got into Estelle’s place and put the poison in her whiskey,” Dickce said.

An’gel nodded. “I think it’s a distinct possibility. What I’m wondering is, what poison would work that quickly.”

“Likely it wasn’t poison, Miss An’gel.” Jackson frowned. “Miss Estelle was deathly allergic to peanuts. All somebody had to do was grind up some peanuts real fine like and put ’em in her bottle.”

“How awful,” Dickce said again.

“Did everyone know about this allergy?” An’gel asked.

Jackson nodded. “Oh, yes. Miss Estelle talked about it to everybody. You know how she was about complaining. Wouldn’t ever cook nothing with peanuts, and wouldn’t have no peanut butter in the house.” He shook his head. “Little Miss Tippy loves peanut butter, and Miss Jacqueline has to sneak it into the house for her.”

There was a knock at the back door, and Jackson got up to answer it. He opened the door and stood aside to allow Officers Bugg and Sanford to enter the kitchen.

Bugg looked straight at An’gel. “Ma’am, I need to talk to you about this unfortunate event. You reckon you feel up to telling me about it?”

“Yes, Officer, I do,” An’gel said with more conviction than she felt. She knew she had to do this. Best to get it over with. “Would you like to talk here? Or we could go to the parlor?”

“Here’ll be just fine, ma’am,” Bugg said. “But I’d prefer to talk to you by yourself.” He glanced at Jackson, Dickce, and Benjy. They took the hint and excused themselves, though Jackson paused long enough to offer the policemen something to drink. Bugg declined, and Jackson followed the others from the room.

Bugg plopped down across from An’gel in the chair Dickce had vacated. Sanford sat to her left in Jackson’s spot. He pulled out his notebook and pen.

“All right, ma’am,” Bugg said. “Why were you there in the deceased’s apartment? Was you in the habit of visiting her there?”

“No, I wasn’t. I had never been in her apartment before today,” An’gel said. “I went there to ask her a few questions about odd things that have been going on in this house.”

“Like what, for example?” Bugg put his arms on the table and leaned on them, focused intently on An’gel.

An’gel had to think quickly about what she could tell him without violating Jacqueline’s confidence. She didn’t want to tell him some things without her goddaughter’s permission. As soon as Jacqueline returned from town, she vowed, she would urge her goddaughter to tell everything to the police.

“Ma’am?” Bugg prompted.

“Sorry, just putting my thoughts in order,” An’gel said. “The main thing was the incident with the wedding dress that caused my cousin to collapse and have to be rushed to the hospital. I believe I mentioned it when you first came to Willowbank to investigate Sondra’s death?”

Bugg looked annoyed. “Yes, ma’am, you did indeed mention it as I recall. The young woman was pitchin’ scraps from the wedding dress over the railin’.”