Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

“Yes,” An’gel replied. “Or so we thought at the time. Mireille collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, where she died.” An’gel felt rage all over again at Sondra’s nasty trick, and she took a moment to calm herself.

“That Sondra was a hellcat sometimes,” Bugg said. “Still, it’s hard to believe she’d do something like that to her own grandma. But you said, ‘so we thought at the time.’ Does that mean it wasn’t the real wedding dress she tore up?”

“Yes. Mireille had apparently had a replica of it made some years ago, and it was the replica Sondra destroyed. In the heat of the moment, though, Mireille and Jacqueline didn’t realize that.”

“So you went out there to talk to the deceased about this. Why? Did you think she had something to do with it?”

Bugg was more astute than An’gel had earlier thought. “When I told Jacqueline I had found the original dress, we talked about the incident. She swears Sondra wouldn’t have done something like that unless someone else put her up to it. I thought Estelle might know something about it.”

“Did she?”

“I think she did,” An’gel said. “I was trying to get her to tell me what she knew, but she was stubborn. I think she intended to blackmail whoever it was. Then she drank some whiskey and collapsed. She died without ever saying another word to me.”

She hesitated for a moment but decided she had better tell the officer about the figure she thought she had seen earlier in the day.

When she’d finished, Bugg stared at her. “You say you don’t know who it was, or even if it was a man or a woman. Just an impression.”

An’gel nodded. She knew how insubstantial it was.

Bugg was still staring. “Tell me, ma’am. Do you wear glasses? Or contacts?”

Taken slightly aback, An’gel said, “No contacts. I do have glasses I use sometimes for needlework or reading.” Then she realized why he was asking about her eyesight. “My distance vision is fine, Officer.”

“All right, ma’am.” Bugg held up a hand in a placatory gesture. “Had to check. You’re sure you saw some thing, right?”

“Yes,” An’gel said. She had seen something move. She just couldn’t swear that it was a person. Given what had happened to Estelle, however, she felt it likely she had seen the murderer leaving after poisoning the whiskey.

“You got all that?” Bugg said to Sanford. The junior officer nodded.

“I reckon we got two murders, then,” Bugg said to An’gel. “Coroner’s pretty certain now that Sondra was dead before she ever went off that gallery.”

“Do you have any idea who’s responsible?” An’gel asked, curious whether Bugg would share anything of consequence.

“I got my ideas,” he responded lugubriously. “What about you? I checked your bona fides with the police and the sheriff’s department over in Athena, ma’am, and they tell me you was involved in several murders a coupla months ago.”

An’gel nodded reluctantly. She preferred not to think about those events if at all possible. “Yes, Officer, unfortunately murders were committed in our home.”

“That lady deputy in the sheriff’s department thinks an awful lot of you and your sister,” Bugg said in a tone that to An’gel sounded slightly incredulous. “Told me I should ask you what you think is going on here.”

That last sentence sounded like a challenge, An’gel thought. While she appreciated Kanesha Berry’s expression of confidence, she did not know Officer Bugg well enough to talk to him as candidly as she had always done with Kanesha. He seemed bright enough, but she didn’t want to send him haring off on the wrong tangent by anything she said.

She decided there was one thing she could safely tell him, and let him make of it what he would. “In my opinion, Officer, it’s all about money. You figure out who needs money desperately, and you’ll find the person who killed Sondra and Estelle.”

Bugg looked disappointed, as if he had expected more from her. His words confirmed that. “I ain’t dumb, ma’am. I know there’s a lot of money in this family. Shoot, Terence Delevan was probably the richest man in this parish. Heck, richest man in several parishes. That means his wife and his daughter both got a lot of money when he died. We know all about that here in St. Ignatiusville. I was hoping you was going to tell me something I didn’t know.”

An’gel felt justly rebuked, but she wasn’t ready to concede. “If you know all that, then you probably also know whose business is on shaky ground and could use an infusion of cash.”

Bugg nodded. “Yes, ma’am, indeed I do. Already working on that angle.” He stood. “I reckon that’s about all I need from you at the moment. If you don’t mind, ask Jackson to come in.”

An’gel also rose. “Certainly, Officer. I hope I have been of some help.” She walked away from the table and out of the kitchen. She found Dickce, Benjy, and Jackson in the front parlor. Jackson was dusting, while Dickce and Benjy sat quietly on the sofa.

“Officer Bugg wants to talk to you now,” An’gel informed the butler.

Jackson nodded, dropped his dust cloth on a table, and left the room.

The moment he was out of the room, Benjy said, “I have some things to tell you.”

An’gel chose the armchair nearest the sofa. “I’m all ears.”

Benjy related the conversation he had overheard while bringing Peanut and Endora back to the house.

An’gel and Dickce looked thoughtfully at each other.

“Sounds to me like Horace and Thurston are in cahoots over something,” Dickce said.

“Exactly when was this?” An’gel asked.

Benjy thought for a moment after he glanced at his watch. “At least an hour ago, maybe a little more. Say an hour and a quarter.”

“That was around the time that I saw someone ducking around the side of Estelle’s apartment,” An’gel said.

“So both Horace and Thurston were on the property,” Dickce said.

They were startled by a loud noise, the forceful closing of the front door. A moment later, Horace strode into the room.

“Can somebody tell me what in the world is going on out back? Why are the police here?” he demanded.

CHAPTER 31

“Are you just now coming back from town?” An’gel asked in a pleasant tone.

Horace appeared taken aback. Then he laughed heartily. An’gel thought it rang hollow.

“Yeah, I’ve been in town all morning. Lots to do, like always.” Horace laughed again. “You know what it’s like for us businessmen.” He sobered. “Now tell me, what’s going on with the police here?”

“There’s been another death,” Dickce said.

Horace blanched and suddenly seemed weak at the knees. He stumbled to a chair and dropped into it. “Not Jackie. Please tell me it’s not Jackie.”

Why would he assume it’s his wife?

“No, it’s not,” An’gel said. “As far as we know, Jacqueline is still in town. I’m afraid Estelle is dead.”

Horace looked mighty relieved, An’gel thought. But his expression changed quickly to one of bafflement.

“What happened? She have a heart attack?” Horace asked.

An’gel would have sworn he wasn’t faking it. He genuinely did seem puzzled by Estelle’s death.

“It wasn’t a heart attack,” Dickce said. “She was poisoned. An’gel was with her and saw the whole thing.”

Horace pulled out a handkerchief and began mopping his sweaty forehead. “Lord, I need a drink.” He stumbled to his feet and over to the liquor cabinet. With shaky hands, he pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured himself a healthy shot. He gulped it down and immediately poured another. He brought this one back to the chair with him and sipped at it.