Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

“He really could have done some damage,” Benjy said. “You were lucky Sondra got him off you before he could do anything worse.”

“The weird thing—Sondra told me about it later, when I came out of the faint—Lance was calm two minutes after, like nothing had happened. Sondra said he acted like he couldn’t remember doing it.” Trey shook his head. “I think he got brain damage when he was little or something.”

“Did he ever do anything like that again? Turn violent, I mean, and then forget what he’d done?” Benjy had begun to wonder whether Lance had killed Sondra in a sudden fit of rage and then had forgotten.

“A couple of times, when he was still a kid,” Trey said. “I’ve never heard about him doing it after that. Of course, his mama would do anything to cover up something like that.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking he killed Sondra and doesn’t remember?”

Benjy shrugged uneasily. “After what you just told me, don’t you think it’s possible? He told me earlier that Sondra had decided not to marry him because she was interested in some older guy.”

Trey’s nostrils flared, and Benjy could see the anger and alarm building in the guy. Trey pushed past him and stormed into the bedroom. Benjy was right on his heels, afraid that Trey meant to attack Lance.

To his surprise, Trey merely shook Lance a little to wake him up. Lance looked up, blinking and yawning. Trey laid a finger across his lips to indicate Lance should be quiet. Then he motioned for Lance to get up and follow him out of the room.

Lance got to his feet, obviously puzzled. He glanced at Tippy, still sleeping, then walked out of the room ahead of Benjy.

Benjy gave Peanut another quick pat to indicate everything was okay—he hoped—and glanced down at Endora. The cat yawned and stretched, and then curled up again. Benjy hurried out and pulled the door shut.

Trey had his hands on Lance’s shoulders, his eyes boring into Lance’s. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know why,” Lance said. “Sondra said she told you, too.”

“Told you what?” Benjy asked.

Trey didn’t take his eyes off Lance, but he answered Benjy’s question. “Told me that she decided at the last minute to elope with this other guy. But I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles. Sondra did not tell me anything about eloping, not with you, not with anybody.” He gave Lance a shake, and Benjy stepped forward, ready to intervene. He wasn’t anxious to get hit, because Trey was pretty muscular, but he knew how to defend himself.

Trey released Lance, who stumbled back.

“Looks like she didn’t want to marry either of us,” Trey said.

“No, I guess not,” Lance said.

“Did you get angry with her when she told you?” Trey asked. “Remember how you used to get angry when you didn’t get what you wanted?”

Lance frowned. “I guess so. I hit you one time, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Trey said. “I can show you the scar to prove it.”

“No, thank you,” Lance said. “I don’t like scars. They’re ugly.”

“Yeah, they are,” Trey said. “Tell me, Lance. How angry were you when Sondra told you she was going to marry somebody else?”

“I don’t remember.” Lance sounded sulky.

“Are you sure?” Trey said. “Did you hit Sondra, like you hit me when we were kids? Did you hit her over the head with something?”

CHAPTER 33

Jackson came into the room seconds after the sisters proclaimed Richmond Thurston’s guilt in unison. An’gel was startled by his appearance, and she hoped that he hadn’t heard her and Dickce just then. They didn’t think they were ready to share their conclusions with anyone else.

The butler’s mien gave no indication he had heard them name the lawyer. “Miss Dickce, the policemen would like to talk to you now.”

Dickce rose. “Thank you, Jackson.” She waited till he nodded and retreated from the room before she spoke to An’gel. “Should I tell the policeman what we discussed with Horace?”

“No,” An’gel said. “Horace needs to be the one to talk to the police. If we find out he hasn’t, we will certainly inform Bugg.”

“What about our suspicions of the lawyer?”

“Better not talk about that either. We don’t really have proof, only speculation. When I talked to Bugg, he said he was investigating financial angles. We have to hope that if Thurston has been dipping his hand into places he shouldn’t, the police will discover it. In the meantime, the minute I can get Jacqueline alone, I’m going to talk to her about Thurston.”

“Good idea,” Dickce said. “I’d better get to the kitchen.” She hurried out.

An’gel felt suddenly restless. She had an urge to get out of the house. Perhaps a short walk up and down the driveway would help. She went to the front door and out onto the verandah. The day was still cool, a bit of a breeze, with the sun bright and warming. She stood on the verandah and looked out over the grounds in front of the house.

The live oaks, ten of them on either side of the driveway and more out on the grounds nearby, towered over everything around them. Majestic, old, impressive. An’gel marveled to think that these trees likely had been there when the first Champlain decided to build his house on this spot in the late eighteenth century. They had trees nearly as old on the grounds of Riverhill, and An’gel loved every one of them.

She could understand Mireille’s feelings about her home. The trees embodied so much, had witnessed so much, of the family’s history. One didn’t lightly give up the land or a house like Willowbank. An’gel knew she and Dickce would go to almost any lengths to preserve Riverhill, and she knew without a doubt that Mireille felt the same way about Willowbank.

What about Jacqueline, though, Dickce wondered. Did she have the same reverence for the past? She was pretty sure Sondra hadn’t cared much at all, but Jacqueline might. Especially now that she had a grandchild to look after. Surely this was all worth preserving for Tippy? Without Mireille, however, Jacqueline might be disheartened and ready to let the past recede, step away from it, and focus only on the future.

An’gel could understand that, in a way, but she knew roots were important. Roots gave you a foundation, something solid on which to build a life, a future. She hoped that Tippy would have the chance to know and feel proud of her roots, not have them taken away before she was old enough to appreciate them.

What has got you in such a strange mood?

Death, An’gel decided. Death had put her in this mood. Two murders and a death provoked by a vicious prank. Three lives taken away, and others damaged by the losses and the wickedness behind them.

The malice behind the events of the past two days worried An’gel. How could it be stopped when you weren’t certain who was responsible? She and Dickce had fixed on the lawyer, Thurston, as the culprit, but they had no proof.

The police might find the necessary evidence, but how long might it be before they did? An’gel prayed they found it soon, because she feared the malevolent will behind two murders might not balk at another. She worried that Jacqueline or Tippy could become a target. Maybe both of them were targets already. What exactly was the killer after?

If Horace was the killer, the answer was obvious. He wanted money. Now that Jacqueline had inherited from both her daughter and her mother, she was a very wealthy woman. An’gel couldn’t shake off the notion that Horace was ruthless enough to kill in order to get his hands on the money.

But there was the lawyer. Lawyers who helped themselves to their clients’ money were not a rare breed, An’gel knew. Many lawyers had absconded with their clients’ fortunes in some way or another. Horace said Thurston had a flashy lifestyle, with new cars, trips to New York and Las Vegas, and multiple homes. Was the source of his wealth Sondra’s inheritance from her father?