Миранда Джеймс - Dead With The Wind

“He can’t get at the money Terence left me and Sondra,” Jacqueline said, “unless he murders poor Mr. Montgomery. But he can get at Maman through Horace and then through me. He drew up Maman ’s will, and he knows everything comes to me.”

“And with Mireille out of the way, he can extort the money from Horace because you would do anything to help your husband,” An’gel said.

“Yes,” Mireille said. “But what he doesn’t know is that I have now changed my will and hired a new lawyer. There’s no way he can get the money now.”

“Do you think he killed Sondra?” An’gel asked. “Is he the older man she was going to elope with, do you think?”

“Yes,” Mireille and Jacqueline said in unison.

Mireille went on, “Rich Thurston can be a very charming man, and I think he was using Sondra as his backup plan. He’s desperate for money all of a sudden.”

“Then why would he have killed Sondra?” An’gel asked. “Once they were married, he’d have had access to her money, and Mr. Montgomery would no longer be able to stop him.”

“I don’t know,” Mireille said. She got up from the divan and began to pace back and forth. “This thing has got to end. Maybe I should just go and confront Rich Thurston right now.”

“No,” An’gel said. “I wouldn’t do that.” She had the beginnings of an idea. “I think it would take more than that to put an end to his nasty schemes.” She thought for a moment. Yes, it just might work. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do.” She motioned for Mireille to resume her seat, and then she outlined her plan.

CHAPTER 36

An’gel pulled the Lexus into the parking lot behind Emile Devereux and Sons and switched off the ignition. “Remember now, we must be extremely careful not to give anything away.”

“You’ve said that at least seven times in the last fifteen minutes,” Dickce said. “My nerves are every bit as strong as yours, Sister. I won’t be the one to spill the beans.”

“All right,” An’gel said. “No more admonitions, I promise.”

“I never knew that Emile Devereux was Mireille’s first beau,” Dickce said as she stared at the sign at the back of the building.

“I didn’t either, but it explains why she took refuge in the funeral home,” An’gel said. “Even though he married another woman, he still loved her, and she trusted her safety to him and his grandson.”

“Romantic, in a way,” Dickce said as she opened the door.

An’gel forbore to comment as she opened her own door and stepped out of the car. She checked her watch. Six forty-five. Right on schedule. “Come on,” she said and started briskly up the sidewalk and around to the front door.

“Good evening, ladies,” Emile’s grandson said as he opened the door for them. He ushered them into the parlor on the left side. “If you don’t mind waiting here, we’ll be opening the doors for the viewing at seven.” He winked.

An’gel suppressed a smile. Earlier when she had explained her plan to him and his grandfather, he had agreed to play his part enthusiastically. An’gel suspected that he was happy to do something that fell outside the usual pattern of the mortuary business.

He leaned close to An’gel and whispered, “The policemen are already in place in there.” An’gel nodded, and he went back to wait by the door.

She and Dickce walked into the parlor and chose two chairs to the back of the room. They wanted to be sure the chairs closest to the door were free for others.

The waiting was going to be the most difficult part, An’gel knew. She probably should have planned their arrival for a few minutes later, but she wanted to be there with Dickce before any of the others turned up.

Farley Montgomery was the next to arrive, and An’gel introduced him to her sister.

He bowed over Dickce’s hand and murmured, “Such a grievous occasion on which to meet, Miss Ducote.”

“Yes, it is,” Dickce said sadly.

The banker nodded and moved away to sit on a sofa at the side of the room. He crossed his bony left leg over the right, folded his hands, and rested them atop the knee.

An’gel and Dickce exchanged a quick glance. “See, what did I tell you?” An’gel whispered. Dickce raised her eyebrows in response.

The door opened, and Horace and Jacqueline walked in, accompanied by Trey. Jacqueline’s eyes were red, An’gel noted when they drew close, and she held a handkerchief to her nose.

Horace nodded to acknowledge them. Trey did the same before he sat a couple of chairs down from An’gel. Jacqueline maneuvered Horace to a chair in the front row and, when they were seated, leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder.

An’gel noted her goddaughter’s behavior and approved. Jacqueline was striking the right note for the occasion.

Next came Benjy, with Lance in tow. Lance appeared confused, but Benjy had a firm grip on his arm and steered him into a seat near Jacqueline. Benjy sat next to him. A close friend of Jacqueline’s was staying with Tippy, Peanut, and Endora at Willowbank.

Right on the dot of seven, Richmond Thurston walked into the funeral home. An’gel eyed him critically. He was properly dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and a dark tie. His expression was appropriate, a polite mixture of seriousness and sadness. He advanced into the room, moving straight toward Jacqueline. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Such a sad occasion,” he said as he drew back. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He nodded at Horace to include him.

“Thank you, Rich,” Jacqueline said with a little sob in her voice. “It would mean so much to Maman to know that you’re here.”

An’gel had the sudden urge to giggle but managed to suppress it. Dickce was the giggler in the family. She cut a swift look at her sister, but Dickce’s composure remained unruffled.

Emile Devereux, a tall, stately man soberly dressed as befit his profession, walked into the room. He surveyed the group for a moment before he spoke.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I apologize for the delay in the viewing, but Mireille Champlain was a very dear friend, and I wanted to take the utmost care to ensure that everything was done properly, as befits such a wonderful woman.” He turned and gestured toward the doors across the hall, and his grandson stepped forward to open them.

Richmond Thurston stood aside to let Horace and Jacqueline precede him, but he was close behind them. Lance appeared reluctant. Benjy propelled him gently, but firmly, toward the room. Trey trailed behind An’gel and Dickce with the banker, Farley Montgomery. Jackson had remained at Willowbank, where An’gel had encouraged him to stay for fear that the jolt of seeing Mireille still alive might be too much for him.

An’gel was pleased to note the dim lighting in the room. She shivered when she glanced toward the casket. She admired her cousin for having the fortitude to play the most important part in the final act of the charade. An’gel was simply glad she wasn’t the one in the casket.

“I’d like to go alone, if you don’t mind,” Jacqueline said to Horace in a clear voice that all could hear.

“Of course, my dear, if you’re sure,” Horace said. He stepped back to stand beside the lawyer. Jacqueline nodded and approached the casket.

She stood there for perhaps a minute, her back to everyone else in the room. She appeared to be praying. An’gel, from her vantage point slightly to one side, saw her goddaughter make the sign of the cross as she bowed her head.

An’gel heard a faint rustle behind her, and she glanced toward the doors into the foyer. Bugg and Sanford stood there. No one else seemed to have noticed their presence, and that was good.