Миранда Джеймс - Bless Her Dead Little Heart

“What did you mean when you said it might not have been an accident?”

An’gel hesitated. “Take a look at the head of the stairs. Left side, coming down. Go up on your left.”

Kanesha frowned, then nodded.

An’gel watched the chief deputy ascend the stairs, staying close to the banister. When she reached the top, she took a couple of paces into the hall before she turned and came close to the left side of the stairs. She squatted, elbows on knees, and peered closely at the top steps. After a moment she rose and came back down to rejoin An’gel.

“Water, third and fourth steps down,” she said.

An’gel nodded. “Plus she was wearing high heels. She must have slipped and fallen down the stairs.” She shuddered.

“Miss An’gel, you look a bit shaky,” Kanesha said, obviously concerned. “Can I get you something?”

“Maybe a little more whiskey,” An’gel said with a faint smile. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll rejoin Dickce and our guest in the parlor and have a bit more.”

“You go right ahead,” Kanesha said. “I’ll be along in a few minutes to ask you two what you know about this. One thing, though, before you go. Who is the deceased?”

“Her name is Marla Stephens,” An’gel replied. “She’s married, or she was married, to the gentleman over there.” She gestured toward Wade where he leaned against the opposite wall, eyes closed, while his half sisters clucked around him. Juanita had her arms around Benjy, who rested his head on her shoulder. “That’s her son, the young blond man. She was the daughter-in-law of an old friend of mine and Dickce’s, Rosabelle Sultan. She’s in the parlor with Dickce right now.”

“Thanks,” Kanesha said.

“If you need to, use the library,” An’gel said, indicating the room across the hall.

Kanesha nodded. “You go on and get that whiskey.”

An’gel was happy to comply. Rosabelle and Dickce turned to look at her when she entered the parlor.

Dickce stood and motioned for An’gel to sit. “You look like you need another shot.” She didn’t wait for a response from her sister and went to pour more whiskey.

An’gel settled herself on the sofa beside Rosabelle. “I just spoke to the deputy, and she told me Marla is dead.” She patted her guest’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Rosabelle sniffed. “If you’re expecting to hear any weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth from me, you’ll be waiting until hell freezes over. I’m no hypocrite. I didn’t like the woman, but I am sorry for her son. For Wade, too. He loved her, and I think she loved him in her own way.”

An’gel wasn’t much surprised by these words from her self-centered friend. She accepted a glass of whiskey from Dickce and took a healthy sip. She felt the warmth spread through her and settle in her empty stomach. She decided she should eat something before she had any more alcohol. Otherwise, she could end up tipsy, and that would never do.

Dickce took a seat opposite her sister and Rosabelle. She frowned at the latter. “You almost sound like you’re glad she’s dead.”

“I am not glad she’s dead. I’m not a monster,” Rosabelle said in a firm tone. “I am glad, however, that I’m alive and that the murderer failed to kill me. It was Marla’s bad luck she died in my place.”

An’gel raised her eyebrows at her sister. “It appears that Marla wasn’t the one trying to kill you.” She glanced at Rosabelle to gauge the effect of her statement.

“True.” Rosabelle cocked her head to one side, rather like a parrot, An’gel thought. She had to suppress a laugh. The whiskey was making her slightly giddy, she realized.

“That means she might not have been the one to doctor your food,” Dickce said.

“I suppose so.” Rosabelle shrugged. “If Wade was behind it, then it’s poetic justice.”

An’gel was confused. “If Wade was behind what? The doctored food or the water on the stairs?”

“Either, or both, I suppose.” Rosabelle shifted her head to the other side. “He might have gotten Marla to doctor the food, and when that didn’t work, he put water on the stairs. His tough luck the wrong woman slipped and broke her neck.” She sniffed.

Did Rosabelle have no maternal instincts whatsoever? An’gel wondered. She exchanged an appalled glance with Dickce. Clearly Wade couldn’t expect much sympathy from his mother. Nor could poor Benjy, An’gel decided. She felt sad for the young man. What a tragedy for him to lose his mother at his age, and in such a terrible fashion.

An’gel also wondered what Kanesha would make of Rosabelle. Should she try to talk to the deputy herself, give her a little of Rosabelle’s history, before Kanesha questioned her old friend? She thought about that for a moment before she concluded it was a bad idea. Kanesha was smart. It wouldn’t take her long to figure out exactly what she was dealing with in Rosabelle Sultan.

An’gel couldn’t think of anything else to say to Rosabelle now, and evidently Dickce couldn’t either. Rosabelle didn’t speak again and instead sat staring at her hands and picking at something on her dress.

The silence lengthened, and An’gel wondered impatiently how long it would be before Kanesha came to talk to her, Dickce, and Rosabelle. The giddiness she’d experienced just moments ago had passed, and now she felt her hunger more keenly. She remembered the tray of food Dickce had been bringing to their guests, but the tray was sitting on a table in the hall. Perhaps she should retrieve it and take it to the library. She should probably ask Clementine to make coffee or hot tea to offer everyone. Something hot and sweet would be good for all of them about now.

Before she could act on these thoughts, Kanesha entered the room. She closed the door behind her and then stopped only a couple of paces into the room.

“Miss An’gel, could I speak to you for a moment?” She indicated with a nod that An’gel should join her.

“Certainly.” An’gel rose from the sofa and walked over to the deputy. Kanesha’s gloomy expression made her nervous. What else could have happened? she wondered.

“I wanted to let you know that the body has been removed,” Kanesha said. “I’ll be talking to the family in a moment, but first I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course,” An’gel said. “What is it?”

“Is there any reason for Vaseline to be all over the banister?”

CHAPTER 9

For a moment An’gel wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Vaseline?” She shook her head. “No, no earthly reason that I can imagine.”

“That’s what I thought.” Kanesha’s mouth set in a grim line. “One of the techs found it moments after the body was taken away. I’m betting there’s also residue on the hands from where she clutched at the banister to keep from falling.”

An’gel felt sick to her stomach at the mental image. She could see Marla Stephens make a frantic grab for the banister when she first started to slip. Her hands encounter the Vaseline and slide right off, and the momentum of that desperate reach further unbalance her. So down she went, with nothing to break her fall except cold, unyielding marble.

“Miss An’gel,” Kanesha said, her concern obvious, “how well do you know these people?”

“Not well at all,” An’gel said, her throat suddenly dry. She coughed. “Dickce and I have known Rosabelle since our college days. We were sorority sisters at Athena College. I never met any of her family, however, until today, when they all just showed up here. Rosabelle first, then the rest of them followed right behind her.”

“Did you invite them here?”

An’gel shook her head. “No, Rosabelle came to us because she has a problem she wanted us to help her with. Her family turned up soon after because they’re worried about her.”