Миранда Джеймс - Bless Her Dead Little Heart

“Come now, pull yourself together.” An’gel’s brisk tone did not seem to affect Rosabelle’s soft sounds of distress. “What happened to make you think you’re the target of a murder plot?”

Rosabelle sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushion. “Little things. Little accidents.” She closed her eyes and whimpered yet again.

“What kind of accidents?” Dickce wondered if one of Rosabelle’s family members had tried to push her down the stairs. The temptation might be more than one of them could stand.

Rosabelle opened her eyes and stared at Dickce. “Oh, I know you both think I’m making this up, but I promise you these things happened.” She paused for a breath and glanced toward An’gel before she focused again on the younger sister. “Water on the stairs, for one thing. It happened three times, but luckily I spotted it each time and managed not to fall and break my neck.”

“Maybe your maid is sloppy,” Dickce suggested.

“I don’t have a maid. I can’t afford one.” Rosabelle sounded aggrieved. “Someone deliberately spilled water on the stairs—the marble stairs, mind you—so I would slip and tumble down.”

“That does sound odd.” An’gel frowned. “Were there other incidents?”

“There most certainly were.” Rosabelle sounded heated. “Food poisoning, not once, but twice.”

“You poor thing,” Dickce said, her sympathies aroused despite her previous skepticism. Perhaps there was more to this after all than simply Rosabelle’s constant need for attention. “Were you terribly ill?”

“I like to have died.” Rosabelle shuddered. “The first time, that is. The second time, I thought my coffee tasted too bitter, so I poured it down the drain. Even so, I drank enough of whatever the poison was to be sick for the rest of that day and part of the next.”

An’gel grimaced. “Oh, dear! Just how sick were you the first time? And do you have any idea what the poison was, or how you got it?”

“I was in bed for nearly a week,” Rosabelle said. “I have no idea what was in my food. All I know is, I woke up during the night after dining with my family, having convulsions and being horribly sick. Luckily my granddaughter Juanita, who was staying with me at the time, heard me and came to my rescue.”

Dickce asked, “Did anyone else get sick? Surely it was something you had for dinner.”

“That was why I knew it was a deliberate attempt to kill me,” Rosabelle replied, sounding a bit smug. “No one else was affected. I was fine before dinner, so one of my family must have slipped the poison into my food.”

“I would certainly be suspicious under those circumstances,” An’gel said. “Which members of your family had an opportunity to put poison in the food you ate?”

“My daughter-in-law, Marla, cooked the dinner. She could have done it for sure. She knows I think Wade married beneath him, and she takes every opportunity to be unpleasant to me when Wade’s not around.” Rosabelle tossed her head. “If I weren’t in polite company, I could tell you what I think of her with a single word, and I’m sure you can imagine the word I mean—it rhymes with witch .”

“Might she do a thing like that simply out of spite, just to make you a little sick for a few days?” Dickce asked. “What motive would she have to kill you?”

“She hates me, I tell you. She’s just nasty.” Rosabelle shuddered. “The kind of family she comes from, they’d stick a knife in your back without even thinking twice.”

An’gel said, “Could she have another motive besides spitefulness?”

Rosabelle stared at her hands in her lap. “My house. She knows I’ve left it to Wade in my will. It’s valuable property, though I might have to sell it because I’m so strapped for cash.”

Dickce wanted to ask how much the house was worth, but she knew An’gel would have a hissy fit with her later for doing such a vulgar thing. The house might be worth millions, she reckoned, depending on where the property was in California. Real estate out there was crazy expensive, according to what she heard on the news.

“Did anyone else have the opportunity to doctor your food?” An’gel asked.

Rosabelle nodded. “Oh, any one of them could, I suppose. Marla fancies herself a gourmet chef, so she plates everything instead of us serving ourselves at the table. Then she puts the plates on the table, and of course I always sit in the same spot, at the head. Anyone could have slipped in there and added the poison just before Marla called us all in to eat.”

“That does make identifying the potential culprit difficult,” An’gel said. “Though it sounds to me that Marla is the most likely party. She had more opportunity.”

“Did you end up in the hospital?” Dickce asked.

“No, Juanita is a registered nurse, and she took care of me.” Rosabelle gave a brief smile. “She’s a sweet girl, and she knows how I detest hospitals. She stayed with me night and day, my ministering angel.”

“Did this happen before or after the incidents on the stairs?” Dickce asked.

“Before,” Rosabelle replied. “If it had happened after those attempts, I would have been immediately suspicious. Looking back, of course, I realize it was the first salvo in the campaign.”

“I suppose that means you didn’t report the alleged poisoning to anyone or try to have anything analyzed.” An’gel picked up her tea glass, eyed it for a moment, then set it down again.

Dickce didn’t blame her. She felt a bit unsettled herself at the thought of food or drink right now. She also felt guilty for not taking Rosabelle seriously. For once, their guest’s right to sympathy appeared legitimate.

“How long ago did all this happen?” An’gel asked.

“Just the past couple of weeks,” Rosabelle said. “I decided the best thing to do was to disappear and take myself out of harm’s way while I try to figure out what my next steps should be.” She smiled weakly at each sister in turn. “Naturally I thought of you two as my haven from danger. You’ve always been such good friends, but I doubt my family would ever think of looking for me here.”

The sisters exchanged a wry glance. After a testimonial like that, how could they not respond graciously? Dickce nodded at An’gel to indicate she was okay with having Rosabelle as a guest.

“Of course you may stay with us,” An’gel said. “You ought to be safe here, and Dickce and I will put our heads together and help you figure out what is behind these nasty little incidents.” She stood. “I will talk to Clementine, and we’ll have a guest room ready for you right away.”

“Oh, thank you.” Rosabelle smiled. “I knew I could count on my old sorority sisters. You’ll never know how much this means to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Dickce said as An’gel left the room in search of their housekeeper. “Would you like more tea?” She gestured toward the pitcher.

“That would be lovely, thanks. I am a bit parched.” Rosabelle passed her glass to her hostess, and Dickce refilled it. Rosabelle sipped at the tea with her eyes closed. “I know I’m home when I’m drinking sweet tea like this.”

Dickce refilled her own glass and drank from it. “Yes, I know what you mean. It surely is a comfort.”

An’gel returned with Clementine. She introduced the housekeeper to Rosabelle.

“You just come with me, Miss Sultan,” Clementine said, her voice husky from decades of smoking. “We’ll get you settled in the best guest room upstairs, and you’ll soon be feeling right at home.”

“Thank you,” Rosabelle said as she stood. “I would love to have a nap, if y’all don’t mind. I’m bone weary from all that driving.” She followed Clementine toward the door but paused before they stepped into the hall. “I forgot about my bags.” She looked back and forth between the sisters.