Miranda James - Classified as Murder

Azalea shook her head. “That poor lamb.” Her voice was soft. “Never harmed nobody. May the Lord bless and keep her.” Azalea’s lips continued to move, and I knew she must be offering a silent prayer on Eloise’s behalf.

When she finished, Azalea turned back to the stove. “Poor Mr. Stewart. I was working there when he come to live with his great-grandmama. Poor little mite he was, done lost his mama and daddy. Miss Eloise took up a lot of time with him, her being only about ten years older than him.”

No wonder Stewart was so upset. He hadn’t let on to Sean and me how close he and Eloise had been at one time. No surprise, then, that he despised Hubert so thoroughly for his treatment of his wife.

“How long Mr. Stewart gone be staying here?” Azalea came back to the table with another plate of eggs and sausage, which she set at Sean’s place.

Right on cue, Sean walked into the kitchen. “Good morning. That sure smells good.” He pulled out his chair and sat.

“I’m not sure how long Stewart will be here, Azalea,” I said. “He wanted to get out of the Delacorte house and stay here until he could find a permanent place of his own.”

“Can’t say as I blame him for that.” Azalea brought Sean a cup of coffee, and he thanked her in between bites of egg, biscuit, and sausage.

“You looking a lot better this morning.” Azalea stood near the table and fixed her stern gaze upon my son. “Eating good food and getting you some sleep’s made some difference.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sean smiled at her. “With food like this, I can’t help but do better. These are the most delicious biscuits I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Azalea’s expression softened for a moment. “I just make’em the way my mama taught me when I was only a bitty girl.” She squared her shoulders. “Now I got plenty of laundry to be doing. I can’t stand around here talking or I ain’t gone get everything done.” She headed into the utility room.

Sean grinned at me. “She’s a trip. I hope she never quits.”

I finished chewing a mouthful of gravy-soaked biscuit. “It’s entirely up to her. I have no say in the matter.” I realized the dog wasn’t with Sean. “Where’s Dante?”

“Out in the backyard running around. I’ll let him in soon.”

“You didn’t let Diesel out with him, did you? I haven’t seen him since I got out of bed.”

Sean shook his head. “No, Dante’s on his own. I haven’t seen Diesel either.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s with Stewart.”

Sean was probably right. Diesel had a knack for knowing when someone needed comfort, and he had probably gone up to the third floor to check on the new boarder, like a nurse with his patient.

I examined my son for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” Sean met my gaze with a smile full of affection. “I’m really glad we talked, Dad.”

“I am, too.” That was all I could say for a moment, around the sudden lump in my throat. When I could trust myself to speak without my voice wavering, I said, “I haven’t heard anything from the sheriff’s department to the contrary, so I’m assuming that it will be okay for us to go back to the Delacorte house to continue our work this morning.”

“That’s what I figured you’d say.” Sean frowned. “I’m not too keen on going back to that place, but I know you’re not going to give up on finishing the job.”

“No, I’m not, unless Kanesha tells me I’m done.” I had another forkful of biscuit and gravy.

Sean and I ate the rest of our meal in silence. On my way upstairs I met Diesel coming down. I paused midway, and he sat on a step at my eye level and regarded me with what I always thought of as his solemn expression.

“So where have you been?” I asked. “Were you looking after Stewart?”

He meowed twice, and I took that for agreement.

I continued up the stairs, and Diesel accompanied me. “I’m going to be leaving in a few minutes. If you want to go with me, you’d better be ready.”

I looked down as Diesel paused near the second-floor landing. He cocked his head to one side as if considering my words, and then he turned and trotted down the stairs.

I smiled as I went to brush my teeth.

Back in the kitchen about ten minutes later, I found Sean and Diesel ready to leave. Diesel wore his harness, and I thanked Sean for putting it on. Sean laughed and said, “He dragged it off the hook on the wall and brought it to me. That’s some smart cat.”

“Yes, he is,” I said as I rubbed said cat’s head with great affection. “Where’s Dante? Are you taking him with us today?”

“No, he’s going to stay here with Stewart.” Sean shrugged. “I talked to Stewart for a minute, and he seemed pretty down. When I asked if he’d mind looking after Dante today, he perked up a little. He really has taken a shine to Dante.”

I fastened the leash to Diesel’s harness. As I stood, I remarked, “Careful, or you may lose your dog.”

“To be honest, Dad, I don’t think I’d mind if Stewart wants to keep him. Dante is a sweet little guy, but dogs require a lot of attention. I just don’t know whether I want to deal with all that right now.”

“I can understand that.” I opened the back door, and Diesel preceded me and Sean into the garage. “But be absolutely certain that Stewart really wants him and will take good care of him. You owe it to Dante.”

“I know.” Sean smiled across the roof of the car at me as I opened the back door on the driver’s side for Diesel. “You don’t have to worry about that; I promise.” He opened his door and slid into the car.

“Whenever I start talking to you like I think you’re still twelve,” I said with an apologetic smile, “tell me to stop, okay? I didn’t mean to lecture you just now.”

Sean patted my arm as I backed the car out of the garage. “It’s okay, Dad. If you start to bug me, I’ll remind you how old I am. I know it’s hard to remember that kind of detail when you’re getting gaga.”

I had to laugh at that, and I marveled at how quickly our relationship had shifted back into more familiar territory. Sean sounded more and more like the son I knew before my wife became so ill, and I began to distance myself from him.

When we turned into the driveway at the Delacorte mansion, I spotted only two official cars parked there. One from the police department and the other from the sheriff’s department. I wondered if Kanesha was on hand this morning.

We found out a few minutes later after a policeman opened the door to us. Kanesha was talking to another deputy and another police officer in the doorway of the front parlor.

When she spotted us, Kanesha held up a hand, and Sean and I halted. Diesel sat by my feet. After a couple more minutes’ conversation with the other officers, Kanesha motioned for us to join her. She led us into the parlor while the cop and the deputy departed.

Kanesha didn’t waste any time with the niceties. “I’m sure you’ve heard what happened here last night.”

At my nod she continued. “I want you to finish the inventory as quickly as possible. I’ve spoken with the FBI office in Jackson, and they’re sending someone up later today to take over that part of the investigation.”

“We’ll do our best,” I said. “But I don’t think there’s any way we can finish by this afternoon.”

“Do what you can,” Kanesha said, her face impassive. “Once the FBI agent is here, I don’t know whether he’ll want you to continue. In my experience they don’t always work well with the locals.”

“Duly noted, Deputy,” Sean said. “Come on, Dad, let’s get to work.”

I nodded at Kanesha and then started to follow Sean out the door.

“One more thing,” Kanesha said. We turned back. “I spoke to the rare book dealer in New York about Tamerlane .”