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“Yes,” An’gel replied. “Until the funerals have occurred, at least.”

“Good.” Bugg nodded. “Now where can I find this young man you call your ward? What’s his name?”

“Benjy Stephens,” Dickce said. “He’s upstairs with Tippy, Sondra’s daughter. I’ll go up and send him down to you. Someone needs to stay with Tippy, and I don’t think you should question him in front of the child.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” Bugg said indignantly. “I wouldn’t do that. You go on and tell him to come down here, if you don’t mind.”

Dickce smiled serenely as she walked from the room. Moments later An’gel heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Bugg watched An’gel—uneasily, she thought.
Does he think I’ll bite?
She was hard pressed not to laugh.
At least he’s not going to discount us any longer
.

The policeman cleared his throat. “Ma’am, you don’t need to wait with us, if you’ve got something else you need to be doing.”

“I thought I would introduce our ward to you,” An’gel said. “Then I will leave you.” She had really wanted to stay
while Bugg questioned Benjy, but it was obvious that the policeman wanted her out of the room.

Bugg nodded. Not long after, Benjy came into the room at a fast pace, but he slowed down when he saw An’gel. She rose and made the introductions. Benjy nodded in a friendly manner to the policemen, and Bugg suggested he have a seat. An’gel left the room.

In the hallway she hovered for a moment not far from the door. She heard Bugg ask Benjy for his name, age, and relationship to the deceased. Then she decided there was no point in eavesdropping. Benjy would be fine.

Instead she decided to track down Estelle. She wanted to find out whether the housekeeper knew any further details about Mireille’s death and what Jacqueline’s plans were.

The kitchen was empty, and An’gel frowned. She checked the small butler’s pantry off the kitchen, but there was no sign of Jackson. An’gel thought he might be in his small apartment in a nearby outbuilding that Mireille’s grandfather had long ago converted into servants’ quarters. Estelle lodged there as well. An’gel debated going there but on a hunch she went back to the hallway to the stairs.

On the second floor she turned and walked back toward the front of the house. Mireille’s room was on the right facing the front lawn. Sondra’s, on the floor above, was to the left. An’gel found the door open a few inches. She hesitated a moment, then pushed the door open and walked into the room.

The doors to the gallery outside were shut and the curtains drawn against the sunlight. The room was dim and smelled faintly of lavender, Mireille’s favorite scent for the
sachets and potpourri she used. In a rocking chair in the corner near the old-fashioned four-poster, An’gel found Estelle sitting quietly. At first An’gel thought the woman was asleep, but then the housekeeper spoke.

“You need something?” she asked, her tone harsh and impatient. She started the chair rocking. “I don’t feel like making anything for anybody right now. You want something, go make it yourself.”

An’gel decided to ignore Estelle’s rudeness. She knew the woman was upset by Mireille’s death.

“I want to talk to you.” She walked closer to Estelle and stood by the bed. She sighed and stroked the beautiful Double Wedding Ring quilt that lay across the bed. Mireille’s mother had made it as a bride gift fifty years ago.

“What about?” Estelle asked.

An’gel knew the woman would rather be by herself and could sympathize with her, but Estelle couldn’t hide herself away completely when there was so much to be done.

“I wondered if Jacqueline had a chance to talk to you about any of the plans for Mireille’s service,” An’gel said. “My sister and I will be here and will be glad to help any way we can. We can pitch in with the cooking and cleaning, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Estelle said, her tone slightly less rude. “Jacqueline hasn’t said anything to me. I tried talking to her when she and Horace got back from the hospital but she told me she didn’t feel up to it.”

“I know she was worn out,” An’gel said. “Maybe I can call the funeral home. Which one is it?”

Estelle snorted. “Won’t do you any good. I called them
this morning, and they told me they were waiting to talk to Jacqueline. Nothing’s going to happen till she’s ready to handle it.”

“I see,” An’gel said. She felt frustrated. She really wanted to do something to ease Jacqueline’s burdens, but until Jacqueline was ready, she couldn’t do anything but wait.

“What will you do now?” An’gel asked. “Will you stay on and continue to run the bed-and-breakfast?” She wondered whether Jacqueline would have any interest in it, without Mireille.

“Won’t have any choice, will I?” Estelle’s tone was bitter. “The daughter of the house will get everything, and I won’t get anything. I’ll be out of this place the day after we lay Mireille to rest.”

“Surely Jacqueline won’t make you leave,” An’gel said. “You’re family, aren’t you?”

“Too distant to matter to Jacqueline, only a third cousin once removed,” Estelle said. “With Mireille it was different. Family was family to her. Jacqueline never has liked me, and that bitch of a daughter of hers hated me. I hated her right back. She made everyone around her miserable. Never in my life saw a person as stuck on herself as Sondra.” She chuckled, and the sound made An’gel uneasy. “Look where it got her. Finally got what she deserved.”

In the face of such hatred and spite, An’gel didn’t know how to respond. An’gel couldn’t blame Jacqueline for wanting Estelle out of the house. Who would want to harbor malice like this if she didn’t have to?

An’gel turned and walked out, having decided there was no response she could make. Estelle’s mocking laughter followed her, cut off only when An’gel closed the door.

In the hall she moved to stand in front of the window. The light from the sun warmed her, and she realized how cold she was. She glanced uneasily at Mireille’s door. She knew that Estelle didn’t care for Sondra, and one could hardly blame her for that. But she had never reckoned on the sheer hatred the woman felt for the dead girl.

Had Estelle hated Sondra enough to kill her?

CHAPTER 24

A
n’gel decided not to linger where she was, in case Estelle came out of Mireille’s room. She didn’t want the housekeeper to catch her standing out there. She thought about climbing up to the third floor to check on Dickce and Tippy, but before she could make up her mind, Jacqueline’s door opened and Horace stepped out.

An’gel stared at him in blank surprise. She thought Horace was at work. She greeted him, and he held up a finger. Then he moved quietly down the hall to the head of the stairs, motioning for An’gel to follow him.

His voice low, Horace said, “Jackie’s sleeping, and I didn’t want to take a chance on waking her up. She’s so wore out from all this mess with her mama and Sondra. I don’t want her getting sick from it. She’ll push herself too hard and then collapse.”

Horace’s expression of concern for his wife seemed
genuine, and An’gel warmed to him more than she ever had before.

“Yes, she certainly is,” An’gel replied, matching her tone to his. “I’m worried about her. There’s so much on her right now. If there’s anything Dickce and I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.”

Horace started down the stairs with An’gel beside him. “I sure appreciate that, Miss An’gel,” he said. “This has all been almost more than I can take in myself, and I can’t imagine how hard it is for Jackie.”

“Have you spoken to the police recently?” An’gel asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“No, ma’am,” Horace said. “I saw a cop car here when I drove up a few minutes ago, but I came in the back way and went right upstairs to check on Jackie.”

“You need to hear what Officer Bugg has to say. It’s about Sondra’s death.” An’gel steered him to the front parlor. She heard voices coming from the room. “I believe he is still in here talking to Benjy.”

Horace nodded. He strode into the room, and An’gel followed.

“Hey, Elmont.” Horace stuck out his hand as he reached Bugg. He and the policeman shook hands. “I hear you got something to tell me.”

“That I do, Horace, that I do. Coupla things, actually, and neither one of ’em ain’t good news.” Bugg looked around Horace’s substantial bulk and noticed An’gel. “Ma’am, I’m finished with this young man here, so y’all can go on about your bidness. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else I need from you.”

“Thank you, Officer,” An’gel said, frost in her voice.
She did not appreciate Bugg’s tone or his choice of words.
Go about my
bidness
indeed
. “Benjy, why don’t we go up and check on Dickce and Tippy?”

Benjy nodded as he slipped around the two police officers but he stopped in front of Horace. “Mr. Mims, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to ask if you’ve heard how Lance is doing. I’ve been babysitting Tippy, and she was asking about him. Seems he usually visits her, and she wondered when he was coming.”

Oh my heavens
. An’gel had forgotten all about poor Lance and his altercation with Trey last night. She felt terrible for not thinking about the young man’s welfare even once since the EMTs took him off to the hospital. She also recalled the furious look Horace had shot her way when she informed Trey she would be a witness for Lance if he decided to bring charges of assault.

“Yes, how is he?” she asked. “I’m ashamed I’d forgotten about him until Benjy mentioned him. Was he badly hurt?” She decided not to mention the circumstances. No point in riling Horace up again if she could avoid it. She wanted to question him later about other matters.

Horace looked grim. “Last I heard he was doing okay. Got a pretty hard head on him, apparently. Minor concussion, a black eye, and a bruised nose. They sent him home early this morning.”

An’gel was relieved to hear that Lance’s condition wasn’t more serious.

“You can tell Tippy that Lance won’t be coming to visit anytime soon,” Horace said to Benjy. “Even if she cuts up a fuss, I’m not having that idiot back in this house.”

Benjy flinched at Horace’s tone but said, “Okay, sir.” He
moved quickly away from Horace and came to stand beside An’gel.

“That’s one of the things I got to talk to you about, Horace,” Bugg said. He cut a sideways glance at Benjy and An’gel. When neither of them moved, he sighed and went on, “You know how mamas can be when they have only one chick, and that Miz Perigord is more protective than most.” He sniggered. “Reckon she has to be, since that one chick of hers is lucky if he can find his way out of his bedroom in less than three hours.” Behind him, Sanford laughed.

Horace made a gesture with his right hand, as if telling Bugg to get on with it. The policeman sobered. “Well, anyways, Horace, Miz Perigord is threatening to press charges against Trey for assault.”

Horace uttered a string of obscenities, and An’gel said, “Come along, Benjy.” She wasn’t going to stay and listen to any more of that kind of vulgar talk. She thought it served Trey right and hoped that Mrs. Perigord followed through on her threat. That young man had to learn to control his temper, and this might teach him a lesson.
Unless he killed Sondra, and then he’ll have a much worse lesson to learn
. Her thoughts were bleak as she climbed the stairs with Benjy.

“Miss An’gel,” Benjy said, “when we get upstairs, I need to talk to you and Miss Dickce. It’s about something I heard Tippy say while she was playing a little while ago.”

Benjy sounded concerned, An’gel thought. “Okay. It’s time the three of us had a talk and shared whatever information we’ve been able to pick up.”

By the time they reached the third floor, An’gel was wishing—and not for the first time—that Mireille had
installed an elevator. One long flight of stairs was bad enough, but two were a bit wearisome.

An’gel and Benjy walked down the hall toward Tippy’s room. Dickce stepped out when they were a few feet away and pulled the door halfway closed. She held a finger to her lips, then beckoned them with the same finger to follow her across the hall to the bedroom where she spent the night.

“Where are Peanut and Endora?” Benjy asked in an undertone as he followed the sisters.

Dickce whispered back, “Sound asleep on the bed with Tippy.” She grinned. “She wore them and herself out, and I didn’t think anyone would mind if they napped with her.” She ushered An’gel and Benjy into the room and left her door half open.

Dickce sat on the bed, feet dangling slightly. An’gel took the chair in front of the vanity and Benjy the armchair in the corner.

“I can’t believe how much energy a four-year-old has,” Dickce said. “I swear I could take a nap myself right about now.”

“Better you than me,” An’gel said. “Benjy has something to tell us.”

“I think I know what it is,” Dickce said, “but go ahead, Benjy.”

Benjy replied, “While I was watching Tippy earlier, she was talking a mile a minute. I tuned out some of it, but I heard her say something a man yelling at her mother.” He related the rest of Tippy’s story.

Dickce nodded. “She told me pretty much the same story.”

“Did either of you ask her whether she recognized the man?”

Benjy shook his head, but Dickce said, “I did, in a roundabout way. But it was no use. The voices were too far away, even though they were loud. And when the storm hit, Tippy was too frightened and got under the covers and hid there till she fell asleep.” Dickce frowned. “Poor little thing. She shouldn’t have been on her own during a storm like that.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” An’gel said. “Her mother should have been looking after her.” She paused. “But of course, Sondra could have been killed soon after Tippy overheard the argument. Thank the Lord the child hid under the covers, or she might have been killed as well.”

“The storm was the perfect cover for the killer,” Dickce said. “Especially if everyone else was hunkered down somewhere in the house until it passed.”

“We really don’t know where anyone was, besides ourselves, Tippy, and Sondra,” Benjy pointed out. “What would happen if we asked everybody?”

“It would arouse suspicion pretty quickly,” An’gel said. “We can’t do it directly. We’ll have to get them all to tell us some other way.”