Bless Her Dead Little Heart

CHAPTER 7

An’gel found Maudine and Bernice in the front parlor near the fireplace when she ushered Benjy and Junior inside. Maudine had the Ming Dynasty goldfish vase upside down in her hands, peering at the bottom. “I’ll bet it’s a fake,” she told her sister in a waspish tone. “Or else they’re even richer than Mother has always claimed.”

Bernice’s eyes widened when she caught sight of An’gel. She hissed at Maudine. “Put that down.”

“Yes, please do put it back as it was.” An’gel strode forward, momentarily forgetting about Benjy and the tray he bore. Maudine grimaced but complied with her hostess’s request. Annoyed by her guest’s obnoxious comments, An’gel adjusted the position of the vase on the mantel until it met with her satisfaction, then stepped back. “When my great-grandfather purchased the vase in China on his honeymoon in 1853, he was assured that it was authentic. I have never had cause to doubt that, nor did the appraiser from Christie’s in New York twenty years ago.”

Maudine appeared to wither under An’gel’s unyielding gaze. “I suppose you would know,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

Benjy cleared his throat. “Miss Ducote, where would you like me to put the tray?”

An’gel, recalled to her duties, turned to smile at the young man. “Right over here.” She indicated a side table next to one of the sofas, and Benjy set the tray gently down.

“Please help yourselves,” An’gel said. If Maudine wanted tea, she could darn well get it for herself.

Benjy complied with alacrity and had nearly drained his glass by the time Maudine, Bernice, and Junior each claimed their own. An’gel gestured for him to refill his glass, and he thanked her.

“Maudie, Bernie, what are you two doing here?” Wade Thurmond nodded at his half siblings as he joined them beside the tea tray. “I see you found your way inside the house, Benjy. Afternoon, Junior. Marla will be down in a minute.” He helped himself to iced tea.

Benjy shrugged at his stepfather, and Junior nodded in response. An’gel noted with interest that, although Wade spoke to the other two men, his gaze remained fixed on his sisters.

Maudine glared at Wade. “We came to assure ourselves that Mother is well. I can’t believe she would simply take off in the night like that and drive across the country away from her family.”

“Yeah, well, Mama is unpredictable.” Wade stared into his glass. “I think she’s getting a bit mental, if you know what I mean. All this goofy talk about somebody putting something in her food.” He shook his head. “Marla thinks Mama has developed a food allergy and needs to be tested. Of course, Mama won’t accept a rational explanation.”

“I’m sure Marla would like us to believe it’s something that simple,” Maudine replied tartly. “But I wouldn’t put it past her to add something to Mother’s food just to make her sick. She hates Mother, even after all the kindness Mother has shown the two of you, letting you both live in her house rent-free.” She pointed at Benjy. “Not to mention letting that juvenile delinquent son of Marla’s live there, too.”

Appalled at the spite in the woman’s voice, An’gel glanced at Benjy to witness his reaction to Maudine’s words. He appeared not to have heard. Instead he seemed to be engrossed in enjoying the view out the front window.

“You stop talking like that right this instant.” Wade’s tone betrayed his fury. “You know as well as I do that house is rightfully mine. And the idea of Marla spiking Mama’s food, well, it’s just plain outrageous.”

An’gel found it interesting that Wade did not defend Benjy in his impassioned reply. She glanced toward the window again. Benjy’s shoulders were hunched up, and she suddenly felt sympathy for the young man, despite the fact that she had no idea whether Maudine’s accusation was truth or hyperbole.

“Pardon me,” An’gel said, suddenly tired of the squabbling. She needed to get out of the room for a few minutes. “I’ll check on Dickce and be right back.” Really, these people had no manners whatsoever. She would never dream of airing family troubles in front of a stranger the way Rosabelle’s children were doing. She wondered whether they would continue to behave this way in front of Rosabelle.

As she headed for the door, Bernice spoke up. “Hush, you two, you shouldn’t be carrying on like this.”

Too little, too late, An’gel thought. When she stepped out of the front parlor, she heard someone cry out, then saw a blur of motion as Marla Stephens landed with a loud thud on her back at the bottom of the stairs. One foot was bare, the other wore a spike-heeled shoe. Did she trip wearing those high heels? An’gel wondered.

“Ms. Stephens, are you okay?” As she hurried forward, she raised her voice. “Mr. Thurmond, come quickly. Your wife fell down the stairs.”

Wade responded immediately and came bustling out of the parlor. He brushed past An’gel to kneel beside the unmoving form of his wife. He grasped her left arm and patted her hand, his expression anxious. “Marla, honey, speak to me. Say something. Marla.” His breath caught on a sob.

There was no response.

Marla Stephens’s head was twisted at an unnatural angle, and An’gel couldn’t detect any signs of breathing. Was she dead?

Suddenly shaky, An’gel looked up to see her sister standing nearby, food tray trembling in her hands. An’gel moved closer and placed an unsteady hand on Dickce’s shoulder. “Did you see what happened?”

“She just came rolling down the stairs.” Dickce shook her head, her eyes wide with shock. “There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“Put down that tray before you drop everything,” An’gel said. She felt faint herself, and the hall seemed suddenly chilly. “Someone should call for an ambulance.” Her feet wouldn’t move when she tried to turn back toward the front parlor.

Dickce quickly set the tray upon a small table against the wall between the parlor and the library. She took An’gel’s arm and began to lead her back to the parlor. “Sister, you look like you’re going to faint any second now. I’m not feeling all that steady myself.”

An’gel halted for a moment to observe the scene continuing to unfold in the area near the foot of the stairs.

Junior stood in the parlor doorway, cell phone in hand. Dimly An’gel heard him talking and realized he was conversing with the emergency operator.

“Yes, a fall down some stairs,” Junior said, the impatience obvious in his tone. “No, I don’t know the address. I’m not from around here.” He paused. “The house belongs to the Ducote sisters. Yeah, Riverhill, that’s it.”

Satisfied that Junior was handling the emergency call, An’gel glanced at the activity nearby.

Wade Thurmond was performing CPR on his inert wife. From what An’gel could see, however, his attempts were fruitless. Maudine and Bernice remained nearby, their faces pale as they watched. They clutched each other, their breathing agitated. Benjy knelt beside Wade, his mother’s limp right hand clasped between both of his. He held the hand to his cheek, his eyes bright with unshed tears, as he watched his stepfather. An’gel could see his lips moving, perhaps in prayer.

“What on earth is going on? Did she fall down the stairs?”

An’gel looked up to see Juanita Cameron hurrying down the staircase to join Wade beside his wife’s body. “Here, let me take over,” she said. She pushed an unprotesting Wade to one side and went to work.

Wade collapsed into a sitting position, his eyes, now streaming with tears, fixed on Marla. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it against his mouth.

An’gel glanced up again. Rosabelle stood at the top of the stairs, both hands to her mouth, staring at everyone below. An’gel couldn’t read her expression from this far away. Rosabelle made no move to descend. Instead she appeared rooted to the spot.

“Come on, Sister,” Dickce said, her tone agitated. “I don’t know about you, but I need to sit down.” An’gel tore her gaze away and allowed her sister to lead her into the parlor.

Dickce got An’gel seated on the sofa. An’gel still felt shaky, and she could see that Dickce was as white as she no doubt was. She watched as Dickce headed for the liquor cabinet, pulled out the whiskey and a couple of glasses, then poured two healthy shots. She handed one to An’gel and urged her to drink. An’gel accepted the glass, eyed it for a moment, then knocked it back while Dickce did the same.

An’gel felt the warmth spread through her body, and her head cleared. “Thank you, Sister,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Me, too,” Dickce replied as she sank down on the sofa by An’gel. “That poor woman. So awful.” She paused for a steadying breath. “What the heck have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Please, Lord, let it be an accident, and not murder,” An’gel said in response. “She simply tripped in those heels and fell.”

Dickce squeezed her hand, but An’gel took little comfort from the gesture. She had the uneasy feeling that the horror had only just begun.

From the hallway they could hear the muted sounds of conversation in short bursts. After a moment An’gel pushed herself up. “We’d better see what’s happening. The others are likely to need a restorative as well.” Dickce grimaced but followed her sister to the hall.

Juanita continued her efforts to revive Marla, but from what An’gel could see, Marla remained unresponsive. Benjy and Wade remained close by, their gazes focused on the motionless body. Maudine and Bernice still huddled together, several feet away.

Junior, cell phone still stuck to his ear, spoke in low tones to the emergency dispatcher. “No, she’s not responding. How long is it going to take that ambulance to get here?”

An’gel glanced up at the second-floor landing. Rosabelle no longer had her hands to her mouth, but her gaze appeared focused on the scene below. An’gel waved to catch her attention and then motioned for Rosabelle to come downstairs. Rosabelle stared at her hostess for a moment before she slowly began to descend, her body tightly against the right banister.

When she reached the foot of the stairs, Rosabelle stepped around the supine form of her daughter-in-law, barely glancing at her granddaughter still hard at work. She ignored her daughters, even though Maudine held out her hand toward Rosabelle.

She stopped beside An’gel and Dickce. “We need to talk. In private.”

“Come into the parlor,” An’gel said. She figured Rosabelle was in shock and would benefit from a shot of whiskey as she and Dickce had. She took Rosabelle’s arm and led her into the room. She heard the siren of the ambulance as it neared Riverhill and was glad the professionals would soon be on the scene.

An’gel seated Rosabelle on the sofa while Dickce went to the liquor cabinet to pour the whiskey.

Rosabelle didn’t speak again until she had downed the liquor. She set the glass on the coffee table and leaned back. She turned to stare at An’gel, seated beside her.

“That was supposed to be me out there, dead on the floor, not Marla.”