Bless Her Dead Little Heart

CHAPTER 13

After a few minutes the storm of tears abated, and Dickce could feel Benjy trying gently to pull away. She released him, and he rose on unsteady legs to make his way to the sink in the kitchen area. Diesel followed him and twined himself around the young man’s legs. Benjy splashed his face with water, dried off with paper towels, then blew his nose twice.

Dickce moved back to the chair to allow Benjy his space on the sofa when he returned. He smiled shyly at her. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Guess I kinda freaked for a minute.”

“No need to apologize,” Dickce replied. Given the circumstances, she would have been surprised if the boy hadn’t broken down.

Diesel climbed onto the sofa beside Benjy, who rubbed the cat’s head and back. “You’re such a sweet kitty.” He looked up at Dickce. “He really seems concerned. Isn’t that funny?”

“He has a big heart,” Dickce said. Her throat tightened as she examined Benjy. With his red nose and pink eyes, he looked vulnerable and much younger than nineteen. He also looked a little bit lost right now. She wondered whether he had any family besides his mother. She hesitated to ask, because it was really none of her business. She couldn’t walk away now, however, and leave him on his own.

“I loved her,” Benjy said, startling Dickce with the sorrowful tone of his words. “Even though she was rotten to me a lot of the time.”

Dickce decided to venture the question she was burning to ask. “What about your father?”

“He walked out when I was two or three,” Benjy said. “So it was just my mom and me until a few years ago. That’s when she met the Wart.”

“It doesn’t sound like you think much of your stepfather,” Dickce said.

Benjy shrugged. “He doesn’t think much of me either. Couldn’t wait to get me out of his house when they got married, so he sent me to boarding school in New York. I was stuck in that place for three years, but I graduated last year.”

Dickce heard the pain and anger behind the pose of indifference. At a time in his life when Benjy needed a strong father figure, Wade Thurmond couldn’t be bothered and shunted the boy off to boarding school. Wart, indeed. Dickce could think of a worse name for him. She also didn’t think much of Marla for rejecting her son—because that was exactly what it amounted to—in favor of a new husband. That kind of woman disgusted her.

“So you’re on your own now, other than your stepfather,” Dickce said. A stepfather who obviously isn’t much interested in your welfare, she added silently. She wondered if Benjy would be left to fend for himself now that his mother was gone.

Benjy nodded.

He was obviously miserable and frightened, Dickce realized.

“I have friends in California,” Benjy said. “I think one of them will let me move in with him. He has his own apartment, and I have a part-time job.” He didn’t sound happy about the prospect, Dickce thought.

“I didn’t push her down the stairs,” Benjy said out of the blue. “I hated her sometimes, but I wouldn’t have done something like that.” He stared at Dickce, his eyes imploring her to believe him.

“I know you didn’t,” Dickce said gently. “You never went upstairs.”

“No, I didn’t.” Benjy’s face cleared. “That deputy woman was pretty scary when she asked me questions. Sure made me feel guilty, even though I knew I hadn’t done anything.”

“She’s tough and comes across as pretty intimidating,” Dickce said. “I’ve known her since she was a little girl. She’s smart, dedicated, and thorough. She’ll find out who caused your mother to fall down the stairs, and that will be the end of it. She knows by now that you couldn’t have done it.”

Diesel warbled, and Benjy smiled. “Guess he agrees.”

“He’s known Kanesha for a few years, too.” Dickce stood. “I’d better get back and help clear the table. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, ma’am,” Benjy said. He rubbed Diesel’s head. “Do you think it would be okay if he stayed here with me tonight? I don’t think Junior will mind. He’s an okay kind of guy.”

“I imagine I’d have a hard time keeping him in the house.” Dickce grinned. “He’s made it pretty obvious that he wants to stay with you, at least for tonight. If you think of anything you need, you be sure to let me know. Or if you just need to talk to someone. Okay?”

“I will.” Benjy smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Dickce wagged a finger at Diesel. “You be a good kitty, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Diesel chirped in response, and Benjy laughed.

Smiling, Dickce walked down the stairs and into the sultry evening. She didn’t particularly look forward to going back to the dining room. She’d had about enough of Rosabelle’s family for one day, if not for a lifetime. Was it too much to hope that they would all have gone upstairs to their rooms by now?

An’gel was glad that Dickce went to check on Marla Stephens’s son. She was worried about the boy herself, but since Dickce seemed to have established some sort of rapport with him, it was better that she dealt with him.

Even if it meant An’gel was now on her own with Rosabelle’s family. She was heartily sick of the lot of them but, at the same time, determined to see this thing through. Marla’s was the second violent death at Riverhill in less than a year and that was two too many. She wanted the murder solved and these people out of her house as soon as possible. The previous murder, which took place during a fundraiser for the Friends of the Library, had been resolved quickly. She prayed this one would be too.

There was not a morsel of food left by the time her guests finished their meals. An’gel reflected that at least it would make the cleanup easier. Before any of them left the table, however, An’gel had a few things to tell them.

“If I could have your attention for a moment,” she said. “I know you all must be tired and eager to get some sleep, and I suggest that you do so right away. I have arranged for a deputy to remain with us here in the house at all times until this dreadful situation is resolved. I’m sure we will all rest easier knowing that help is so close at hand.” She paused for reactions to this news and was surprised that no one chose to comment. She continued, “Breakfast will be served at eight, and if you should need anything during the night, please let me or my sister know.”

“I usually sleep until eight or nine,” Maudine said with a frown. “Will I still be able to get breakfast?”

“If there is anything left after the others finish, certainly you will,” An’gel replied in a pleasant tone. “The housekeeper, however, will not have time to prepare multiple breakfasts. I suggest you consider rising early enough to be downstairs at eight.”

An’gel could see that Maudine was peeved at her response but did not protest further. An’gel rose. “If there are no other questions or requests, then I will bid you all good night.”

Her guests muttered their good nights, and An’gel was not surprised that none of them volunteered to stay and help clear the table.

“Miss Cameron,” An’gel said, “if you could stay a moment. I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

Juanita, the last to exit, turned and came back toward the table. “Yes, ma’am, certainly.”

“How is Rosabelle?” An’gel asked. “Is there anything she needs?”

“Grandmother is distressed, naturally,” Juanita replied. “She is convinced that one of the family is trying to kill her, and I’m finding that hard to believe, even with what happened to Marla.” She shuddered.

“That was no accident,” An’gel said. “Rosabelle is right to be afraid, if she really was the intended target.”

“I know you’re right.” Juanita hesitated before finishing her reply. “It’s frightening to think that one of my relatives hates Grandmother so much.”

“Do you have any idea who is behind this?”

Juanita shook her head. “I wouldn’t have said any of them could be capable of this. I know my mother isn’t. I know she’s high-handed and rude, but she does love Grandmother in her own way.” She paused. “At first I thought Grandmother was making all this up because she wanted attention. Ever since her husband died, she’s been fretful. She’s used to having a man around to cater to her, and let’s face it, at her age, she’s not likely to find another husband.”

An’gel was struck by the young woman’s insight into Rosabelle’s character. Juanita evidently had few illusions about her grandmother.

Juanita stared hard at An’gel. “Miss Ducote, I’m really worried, and I have to confide in someone.” She hesitated for a moment. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m wondering whether my grandmother isn’t responsible for Marla’s accident.”