Bless Her Dead Little Heart

CHAPTER 14

An’gel wasn’t sure she had heard Juanita correctly. Then the import of the young woman’s words sank in. “That’s monstrous. Surely you don’t think your grandmother is a murderer?”

Juanita’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Please, let me explain.”

“I surely hope you will,” An’gel said. She pulled out a chair and sank into it. She felt her pulse racing from the shock.

“I’m so sorry if that upset you badly,” Juanita said. “Can I get anything for you?”

An’gel shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Please explain what you meant.”

“First, let me say that I don’t believe Grandmother would have intentionally harmed anyone.” Juanita paused. “This is a difficult thing to say about my own grandmother, but I think she might have planned it so she could pretend to fall and continue with the charade that one of us was deliberately trying to harm her. She put the water on the stairs, but for some reason Marla got there first. And, well, the unthinkable happened.”

An’gel felt the tension radiating from the young woman as Juanita awaited her response. She was in no rush to respond because she needed to choose her words carefully.

Perhaps bothered by the silence, Juanita spoke again. “I know it must sound like I think she’s a terrible person, but I really don’t. Grandmother is impulsive and doesn’t always think things through. She’s a bit like a child sometimes. She does whatever enters her head without considering the consequences.”

An’gel had no trouble believing that part. Rosabelle had been exactly like that during their college days. An’gel and Dickce had helped the headstrong girl out of more than one scrape that resulted from lack of foresight. Age and experience apparently hadn’t taught Rosabelle much, An’gel reflected sourly.

Even so, she balked at the notion of Rosabelle’s having put water on the stairs so she could fake an accident. An’gel realized she had knowledge that could allay Juanita’s fears, but she couldn’t share it with the young woman. In An’gel’s mind, the use of the Vaseline on the banister was proof of intent to kill. She could see that Rosabelle might put water on the stairs, but she wouldn’t put the petroleum jelly on the banister. The risk would be too great.

An’gel knew she had to speak at this point. “I’ve known your grandmother for over sixty years, child. I can’t argue with you over Rosabelle’s need to be the center of attention all the time, because she has always been that way. I just don’t happen to think that this was one of her stunts gone badly wrong.” She paused to gauge Juanita’s reaction.

The young woman looked relieved for a moment, but then the full implications of An’gel’s statement appeared to sink in.

Juanita paled. “Then you think someone really is trying to kill Grandmother?” She groped for a chair and lowered herself into it.

“I’m afraid so.” An’gel touched Juanita’s arm lightly. “We have to protect her until Deputy Berry and her men get to the bottom of this.”

Juanita shook her head, as if she was still in shock. “I almost wish this was one of Grandmother’s little schemes for attention.” Suddenly she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better get upstairs right away and keep an eye on her.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried from the room.

An’gel sat back in her chair and pondered the conversation. One possibility had struck her that she didn’t want to bring up to Juanita. It was a terrible thought, but one that had to be faced.

What if Rosabelle was responsible for the water and the Vaseline? What if she had deliberately set a trap for one of her family members? Even Rosabelle, who blithely tended to ignore the consequences of her actions, would have had to realize her target could be seriously injured or die as a result.

An’gel didn’t want to think her friend capable of such a terrible deed, but she had never been one to shy away from the truth, no matter how disturbing.

Dickce walked into the dining room and interrupted her reflections. “Sitting down on the job, I see. I don’t suppose any of them volunteered to help clear away?”

“Do you see one of them helping?” An’gel got to her feet and started piling plates.

“Well, who put the fly in your mashed potatoes?” Dickce shook her head as she began to help her sister.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” An’gel said in a milder tone. “Tired and upset, that’s all.”

“I know.” Dickce picked up her stack and headed for the kitchen. “These people are enough to make you want to put your head through a brick wall.”

An’gel followed behind her. “We need to talk, but I am just too tired to do it now.” She set her pile of dishes on the counter near the dishwasher. “Let’s leave all this for the morning.”

“I don’t feel right leaving it for Clementine to have to deal with.” Dickce opened the dishwasher and pulled the rack out. “You go on up to bed, and I’ll handle this.”

“You don’t have to,” An’gel said. “I talked to Clementine before she left, and she agreed we need extra help as long as Rosabelle and her family are here. She’s going to get her granddaughter Antoinette to come. Antoinette isn’t due back to college for another two weeks, and Clementine said she’d be glad of the money for schoolbooks.”

“All right then.” Dickce closed the dishwasher. “I wish I had half the energy that girl has. She makes that battery bunny look like he’s walking through molasses.”

“Being sixty years younger doesn’t hurt,” An’gel said wryly.

“Or in your case, sixty-four.” Dickce grinned on her way out of the kitchen.

“Touché.” An’gel turned off the kitchen light and shut the door. “I told our guests breakfast would be served at eight.”

An’gel decided they should leave a couple of lights burning downstairs, one in the hall and another in the parlor, where the off-duty deputy named Kilgore was keeping watch. “There are sandwiches and iced tea in the refrigerator for you,” An’gel told him. She was happy to see that he was young, tall, and muscular. He ought to be able to handle any situation that might arise.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kilgore said, his voice deep and calm. “Y’all have an easy night. I’ll be moving around the house every so often, and I’ll do my best not to disturb anyone.”

An’gel and Dickce thanked him before they made their way upstairs on the left. An’gel averted her gaze as she neared the top. It would be a long while before she could look at the staircase without seeing Marla Stephens falling down it.

The second floor was quiet. Two lamps with low-wattage bulbs along the wall provided a dim but adequate glow as An’gel and Dickce strode down the hall to their rooms at the back of the house. No light shone under the doors as they passed, and An’gel hoped that meant all their guests were in bed and asleep.

At the end of the hall An’gel whispered “good night” before she opened her door, and Dickce responded in kind.

An’gel closed and locked her door. She didn’t fear for her safety—the lock was old and easily broken through—but at least the sound of a person attempting to get into her room would wake her up.

After she cleaned and washed her face and donned her nightgown, An’gel climbed into her four-poster bed with a grateful sigh. She couldn’t remember when she had been this tired. Having a houseful of guests—and unwelcome ones to boot—was exhausting.

She smiled in the darkness. She had thought having a cat as a houseguest would be a burden.

The cat.

An’gel’s heart skipped a beat. She pushed aside the covers and slid to the floor. Where was Diesel?

She turned on the lights and began a frantic search through her bedroom, closet, and bathroom. She had left him here before dinner and then forgotten all about him.

She called him, softly at first, then with increasing urgency. After five minutes she had to conclude that he was not in her room. Her heart skipped a few more beats.

An’gel’s legs trembled as she unlocked her door and stumbled across the hall to Dickce’s room. She called Dickce’s name as she tapped on the door, then tried to open it. Locked. She tapped again, harder this time.

The door swung open to reveal her sister’s scowling face. “What on earth is it?”

“Diesel is missing,” An’gel said. “He’s not in my room anywhere.”

Dickce’s scowl turned to an expression of dismay. “Oh, dear, I knew I forgot something.”

“What did you forget?” An’gel glared at her sister. “Is Diesel all right?”

Dickce took hold of her arm and pulled An’gel into the bedroom. “Yes, Diesel is fine. He managed to get out of your room a couple of hours ago and out of the house, too. I found him in the garage apartment when I went there to check on Benjy.”

“If I weren’t so relieved,” An’gel said, her heart rate beginning to slow, “I’d snatch you bald-headed. Do you realize what a scare you gave me?”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” Dickce said, obviously contrite. “I meant to tell you, but I forgot. I’m just as tired as you are.”

An’gel nodded. “All right. I forgive you. Do you think Diesel will be okay with that young man? After all, we don’t know anything about him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Benjy wants to be a veterinarian, or so he said earlier today. Besides, Diesel obviously thinks he’s a good person; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to be with him.”

“I can’t believe we’re accepting a character reference from a cat,” An’gel said, shaking her head. “But I’m too tired to argue. If anything happens to Diesel, though, you’ll be the one to explain it to Charlie.”

“I’m not worried in the least.” Dickce glared at her.

An’gel knew that mulish expression all too well. There was no point in further argument. “Good night, again.”

Back in her room, door once again locked, An’gel got comfortable in bed. She decided she was not going to worry about the cat, nor about Rosabelle and her family and their assorted troubles. She decided for once to take the advice of the South’s most notorious belle. After all, tomorrow is another day.