Bless Her Dead Little Heart

CHAPTER 23

To Dickce’s surprise, Antonio laughed heartily at Wade’s insult.

“You will have your little joke, Wade.” He sobered as he rose from his chair. “But I must not laugh at a time of such tragedy. Signorina Ducote has told me of the sad loss of your wife. I am so sorry to hear of this.”

“Save it for my mother.” Wade went the long way around the table to the sideboard, where he picked up a plate and began filling it.

Antonio shrugged and resumed his seat. Dickce was appalled—though not much surprised—by Wade’s rudeness, and the ensuing silence felt awkward to her. Even An’gel seemed at a loss for words.

Junior stood uncertainly in the doorway for a moment before he followed his uncle to the sideboard. He glanced at Antonio, then quickly away, as if embarrassed. Dickce wondered whether he agreed with his uncle’s opinion of Antonio. What if Maudine and Bernice felt the same way? Things could become increasingly uncomfortable if the others resented Antonio as much as Wade seemed to do.

Dickce tried to catch her sister’s eye, but An’gel appeared focused on her plate for the moment. Dickce wondered where they would put Antonio as she ate her ham sandwich and potato salad. Would he want to share Rosabelle’s room? It seemed only natural, since he was her husband. Juanita would have to move the trundle bed to the other guest room in that case. Of course, Rosabelle might not want him in her bedroom. Hard to predict how Rosabelle would react to her “dead” husband’s sudden resurrection.

Wade and Junior left the room with their plates and canned soft drinks. Dickce felt the atmosphere lighten with their exit. An’gel must have felt it, too, because she raised her head from her plate and spoke.

“Everyone is a bit on edge, Antonio, because of what happened.” An’gel patted her mouth with a linen napkin. “Our sheriff’s department is working on the case, and an extremely capable deputy is in charge of the investigation. You will have a chance to meet her soon.”

Antonio reached out to touch An’gel’s hand lightly, and Dickce was amused to see her sister’s face redden the tiniest bit.

“You have no need to make excuses for my stepson’s behavior, An’gel. He does not like me, because he believes I am a man with no resources of his own. Therefore, I am the sponge.” He shrugged. “It is true that when Rosabella and I first married, I was, how do you say, in reduced circumstances. All my income was tied up in the family business in Italy, but the circumstances, they have changed. Business has much improved, and now I am able to repay my darling Rosabella for her generous support.”

That was certainly smooth, Dickce thought. The man oozed charm and sincerity the way a cat shed its hair. He was the most attractive specimen of maleness she had encountered in a long time. She couldn’t help responding to his courtly manners earlier, and even now she felt the appeal of his gorgeous voice and charmingly accented English. That attraction aside, however, she didn’t completely trust him. Watching him was going to be truly interesting, she decided.

“I’m sure Rosabelle will be delighted to hear it,” An’gel said. “I do have a question for you, Antonio, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“But of course,” Antonio said. “I could never refuse so charming a hostess.”

Dickce almost snickered when An’gel turned red again. Neither of them was used to such flowery language.

“You are too kind,” An’gel said. She took a sip of her water. “I was wondering how you knew where to find Rosabelle.”

“Ah, I see.” Antonio picked up his water glass and drained it. He rose from the table to refill it. “That is a strange thing. Three, no four, days ago, I received the text message from my wife that she would be visiting her friends here in Mississippi.” His drink replenished, he came back to the table. “My Rosabella, you see, is not a person who is fond of the technology. She does not know how to send the text message. Or so she has told me before. In fact, she does not much use the cell phone I gave her, though I insist that she keeps it with her in case of emergencies.” He shrugged. “Perhaps someone else send it for her, or she get someone to teach her. Non importa.”

Dickce figured Rosabelle was simply playing the helpless wife to the strong and loving husband. That was certainly her style. I’ll bet she knows pretty dang well how to send a text message. She glanced at An’gel and could tell her sister was probably thinking the exact same thing.

“How interesting,” Dickce said. “A member of the family must have sent it for her, then. Although Rosabelle told us when she first arrived that she ran away from home and they didn’t know where she was going.”

Antonio smiled and shook his head. “One cannot have the play without the audience, eh? My darling must always have the audience for her little productions.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” An’gel dropped her napkin beside her empty plate and leaned back in her chair. “How fortunate we are that Rosabelle chose to stage her little production here. Sadly it has turned out to be a mystifying tragedy.”

“Rosabelle told us she thinks a member of the family is trying to kill her,” Dickce said. “At first we were inclined to dismiss that as one of her ploys for attention, but we know the accident that killed your daughter-in-law was no accident. It was premeditated.”

Antonio frowned. “Before I left California several weeks ago to return to Milano and my business there, Rosabella told me she was uneasy. She almost fell on the stairs in our home one afternoon while I was out. She insisted that it was an attempt by someone to harm her, but I did not believe her. I knew she was not happy, you see, because I had appointments that were of great importance. She wanted me to stay with her that day, but I could not.”

Maybe someone should tell Rosabelle about the boy who cried wolf too often, Dickce thought. Her family must be really tired of her constant need for attention by now. I wouldn’t put up with it for very long, that’s for sure.

Dickce was reaching for her glass when a chilling idea struck her. Her hand faltered as she considered the implications. What if a family member had simply been pushed too far by Rosabelle’s behavior? What if one of them wanted her dead for that reason alone? It might have nothing at all to do with money as Rosabelle claimed. Dickce had read of cases where long-term caregivers had finally snapped and killed the person in their care. They had been strained beyond endurance until the only solution, or so they thought, was to get rid of the source of their endless frustration.

That was possible, Dickce supposed after brief further thought. Money was a powerful motive as well, and if the two were combined—well, whoever killed Marla by mistake was sure to try again. Rosabelle wasn’t going to stop being irritating anytime soon, not even to save her own life.

Would the killer make another attempt here at Riverhill? Or wait until Rosabelle and her family were back in California?

With those chilling possibilities swimming around in her head, Dickce realized that while she was lost in thought, An’gel and Antonio were still talking.

“. . . not impose upon your so generous hospitality,” Antonio said. “I am sure there is a fine hotel in your town nearby, and I will be quite content to take a suite there.”

“That is of course up to you,” An’gel said, “but we will be happy to accommodate you here. If Rosabelle isn’t feeling up to sharing her room, then Dickce can move in with me. I know she would be delighted to let you have her room during your stay.”

Oh, Dickce would, would she? She hadn’t shared a room or a bed with An’gel since they were children, and she didn’t relish the thought of doing it now. An’gel could be so fussy sometimes. Dickce knew her duty, however. “Certainly,” she said with enthusiasm. “I know you will want to be close to dear Rosabelle as much as possible. It is not a problem at all.”

“You two aren’t going to let him remain in this house, are you?”

Startled, Dickce glanced toward the doorway. Maudine, hands on hips, glared at Antonio. Bernice, the ever-present shadow, hung back, her expression one of resignation, Dickce thought.

An’gel rose from her chair to face Maudine. “I remind you, Mrs. Pittman, you are a guest in my house. I decide who is welcome here. Are we clear on that point?”

“Well, don’t expect me to eat in the same room with that man.” Maudine whirled, pushed her sister out of the way, and stalked out of the room.

Bernice advanced toward them timidly. “Hello, Antonio. We didn’t expect you here.”

Antonio rose and went around the table to Bernice. He took one of her hands and bestowed a kiss on it. “Bernice, how charming to see you, as always. I am here because your mother summoned me to her side. Of course I could not refuse her. I am certain you understand.”

Bernice simpered at him. Dickce had to look away to keep from giggling.

“Of course,” Bernice said, a little breathless. “Mother has to have her way, no matter what the rest of us think. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you, even if Maudine and Wade aren’t.”

“I hope you are glad to see me, dear Bernice.” Antonio smiled at her.

“S-s-sure I am.” Bernice blushed. “I don’t believe all those things Wade and Maudine say about you being a gigolo.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if embarrassed by her own words.

Antonio smiled. “I appreciate your kindness to me. Won’t you join us?” He moved to pull a chair out for her.

“No, I c-c-can’t.” She looked at An’gel. “If you don’t m-m-mind, I’ll take a plate up for Maudine. She’ll have a headache soon if she doesn’t eat something.”

“Please do,” An’gel replied.

Bernice nodded, then moved quickly around to the sideboard. She filled two plates almost haphazardly from what Dickce could see. The poor woman can’t wait to get out of here, she thought. Was she frightened by Antonio? Or simply nervous at being in the presence of an attractive man?

Bernice scurried out of the room without a backward glance, and Dickce hoped she didn’t trip and drop everything all over the floor.

Dickce was debating a second sandwich when she heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll go,” she said. She figured it was either Kanesha or one of her deputies. She hoped it was Kanesha herself, because the sooner Benjy talked to the deputy about the water pistol, the better.

An’gel nodded, and Antonio rose from his chair while she exited the room.

The doorbell rang again, and this time for several seconds. Whoever was at the door was certainly impatient, Dickce thought. She hurried down the hall to open the door before the caller could buzz again.

A scruffy-looking man in stained work clothes wearing a greasy cap stood there.

“Good afternoon,” Dickce said. “Can I help you?”

“Howdy, ma’am,” the stranger said. “I was wonderin’ if by chance you seen a dog and a cat running loose anywhere around here.”