Classified As Murder

FIVE

“Azalea?” I stared blankly at Helen Louise, startled by the sudden mention of my housekeeper. “How does Azalea know anything about them?”

“How do you think?” Helen Louise shook her head at my slowness. “She worked for them years ago, before she started working for your aunt.” She laughed. “But she didn’t stay there long. Only about three months, I seem to remember.”

“I had no idea. But there’s a lot I don’t know about Azalea, of course.” I had a sip of water. Diesel rubbed against my leg, and I reached down to stroke his head.

“If you ask her the right way, I’m sure she’ll tell you about them.” Helen Louise drained her cup and set it down. “And they’re not too fond of the head of the family, that’s for sure.”

“How do you know them?” Sean played with his bottle cap, spinning it on its side on the table. “Fill us in on what you can until Dad has a chance to talk to Azalea. You have to know something juicy, surely.”

Helen Louise leaned back as she grinned at Sean’s wheedling tone. “They go to my church. I don’t think his sister, Daphne Morris, ever misses a service.” She snorted. “She’s such a good Christian—except when it comes to actually doing something, like helping in the soup kitchen or working on one of the committees. She’s terribly delicate, you see.”

The withering scorn in her voice left little doubt about her feelings. I could understand them. Helen Louise, despite the demands of running her own business, spent a lot of her so-called free time doing charitable work.

“Who else is there besides his sister?” I put my hand over Sean’s to stop his twiddling with the bottle cap. He’d always been a fidgety child, and he was now a fidgety adult. He rolled his eyes at me, but he let go of the bottle cap.

Helen Louise observed this interaction with another grin. “Let’s see.” She held up a hand and began ticking off names on her fingers. “There’s Daphne’s son, Hubert, who has a vastly overinflated sense of his own worth. Eloise, Hubert’s wife, is one of those rich daddy’s girls from the delta. You know, like Carolyn Haines writes about in her ‘Bones’ books.” Helen Louise and I shared a fondness for mysteries, and Haines was a great favorite.

“They sound charming.” Sean sounded utterly sincere, but his expression belied his tone. “Can’t wait to meet them.”

“Be prepared if you meet Eloise.” Helen Louise laughed. “I hear tell she’s crazy as a betsy bug these days.”

I hadn’t heard that expression in a while. I decided not to press Helen Louise for more details on Eloise. “Anybody else?”

“There’s a great-niece, the granddaughter of one of the Delacorte brothers. Her name is Cynthia, and she’s a nurse at the hospital. Don’t know much about her, other than you could get freezer burn talking to her. I hope I never have to rely on her looking after me if I’m in the hospital.” Helen Louise shook her head. “The last one is a great-nephew, Stewart Delacorte, grandson of the final brother. He teaches chemistry at Athena College.” She winked at Sean again. “He’ll love meeting you, I’m sure. He has an eye for an attractive man.”

Sean blushed. Helen Louise laughed and reached over to pat his arm. “Don’t pay any attention to me, honey. Your dad will tell you I can’t resist teasing people.”

“No problem.” Sean offered a strained smile.

“Neither of those two Delacorte brothers is still living?” I decided to get the conversation back on track.

“No, only Daphne is left now. She’s the youngest, and James was the oldest.” Helen Louise paused. “He’s in his mid-eighties, I’d guess.”

“He doesn’t look it, really.” I would have said he was around seventy. “You said earlier that his family isn’t too fond of him. Why?”

“He has millions, and they all want money. I’ve heard Daphne and Hubert moaning about it enough at church, when their minds should have been on other things.” Helen Louise was clearly disgusted. “Apparently James Delacorte has the old-fashioned idea that anyone able to work should do just that and not live like a leech on someone with money. But I’ve also heard he can be really cheap. I think the family has always had trouble keeping staff because he refuses to pay much.”

“What about his sister? Does the son take care of her?” Sean was as curious as I about the family.

“Not hardly,” Helen Louise said. “Daphne’s late and very unlamented husband was as big an idiot when it came to business as her son is now. He left her basically penniless, and James Delacorte took her in. I don’t think he counted on taking in Hubert and Eloise as well. But Hubert can’t seem to hold down a job, and I heard Eloise’s brother cut off her allowance after their daddy died a few years ago. If it weren’t for James, they’d all be out on the street.”

“You said the niece and nephew work, though.” I drank the last of my water as I waited for Helen Louise’s response.

“They do, but I’d be willing to bet you they’ll quit the minute they inherit some of those millions.” She laughed. “Unless they’re in for a nasty surprise. Mr. Delacorte may leave all his money to the college or some charity. It would serve them all right if he did.”

“What a family.” Sean shook his head. “Sounds like something right out of Agatha Christie.”

“After all you’ve told us,” I said, “I’m not really looking forward to meeting them this afternoon.”

“I forgot someone,” Helen Louise said. “The butler. He’s English, I believe, and he’s been with James Delacorte for forty years or more. Very devoted servant, as they say.” She raised her eyebrows. “And that has definitely set some tongues wagging on occasion, let me tell you. Especially since James Delacorte never married or showed any interest in a particular woman.”

“What’s his name?” Sean asked.

“Truesdale,” Helen Louise responded after a moment. “He picks up Mr. Delacorte’s weekly order every once in a while. Never has much to say for himself.”

“Whatever happens this afternoon at tea, Dad, I don’t think it will be dull.” Sean stood and handed me Dante’s leash. “Would you hang onto this for a minute? I’ll be right back, if you’ll excuse me.”

Helen Louise watched as Sean headed for the bathroom. She turned back to me. “I’m sure you’re enjoying having him visit. You didn’t say anything about him coming the last time I saw you, though.”

I shook my head. “I had no idea he was coming. He showed up yesterday.” I hesitated for a moment, but I needed to confide in someone. “He quit his job, and he wants to stay with me for a while.”

“How do you feel about that?” She regarded me kindly.

“I’m delighted that he came to me when he’s obviously in distress about something.” I shrugged. “But so far he hasn’t told me why he quit, other than that he was tired of the stress.”

“Those big law firms can be hell to work for.” Helen Louise grimaced.

I remembered then that Helen Louise had gone to law school, too. Graduated second in her class. She worked for a big firm in Memphis for a few years before chucking it in to follow her dream of owning her own bakery.

“Would you mind if I tell him about you?” I rubbed a hand across my forehead, feeling suddenly tired. “It might help for him to talk to someone who’s been through the same thing. I don’t know how willing he’s going to be to tell me what’s really bothering him. He hasn’t confided in me for a long time.”

“Of course I’d be happy to talk to him, whenever he wants.” Helen Louise leaned forward and patted my arm. “Let him have some time to himself, and eventually he’ll talk to you.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said in an undertone as Sean came back to the table.

Helen Louise stood. “Well, mes amis, I’ve enjoyed our visit, but I’d better get back to work before Debbie has a hissy fit. The lunch crowd is starting to arrive.” With a sweet smile she headed back to the counter.

Indeed, a steady stream of customers was trickling in.

“We ought to get going anyway,” I said. I stood, holding both leashes. “I’ll take these guys outside while you settle up with Helen Louise. Pick out something for dessert, and we can have it tonight with dinner.”

“Sure thing. Be out in a minute.” Sean strode to the counter.

Outside the midday sun had warmed the day even more. I was ready to get home and relax for a while, and I’d do my best not to dwell too much on what lay ahead this afternoon.

Sean came out carrying a cardboard bakery box, tied with string. He accepted Dante’s leash from me, and we headed back to the house.

“What did you get?”

Sean smiled. “It’s a surprise. Helen Louise assured me you’d like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Dante strained at his leash. He sniffed eagerly, and I figured he was looking for a convenient bush or clump of grass to water. We paused when he found one, and Diesel watched him with great interest.

When we were on the way again Sean spoke. “She sure likes you.”

“Helen Louise, you mean?” I shrugged. “I’ve known her since high school, and she and your mother were good friends.”

“I know she’s your friend, Dad.” Sean shook his head. “I’m talking about something else. She really likes you.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Sean sounded irritated.

“I think she’s an attractive woman.” I wasn’t sure if he was simply curious or if he was upset that I might be interested in a woman besides his mother.

“That’s obvious, too. Are you dating her?”

“No, I’m not. I’ve thought about asking her out, but I don’t know that I want to jeopardize our friendship.” How would he react to that?

Sean remained silent for at least a minute. “It’s been almost four years, Dad. I think Mom would want you to be happy.” He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “You should ask her out.”

A sudden lump in my throat kept me from responding right away. When I could speak, my voice sounded hoarse. “I’ll think about it. You sure you wouldn’t have a problem with me dating someone?”

“I wouldn’t, and neither would Laura. We’ve both been worried about you.” Sean cut me a sideways glance.

“I’m doing okay, I promise you. It’s been rough on all of us, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about your mother. She’s always with me.”

“I know, Dad.” Sean’s voice was husky, and for a moment I thought he might burst into tears. “Me, too.”

We finished the walk home in uneasy silence. Uneasy on my part, at least.

Sean seemed completely absorbed in his own thoughts. I hesitated to initiate a new conversation because of the emotionally charged one we had just finished. Now did not seem like a good time to bring up the subject of Sean’s having quit his job.

I glanced down at Diesel now and then, and each time I caught him looking up at me. I think he sensed my mood and was keeping an eye on me. He chirped at me, and I rubbed the top of his head to reassure him.

Dante seemed oblivious to it all. He kept finding interesting scents, and Sean had to urge him along.

By the time we reached home, I was ready for some time on my own. Sean took the cake box into the kitchen, and I waited for him to come back. When he did, I asked if he had any plans for the afternoon.

“Not really,” Sean said. “I thought maybe I could use the computer, check e-mail.” Dante danced around his feet.

“Sure, whenever you like,” I said. “But I had a wireless network installed right after the holidays.” I gave him the password. “You can even sit out in the backyard and use it.”

“That’s cool. I have my laptop with me. I’ll test it out.” He jogged past me on the stairs. Dante ran on ahead.

“I’ll be back by six, I’m sure,” I called out to him as he reached the head of the stairs. If he heard me, he gave no sign.

I plodded the rest of the way upstairs. Diesel had disappeared, probably to use the litter box and have a snack of his crunchies before joining me upstairs. I wanted to relax for a while before I had to get ready for afternoon tea with the Delacortes.

At three forty-five Diesel and I were in the car on the way to the Delacorte mansion. The Delacortes lived in the oldest part of Athena, where the town’s first families built their homes during the cotton boom of the early nineteenth century. Many of the same families still owned the houses, though most of them were not nearly as wealthy as they had been two centuries ago.

When we turned onto the street where the mansion was located, I felt a sense of déjà vu. It took me a moment, but then I remembered having come here a couple of times on field trips in school when we were studying the antebellum period and the Civil War. The old Honeycutt mansion on the corner often hosted tour groups. The family had held on to much of the furniture from the early period, along with portraits and other family memorabilia. My high school history teacher, Mrs. Pittman, a descendant of the family, loved bringing her classes to visit the place.

The Delacorte mansion, set far back from the street, was easily one of the largest on the block. It was a massive building in the Greek Revival style so popular in the South before the Civil War. There had surely been additions over the years, however, because most of the other mansions on the street were only about half the size of it. The additions harmonized with the original architecture, however, and the result was a stunning achievement.

I pulled into the driveway, flanked by a row of oak trees on either side. The drive wound through the grounds until it separated into two. One branch continued around the back of the house, and the other looped in the front. I followed that branch and parked the car a few feet past the walk leading up to the front porch.

Diesel and I exited the car and headed up the walk toward the imposing double front doors. We mounted the five steps up onto the verandah. I lifted the knocker and banged it a couple of times.

Moments later the doors swung open to reveal a tall, gaunt man who looked to be in his late sixties, dressed in a dark suit. “Good afternoon.” He stood aside to let us enter, frowning as he gazed down at Diesel. “You must be Mr. Charles Harris. And companion.” He shut the doors behind us. “Mr. Delacorte is expecting you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This is Diesel.” As if on cue, my cat meowed. The butler did not appear amused.

I paused in the entrance to stare at my surroundings in awe. At any moment Scarlett O’Hara could come sweeping out of one of the rooms saying “Fiddle-dee-dee” or “Tomorrow is another day.”

I blinked as I glanced at the grand marble staircase ahead. Surely I was seeing things—or there really was a woman in a hoop skirt and crinolines gliding down the stairs.