Classified As Murder

THIRTY-FIVE

Four of us sat down to dinner Saturday night. Helen Louise Brady joined Stewart, Sean, and me for a festive meal.

Better make that six—of course Diesel and Dante were present as well.

Stewart insisted on preparing the meal, and in honor of Helen Louise’s presence—and the gâteau au chocolat she brought for dessert—he prepared vichyssoise, coq au vin, and green beans. I remembered Helen Louise telling me once vichyssoise was most likely created here in America, albeit by a French-born chef who worked at the Ritz-Carlton in New York. No matter what its origin, it was delicious.

Neither Helen Louise nor Stewart had ever met a stranger, as far as I could ascertain. They got on like the proverbial house afire, and the conversation between the two of them kept Sean and me entertained through the first half of the meal.

When we finally reached the dessert course and each had a large piece of the gâteau along with a cup of coffee ready to consume, Helen Louise turned to me and said, “Enough about food, though I’m sure Stewart and I could natter on for hours. What’s the latest on the case of the murderous butler?”

I finished chewing a bite of the sinfully delicious cake before I replied. Helen Louise watched me avidly. “He’s been formally charged with Eloise’s murder now.”

“Only poor Eloise?” Helen Louise frowned. “What about Mr. Delacorte?”

I shrugged. “I believe Kanesha is holding off charging him with that one, because she still doesn’t have enough solid evidence to link him to it. She’ll keep digging, though, and I’m sure she’ll find evidence if it’s there.”

“They know for sure now that Anita Milhaus told Truesdale about the change in the will,” Sean said. “Anita’s niece, who works for Q. C. Pendergrast, confessed that she told her aunt.”

“And Anita was apparently all too happy to assure Kanesha that she told Truesdale the good news.” I forked up another piece of the cake.

“At least they’ve got him for Eloise’s murder. Thanks to dear Cousin Cynthia,” Stewart said. “I’m still amazed by that. She’s always so quiet, slipping in and out of the house, half the time I forgot she was there. Thank goodness, though, for the sweet tooth she tries to pretend she doesn’t have. If she hadn’t swiped that cookie, Truesdale might have got away with it.”

“So the cookie she took turned out to have peanuts in it?” Helen Louise sipped her coffee.

“They’re still waiting for results from the state crime lab,” I said. “But Kanesha told me she’s convinced that those crumbs will turn out to have peanuts in them. She also said they’ve been able to track down where Truesdale bought the cookies.”

“Where?” Helen Louise’s eyes grew big.

I had to laugh. “The Piggly Wiggly, where else? Can you believe it, he still had the receipt. He bought them when he bought other groceries, and he put the receipt away to record in his expense book.”

“Uncle James made him account for every penny.” Stewart sniffed as he contemplated the last bite of cake on his plate. “I suppose the habit was so ingrained he did it without thinking.”

“Another brick in the case against him,” Sean said. He reached for the cake plate and cut himself a second, smaller piece. “This is awesome cake, Helen Louise.”

“Thank you.” If she’d been a cat, Helen Louise would have purred.

My own cat, sitting by my chair, had successfully begged a couple of bites of the chicken, but I knew better than to let him have any chocolate. I warned Stewart against giving either Diesel or Dante any bites of the cake, but he assured me he was aware of the dangers of chocolate for both cats and dogs.

Between Sean and Stewart, Dante had managed to scarf down a fair amount of chicken, I was sure. He was an appealing little beggar, but he would have a weight problem soon if both my son and my boarder continued to indulge him.

“Cynthia was certainly a dark horse,” I said. “Thank goodness for her, though. And for Diesel.” I scratched the cat behind the ears. “If he hadn’t dug into Anita’s bag, she might have gotten on that plane and managed to sell the copy of Tamerlane to that buyer in Chicago.”

“The FBI is handling that part of the investigation, I think you told me.” Helen Louise served herself a second piece of cake. I eyed it longingly but decided one big serving was enough.

“Yes, because apparently Hubert and Anita sold the set of Faulkner first editions to a collector in California. He’s going to have to return them, of course, and I imagine Hubert and Anita will have to make restitution.”

“She’ll have to sell that diamond bracelet, I’ll bet.” Sean put his fork aside and pushed his empty dessert plate away.

“I don’t see how they really thought they could get away with it,” Helen Louise said.

Stewart laughed. “If you knew Hubert well enough, you’d understand. He’s so convinced he can outsmart everyone else, he probably never even thought about somebody figuring out what was going on. Despite years of evidence to the contrary, I might add.” Stewart laughed again. “Miss Anita was his soul mate in that respect. It really is funny, how stupid they are, and they don’t even know it.”

Kanesha had told me the average criminal was pretty dumb, and in the case of Hubert and Anita, I figured she was right. Anita had plenty of “book sense” as my aunt Dottie called it, but her common sense was sadly lacking.

“How did Hubert get into Mr. Delacorte’s bedroom to make that threatening call, Dad? Did Kanesha tell you?” Sean asked.

“Turns out he had a duplicate set of Mr. Delacorte’s keys,” I replied.

“Why didn’t they find them when they searched the house?” Stewart frowned. “They were very thorough in my room, I can tell you. I had to empty my pockets, even.”

“Hubert had them in his pocket when they took him down to the sheriff’s department the other day,” I said. “Kanesha got him to admit he made the call, and he also told her where he usually kept the keys.”

“Where?” Stewart leaned forward in anticipation as I paused.

“I was told he has a fireplace in his room,” I said. “There’s a secret panel on it somewhere, and behind the secret panel is a small compartment.”

Helen Louise laughed. “I love it. Shades of Nancy Drew and The Hidden Staircase. As I recall, the old houses in that book had some pretty nifty hiding places and secret passages.”

“Delacorte House has a secret passage,” Stewart said. “Dates back to before the Civil War, I think. Cynthia and I used to play in it when we were kids, like we were Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy. Pretty dirty, full of cobwebs and mouse droppings.” He shuddered. “I can’t believe we didn’t pick up some kind of disease in there.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I said. “Did anyone tell Kanesha about it?”

“I did,” Stewart said and started laughing. When he could talk again, he said, “Sorry, but it was just too, too funny. I showed one of the big, brawny deputies the entrance. He and another deputy explored it, and you should have seen what they looked like when they came out of it.” He laughed again. “They were filthy. I tried to warn them, but they insisted on going into it.”

“Where is the entrance?” Sean asked.

“In the front parlor,” Stewart replied. “The other entrance was sealed off years ago. It runs under the yard to one of the outbuildings at the other end of the property.”

“A dead end, in more ways than one.” Sean grinned.

“Exactly,” Stewart said.

“What’s going to happen to the estate now?” Helen Louise asked.

Sean spoke up. “Unless they can prove that Truesdale murdered James Delacorte, he’ll probably still inherit. If he’s convicted of Eloise’s murder, he could get the death penalty, so it would be a moot point. But if they convict him of both murders, he can’t inherit. Under Mississippi law, a person can’t profit from a crime.”

“If he is convicted of both murders, then what?” Stewart asked. “Will Hubert inherit after all?”

Sean leaned back in his chair as he regarded his audience. “Most likely it will be his mother, as the next of kin. It’s a complicated case, though, especially with one of the heirs about to be indicted for theft.”

“You must have been doing some research,” I said. “Getting ready for the Mississippi bar exam already?”

Sean’s face reddened slightly. “Not exactly. I, uh, talked to Alexandra Pendergrast about it. I’m just repeating some of what she told me.”

“I see.” I suppressed a smile as I decided not to risk embarrassing my son by asking any further questions. Given his previous antipathy to Alexandra, I was surprised to know that he had spoken to her. Perhaps he had decided that not all female lawyers were like his former boss. I hoped so, because Alexandra was a most attractive young woman.

Helena Louise shot me a glance of pure amusement. I had told her enough about Sean and his interactions with Alexandra Pendergrast that she probably knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Going back to the villain in the piece,” Helen Louise said, “I’m sure that if anyone can prove he committed both murders, Kanesha can. She’s tougher than a terrier and a bulldog combined.”

“Amen to that,” I said. “By the time she gets through with him, Truesdale may decide to confess to get her off his back.”

Helen Louise raised her cup of coffee. “I propose a toast. Here’s to Kanesha, the criminal’s worse nightmare.”

Stewart, Sean, and I raised our cups. “To Kanesha,” we said.

“Here’s another one,” Sean said. “To my dad, who actually figured it out first, and let Kanesha take the credit.”

I blushed as they toasted me. I’ve always felt uncomfortable in situations like this, but I tried to endure it with good grace.

“And to Diesel,” Stewart said. “The clever kitty who went for the cheese but found something incredibly valuable.”

Diesel meowed when he heard his name, and we all had to laugh as he put his paws on my leg and raised his head above the table to look around. I rubbed his head and hugged him to me for a moment. Dante barked, perhaps feeling left out, and we all laughed again.

“I think it’s my turn,” I said as I picked up my cup again. “Here’s to family and friends, old and new.” I looked at my son, who regarded me with a relaxed and happy smile that filled me with joy. “And to new beginnings.”