Dead With The Wind

CHAPTER 23

If Officer Bugg was expecting reactions of outrage or horror, he was definitely disappointed. An’gel merely looked at him and nodded, as did Dickce.

“Y’all don’t look like you’re surprised.” Bugg stared hard at each sister in turn.

“My sister and I thought the freak accident was a little too bizarre to be real. Now you tell us the coroner has found some kind of evidence that makes her suspicious of it, too.” An’gel frowned. “Frankly, Officer, we were expecting news like this.”

Bugg didn’t seem to know what to make of that, An’gel thought. He probably thinks we’re dim-witted old biddies who don’t have the brains the good Lord gave a goose. An’gel had to suppress a chuckle at that thought.

The officer cleared his throat and glanced at his subordinate. Sanford responded by pulling a notebook and pen out of his pocket. He flipped to a blank page, clicked his pen, and looked expectantly at Bugg.

“Seein’ as y’all are here and available,” Bugg said, “I reckon I need to ask y’all some questions.”

“Certainly, Officer,” Dickce said, and An’gel nodded. “We’re always happy to help fine lawmen like yourselves.” Dickce batted her eyelashes at Bugg, and An’gel was amused to note that the man’s cheeks reddened. Really, Dickce was incorrigible.

“Well, um, yes, ma’am,” Bugg said. “Now let me see here, maybe you can tell me whether you noticed anything suspicious while you been here.”

“The main suspicious thing we saw we’ve already mentioned,” An’gel said. At Bugg’s questioning look, she continued, “I’m talking about the accident with Sondra’s car. The cut brake lines. I think if you can discover who was responsible for that, you’ll find your killer.”

“Maybe so, ma’am,” Bugg said. “I need you to give an account of your time since you been here. What time you arrived, and all that.”

An’gel realized this was all probably necessary, at least from Bugg’s point of view, but she really wished he’d get on with things. She suppressed her irritation and gave him a summary of their arrival and activities afterward.

Sanford scribbled furiously in his notebook while An’gel talked. She hoped he knew shorthand because she wasn’t going to slow down just so he could write everything longhand. She was itching to get the police out of the room so she and Dickce could talk and share information.

When An’gel finished, Bugg turned to Dickce. “You got anything to add to that?”

“Yes, I do,” Dickce said. She proceeded to tell him about the time spent apart from her sister, and how she encountered Trey Mims in Sondra’s bedroom early that morning.

Bugg appeared to perk up slightly when he heard Trey’s name, but he made no comment. When Dickce’s recital was complete, he thanked them both. He stood, and Sanford hastily returned his pen and notebook to his pocket and stood behind his superior.

“If I have any more questions, I reckon y’all will be here for a few days,” Bugg said.

“Yes,” An’gel replied. “Until the funerals have occurred, at least.”

“Good.” Bugg nodded. “Now where can I find this young man you call your ward? What’s his name?”

“Benjy Stephens,” Dickce said. “He’s upstairs with Tippy, Sondra’s daughter. I’ll go up and send him down to you. Someone needs to stay with Tippy, and I don’t think you should question him in front of the child.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” Bugg said indignantly. “I wouldn’t do that. You go on and tell him to come down here, if you don’t mind.”

Dickce smiled serenely as she walked from the room. Moments later An’gel heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Bugg watched An’gel—uneasily, she thought. Does he think I’ll bite? She was hard pressed not to laugh. At least he’s not going to discount us any longer.

The policeman cleared his throat. “Ma’am, you don’t need to wait with us, if you’ve got something else you need to be doing.”

“I thought I would introduce our ward to you,” An’gel said. “Then I will leave you.” She had really wanted to stay while Bugg questioned Benjy, but it was obvious that the policeman wanted her out of the room.

Bugg nodded. Not long after, Benjy came into the room at a fast pace, but he slowed down when he saw An’gel. She rose and made the introductions. Benjy nodded in a friendly manner to the policemen, and Bugg suggested he have a seat. An’gel left the room.

In the hallway she hovered for a moment not far from the door. She heard Bugg ask Benjy for his name, age, and relationship to the deceased. Then she decided there was no point in eavesdropping. Benjy would be fine.

Instead she decided to track down Estelle. She wanted to find out whether the housekeeper knew any further details about Mireille’s death and what Jacqueline’s plans were.

The kitchen was empty, and An’gel frowned. She checked the small butler’s pantry off the kitchen, but there was no sign of Jackson. An’gel thought he might be in his small apartment in a nearby outbuilding that Mireille’s grandfather had long ago converted into servants’ quarters. Estelle lodged there as well. An’gel debated going there but on a hunch she went back to the hallway to the stairs.

On the second floor she turned and walked back toward the front of the house. Mireille’s room was on the right facing the front lawn. Sondra’s, on the floor above, was to the left. An’gel found the door open a few inches. She hesitated a moment, then pushed the door open and walked into the room.

The doors to the gallery outside were shut and the curtains drawn against the sunlight. The room was dim and smelled faintly of lavender, Mireille’s favorite scent for the sachets and potpourri she used. In a rocking chair in the corner near the old-fashioned four-poster, An’gel found Estelle sitting quietly. At first An’gel thought the woman was asleep, but then the housekeeper spoke.

“You need something?” she asked, her tone harsh and impatient. She started the chair rocking. “I don’t feel like making anything for anybody right now. You want something, go make it yourself.”

An’gel decided to ignore Estelle’s rudeness. She knew the woman was upset by Mireille’s death.

“I want to talk to you.” She walked closer to Estelle and stood by the bed. She sighed and stroked the beautiful Double Wedding Ring quilt that lay across the bed. Mireille’s mother had made it as a bride gift fifty years ago.

“What about?” Estelle asked.

An’gel knew the woman would rather be by herself and could sympathize with her, but Estelle couldn’t hide herself away completely when there was so much to be done.

“I wondered if Jacqueline had a chance to talk to you about any of the plans for Mireille’s service,” An’gel said. “My sister and I will be here and will be glad to help any way we can. We can pitch in with the cooking and cleaning, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Estelle said, her tone slightly less rude. “Jacqueline hasn’t said anything to me. I tried talking to her when she and Horace got back from the hospital but she told me she didn’t feel up to it.”

“I know she was worn out,” An’gel said. “Maybe I can call the funeral home. Which one is it?”

Estelle snorted. “Won’t do you any good. I called them this morning, and they told me they were waiting to talk to Jacqueline. Nothing’s going to happen till she’s ready to handle it.”

“I see,” An’gel said. She felt frustrated. She really wanted to do something to ease Jacqueline’s burdens, but until Jacqueline was ready, she couldn’t do anything but wait.

“What will you do now?” An’gel asked. “Will you stay on and continue to run the bed-and-breakfast?” She wondered whether Jacqueline would have any interest in it, without Mireille.

“Won’t have any choice, will I?” Estelle’s tone was bitter. “The daughter of the house will get everything, and I won’t get anything. I’ll be out of this place the day after we lay Mireille to rest.”

“Surely Jacqueline won’t make you leave,” An’gel said. “You’re family, aren’t you?”

“Too distant to matter to Jacqueline, only a third cousin once removed,” Estelle said. “With Mireille it was different. Family was family to her. Jacqueline never has liked me, and that bitch of a daughter of hers hated me. I hated her right back. She made everyone around her miserable. Never in my life saw a person as stuck on herself as Sondra.” She chuckled, and the sound made An’gel uneasy. “Look where it got her. Finally got what she deserved.”

In the face of such hatred and spite, An’gel didn’t know how to respond. An’gel couldn’t blame Jacqueline for wanting Estelle out of the house. Who would want to harbor malice like this if she didn’t have to?

An’gel turned and walked out, having decided there was no response she could make. Estelle’s mocking laughter followed her, cut off only when An’gel closed the door.

In the hall she moved to stand in front of the window. The light from the sun warmed her, and she realized how cold she was. She glanced uneasily at Mireille’s door. She knew that Estelle didn’t care for Sondra, and one could hardly blame her for that. But she had never reckoned on the sheer hatred the woman felt for the dead girl.

Had Estelle hated Sondra enough to kill her?