Dead With The Wind

CHAPTER 28

An’gel wasted no further time in speculation. She headed downstairs to the kitchen to make sure Estelle was there and to find out where Jackson was.

On her way down the hall past the dining room, she caught a glimpse of the butler placing a dish on the sideboard. There was no way he could have made it from the servants’ quarters into the house so soon after An’gel spotted someone there.

Moving into the kitchen, she found Estelle busy at the stove, while Benjy and Tippy occupied two spaces at the table. Estelle noticed her and scowled.

“No need for you in here,” she said. “Most of the food’s in the dining room.”

“Fine,” An’gel said. “But I want to talk to you later.” She exited the kitchen before Estelle could reply. She really did not appreciate the woman’s constant rudeness, and that made her all the more determined to have it out with the housekeeper the moment lunch was done.

In the dining room she found Jacqueline and Dickce, along with an unexpected guest, Lance Perigord. He was sporting a black eye and a bruised nose but otherwise seemed his usual inconsequential self. When An’gel came into the room, he was telling his hostess and Dickce about a television show An’gel had never heard of but that Lance swore was totally riveting.

Jackson hovered near the sideboard, and he smiled when he saw An’gel. She immediately went to him and asked him how he was doing. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said.

“Thank you kindly, Miss An’gel,” he said. “I’m doing all right. The Lord is giving me strength.”

“Good. He does look after us,” An’gel said, and indeed the man did look better, she thought. His back was straighter, and his whole demeanor more positive than the last time she had seen him.

“That He does,” Jackson said. “That He does. Now why don’t you have a seat, Miss An’gel, and let me serve you your lunch?”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. She joined the others at the table, choosing a seat across from Lance. She wanted to observe him as much as possible.

Lance continued to drone on about the television program, and Jacqueline and Dickce nodded occasionally as they ate their food. Jackson put a plate in front of An’gel. Estelle had taken the ground beef and made it into large patties. There was also grilled asparagus, mashed potatoes, and corn that An’gel suspected came from a can. She tasted the ground beef, and it was cooked to perfection and seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic, and another herb she couldn’t quite place.

When Lance finally ran out of things to say about the television show, An’gel spoke up. “I’m happy to see you, Lance. I was worried about you after what happened.”

Lance stared at her. “After what happened?”

An’gel pointed to her eye and her nose. “The encounter you had that left you unconscious on the floor.”

Lance looked confused.

“She’s talking about when you got the black eye and the sore nose,” Jacqueline explained.

“Oh,” Lance said. “I’m okay, but my face is a wreck.” He frowned. “My mother says if I’m permanently scarred because of this, she’s going to sue Trey for a million dollars.”

Jacqueline paled at that, and Dickce and An’gel exchanged glances.

“How did your mother come up with that amount?” Dickce asked. “A million dollars is a lot of money.”

“Mama says that’s how much my face would be worth if someone in New York discovered it,” Lance replied smugly. “Mama thinks I should be a model.” His expression turned sour. “And I was going to be, because Sondra and I were going to New York and I was going to be discovered. But now that’s not going to happen.” He brightened. “Unless Mama gets that million dollars from Trey.”

“I’m sure your face will heal just fine and there won’t be any permanent damage,” Dickce said soothingly. “This time next week you’ll be back to just the way you were before.”

“That would be nice,” Lance said. “I couldn’t stand being ugly or disfigured.” He frowned. “But if I’m not, then Mama won’t get the million dollars and I won’t be able to go to New York. It’s all so confusing.”

If this is all an act, then he should definitely be in New York, but on the Broadway stage. An’gel didn’t think, however, that Lance was acting, but she almost wished he was. The boy was painfully stupid.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Jacqueline said. “But wait and see what happens, okay, and don’t worry too much about it. Even if you end up looking like you always did, you may still find some way to New York without getting that million dollars from Trey.”

Lance brightened at that. Before he could launch into further inane speech, An’gel said, “I presume you’re going back to town after you finish lunch, Jacqueline. Would you like Dickce or me to come with you?”

Jacqueline shook her head. “Oh, no, I appreciate it, but if I need someone, Horace is in town. No, you stay here.”

An’gel and Dickce exchanged glances. Jacqueline clearly did not want either of them to go with her, and An’gel couldn’t really understand why. It was Jacqueline’s choice, however, and she and Dickce would abide by her wishes.

“All right,” An’gel said. “I have things I need to take care of anyway, and Dickce will be helping Benjy look after Tippy.”

“I like Tippy,” Lance said. “She likes to play with me, and she doesn’t ask me hard questions.”

“I know Tippy would like to see you, Lance,” An’gel said. “She was asking about you earlier.”

“That’s sweet,” Lance said. “I hope she’ll still recognize me.” He touched his bruised nose and winced. “I look so different right now.”

“She’ll know who you are,” Dickce said. An’gel could see her sister struggling not to giggle. “And if for some reason she doesn’t, I’ll introduce you.”

Lance beamed at her. “Thank you. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m a stranger. Little girls aren’t supposed to play with strangers.” Lance paused, his brow furrowed. “I don’t think little boys are supposed to either.”

“No, they’re not.” Jacqueline laid aside her fork and pushed back her chair. “Sorry to rush off like this, but I really need to get to town. Lance, you’re welcome to stay for dinner tonight if you’d like, although you’d better check with your mother.”

“Mama will be happy if I stay here for dinner,” Lance said. “She told me I needed to be here to be a constant reminder.” He frowned. “Can’t remember what I’m supposed to be a reminder of, but Mama thinks I should stay.”

Jacqueline drew a deep breath, and her eyes rolled heavenward for a moment. “Then that’s okay. I’ll see y’all later.” She walked out of the dining room, and moments later An’gel heard her running lightly up the stairs.

An’gel figured she knew why Mama Perigord wanted Lance to hang around Willowbank. She was hoping someone would feel guilty enough about Trey’s attack on her baby to offer her some cash. An’gel thought Mama Perigord was probably a bit too mercenary, but she did agree that Lance deserved something from Trey after that nasty assault.

Benjy and Tippy walked into the dining room, and Tippy squealed with happiness the moment she spotted Lance.

“Wance!” She ran to him and held out her arms. Lance pushed back his chair and picked her up. He hugged her tight, and Tippy wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Wance, I’m so gwad you is here. Can you come pway with me and Benjy?”

Lance eased his grip on Tippy and let her down. He smiled. “I’d love to play with you, sweetie. And Benjy, too.” He smiled at Benjy as well, and Benjy blushed slightly.

An’gel hoped Lance wouldn’t make a nuisance of himself where Benjy was concerned, but she trusted Benjy to handle the situation on his own.

“Come on upstairs with us, then, if you’re finished with your meal,” Benjy said. “While you and Tippy are playing, I’ll go get Tippy’s two new friends, Peanut and Endora, so they can play, too.”

Lance frowned. “I haven’t met them, have I? I don’t think I know any children named Peanut and Endora.”

Tippy giggled as she tugged on Lance’s hand. “Siwwy Wance. Peanut is a doggie, and Endowa is a kitty. Come on.” She tugged again, and Lance yielded.

“I like dogs and cats,” Lance said earnestly to Benjy. “So I’ll be happy to meet these friends of yours.”

Benjy glanced quickly at An’gel and then at Dickce, and for a moment An’gel thought he was appealing for help. Then she realized he was trying hard not to laugh. She covered her mouth quickly with her napkin and coughed to keep from laughing herself.

Lance and the excited Tippy left the room, and Benjy, shaking his head, followed them.

Dickce looked at An’gel. “I don’t know about you, Sister, but I could use a nap. I didn’t get enough sleep last night. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

“You go right ahead,” An’gel said. “I wouldn’t mind doing that myself, but first I want to talk to Estelle.”

“About what?” Dickce asked as she rose from the table.

“I’ll tell you later,” An’gel said. “You go on and get some rest, and we’ll discuss it when you’re up from your nap.”

Dickce shrugged. “I’m not going to argue.” She yawned. “See you in a while.”

An’gel hadn’t quite finished her meal. She ate the remainder quickly, her mind on the looming confrontation with Estelle. This time she was determined not to let the woman’s rudeness put her off. She would persevere until Estelle answered her questions.

She pushed back her chair and dropped her napkin beside her plate. She realized Estelle might have left the kitchen by now, but An’gel was determined to find her, wherever she might be.

She found only Jackson in the kitchen. “Where is Estelle? I really need to talk to her.”

“She’s gone to her apartment,” Jackson said. “I reckon she was going to lie down.”

“This is something that won’t wait,” An’gel said. “Thank you, Jackson.” She marched to the back door, intent on confronting the housekeeper.

The air outside was cool, and An’gel blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the bright sun. As soon as they had, she struck off across the backyard toward the servants’ quarters. The renovated building lay about fifty yards from the rear of Willowbank, and An’gel reached it quickly. There were four apartments, and as An’gel recalled, Estelle occupied the one at the end farthest from the house.

She knocked on the door. “Estelle, I have to talk to you.” She waited a moment, then knocked again. “Estelle, open this door.”

Seconds later, the door swung open. Estelle glared at her. “What’s so all-fired important that you’re bothering me now? I need to rest.” She held a large, half-empty bottle in her hand. An’gel recognized it as an expensive brand of whiskey. She hadn’t figured Estelle for a tippler, but if she was a heavy drinker, that might explain a few things about her disposition.

“I have some questions, and you’re going to answer them.” An’gel charged forward. Estelle yielded and backed away from the door.

An’gel didn’t waste time examining the surroundings. She intended to push Estelle hard to get her answers.

“You cleaned up the mess after Sondra threw all those scraps of fabric down from the second floor, didn’t you?”

Was it her imagination, or did Estelle look relieved at the question?

“Yes, I did.” Estelle moved past her and walked over to a table that held a glass and a siphon. “I was always cleaning up Sondra’s messes.”

An’gel paid no attention to the bitterness in the woman’s voice. “Did you happen to notice that the scraps you picked up weren’t from the antique wedding gown?”

Estelle appeared faintly surprised. She set the bottle down on the table next to the glass. “How did you find that out?”

“I found a scrap you missed,” An’gel said. “When I looked at it closely, I realized it wasn’t satin. Then I went upstairs and found the gown, intact, in the bottom drawer of Mireille’s chifforobe.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Estelle asked. “The gown is safe, not that it’s going to do anybody any good. Mireille will never be able to look at it again.” She picked up the whiskey bottle and poured three fingers into the glass on the table.

“I know it was the replica of the gown that Sondra destroyed,” An’gel said. “I talked to Jacqueline, and she believes someone put Sondra up to destroying it as a joke on her grandmother.”

Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’d do something like that? To Mireille, the best friend I ever had?”

An’gel stared hard at her. “You tell me. If you didn’t do it, who did?”

“I’ve got my own ideas about that.” Estelle picked up the glass. “You leave it to me. I’ll find out who did it and make him pay for what he did to Mireille.” She lifted the glass and tossed the entire contents into her mouth. She swallowed and set the glass down. An’gel wanted to grab hold of her and shake her till her teeth fell out, as her mother used to say.

To An’gel’s surprise, Estelle started shaking on her own. Then she began clawing at her throat and gasping. She pitched forward onto the floor, writhed for about five seconds, and then was still.