Dead With The Wind

CHAPTER 31

“Are you just now coming back from town?” An’gel asked in a pleasant tone.

Horace appeared taken aback. Then he laughed heartily. An’gel thought it rang hollow.

“Yeah, I’ve been in town all morning. Lots to do, like always.” Horace laughed again. “You know what it’s like for us businessmen.” He sobered. “Now tell me, what’s going on with the police here?”

“There’s been another death,” Dickce said.

Horace blanched and suddenly seemed weak at the knees. He stumbled to a chair and dropped into it. “Not Jackie. Please tell me it’s not Jackie.”

Why would he assume it’s his wife?

“No, it’s not,” An’gel said. “As far as we know, Jacqueline is still in town. I’m afraid Estelle is dead.”

Horace looked mighty relieved, An’gel thought. But his expression changed quickly to one of bafflement.

“What happened? She have a heart attack?” Horace asked.

An’gel would have sworn he wasn’t faking it. He genuinely did seem puzzled by Estelle’s death.

“It wasn’t a heart attack,” Dickce said. “She was poisoned. An’gel was with her and saw the whole thing.”

Horace pulled out a handkerchief and began mopping his sweaty forehead. “Lord, I need a drink.” He stumbled to his feet and over to the liquor cabinet. With shaky hands, he pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured himself a healthy shot. He gulped it down and immediately poured another. He brought this one back to the chair with him and sipped at it.

“Sure am sorry you had to see something like that,” Horace said as he stared at the diminished contents of his glass. “Why on earth would somebody want to poison Estelle?”

An’gel turned to Benjy. “Why don’t you go back upstairs and check on Tippy,” she said. “If the police want to talk to you, Dickce can text you.”

“That’s fine with me,” Benjy said as he headed for the door. From behind Horace’s back he pointed to the man and then drew a large question mark in the air. An’gel nodded. Benjy turned and left the room.

“About Estelle,” An’gel said to Horace. “You’ve lived with the woman in this house for many years. Why do you think someone would want her out of the way?”

Horace shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well, she was always trying to interfere in stuff that wasn’t her business. She wasn’t one to hold back on her opinion of anyone or anything, I can tell you that.” He shrugged. “Woman like that is bound to rile somebody up.”

An’gel decided it was time for the gloves to come off. “Was she blackmailing you, Horace? Did she know something about your money problems that you didn’t want Jacqueline or Mireille to know?”

Horace goggled at her and dropped his now-empty glass onto the carpet. He sputtered but no coherent words emerged.

“We know you’re having financial problems,” Dickce said. “It’s obvious to us, and to the police no doubt, that money has to be involved in these murders somehow.”

“The question is,” An’gel said, “did you kill Sondra so Jacqueline would inherit? I’m sure you think you could get Jacqueline to bail you out. Then there’s also what she inherits now from her mother.” An’gel could almost see Horace shrinking into his chair.

The two-pronged attack had evidently demoralized the man. He held up both hands, as if in protest.

“Ladies, I swear to you, I would never in my life have hurt Sondra or my mother-in-law. Not for money, not for anything in this world.” He took a deep breath. “It’s true I’m in a financial bind at the moment, and if I don’t get the money I need soon, I’m going to be in the bayou with my head under the water. But no, ma’am, no way, nohow did I kill Sondra or Estelle.”

An’gel wanted to believe him, because she didn’t want her goddaughter’s husband to turn out to be a murderer. But Horace could be lying, even though his words had a ring of truthfulness to them.

Time for another battering ram, An’gel decided.

“You told us a few minutes ago you were just now getting back from town,” she said. “We know that’s a lie.”

Horace goggled at her again.

Before he could respond, Dickce weighed in. “We have it from an unimpeachable source that you were out front within the last ninety minutes or so having a conversation with Mr. Thurston.”

Horace picked his glass up from the floor and then got up to refill it. At this rate, An’gel thought, he’d be drunk in no time.

Glass replenished, Horace walked back to his chair. He gulped down about half the brandy before he looked either sister in the eye.

“All right, it’s true,” he said. “I was here. Briefly. Thurston called and insisted he had to talk to me. I thought he was in his office but he was calling from his car. Said he wanted to meet me here.”

“Did he say why he wanted to meet you here? It seems like an odd choice for a meeting.” An’gel thought the lawyer’s actions were deeply suspicious.

“He said he was bringing some documents out for Jacqueline to sign. He cut me off before I could tell him she was in town,” Horace said. “I tried calling him back, but he didn’t answer. So I had no choice but to come meet him here.”

“Did you enter the house?” Dickce asked.

Horace shook his head. “No, when I got close to the house, I saw Thurston standing down at the edge of the driveway, where the line of live oaks starts. I pulled over there, and we walked around under the trees while we talked.” He frowned. “I didn’t see anybody else while we were out there.”

“Nevertheless, someone did hear a bit of your conversation,” An’gel said. “Did you get the impression that Thurston had been here long when you arrived?”

“I really can’t say. His car was parked off to the side of the driveway, under that stand of trees at the bottom of the rise. After he called, it took me about fifteen minutes to get here.”

“So he could have been here the whole time,” Dickce said. “He could have been here already when he called you.”

“Guess so.” Horace downed the rest of the brandy.

“How long did the two of you talk?” An’gel asked.

“No more than six or seven minutes,” Horace said. “Seemed like a waste of time to me, rushing out here for that. He wasn’t happy when I told him Jacqueline was in town, but I told him he should have answered when I called him back.”

“According to what was overheard,” An’gel said, “you and Thurston were discussing money. Money you needed to get you out of the fix you’re in. Is Thurston involved in this mess somehow? Or had you merely approached him to bail you out?”

Horace scowled. “A little of both. It was because of him I got involved in the damn thing in the first place. Then I found out he had pulled his money out, and there I am holding the bag. I told him he ought to lend me the money I needed, but he kept saying he didn’t have it.”

An’gel wasn’t particularly interested in the nature of the venture, but she was curious about the sum of money involved. “How much money is involved?”

At first she thought Horace was going to refuse to answer, but the stern gazes of both sisters evidently convinced him otherwise.

“Ten million,” Horace said. He got up and headed back to the liquor cabinet.

An’gel nearly fell out of her chair in surprise. A swift glance at Dickce told her that her sister was equally shocked. The sum was far more than An’gel had anticipated.

“Ten million was your investment in this venture?” she asked. When Horace nodded, she went on. “What about Thurston? Had he put in a similar amount?”

“He told me he put in seven,” Horace said.

“I didn’t realize Thurston was that wealthy,” Dickce said. “Does he come from money?”

Horace shrugged. “Don’t think so. He always seems to have plenty of cash. A new car every year, trips to New York and Las Vegas. Has a house in New Orleans and one in Belize, too.”

An’gel considered Horace’s response to Dickce’s question. He had given a believable answer, but An’gel had the feeling he was holding something back.

“Anything more?” she asked.

Horace shook his head and sipped at his brandy.

An’gel changed tack. “Do you know the terms of Mireille’s will? And Jacqueline’s?”

“Unless either one of them changed them, then yes, I do.” Horace’s brow wrinkled as he gazed at An’gel. “Why do you ask?”

“Because their wills could have some bearing on the murders,” An’gel said.

Horace continued to stare at her, and An’gel could tell he was thinking hard about her response. Suddenly he stood and set his empty glass on a nearby table.

“You’ll have to excuse me, ladies. Got some things I need to take care of.” He turned to walk away.

“Horace, you need to tell the police what we’ve discussed,” An’gel said. “If you don’t, we certainly will.”

Dickce nodded, and Horace stared at them. “All right,” he said, then turned on his heel and hurried out.

Dickce looked at An’gel. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Probably,” An’gel said.

In unison they said, “The lawyer did it.”