Fixing To Die

CHAPTER 21

Benjy walked Peanut and Endora again before he took them back to their room. He wanted to let Peanut play and tire himself out so he would nap while Benjy worked at the task Miss Dickce had set him. Endora needed to play, too, and she always loved chasing the much larger dog.

Once in their room, Benjy opened his laptop and connected to the wireless network. Peanut and Endora snoozed on the bed, and Benjy figured he probably had half an hour before they got restless again and demanded attention.

Benjy entered Primrose Pace in the search engine and waited for results. The wireless connection didn’t appear to be all that strong because it took longer than Benjy was used to for the results to appear. He groaned. If the connection didn’t get any faster than this, he would need twice as long to find anything.

He examined the hits on Primrose Pace. The first one, apparently a newspaper article, looked promising, and he clicked on it. The story focused on a kidnapping and murder that had taken place in Louisiana nearly two years ago. A teenager had been abducted, and after months of no results from law enforcement, a psychic had come forward with claims to know the whereabouts of the girl. The psychic was Primrose Pace. There was a photograph accompanying the article. Several law enforcement officers and one woman stood in a small clearing in the woods. They were all staring at a spot under one large tree where the earth had been disturbed. The picture had been shot at enough distance that the faces of the officers and the woman were not clear. Even though Benjy tried enlarging the photograph, he couldn’t distinguish enough of the woman’s features to identify her.

Benjy skimmed the article. Mrs. Pace’s claims had proven helpful, he read. Though the spot pictured in the photograph included with the article had not been a grave, officials did find the remains of the teenager less than half a mile from there. Benjy wondered what had disturbed the earth in the photograph. Probably an animal digging, he thought.

The next two links yielded similar results. No photograph with which he could positively identify Primrose Pace, but otherwise the stories were much like the first one. Mrs. Pace apparently did have some knack for finding areas where human remains had been left or buried, but she never was right about the exact spot, Benjy concluded. Still, it was an impressive feat in itself. The woman either had been involved in the murders, somehow had inside knowledge, or possessed real psychic abilities.

One of the articles contained a brief description of the medium, an attractive black woman in her mid-forties. The Primrose Pace at Cliffwood matched that description, but then so would many other women. Benjy hadn’t found anything so far that could positively identify the woman at Cliffwood as the Primrose Pace of the articles.

He continued through the links until he reached the point that he found himself reading through information in which the words primrose and pace appeared somewhere in the same article. He refined his search to look for the two words together, and his results narrowed immediately to only one screen’s worth.

Benjy stopped for a moment to consider his next move. Mrs. Pace had never mentioned where she came from, but the stories he had read with her in them had all taken place in Louisiana. One of them happened not far across the Mississippi River from Natchez.

He found it odd that the woman didn’t have a website to advertise herself. Idly he searched Louisiana psychics and after about ten seconds had a result list of over 300,000 hits. He even found a directory of psychics, but there was no listing for Primrose Pace. Idly he clicked on several of the different psychics listed and read their descriptions and scanned some of their testimonials. He found it all fascinating, especially since a few of them listed missing persons as a specialty.

Maybe Primrose Pace was one of those people who didn’t like the Internet and preferred to find her clients via word of mouth instead of social media. That thought reminded him he needed to check other social media sources, and he proceeded to do so. He didn’t find an account anywhere for Primrose Pace on the most popular social media sites or even a mention of her.

Next he tried a genealogical database, but the only hits he got showed the two words in the same entry, usually with the word Primrose part of a street name and Pace as a surname.

Benjy searched every source he could access through the Athena Public Library. He had no access to the library at Athena College, though come spring he would. He was excited about enrolling for his first semester of college and couldn’t believe how lucky he was that he had been accepted. Access to a college library would open whole new worlds to him, and he couldn’t wait for that to happen.

Before he became too lost in happy thoughts about college, he made himself refocus on the search for information on Primrose Pace. He couldn’t think of anywhere further to look. He would report his findings to Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, and see whether they had any ideas about next steps. He knew they would find it as interesting as he did that there was so little to be found on the mysterious medium.

Benjy shut down the laptop and sat for a moment, watching the sleeping dog and cat. He enjoyed these quiet times with them. They were still so young, and he hated to think of them getting old and suffering from ailments like arthritis or kidney disease. He had read a lot about such things because of his interest in animal welfare, and he was determined to be prepared for their care in old age.

That made him think of Miss Dickce and Miss An’gel. They were already old, but they appeared to be pretty healthy and spry despite their age. He couldn’t imagine them any other way and dreaded the thought of their becoming infirm or incapacitated in any way. When the time came, he would do his best to take care of them.

“Enough of the old-age stuff.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he needed to get his mind off the subject. Otherwise he’d get depressed, and that wouldn’t do anybody any good.

Peanut woke up at the sound of his voice and began to stir. That in turn got Endora awake, and Benjy happily began to give them the attention they now demanded.

• • •

“Are you sure about what you overheard?” Dickce asked. “I thought some more about what you told us, and I think there could be a different interpretation for it.”

“What would that be?” An’gel asked.

“Maybe it referred to a business relationship, not a sexual or romantic one,” Dickce replied. “People use similar terminology with business relationships when things go bad, don’t they?”

“I suppose so,” An’gel said. “If it weren’t for the way he was adjusting his clothing, I would agree that your idea is a more likely answer. Of course, what Wilbanks said to Gamble could refer to both a business and a sexual relationship. The two might have been involved in both ways.”

“Double jeopardy, then,” Dickce said.

“If you want to put it that way, yes.” An’gel thought about it for a moment. “That would certainly add to the bitterness if both had gone sour. And Wilbanks definitely sounded bitter.”

“Either way, there is still a strong motive for Wilbanks,” Dickce said. “With the two aspects combined, I’d say it becomes even stronger.”

“I agree,” An’gel said. “I’m beginning to like Wilbanks as the chief suspect myself.”

Dickce wagged a finger at her. “You still don’t know that Nathan Gamble was murdered. We’ve spent so much time dealing with murder recently that I swear you’re starting to see a murder everywhere you go.”

An’gel started to protest but then admitted to herself there was a great deal of truth in what her sister had said. She was being premature in this case, though she had been proven right in the past when she stated that a suspicious death resulted from murder.

“You can’t deny it, can you?” Dickce said.

“No,” An’gel said. “I can’t. But you can’t deny that Nathan Gamble’s death is odd. The first time he ever spent the night in that room he was so desperate to own. The contents, of course, not the room itself, but you know what I mean. I think it’s too great a coincidence myself, and it might have been really convenient for someone.”

“Except that we don’t know for whom and why it is convenient,” Dickce said.

An’gel made a sound of disgust. “We keep going in circles. I wish we knew whether Nathan Gamble was murdered.”

“Let’s look at the situation from a different angle, then,” Dickce said. “Let’s look at the how instead.”

“How he was murdered, if he was murdered, you mean?” An’gel said.

Dickce nodded.

“Mary Turner said he looked frightened,” An’gel said. “Maybe someone went into the room and scared him to death.”

“If he had a weak heart, I suppose that could have happened,” Dickce said. “I wonder if he had locked the door before he retired for the night. I don’t think either Henry Howard or Mary Turner said anything about having to unlock his door, did they?”

An’gel thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t remember. We can ask Henry Howard.”

“It could be important,” Dickce said.

“Yes, depending on the method the killer used,” An’gel said. “Unless the room is somehow rigged to frighten a person. I suppose I might have found out if I had spent the night there.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Dickce said. “You could have been the one frightened to death instead of Nathan Gamble.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that easily frightened.”

“You don’t know what Nathan Gamble might have seen. It might have terrified the life out of you.”

An’gel rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt it. My heart is in excellent condition, according to my cardiologist.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t put to the test,” Dickce said wryly. “You’re annoying, but I’d rather be annoyed by you than by anyone else.”

An’gel grinned. “Same to you, Sister.”

A knock sounded at the door, and An’gel called, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Mary Turner. She hesitated in the doorway, and An’gel could see that the young woman was upset about something.

An’gel got up and went to her. “Come in, my dear. Tell us what’s wrong.”

Mary Turner responded with a weak smile. “Thank you, Miss An’gel. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but have you seen my husband recently?”

“The last time I saw him was in the kitchen about an hour ago,” An’gel said.

“Marcelline told me about what she said to him. I got so angry with her,” Mary Turner said. “She means well but sometimes she isn’t fair to him.”

“Henry Howard isn’t in the house?” Dickce asked.

Mary Turner shook her head. “No, he’s not. I’ve texted him, but I’m not getting any response. I’m worried. He’s never gone off like this before without telling me where he was going.”

“Did you look to see if his car is in the garage?” An’gel asked.

“It’s there,” Mary Turner said. “I checked, but when my husband is worried or aggravated about something, he walks. Sometimes for miles, until he’s figured out the answer to a problem or he’s worn off his aggravation.”

“Then that’s probably what he’s doing now,” Dickce said.

“I wouldn’t worry, except that he always tells me when he’s going for one of these walks. This isn’t like him.”

“He may have stopped somewhere for a bite to eat,” An’gel said. “He never did get breakfast this morning, with all that was going on. He simply forgot to tell you he was going for a walk, and he’s too distracted to notice that you’ve texted. I’m sure it’s as simple as that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mary Turner said.

“Come sit right here by me and stop worrying about Henry Howard for a few minutes.” Dickce patted a spot next to her on the trunk. “We need to talk to you about other things, if you’re up to it.”

“All right.” Mary Turner did as Dickce asked. “What do you want to talk about?”

“First let me say that neither Dickce nor I believe you had anything to do with your cousin’s death,” An’gel said.

“Thank you,” Mary Turner replied. “Your support means a great deal to me. Serenity is being hateful. That’s the way she is.”

“I warned her to be careful about accusing you the way she has,” An’gel said. “The threat of a lawsuit got through to her, I think.”

“Her ex-husband is looking for anything he can get on her to keep her from having joint custody of their children,” Mary Turner said. “She really needs to be careful.”

“She seems to be in desperate need of money,” Dickce said. “All to do with this custody battle, from what I’ve heard.”

“I think so,” Mary Turner said.

“She seems to think her brother had plenty of money,” An’gel said. “Do you know whether she would benefit significantly from his death, by any chance?”

“Nathan inherited a lot of money from their parents, I do know that,” Mary Turner said, “but all Serenity got was a trust fund. A pretty hefty one, too, I think. Nathan probably had a will. He was careful about things like that. If it hadn’t been for his obsession over the French room, I think we would have gotten along fine.”

“If Nathan did leave a will,” Dickce said, “whom do you think he left his money and property to?”

Mary Turner shrugged. “My guess would be to either Serenity or to Truss Wilbanks. Nathan and Truss were still a couple, as far as I know.”