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“You’ve said that at least seven times in the last fifteen minutes,” Dickce said. “My nerves are every bit as strong as yours, Sister. I won’t be the one to spill the beans.”

“All right,” An’gel said. “No more admonitions, I promise.”

“I never knew that Emile Devereux was Mireille’s first beau,” Dickce said as she stared at the sign at the back of the building.

“I didn’t either, but it explains why she took refuge in the funeral home,” An’gel said. “Even though he married another woman, he still loved her, and she trusted her safety to him and his grandson.”

“Romantic, in a way,” Dickce said as she opened the door.

An’gel forbore to comment as she opened her own door and stepped out of the car. She checked her watch. Six forty-five. Right on schedule. “Come on,” she said and started briskly up the sidewalk and around to the front door.

“Good evening, ladies,” Emile’s grandson said as he opened the door for them. He ushered them into the parlor on the left side. “If you don’t mind waiting here, we’ll be opening the doors for the viewing at seven.” He winked.

An’gel suppressed a smile. Earlier when she had explained her plan to him and his grandfather, he had agreed to play his part enthusiastically. An’gel suspected that he was happy to do something that fell outside the usual pattern of the mortuary business.

He leaned close to An’gel and whispered, “The policemen are already in place in there.” An’gel nodded, and he went back to wait by the door.

She and Dickce walked into the parlor and chose two chairs to the back of the room. They wanted to be sure the chairs closest to the door were free for others.

The waiting was going to be the most difficult part, An’gel knew. She probably should have planned their arrival for a few minutes later, but she wanted to be there with Dickce before any of the others turned up.

Farley Montgomery was the next to arrive, and An’gel introduced him to her sister.

He bowed over Dickce’s hand and murmured, “Such a grievous occasion on which to meet, Miss Ducote.”

“Yes, it is,” Dickce said sadly.

The banker nodded and moved away to sit on a sofa at the side of the room. He crossed his bony left leg over the right, folded his hands, and rested them atop the knee.

An’gel and Dickce exchanged a quick glance. “See, what did I tell you?” An’gel whispered. Dickce raised her eyebrows in response.

The door opened, and Horace and Jacqueline walked in, accompanied by Trey. Jacqueline’s eyes were red, An’gel noted when they drew close, and she held a handkerchief to her nose.

Horace nodded to acknowledge them. Trey did the same before he sat a couple of chairs down from An’gel. Jacqueline maneuvered Horace to a chair in the front row and, when they were seated, leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder.

An’gel noted her goddaughter’s behavior and approved. Jacqueline was striking the right note for the occasion.

Next came Benjy, with Lance in tow. Lance appeared confused, but Benjy had a firm grip on his arm and steered him into a seat near Jacqueline. Benjy sat next to him. A close friend of Jacqueline’s was staying with Tippy, Peanut, and Endora at Willowbank.

Right on the dot of seven, Richmond Thurston walked into the funeral home. An’gel eyed him critically. He was properly dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and a dark tie. His expression was appropriate, a polite mixture of seriousness and sadness. He advanced into the room, moving straight toward Jacqueline. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Such a sad occasion,” he said as he drew back. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He nodded at Horace to include him.

“Thank you, Rich,” Jacqueline said with a little sob in her voice. “It would mean so much to
Maman
to know that you’re here.”

An’gel had the sudden urge to giggle but managed to suppress it. Dickce was the giggler in the family. She cut a swift look at her sister, but Dickce’s composure remained unruffled.

Emile Devereux, a tall, stately man soberly dressed as befit his profession, walked into the room. He surveyed the group for a moment before he spoke.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I apologize for the delay in the viewing, but Mireille Champlain was a very dear friend, and I wanted to take the utmost care to ensure that everything was done properly, as befits such a wonderful woman.” He turned and gestured toward the doors across the hall, and his grandson stepped forward to open them.

Richmond Thurston stood aside to let Horace and Jacqueline precede him, but he was close behind them. Lance appeared reluctant. Benjy propelled him gently, but firmly, toward the room. Trey trailed behind An’gel and Dickce with the banker, Farley Montgomery. Jackson had remained at Willowbank, where An’gel had encouraged him to stay for fear that the jolt of seeing Mireille still alive might be too much for him.

An’gel was pleased to note the dim lighting in the room. She shivered when she glanced toward the casket. She admired her cousin for having the fortitude to play the most important part in the final act of the charade. An’gel was simply glad she wasn’t the one in the casket.

“I’d like to go alone, if you don’t mind,” Jacqueline said to Horace in a clear voice that all could hear.

“Of course, my dear, if you’re sure,” Horace said. He stepped back to stand beside the lawyer. Jacqueline nodded and approached the casket.

She stood there for perhaps a minute, her back to everyone else in the room. She appeared to be praying. An’gel, from her vantage point slightly to one side, saw her goddaughter make the sign of the cross as she bowed her head.

An’gel heard a faint rustle behind her, and she glanced toward the doors into the foyer. Bugg and Sanford stood there. No one else seemed to have noticed their presence, and that was good.

Jacqueline stepped back from the casket after crossing herself again, and when she turned, An’gel saw tears streaming down her face. She dabbed at them with her handkerchief. When Horace reached out to her, she shook her head and motioned for him to take her place at the casket.

Horace looked a bit queasy, An’gel thought. A sign of guilt, perhaps? He stepped forward and stared down at his mother-in-law.

“She looks so life-like,” Horace said, loud enough for everyone to hear. He sounded surprised. He gazed at Mireille a moment longer, and then he turned to join his wife.

Richmond Thurston glanced solemnly at Jacqueline. He said again, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Then after a short pause he added, “She was such a wonderful woman.” He sighed and then walked up to the casket.

He stared down at Mireille as Horace and Jacqueline had done.

An’gel held her breath. Any moment now.

Suddenly Mireille sat up and yelled, “Thief! Murderer!” She pointed right at Thurston.

Thurston screamed and stumbled backward into Horace. Horace pushed the lawyer away. “It was all his idea!”
Horace yelled, the shock apparent on his face. “I didn’t want to, but he blackmailed me.”

“Shut up, you fool!” Thurston was breathing heavily as he continued to stare at Mireille sitting in the casket. Her finger still pointed at him.

“Thief! Murderer!” she yelled again.

“He killed Estelle,” Horace said, wringing his hands. “Oh, lord, it wasn’t me, you have to believe me.”

Thurston drew back his right arm and launched a vicious punch toward Horace’s face. At the last moment, Horace managed to duck, and the lawyer’s fist missed him.

Bugg stepped forward, along with Sanford, and grabbed hold of Thurston. “Richmond Thurston,” he intoned solemnly, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Sondra Delevan and Estelle Winwood.”

Thurston struggled to break loose, but to no avail. “I didn’t kill Sondra, I swear to God. I was going to marry her, you idiot!”

Bugg paid no attention. Sanford managed to get the cuffs on the lawyer, and the policemen escorted him out.

“Will someone help me out of this thing?” Mireille demanded. “I want to get out now.”

Emile Devereux and his grandson hurried to assist her out of the casket.

Jacqueline, in the meanwhile, was berating her husband for his part in Thurston’s plan. “How could you, Horace? I trusted you, and this is how you repay me? How you repay
Maman
?”

Whatever response Horace was about to make was drowned out by a loud yell.

“Stop him.”

An’gel turned in time to see Benjy and Trey lunging after Lance. They each managed to grab an arm before he got out the front door in the wake of the police. They dragged him back in the room, yelling, kicking, and trying to bite his captors.

Mireille walked up to him and screamed his name. The moment he focused on her, she drew back her hand and slapped him so hard his neck snapped back, and he fainted. Mireille stepped aside, holding her hand gingerly.

“That felt good,” she said.

“Why did you do that?” Jacqueline asked.

“To stop him from trying to get away,” Mireille said. “Also because he killed Sondra. I believed Thurston when he said he didn’t kill her.”

“But he did kill Estelle,” An’gel said. “I’m sure Bugg will find some kind of evidence that she was trying to blackmail him.”

“I’m sure he will, too,” Mireille said. “I imagine Estelle figured out he was the one behind the destruction of my treasures and then thought she could extort money from him. I don’t know if I could ever have forgiven her for that kind of betrayal.”

CHAPTER 37

A
n’gel looked at her sister. “What did you say?”

Dickce grinned. “I
said
, I am
so
happy to be home, I could run through the house naked and screaming.”

“Sister,” An’gel hissed. “Have you lost your mind? You shouldn’t say things like that where Benjy can hear you.”

“Oh, pish tosh, An’gel.” Dickce waved a hand in a negligently dismissive gesture. “He was probably halfway to the kitchen with Peanut and Endora by the time that came out of my mouth.”

An’gel knew when to give in, and besides, right now she was too frazzled to argue anymore. The drive back from St. Ignatiusville had tired them all out, especially after the events of the past few days. Peanut and Endora had been fractious in the car, requiring Benjy to devote attention to them every few minutes. The fact that Dickce, who had insisted on driving them home so Benjy could see to the
animals, looked at speed limits as suggestions to be regarded at whim had done little to soothe An’gel’s frayed nerves. An’gel was seriously considering asking Clementine to serve Bloody Marys at lunch, which should be on the table in about twenty minutes.

Her mind kept returning to the confrontation in the funeral home two days before like a movie reel that wouldn’t stop. She would never forget the sight of her cousin popping up in the casket to accuse Richmond Thurston. She could laugh now, but at the time she was too nervous to see the humorous side of it.

She grinned. The lawyer had screamed like a toddler who had been frightened out of his wits. She also wondered if he’d had any other involuntary reactions but reprimanded herself for the unladylike thought. The main thing was, the thieving, murdering rat was in custody. She expressed that thought aloud to Dickce.

“Yes, thank goodness, he is.” Dickce sighed. “I’m only sorry that he wasn’t responsible for Sondra’s death as well as Estelle’s.”

“Why on earth would you say that?” An’gel demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dickce said. She slipped her shoes off and swung her feet onto the sofa. “Ah, that’s better. My legs are tired from driving for nearly six hours.”

From speeding, you mean
, An’gel wanted to say. “I offered to take a turn, and so did Benjy,” she reminded her sister.

“Yes, and we’d still be on the road as slow as the two of you drive,” Dickce retorted.

An’gel didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she said, “Back to what you were saying about the lawyer and wishing he had done both murders. Again I ask you, why?”

“I feel sorry for Lance, I suppose.” Dickce wiggled her toes. “The poor boy has such a limited intellect, do you think the judge will go easy on him?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” An’gel said. She also felt sorry for Lance, but she thought his general stupidity wasn’t an excuse. She expressed this thought to her sister.

Dickce snickered. “I guess you have a point. I mean, how many killers are actually dumb enough to drive around with the murder weapon in the trunk of their cars?”

The news yesterday that the police had found a missing andiron from the fireplace in Sondra’s bedroom in the trunk of Lance’s car had shocked everyone. The blood and bits of other matter clinging to it, along with Lance’s fingerprints all over it, were enough to keep him in custody as well until he could be arraigned along with Richmond Thurston.

“Probably more than you realize,” An’gel said. “Dumb as the poor boy is, at least he didn’t try to harm Tippy, though he must have known she overheard his argument with Sondra.”

Benjy came back from the kitchen, followed closely by Peanut and Endora. He bore a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, three tall glasses with ice, and two small bowls of fresh boiled chicken. He set the tray down, poured lemonade for the sisters, and then put the two bowls down for the animals. An’gel was relieved that he chose a spot not covered by the antique Aubusson carpet. The hardwood would be much easier to clean. Then Benjy poured a glass for himself and took a chair near the sofa.

Benjy raised his glass. “I propose a toast to a safe return home.”

“Hear, hear,” An’gel said, and Dickce nodded. They both raised their glasses, then all three took hearty sips.

The cool liquid felt wonderful going down, and An’gel relaxed even further.

“What were you discussing?” Benjy asked. “I thought I caught Lance’s name when I was coming down the hall.”

“We were talking about him and how I felt sorry for him,” Dickce said. “An’gel, perhaps not so much.”

“He is kind of sad and pitiful,” Benjy said. “Poor guy is the dumbest person I’ve ever met. Too bad he has such a violent temper.”

“The ironic thing is that Sondra and Lance were so much alike,” An’gel said.