1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart (13 page)

D
ickce’s heart sank. “A dog and a cat, you say?”

“Yes’m. Little bitty cat, kinda red-looking. Dog’s about twenty-five pounds, blond-colored, I guess you’d call it.” He stared hopefully at her.

“Why don’t you step inside, where it’s cooler.” Dickce moved back and motioned for him to come inside.

“Naw, that’s all right, ma’am.” He glanced down at his feet. “I got mud all over my boots, and I sure don’t want to mess up your floor. The heat ain’t bothering me none.”

“Very well, then.” Dickce stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Outside was better anyway, she decided. She didn’t want An’gel coming along and overhearing this conversation.

Upon closer inspection, she thought the man looked familiar. She had probably seen him in town somewhere or else driving a tractor on the highway. He looked like a farmer.

“I’m Dickce Ducote,” she said. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember if we’ve met.”

“Oh, everyone around here knows you, ma’am.” The man smiled shyly. “I’m Claud Thayer. My farm’s not far from here, back the other way from Athena.”

Dickce nodded. “You were saying, Mr. Thayer, you’re looking for a dog and a cat? Are they yours?”

“Kinda,” he said. “They was my mama’s, and she passed away about a week ago. She didn’t have them long, and I ain’t got time to look after no animals in the house.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Dickce said. She vaguely recalled seeing an obituary for a Mrs. Thayer in the local paper recently. “Did the animals run away from the house?”

Thayer shook his head. “Naw, they was in the back of the truck. I was taking ’em to town to that animal shelter. I know they take animals and try to find ’em a good home.” He looked troubled. “I hated not to keep ’em, seeing they was my mama’s, and she sure did love ’em. But they’re young, and they need attention, and I can’t give it to them, the way I work.”

Dickce felt better now. Mr. Thayer seemed like a good man who only wanted what was best for the animals. If he had been unpleasant, she was prepared to lie through her teeth to keep him away from the two pets.

“We did find your missing animals,” she said. “A friend and I were driving to town this morning. We picked them up and took them to the veterinarian to be checked out.”

“I’m glad you found ’em before they got hit by a car. I still don’t know when they got out of the truck. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention, and they just jumped out. I looked up and down the road but I couldn’t find ’em nowhere.”

“Were they loose in the back of your pickup?” Dickce tried to keep the censure out of her tone. She didn’t approve of animals riding in the beds of pickups like that, but it was standard practice with farmers and hunters around here.

“Yes’m,” Claud Thayer said. “I reckon that wasn’t the smartest thing I could’a done, but I was in a hurry to get to town and back. Got a lot of plowing to do, you see.”

“They probably did jump out then,” Dickce said. “They weren’t hurt, as far as I could tell. As I said, the veterinarian in town is checking them over.”

Thayer started to speak, but Dickce forestalled him, certain of what he was about to say. “Don’t worry about the vet’s bill. I took them, and I will pay whatever the charges are.” She looked the farmer straight in the eye. “I would like to keep them here, if you have no objection, Mr. Thayer. They will have a good home with me and my sister.” She tensed slightly, waiting for him to protest.

Thayer smiled. “That sounds mighty fine to me, Miss Ducote, ma’am. Mama would rise from the grave and haunt me the rest of my life if I didn’t find a good home for her babies. You have relieved my burden, and I thank you.”

Dickce was deeply touched by the man’s heartfelt words, and she could feel the tears starting to form. “Your mama can rest easy. They’ll have a good home.” She sniffed. “What are their names? If they’re already used to them, it might be better not to change them.”

“Mama called the dog Peanut ’cause she said he was the color of a peanut hull right out of the ground.” He smiled. “That’s a good name for a dog, I reckon. She called the cat after somebody on her favorite TV show. Reckon it was because the cat’s red. Ain’t never seen a cat that color before.”

“It is unusual,” Dickce said. “What is the name?”

“Endora,” Thayer replied. “Mama loved the
Bewitched
program because she thought that Agnes Moorehead on there was such a pistol.”

Dickce laughed. “She sure was. It sounds like a good name to me. Thank you, Mr. Thayer.”

The farmer nodded. “And I thank you, ma’am. I can rest easy now knowing Mama’s babies are going to be happy here.” He ducked his head and headed for his truck.

Dickce watched for a moment. She uttered a brief prayer of thanks before she went back inside.

An’gel was coming down the hall toward her. “Who was that? It wasn’t Kanesha, was it?”

Dickce shook her head. “No, only some farmer looking for missing animals.” She hoped An’gel would leave it at that and not ask for details.

An’gel grimaced. “Farmers need to keep their fences up better. We don’t need cows out on the highway. Someone could get killed.”

“You’re right,” Dickce said, relieved. “We surely don’t need cows loose out there.” Before An’gel could pursue the subject any further, Dickce asked, “Were you serious about giving Antonio my room? Why don’t we let him stay at the Farrington House if Rosabelle doesn’t want him in her room?”

An’gel looked exasperated. “It’s fine with me if he wants to go to a hotel. I felt I had to make the offer, though, because he
is
Rosabelle’s husband. It will depend on what Rosabelle has to say. I wish she would come downstairs.”

Dickce glanced up. “Here she comes now,” she said in an undertone. “At least I
think
it’s Rosabelle.”

The vision of glamour moving slowly down the marble stars didn’t look much like the Rosabelle who had arrived yesterday. Gone was the dowdy dress, replaced by a form-fitting silk sheath in a brilliant red. Rosabelle was indeed thinner than Dickce remembered from the last time she had visited, but certain parts of her anatomy were still shapely. Ropes of pearls lay across her bosom, framing a diamond pendant. More diamonds winked from her ears, and her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun at the nape of her neck. A diamond and pearl hair clip adorned the left side of her head, and Dickce saw more jewels on her hands. Red leather stilettos on her feet, Rosabelle moved with catlike grace. She reached the bottom of the stairs and walked toward Dickce and An’gel.

“Juanita tells me that my wandering husband has returned,” she said, her voice throatier and more languid than they had heard before. “Where is he?”

“In the dining room,” An’gel said.

Dickce couldn’t take her eyes off Rosabelle. She had never seen a transformation to match this one. Now she felt she could understand her old sorority sister’s fascination for men like Antonio Mingione.

“Would you be a dear and tell him I would like to see him in the parlor?” Without waiting for a response, Rosabelle oozed forward into the parlor.

“I certainly will not,” An’gel said, but too late for Rosabelle to hear. She turned to Dickce. “Have you ever seen anything like that in your life?”

“Sure beats television.” Dickce grinned. “I’ll be happy to inform the Conti di San Lorenzo that the Contessa is ready to receive him.”

“You do that,” An’gel said. “I’m going to the kitchen to talk to Clementine about dinner.” She walked off in a huff.

Dickce headed for the dining room. She was trying to think of a way to include herself in Rosabelle’s conversation with her husband. She was dying to hear what Rosabelle would say to him.

As she neared the dining room, she could hear Antonio talking. In Italian, she realized when she reached the doorway. He had a cell phone to his ear.

“
Sì, sì, carissimo
.
È necessario essere pazienti
.
Vorrei per il divorzio.”
He paused. “
Sì, prometto, mio caro. Non appena è saggio. Sì, sì
.
Prometto, prometto.
” He glanced toward the doorway and spotted Dickce. “
Ciao
.” He ended the call.

“Antonio,” Dickce said, her expression bland. “I am so sorry to interrupt you, but Rosabelle is downstairs now and would like you to join her in the parlor.”

Antonio gave her an odd look, but then he smiled. “How delightful. I am eager to see my lovely wife. I will go to her now.”

Dickce stood aside to let him pass, then followed him down the hall. She was determined to witness his reunion with Rosabelle somehow.

Especially since he’d been talking to someone on the phone about a divorce.

D
ickce’s Italian was rusty. The last time she and An’gel had traveled to Italy was seven years ago. She recalled enough of it, however, to get the gist of Antonio’s conversation. He had promised someone that he would talk about a divorce. He had told the other person to be patient.

The really interesting thing was that the person on the other end of the conversation was a man.
Mio caro
, Antonio had said.
My beloved
, but the gender of the Italian phrase was clearly masculine. Not
mia cara
, as one would expect with a woman.

Perhaps Antonio had been speaking to his son. What was the name he had mentioned? Benedetto. The Italian for Benedict. Dickce supposed it wasn’t all that strange for an Italian man to refer to his son in such a way. Italians were more emotionally expressive than Southern men—that was for sure.

It still sounded a bit odd, Dickce decided, as she followed Antonio all the way to the door of the parlor. She stayed a couple of steps behind, and he didn’t seem to realize she was right there with him.

He strode in, arms outstretched. “Rosabella,
cara mia
, I am so happy to see you. I told you I would return to you as soon as I could.”

Dickce crept to the edge of the door and peered in. Rosabelle stood at the fireplace, from which vantage point she stared coolly at her husband. As Dickce watched, Rosabelle held out a hand and allowed Antonio to take it. He bowed and kissed it, then straightened.

Rosabelle still had not spoken. Antonio held out his hands. “This is how you greet your beloved husband after he returns to you? Do not be so cold, cara, for I bring you wonderful news that will make you so, so happy.”

Rosabelle proffered a cheek, and Antonio stepped forward to bestow a kiss. “Your news had better be wonderful after the way you deserted me, you cad.” She tossed her head. “I could have been murdered at any time without you here to protect me. I will have more to say about that in a moment.” She moved away from the fireplace and sat on the sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. “Come tell me your news first.”

Dickce wished she had her cell phone with her. She would love to have video to show An’gel later when she told her about this touching reunion à la Barbara Cartland.

“The lawyers have rescued me,” Antonio said. “My inheritance is safe, and I no longer have need of your money. Is that not wonderful, my dear? Everything has been restored to me, and I am once again a wealthy man. A wealthy man with a wife who is bellissima.”

He certainly loved that word, Dickce thought.
Most beautiful
, indeed. She almost snorted but caught herself in time.

“The
palazzo
in Venice, the country estate, the factory in Milan, and the buildings in Rome? All definitely yours now?”

Rosabelle sounded so mercenary.

“Yes, my dear, I can take you to Italy now and present you as the Contessa di San Lorenzo. You will love the
palazzo
, I assure you. It will be my delight to show you
Venezia
. And to show you to Venezia.”

Oh, brother
. The corn harvest bid fair to be substantial, if he kept this up. Dickce had to clap a hand over her mouth to contain her mirth.

“You will finally be able to fulfill your promises to me, then.” Rosabelle touched his cheek briefly. Then she turned away. “It was almost too late.”

“What do you mean, Rosabella?” Antonio sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Did An’gel not tell you about what happened in this very house yesterday?”

“She did tell me about the accident, yes, how the wife of your son fell down the stairs and died,” he said. “She also said it was not really an accident, but I did not understand completely what she meant.”

“It was an attempt to murder me,” Rosabelle said in a flat tone. “One of my dear family put water on those stairs out there, waiting for me to slip and fall and break my neck.” She laughed, a little wildly, Dickce thought. “Stupid Marla, however, saved my life. She went down before me and died instead.”

“These stories you have been telling me then, about a person who wants to harm you, they are true?” Antonio shook his head. “I do not understand, my dear. Why would one of them want to do such a terrible thing?”

“They all
hate
me,” Rosabelle said. “Except perhaps for dear Juanita, although she does pester me for money sometimes.” Her voice rose as she continued. “That’s all they care about. The money. They want me dead so they can have it all for themselves.”

Antonio seized her hands and held them. “Calm yourself, cara. Now that I have returned, you will be safe. I will not let anyone harm you.” He pulled a now-willing Rosabelle into his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Signorina An’gel tells me that a capable person is investigating and will soon know who did this terrible thing.”

“So An’gel says,” Rosabelle said as she lifted her head. “I have my doubts. But An’gel knows the woman, and An’gel is shrewd, if nothing else. You must stay by my side, Antonio. Now that you are here, I will be able to rest.” She sighed. “I know I look haggard and careworn because I have lost so much sleep.”

Rosabelle was even more shameless than Dickce remembered. Men could be such fools at times.

“You are as lovely as ever, cara mia,” Antonio said. He kissed her cheek. “Do not tell me such silly things.”

His mouth moved to hers, and Dickce looked away. Eavesdropping was one thing, but she drew the line at watching them necking.

After a moment, the embrace evidently ended. Rosabelle laughed in a way that Dickce figured was intended to be seductive. “Tell me more about your business with the lawyers. Did you talk to them about everything you promised me?”

Dickce peeked into the room again. Rosabelle had a stern expression, and Antonio was looking away from her.

“Yes, cara, I did talk to them, but it is not so easy, you understand, to change the will. I must think of Benedetto. He is my son.”

“So you say.” Rosabelle tossed her head.

A voice whispered somewhere near Dickce’s ear. “What
are
you doing?”

Startled, Dickce drew back from the doorway to see An’gel, hands on hips, glaring at her. Dickce motioned for An’gel to follow her as she moved across the hall to stand in front of the library door. She could hear the murmur from the television set through the partially open door. She pulled it gently shut. No need to disturb Wade and Junior.

“What do you think I was doing?” she said crossly. “I was spying on Rosabelle and Antonio. You picked a fine time to interrupt me. They were talking about Antonio’s will.”

“I don’t care what they were talking about, Dickce. Your behavior is outrageous,” An’gel said. “What if they had caught you? Think how embarrassing that would be.”

“Rosabelle loves an audience, you know that.” Dickce snickered. “It was quite a performance, let me tell you.” She did feel a tad guilty over her violation of the rules of hospitality, but she wasn’t about to admit it to her sister.

“What goes on between Rosabelle and her husband is no business of ours,” An’gel said.

“Even if it’s pertinent to these attempts on Rosabelle’s life?”

An’gel stared at her for a moment, and Dickce could tell she had hooked her fish. “Pertinent how?” An’gel said.

“If I understood everything correctly,” Dickce said, “Rosabelle evidently gave Antonio a lot of money. His affairs were in a mess, and he had to have the lawyers in Italy get it all sorted out, which they did. He now has control of his inheritance, as he called it. A palazzo in Venice, a factory in Milan, buildings in Rome, and a country estate. I think he might even have tried to change his will to include Rosabelle—but that’s where you interrupted me.”

“I don’t see how it’s all that pertinent,” An’gel said after a few moments’ thought. “Let’s say that Antonio is worth millions, and he includes Rosabelle in his will. He would have to die before her for her to inherit any of it. So why would someone try to kill her before she had a chance to inherit from him? Seems to me he would be the first target.”

“You saw how Wade and Maudine reacted to him,” Dickce said. “They apparently think he’s a gold digger with no money of his own. Once they find out he really is rich, they will feel differently, you can bet on that.”

“I wonder if Antonio is in Rosabelle’s will,” An’gel said. “Oh, what’s the use of all this speculation? I don’t think any of this is helpful.”

“There’s a bit more that you haven’t heard yet,” Dickce said. “I’m not sure if it’s relevant, but you might as well hear it anyway.” She gave her sister a summary of the phone conversation she had overheard.

“You’re sure about the gender of the person on the other end?” An’gel asked.

“He was talking fast,” Dickce said, “but I’m sure I heard it correctly.”

“He was talking to his son, surely,” An’gel said. “But the part about a divorce is certainly interesting. What do you want to bet he latched on to Rosabelle and her money so he could afford to pay the lawyers in Italy to get his inheritance back? Now that he has, he may be planning to divorce her.”

Dickce shrugged. “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“He’s slick, I’ll give him that.” An’gel sniffed. “He didn’t fool me for a minute, though.”

“No, of course not,” Dickce said, trying hard not to laugh. They had both been charmed by the man at first, no matter what An’gel was claiming now.

Footsteps on marble sounded above them, and Dickce looked up to see Juanita descending the stairs, plates in hand. Dickce started forward to meet her.

“Let me take those,” she said when Juanita reached the bottom.

“I don’t mind taking them to the kitchen,” Juanita said. “I’m going that way anyway. I thought I might have a bit more lunch.”

“Please help yourself,” An’gel said. “Thank you for taking care of all that.”

Juanita smiled as she headed down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I think they’ve had enough time alone,” An’gel said. “Come on, let’s go talk to the happy couple.”

Dickce wondered what her sister had in mind. She shrugged and followed An’gel.

They met Rosabelle and Antonio, arm in arm, coming out of the parlor. “There you are,” Rosabelle said with a slight smile. “I was just coming to find you. Would you be a dear and tell everyone that Antonio and I have news we would like to share with them?”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked back into the parlor, taking Antonio with her.