1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart (3 page)

“I
did
not
just hear the doorbell,” Dickce muttered as she neared the kitchen. “But if I did, it’s An’gel’s turn to answer it.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?” An’gel’s tart tone stopped her sister three steps into the room.

“I do enjoy intelligent conversation,” Dickce said, “so I suppose I must have been.” She crossed her arms and stared at her sister.

Diesel sat at An’gel’s feet, too entranced by the piece of chicken breast his hostess held to pay attention to the new arrival. He chirped and extended a paw to tap An’gel’s hand.

“The poor boy has been hiding in here,” An’gel said as she tore off another bite and dropped it for the cat. Diesel snapped it up before it could hit the floor. “I thought he deserved a treat. I certainly can’t blame him for wanting to hide from our visitors.”

“If I hide in here, will you feed me, too?” Dickce giggled. “Maybe Diesel and I will move into the kitchen until they’re gone.”

Diesel batted at An’gel’s hand again, for she was obviously too slow in dispensing his treat. An’gel gazed down at him, her expression stern. “Now, would a true gentleman behave that way?”

The cat warbled and tapped An’gel’s foot with his paw.

“I think he just apologized,” Dickce said, trying hard not to laugh.

“I’ll take it as such.” An’gel brandished another bite of chicken. “This is it.”

Diesel waited silently, and after a moment An’gel gave him the last piece. He made it disappear almost immediately and then began to purr.

An’gel moved to the sink to wash her hands. As she rinsed them, she said, “Didn’t I hear the doorbell?”

Dickce nodded as a second soft peal of chimes reached them. “I decided it was your turn to answer it.”

“Honestly, Sister.” An’gel shook her head. She finished drying her hands and dropped the cloth on the counter. “One would think you were ten years old sometimes instead of almost eighty.” She headed out of the kitchen as Clementine emerged from the back porch.

Both Dickce and Diesel sniffed as they caught the scent of Clementine’s cigarette. She had cut way back, Dickce knew, because An’gel had fussed at her, concerned for the housekeeper’s health, but she refused to give up smoking completely.

While Diesel rubbed against her legs, Dickce said, “I think we may have even more company. The doorbell rang a minute ago, and I sent An’gel to answer it.”

“More of Miss Rosabelle’s family?” Clementine went to the sink to wash her hands. She glanced over her shoulder at Dickce, who shrugged in response. “Miss An’gel’s been telling me some of Miss Rosabelle’s troubles. Why does Miss An’gel want all those people in the house, you reckon?”

“I think she wants to pretend she’s Jessica Fletcher.” Dickce smiled. Clementine was as big a fan of
Murder, She Wrote
as Dickce and An’gel were.

Clementine frowned. “Well, Miss Dickce, you know when Jessica Fletcher comes to the house, something bad’s gonna happen.” Her hands clean and dry, she turned to face Dickce.

“I’m trying not to think about that.” Dickce smiled. “I’m hoping this turns out to be an overactive imagination on Rosabelle’s part, and we can send them all on their way back to California in a couple of days.”

Diesel warbled loudly as if in agreement, and both women laughed.

“He may be spending a lot of time in the kitchen with you,” Dickce said. “I don’t think he’s going to take too well to Rosabelle’s clan.”

“I don’t mind the company.” Clementine went to the refrigerator and pulled out a large bowl with a chicken marinating inside it. She set it on the counter. “I’d best get to cutting this up and get it ready to fry. I sure hope it’s enough because it’s the only one I got ready.” She glanced at Dickce. “Though I reckon there’s a casserole or two I could defrost.”

“Go ahead and defrost them, and if casseroles and chicken aren’t enough, our guests will just have to fill up on bread or vegetables.” Dickce scratched Diesel’s head, happy to hear the cat’s rumbling purr.

An’gel stepped into the kitchen and called, “Sister, come meet the latest arrivals.” Without waiting for a response, she disappeared out the door, and Dickce sighed. She knew she had no choice.

“The rest of the family, no doubt,” Dickce muttered. Diesel chirped as he accompanied her out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door. “I hope you don’t regret leaving the kitchen,” Dickce told the cat.

Four people—two women who looked to be in their late fifties and a younger man and woman—stood near the front door conversing with An’gel. As Dickce and Diesel approached, An’gel said brightly, “And here is my sister, Dickce, and our feline houseguest, Diesel. Sister, these are Rosabelle’s daughters and grandchildren.” She paused. “They came in search of Rosabelle, and I assured them she is fine. They will be staying with us for a day or two.”

“How do you do?” Dickce said as she and the cat halted near An’gel. She examined the group as closely as she could without appearing to stare. Rosabelle’s daughters favored their mother, though both were plumper and better dressed. The grandson, a tall, weedy-looking specimen of about twenty-five, blinked at Dickce through rimless glasses and offered a shy smile. The granddaughter, the one beauty in the family, as far as Dickce could see, had a lovely hourglass figure, auburn hair, green eyes, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. She did not resemble her mother, aunt, or cousin much, and Dickce reckoned her father must be a mighty handsome man to overcome the Sultan family genes.

The granddaughter, who looked to be about the same age as her cousin, stepped forward, hand extended. “How do you do, Miss Ducote? I’m Juanita Cameron.”

Dickce shook her hand. “My pleasure, Miss Cameron.” She thought it odd that the granddaughter spoke first, rather than Rosabelle’s elder daughter.

Juanita Cameron smiled, and Dickce couldn’t help but respond in kind. Juanita turned and indicated one of the women behind her. “This is my mother, Bernice Cameron.”

The slightly plumper, slightly taller of the two women nodded and murmured a greeting.

“And this is my aunt, Maudine Pittman, and her son, my cousin, Newton. We call him Junior, because he’s named after my uncle.”

Newton stepped forward, ostensibly to shake Dickce’s hand, but he stumbled—over nothing that Dickce could see—and barely missed stepping on the cat at her feet. Diesel jumped out of the way in time.

Newton muttered an apology, and his mother spoke over him. “You’ll have to forgive my son, Miss Ducote. His intentions are good, but he could trip over a piece of lint on the floor.”

The young man flushed unbecomingly at his mother’s sharp words, and Dickce felt sorry for him. She offered Maudine Pittman her frostiest of glances and said, “Good manners never harmed anyone.” She held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Pittman.”

Newton’s eyes widened as he gazed at Dickce. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he took her hand. Dickce heard the genuine gratitude in his voice and smiled again. He blushed and stepped back, narrowly missing his cousin.

“What kind of cat is Diesel, Miss Ducote?” Juanita shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house cat that large. Have you, Mother?” Diesel chirped and moved closer to rub himself against the young woman’s legs.

Bernice Cameron sniffed. “No, can’t say as I have. Be careful about getting hair all over your stockings. Those animals shed terribly.”

Juanita Cameron laughed. “A little cat hair isn’t going to hurt anyone, Mother. Diesel is absolutely beautiful, don’t you think so, Junior?”

Her cousin nodded, and Dickce decided that Rosabelle’s grandchildren had by some miracle turned out well. She couldn’t say the same for Rosabelle’s children, however. They didn’t have the manners the good Lord gave a billy goat.

“I’d like to speak to Mother and assure myself that she came to no harm during the drive here,” Maudine announced. “Which room is hers?” She took a step forward past her sister.

“Rosabelle was a bit tired when she arrived,” An’gel said, her tone chilly. “She is now resting comfortably in her room, and I am sure she would much prefer
not
to be disturbed until dinnertime.”

“
Well
.” Maudine packed a lot of irritation and affront into that one syllable. Dickce had to stifle a laugh.

An’gel regarded the four impassively. “Mr. and Mrs. Thurmond arrived a little while ago and are upstairs in their room.” She paused. “I am afraid that Mrs. Cameron and Mrs. Pittman will need to share a room. Mr. Pittman, there is a small apartment over the garage out back that should suit you.”

“Sounds fine to me. Thank you, ma’am,” Junior said. He actually looked relieved, Dickce thought.
Probably glad to be as far away from his mother as possible
.

“What about my daughter?” Bernice Cameron frowned at An’gel. “Isn’t there a bedroom for her?”

“Unfortunately there isn’t,” An’gel said. “There is, however, a trundle bed in Rosabelle’s room that should suffice. If Mr. Pittman and Mr. Thurmond won’t mind, I’ll ask them to move it into your room, Mrs. Pittman.”

“The trundle bed sounds like fun.” Juanita Cameron smiled. “No, Mother, really, I’ve always wondered what one is like. But perhaps it could stay in Granny’s room, and I could sleep there? I’m a nurse, and I can look after Granny when she isn’t feeling well.”

Dickce was relieved that An’gel hadn’t suggested she move in with her sister. They had not shared a bedroom since they were young girls, and she didn’t relish the thought of doing it now. But would Rosabelle want her granddaughter in her room with her? she wondered.

“If Rosabelle has no objection,” An’gel said, “that is fine with me. I will ask her once she has finished resting. Now, if you will follow me, I will show the ladies to their room. Dickce will be happy to go with you, Mr. Pittman, to the garage apartment and check it out.” She did not wait for a reply but turned and headed for the stairs.

Bernice and Maudine glanced at each other, then followed their hostess. Juanita paused to smile at Dickce before she trailed after them.

Dickce turned to Junior Pittman. “If you will come with me, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

Junior blushed. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s awfully kind of you and your sister to put us up like this. I know it’s a terrible imposition.” He stared at the floor.

Dickce could tell he was embarrassed by his family. “That’s quite all right. Don’t you even think about it.” At her feet, Diesel warbled as if he agreed with her.

The young man smiled at the cat. “He sounds like he’s trying to talk.”

“He is,” Dickce said. “He can be pretty chatty. Now let’s go out the front.” She thought it better not to disturb Clementine in the kitchen just now.

Cat and man followed her outside, and they walked without speaking along the driveway as it branched off behind the house. The garage, converted from the cookhouse it had been until the end of the Civil War, stood about fifty yards behind the mansion. It had room for three cars, and at the moment it held the sisters’ late-model Lexus and Rosabelle’s dusty Cadillac.

Dickce headed for a door near the empty slot and tugged it open. She reached in and flipped the light switch to illuminate the cramped staircase. Diesel scampered ahead of her and was about halfway up the stairs when he stopped, head extended, sniffing.

Probably mice
, Dickce thought. It had been a few months since anyone had checked the place.

She turned to offer an apology for the apartment’s likely condition but instead froze, her mouth open.

Above them, the floorboards creaked, the sound much too loud to be caused by a mouse.

A
n’gel opened the door of the second guest room and stood aside to let the women enter. Maudine brushed past her, still obviously rankled by An’gel’s refusal to let her check on Rosabelle.

“I suppose this will do,” Maudine said. Bernice nodded with a tentative smile at her hostess.

Annoyed by the rude tone, An’gel suspected that Maudine, as the elder of the two, took the lead in everything, leaving Bernice to follow meekly in her wake. Thank goodness Dickce had more gumption. An’gel couldn’t abide women who didn’t speak up for themselves.

Juanita slipped past An’gel to stand beside her mother. “What a lovely room,” she said, her face alight with obvious pleasure. “Miss Ducote, does all the furniture date from the antebellum period?”

An’gel noted that Maudine frowned at her niece’s enthusiasm. “Yes, it does, although the mattress is modern, I can assure you. You should find it comfortable.”

“What about the bathroom?” Maudine glanced around the room. “There’s only one door in here, and that has to be a closet.”

“The bathroom is next door,” An’gel replied, her tone pleasant despite the other woman’s rudeness. “You will be sharing it with your mother.”

“Oh, dear,” Bernice muttered with a glance at her sister.

“I suppose you have to expect it in an old house like this.” Maudine sniffed. “My house in California has four bedrooms, and each one has its own bathroom.”

Juanita frowned at her aunt. “Before this, I’ve never had the opportunity to be a guest in a house with such a long history, Miss Ducote. I’m sure I’ll enjoy every minute I spend here.”

An’gel smiled at the young woman. At least one member of Rosabelle’s family had manners, though An’gel had to wonder how on earth Juanita had learned them. Miss Manners would have a field day with the rest of the clan.

“Thank you.” An’gel noted that Maudine didn’t appear to have paid any attention to Juanita’s rebuke, although Bernice at least had the grace to appear slightly abashed.

“Where did you put Wade and Marla?” Maudine asked.

“They have the guest room upstairs,” An’gel said.

“Don’t tell me we have to share the bathroom with them, too?” Maudine glowered at An’gel.

“No, there is a bathroom upstairs,” An’gel said, already anticipating Maudine’s sour reaction to this bit of news.

“I can’t believe Marla gets a private bathroom while we have to share one.”

The way Maudine’s nostrils flared, An’gel thought, she looked like an irritated horse. Dickce was hard put not to laugh.

Bernice touched her sister’s arm. “Now, Maudine, it won’t be that bad. It wouldn’t be right for Wade to have to share a bathroom with Mother, after all.”

Maudine frowned at her sister. Before she could speak, however, Juanita intervened. “Perhaps it would be better if we went to a hotel. I’m sure you can recommend a good one in town, Miss Ducote?”

Both Maudine and Bernice appeared aghast at Juanita’s suggestion. Maudine opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Appreciative of the young woman’s tactics, An’gel nodded and smiled. “The Farrington House is the oldest and most highly regarded hotel in Athena. I’d be more than happy to call and make a reservation.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure we’ll be perfectly comfortable here.” Maudine smiled weakly. “After all, it is really kind of you to open your home to us like this.”

Maudine changed her mind pretty quickly, An’gel was amused to note. She was also pleased that the woman finally made an effort to behave in a more polite fashion.

“My sister and I are delighted to help our old friend and her family. I’m sure you all must be in need of refreshment,” An’gel said briskly. “If you would care to join me in the front parlor in about ten minutes, there will be iced tea for you. Miss Cameron, we’ll get you settled once your grandmother is finished resting.” She paused long enough to get nods from the sisters and a broad grin from Juanita before she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

An’gel had begun to descend the stairs when she heard whistling from nearby. Startled, she turned to her left to see Rosabelle, her door cracked about two inches, mouth pursed to whistle again.

An’gel approached the room, and Rosabelle stood back to let her enter. She closed the door and leaned against it.

“What are
they
doing here?” she asked.

“The same as the rest of your family, I suppose,” An’gel replied tartly. “They’ve come to check on you.”

“To murder me, you mean,” Rosabelle muttered. She moved away from the door and sank into a chair in front of the vanity. “I have nowhere else to go and no money to get anywhere either. So I guess I’m stuck.” She closed her eyes and sighed.

“You ought to be safe enough here,” An’gel said. “They’d have to be crazy to try to harm you while you’re our guest.” Given what she had observed thus far of Rosabelle’s family, she couldn’t put a lot of conviction in her tone. She felt she had to try to reassure her old sorority sister, though.

Rosabelle’s eyes popped open. “You don’t know how desperate they are.” She shuddered. “They would throw me to a pack of ravenous dogs if they thought they could get away with it.”

An’gel wanted to shake her. She understood that Rosabelle was badly frightened, but her tendency to overdramatize got old quickly.

“There’s no pack of ravenous dogs here, and you’re certainly not Jezebel,” she said in a mild tone. “So you’re safe from that.”

Rosabelle glowered at her, and An’gel thought how much Maudine resembled her mother. “I’m glad you find my situation so humorous.”

All at once An’gel felt tired, so she went over and sat on the bed. Maybe Dickce had been right to suggest that she throw the whole clan out. Why had she even agreed to let them stay in the first place?

Because I am accustomed to thinking that I can fix anything I set my mind to
, she acknowledged ruefully to herself.
And in my arrogance I just might have mixed Sister and me up in something nasty
.

She realized Rosabelle was still waiting for her to acknowledge her last remark.
Get a hold of yourself, An’gel Ducote. You
can
help Rosabelle, so stop trying to borrow trouble
. “I didn’t mean to make light of your plight,” she said. “You’re still tired, and I’m sure everything looks grim to you. Dickce and I will do our best to help you sort it all out, and you’ll be able to go home and not worry anymore.”

Rosabelle appeared mollified by An’gel’s reply. “That would be wonderful. I could sleep the night through without being terrified.”

“Why do you think one of them is so desperate to do away with you?” An’gel asked. “You told us that your house goes to Wade, but is that all? Would your daughters and grandchildren inherit anything significant?”

Rosabelle shook her head. “I don’t have anything to my name really, not even the house. It’s mine for my lifetime, but then it goes to Wade. I get a barely adequate income for life from a trust set up by my first husband, but I can’t touch the capital. When I’m gone, however, the trust is dissolved, and the money goes to Maudine and Bernice.” She paused. “My second husband, Wade’s father, also left me a small income from a trust. Same situation, though. When I’m dead, Wade gets everything.”

Though she had no idea how large the trusts were, An’gel suspected they were huge. Rosabelle wouldn’t have married poor men, or even moderately wealthy ones. Rosabelle liked money too much to settle for anyone less than a multimillionaire. An’gel also thought both men shrewd to set up trusts for Rosabelle; otherwise, she might have burned through the money and been left with nothing. Evidently the third husband had nothing to leave. She thought it odd Rosabelle didn’t mention him.

Now that she was aware of Rosabelle’s financial position, however, An’gel could understand why the woman was frightened. Her children and grandchildren stood to inherit significant sums of money, and one of them might be tired of waiting to get hold of it. The question was, who was the most desperate? She and Dickce would have to ascertain what they could of the younger generation’s finances.

An’gel reached over and patted Rosabelle’s hand. “Dickce and I will get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, you try to relax. I believe you’ll be safe here. I will let your family know, discreetly, of course, that Sister and I will be guarding your welfare closely.”

“Thank you,” Rosabelle said, her eyes suddenly wet. “I don’t deserve such good friends.”

An’gel forbore to respond to that comment. Instead she stood, her energy coming back. “Don’t think any more about it. I do have a question for you, however. Would you allow your granddaughter to share your room? There’s a trundle bed she can use, and we can move it across the hall to your daughters’ room if you’d prefer to be alone.”

Rosabelle shook her head. “Juanita can stay with me. She and Junior aren’t like their parents, thank the Lord. They’re both sweet and loving.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll feel safer with Juanita in the room with me at night.”

“Very well, then. When you’re ready, you can let Juanita know. In the meantime I’m going downstairs to prepare iced tea for everyone. You can join us in the front parlor when you feel like it.”

Rosabelle nodded, and An’gel left her, still ensconced in the chair, staring down at her hands.

On the way to the kitchen, An’gel resolved to get to the heart of Rosabelle’s troubles quickly. She wanted the whole clan out of her house as soon as possible.