1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart (9 page)

T
he string of profanities with which Wade responded to his half sister’s ill-considered remark sent An’gel’s blood pressure skyward. She gripped the arms of her chair to stop herself from picking up the remains of her orange juice and pitching them in the man’s face.

Bernice shrank in her chair, and for a moment An’gel thought the poor woman was going to hide under the table.

“Wade Thurmond,” Rosabelle said, her face suffused with blood, “is this true? Were you plotting behind my back to have me committed to a mental hospital?”

An’gel feared Rosabelle might have a stroke. She had never seen the woman in such a rage.

Wade didn’t shrink from his mother’s fury. “No, Mother, we weren’t going to try having you committed. We do think you need to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, however. We all agreed that you may no longer be competent enough to care for yourself.”

“You
all
agreed?” Rosabelle glanced at each member of her family in turn. “Maudine, Bernice, are you part of this attempt? Juanita, Junior, you two as well?”

“No, Grandmother, I wasn’t part of it.” Juanita shook her head. “You know I don’t think you’re incompetent. I tried to argue with Aunt Maudie and Uncle Wade, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Viper.” Maudine stared at her niece. “Weak, just like my sister. Bernice doesn’t want to admit the truth about Mother, and neither do you.”

“Now, Maudine,” Bernice said softly. “I told you I thought you and Wade were jumping the gun. Mother has some strange notions, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be put in a mental hospital.”

“Thank you for that heartfelt testimonial, Bernice,” Rosabelle said. She turned to An’gel. “Now do you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you about my family? You see how they are plotting to destroy me. First it’s a loony bin, and then one of them decided on a more permanent solution.”

An’gel felt shell-shocked. Had she and Dickce been dropped somehow into the middle of an episode of
All My Children
? She had never heard such goings-on in her life outside of a soap opera. She didn’t feel capable of answering.

Instead she glanced down the table at Dickce and Benjy. The boy had lowered his head, evidently fascinated by the pattern of the china. Dickce rolled her eyes and shrugged. An’gel had a sneaking suspicion that her sister was, in some odd way, enjoying the melodrama.

Rosabelle didn’t appear to need a response. “
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child
.” She closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and in a moment tears trickled down. Then her eyes popped open, and Rosabelle dabbed away the tears with a linen napkin. “You all should be ashamed of your treatment of me, your own mother.”

She declaimed that quotation with all the drama of a Sarah Bernhardt wannabe, An’gel thought cynically.

“Come off it, Mother,” Wade said, obviously disgusted. “When we were children, we saw our nannies more often than we saw you. If we’d been left to your tender mercies, we’d all have been naked and starving to death. You were too busy living the high life and spending your husband’s money.” He stood, dropped his napkin on the table, and walked out of the room.

“He’s right,” Maudine said. “You’re a vicious old cow, and I for one am sorry it wasn’t you who fell down those stairs. Marla was a horrible woman, but you make her seem like Miss Congeniality.” She pushed her chair back and lumbered to her feet. “When we get back to California, we’re going to get you put away where you should have been years ago.” She cast her mother a glance of loathing as she headed from the room.

“Maudie, no,” Bernice whimpered as she scurried after her sister.

“And so ends the latest episode of
As the Stomach Turns
.” Junior shook his head. “Grandmother, I’m sorry you had to endure all that. But you bring it on yourself. Juanita and I know you aren’t crazy or incompetent, but you act like a five-year-old brat sometimes.” He came around the table and kissed Rosabelle’s cheek. “Don’t pay any attention to them. Juanita and I won’t let them put you away.”

Rosabelle did not appear mollified by her grandson’s words, An’gel thought. Privately she couldn’t help but agree with Junior’s assessment of her. She could have told him Rosabelle had been a brat all her life, but now didn’t seem to be the time, she thought wryly.

“Newton Aloysius Pittman Junior, you’ve never spoken to me like that in your life.” Rosabelle sounded hurt, and An’gel wondered if, for once, real emotion was coming through.

Junior patted her hand. Juanita leaned in her chair to slip an arm around Rosabelle’s shoulder. Her head close to her grandmother’s, Juanita said, “Junior is right, Gran. You can’t treat Mother and the others so harshly and not expect them to make a fuss.” She sighed. “Junior and I will talk to them again and see if we can calm them down. But you might try being nicer to them.”

Juanita followed her cousin from the room, and now An’gel, Dickce, Benjy, and Rosabelle were the only ones still at the table.

“Can you believe how they talked to me? My own grandchildren.” Rosabelle appeared stunned, and again An’gel wondered whether she was acting or if she truly was upset.

An’gel took a deep breath. She might regret this later, but now was probably the time for Rosabelle to hear a few home truths from a person who had known her for much of her life.

She patted Rosabelle’s hand and shot Dickce a warning glance. “Honey, I know this is upsetting, but your grandchildren are right. There’s only one thing you’ve ever wanted to be, besides a rich man’s wife, and that’s the Center of Attention. It’s usually a lonely place, because to get there and stay there, you have to care more about yourself and what you want than about what others want. You were that way when I met you during rush week at Athena College all those years ago, and you’ve never changed.”

An’gel sat back and waited for the explosion. She glanced at Dickce and was not much surprised to see her giving a thumbs-up. Poor Benjy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. An’gel realized she should probably have sent him out of the room before she said what she had to Rosabelle.

One look at Rosabelle’s face, and An’gel could tell her words hadn’t sat well with her old sorority sister. An’gel had hoped that, given the seriousness of the situation, Rosabelle might finally take responsibility for her own behavior.

Evidently those hopes were not to be realized. Rosabelle stared at An’gel—as she remarked to Dickce later—like Hercules seeing the Aegean stables for the first time.

Rosabelle stood. “I seem to have made many mistakes in my life, and one of the biggest ones was thinking you were my friend. I didn’t realize you despised me so much.”

Before she could continue, Dickce spoke. “We don’t despise you. We don’t always
like
you very much, but
despise
is too strong a word. Stop acting like a brat and grow up.”

Rosabelle’s head turned, and she looked at Dickce, eyebrows raised. “That’s the peanut gallery heard from.” She sat. “Well, if I have to choose between my family and the Ducote sisters, I guess I’m better off with you.” She glanced toward the sideboard. “Is there any more coffee?”

An’gel couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and she heard Dickce giggle. When she looked down the table, she saw her sister and Benjy with their heads together. Perhaps Dickce was attempting to explain Rosabelle’s mercurial behavior to the boy. An’gel wished someone would explain it to her.

She got up and refilled Rosabelle’s coffee. Seated once again, she waited to hear what her friend would say next.

After a couple of long sips, Rosabelle set her mug down. “My first husband had to entertain a lot. That’s how it is in Hollywood. Luncheons, dinners, premieres, and all sorts of public appearances. He wanted me with him at every single one. That’s why we hired a nanny for Maudine. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend with her, and when I was home, I was so exhausted from the socializing, I didn’t have much left over for a child.”

She frowned. “Maudine was not a pleasant child either. Always cross and fussy. Then Bernice came along. She was much more biddable, rather sweet actually, but I didn’t have much time for her either.”

“How old were they when your first husband died?” An’gel asked.

Rosabelle thought for a moment. “Maudine was almost seven, and Bernice had just turned five.”

“What exactly happened to him?” Dickce asked.

“He was producing a film on location in Africa. He either drank water that was bad or washed in it. Or maybe it was a mosquito bite. They never really did know how, but he came down with dysentery. A violent case, apparently, and he died before they could get him to a hospital.”

“That’s awful,” An’gel said. “I know you were devastated.”

Rosabelle nodded. “Jack Carson was the love of my life. I tried to talk him out of producing that film, but he was bull-headed. It ended up costing him his life, and I thought I would die from grief myself.”

After a moment, Dickce spoke. “When did you meet your second husband?”

Rosabelle glanced at her, then away. When she spoke, her tone was cool. “I’d known him all along. He was our banker. Tom Thurmond and Jack had been friends before Jack and I married. I always knew he was in love with me, but of course as long as Jack was alive, I ignored that.” She fiddled with a spoon, drawing invisible patterns on the tablecloth. “I married him, after a decent interval. Eleven months later, Wade was born. We hired another nanny, and I kept up the kind of life I’d had before, but this time as the wife of a financier-turned-producer.”

An’gel was about to ask about the third husband when Rosabelle stood again after glancing at her watch. “It’s nearly nine thirty. The deputy should be here.” She smiled, and that smile made An’gel uneasy. “I intend to talk to her before my loving children fill her head with the idea that I’m off my rocker.”

“T
his is going to be a long day.” An’gel sighed. “I suppose I’d better go see if Kanesha has arrived, in case she needs our help in any way.”

She paused in the doorway to look back at Dickce and Benjy, still at the table. “Will you check with Clementine to see if one of us should run into town? I suspect a trip to the grocery store is on the agenda for today.”

Dickce nodded, but waited until An’gel was gone before she remarked to Benjy, “It will be yours truly who goes to the grocery store. Would you like to go with me?” She thought it would do them both a world of good to be out of the oppressive atmosphere at Riverhill, even for a brief time.

Benjy nodded eagerly. “The more I can stay out of the Wart’s way, the better. I can carry stuff, anything you want me to do.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Dickce rose and surveyed the table. “Do you mind helping me clear the table? We can stack the dishes on the cart.”

“Not at all,” Benjy said. He immediately started stacking dishes, scraping any leftover food onto one plate. “I worked in a restaurant last summer to earn money for college.”

Dickce was delighted to see how quickly and efficiently Benjy cleared the table. She was far slower, and thus he did the bulk of the work. Within a few minutes, the table was cleared, the cart stacked with all the dishes, glasses, and utensils. Benjy grasped the handle and started steering the cart out of the dining room. Dickce moved ahead of him so that she could open the kitchen door.

“Goodness, Miss Dickce,” Antoinette said with a smile, “I was just coming to do that.” She motioned for Benjy to let her have the cart. “I’ll take it from here.”

“I had experienced help,” Dickce said. “Benjy did most of the work.”

Diesel rose from his resting place beneath the kitchen table, stretched, and then padded over to greet the newcomers with a few meows. Dickce rubbed his head for a moment before the cat switched his attentions to Benjy.

“If he’s that good, I might put him to work myself.” Clementine laughed. “Antoinette would rather have someone her age to talk to instead of her old gram.”

“You hush that talk,” Antoinette admonished her grandmother with a smile as she wheeled the cart to the dishwasher. She had to steer with some care around Diesel, who attempted to rub against her legs. “I’ll be gone back to school soon and won’t get to see you much until Thanksgiving.”

“My granddaughter is a student at Vanderbilt,” Clementine told Benjy with obvious pride. “She wants to be a doctor.”

“That’s great,” Benjy said. “Do you like college?”

Dickce thought his tone seemed wistful. He had mentioned college himself a few times, but evidently money was an issue.

Antoinette dimpled. “I sure do. There’s a lot of hard work, but I don’t mind. Are you going to school?”

Benjy shook his head. “I’d like to, but I don’t have the money right now. I want to be a veterinarian.” He scratched Diesel’s head. “I like animals a lot.”

“That one sure seems to like you,” Antoinette said. “He is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Benjy blushed and nodded. “I wish I could take him back to California with me.” He wandered toward Antoinette and the dishwasher with Diesel at his side.

While the two young people chatted about California, Dickce talked to Clementine about shopping. “An’gel told me I probably need to go into town and buy some groceries. Especially since we don’t know how long this swarm of locusts is going to be staying with us.”

Clementine pulled a small notebook from the pocket of her apron and tore out a couple of pages. “This is what I’m guessing we’re gonna need for the next three or four days. I think that’s all, but you may want to check for anything I missed.”

Dickce almost groaned as she scanned the list. She was glad Benjy wanted to go with her. Clementine’s requests would fill at least two shopping carts, if not three.

“I’ll have to check with Kanesha Berry to see if it’s okay for Benjy and me to go,” Dickce said. “And then, hopefully, we’ll be on our way.”

Clementine shook her head. “I sure do appreciate it. That pantry is as bare as I’ve ever seen it, except for those jars of muscadine jelly and tomatoes I put up.”

Dickce nodded. They couldn’t feed their guests on jelly and tomatoes alone. “I’ll go find out about going into town.” She glanced over at Benjy and Antoinette, still chatting by the dishwasher. “If you do have something Benjy can help with for a little while, that would be a small blessing. If he can keep busy, I’m hoping he won’t have time to brood much about his mother.”

“Don’t you worry, Miss Dickce,” Clementine said. “Me and Antoinette will look after that poor child. That cat, too. I’m not used to having so much company in here, but right now I’m liking it pretty fine.”

Dickce left the kitchen in search of An’gel and Kanesha, well aware that Clementine, one of the most kindhearted women she knew, would look after Benjy. Dickce wasn’t sure why she herself was so determined to see to the boy’s welfare. She had always liked young people and occasionally regretted that neither she nor her sister had married and had children of their own.

You are not taking that child to raise
. She could hear An’gel scolding her already. She had no intention of taking Benjy to raise, but she didn’t see any harm in keeping an eye on him. Nobody else was, as far as she could tell, and he was too young to weather all this on his own. If An’gel made an issue of it, that was exactly what Dickce would tell her.

Dickce walked into the parlor while Kanesha was addressing the assembled family, all of whom were seated on the sofas and chairs near the fireplace. Kanesha had her back to the door, and Dickce walked around to the left where An’gel stood to one side of the fireplace.

“. . . you’ll understand that I have further questions to ask. I have to reiterate that we are treating this as a suspicious death. I can’t say any more about that right now, until we have the results of various tests. I have to work on the assumption that this was a deliberate act, and not an accident.”

“It certainly wasn’t an accident,” Rosabelle said. “No matter what my children might think. Deputy, I would like to talk to you first, before you interview the rest of my family.” She rose from her chair.

“That’s fine, Mrs. Sultan,” Kanesha said. “If you’ll come with me to the library, we’ll get started. I would appreciate it if the rest of you would be on hand during this process. It will make everything go smoother and quicker that way. If at any time you need to talk to me, one of my deputies will be here to assist you.”

Dickce hadn’t noticed him before, but now she spotted a man in uniform positioned by the front window. He looked vaguely familiar, but he was not the young man who had spent the night keeping watch.

“Mrs. Sultan, if you’ll come with me now, please.” Kanesha stood back to allow Rosabelle to pass, then turned to follow her.

“Deputy Berry,” Dickce said, stepping forward. “If I could ask a quick question.”

“Certainly, Miss Dickce,” Kanesha said. “You can go on ahead, Mrs. Sultan. Deputy Bates is in the library. I won’t be long.”

Rosabelle nodded, though she frowned at Dickce. Dickce ignored that and approached Kanesha. She spoke in an undertone. “I need to go grocery shopping, and I’d like to take Benjy Stephens with me. I know you will want to talk to him first, though.”

Kanesha nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do need to interview him. I will put him next after Mrs. Sultan. I suppose it will be all right for him to accompany you. Are you sure you will be okay with him?”

“Yes,” Dickce said firmly. “These people really aren’t his family, and he and his stepfather don’t get along. Benjy needs distraction, and I thought it would do him good to get away from all this, even for an hour.”

“Okay, then. I will finish with him as soon as I can.” Kanesha nodded once more before she headed out of the room.

“I hope this isn’t going to take all day,” Maudine said. “I can’t stand to be cooped up in one room like this.”

“I heard thunder a few minutes ago,” Wade said. “Why don’t you go out for a walk and see if you can get lightning to strike you? Stand under a tree.”

Maudine’s face turned so purple Dickce thought she might burst right there.

“Wade, don’t talk to Maudine like that.” Bernice shook a finger at her half brother. “You’re going to make us all upset, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”

“Tell Maudine to stop complaining, then.” Wade crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Bernice. “Mother is in there now with that deputy saying who knows what about all of us, and I am tired of hearing the sound of Maudine’s whining.”

Dickce wondered whether she should offer to lead them in a sing-along. Maybe that would get them to settle down.

No, she decided, they would only argue about what song to sing. She had seldom encountered a family so determined not to be civil with one another.

“Uncle Wade, please.” Juanita held out a hand toward him in a clear entreaty. “We’re all on edge right now. Deputy Berry impresses me as a smart professional. Whatever Grandmother tells her, I’m sure the deputy is shrewd enough to see through any attempts to mislead her.”

“That is certainly true,” An’gel said. “Deputy Berry is an experienced officer. She has handled several investigations like this in the past couple of years. I can assure you she will treat everyone fairly and not be prejudiced by anything Rosabelle might say to her.”

“How about something to drink?” Dickce said. “I think Clementine has the iced tea ready by now. I’ll just go and see about it.” She was eager to get out of the room.

“How about something stronger?” Wade asked, his tone still strident. “I need a real drink.”

Dickce decided An’gel could handle that request. She scooted out of the parlor and headed for the kitchen.

When she returned ten minutes later with the serving cart, An’gel was talking about the history of their house, Riverhill, and the Ducote family. Dickce tuned it out. She knew it every bit as well as An’gel and could recite it in her sleep. She presumed one of their guests must have asked a question, because it wasn’t like An’gel to talk at such length about family history without being prompted.

Dickce placed the cart near one of the sofas. She figured their guests could help themselves when they were ready. An’gel had seen her, she knew, but her appearance hadn’t stopped the flow of words.

She decided she might as well sit for now because there was no telling how long she would have to wait for An’gel to stop. She took the one empty chair near the sofas and settled back.

Then she squirmed. There seemed to be something under the cushion. She could feel the lump under her right side. She stuck her hand down between the cushion and the base of the chair and felt for the object.

Her fingers encountered what felt like plastic. She tried to get a good grip on it but couldn’t. She stood, turned, and pulled up the cushion.

She blinked.
A water pistol?