Sissy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her jaw snapped shut, and she frowned while Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce exchanged glances. They rose in unison from the sofa.
“We really must be going.” Miss An’gel smoothed her silk skirt and nodded. “There’s so much to do.”
“Oh, my, yes.” Miss Dickce’s head bobbed up and down. “So much to do.”
“Let me see you out.” I escorted them, with Diesel’s help, to the front door. I extracted their wraps from the hall closet and helped each sister into hers, Miss An’gel first.
Then each sister had to pat Diesel on the head a few times and coo at him, telling him what a handsome gentleman he was. Diesel purred and chirped, in obvious agreement.
I suppressed a smile as I waited to open the door. From the direction of the living room I heard conversation in progress, some of it sounding heated. Were Vera and Sissy at each other’s throats? I hoped not. I didn’t need a headache like that.
Miss An’gel shook my hand gently. “Thank you for being our host this evening, Charlie. And pay no attention to Vera, or whatever she might say once we’re gone.” She shared a glance with her sister, and they both smiled. “Vera won’t be a thorn in our sides much longer. Dickce and I have seen to that.” Miss An’gel pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to me.
“We thought we might save the postage.” Miss Dickce beamed at me. “We were sure you wouldn’t mind hand delivery.”
Miss An’gel nodded. “The others went to the post office this afternoon.” With that she and her sister stepped out into the cool December night, and I closed the door behind them.
Diesel warbled, and I glanced down. He gazed up at me, then reared up on his hind legs to bat at the envelope.
“All right, I’ll open it.” The paper was thick, heavy, and no doubt expensive. By the shape I figured it could be an invitation. I managed to get it open without ripping the envelope too much and withdrew the card inside.
It was indeed an invitation—to the Friends of the Library winter gala at River Hill next Tuesday.
TWO
Fifteen minutes after Diesel and I bade good-bye to the last board member, we got in the car and headed for the town square and my dear friend Helen Louise Brady’s French patisserie. After the rancor and tension of the board meeting, Diesel and I both needed to relax. Plus, I hadn’t seen Helen Louise in three days, and I missed her even though we talked on the phone daily.
Diesel chirped at me when I told him our destination. He loved Helen Louise, and the adoration was mutual. She always made a fuss over my cat, and if anyone in her establishment dared object to his presence, she informed the offender not to let the door hit him on his way out.
I pulled the car into a slot right in front of the bakery. Diesel hopped out over me as soon as I opened the door, eager to see his friend and whatever tidbits she would offer.
Even before we stepped inside, I felt my mouth watering from the appetizing smells that emanated from the bakery. Brioches, croissants, gâteaux, éclairs—the combination of these and more made my early dinner a rapidly fading memory. Perhaps I’d have a small piece of Helen Louise’s sumptuous gâteau au chocolat, a particular weakness of mine.
Helen Louise greeted me from behind the counter, and the thought of chocolate cake receded. There stood the real attraction. Rake thin and nearly six feet tall, Helen Louise wore her dark, luxuriant hair in a short bob. The curls framed blue eyes that sparkled with fierce intelligence and wicked humor, a mouth that often quirked in amusement, and a shapely nose that wrinkled adorably when she laughed.
She came around the counter as Diesel and I approached, and we shared a hug and a brief kiss.
“Missed you.” Helen Louise’s words shimmered softly in the air between us, and I pulled her close again for a longer kiss.
Diesel warbled and inserted himself between us, and we broke apart, laughing.
Helen Louise grinned at me as she bent to stroke my incorrigible feline’s head and neck. “We could never forget you, mon brave. Tu es un chat très formidable.”
After ten years in Paris learning her art, she often lapsed into French. Diesel warbled at her as if he understood her.
“He’s not formidable, just shameless.” I, too, stroked Diesel’s head, and my hand brushed against Helen Louise’s. We smiled at each other.
Diesel butted his head against my thigh, then did the same to Helen Louise. “Someone expects a treat, I think.” I shook my head.
Helen Louise laughed. “Go have a seat, and I’ll bring you both something très délicieux.”
Only a few customers at eight thirty in the evening, I noted as Diesel and I moved to our usual table near the cash register at the end of the counter. Diesel waited until I sat and then positioned himself against my left leg, his head turned toward the spot from where Helen Louise would shortly emerge.
I watched Diesel’s face, and his nose twitched as Helen Louise approached the table with two dessert plates. Chocolate cake for me and some bits of chicken for my poor starving feline.
“You do spoil us.” I grinned at her as she set the cake in front of me.
Diesel reared up and put his front paws on her arm as she took the chair opposite mine. “You’re both worth spoiling.” Those blue eyes sparkled, and I thought for the umpteenth time how beautiful they were.
“Here you go, Diesel.” Helen Louise tore the chicken into smaller pieces and held her hand out to the cat. Diesel wasted no time in scarfing the food out of her hand, and she laughed. “Charlie needs to feed you more, sweet boy. You’re obviously wasting away into nothing.”
My mouth full of sinfully delicious cake, I groaned as Helen Louise doled out the rest of the chicken. We exchanged glances as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. Diesel popped up on his hind legs again, head over the table, searching for more chicken.
“That’s all, Diesel.” I spoke in a firm tone, and my cat stared at me. For a moment I had the strangest feeling that he was going to stick out his tongue at me, but instead he blinked a couple of times and sat back on his haunches.
“How did the board meeting go?” Helen Louise leaned back and regarded me with an amused expression. “All-out catfight?”
I set my fork down. “Don’t you know it. I’ve never seen Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce strip someone to the bone, but they sure did it with Vera.”
“Vera brings it on herself.” Helen Louise sighed. “I do feel sorry for her sometimes, but honestly, if she’d just relax and not get so caught up in trying to be the doyenne of Athena society, people might cut her some slack.”
“Not to mention that she tends to order people around like her personal peons.” I recalled her behavior every time she’d visited the public library when I did volunteer duty. She sent staff scurrying like Cleopatra giving orders to her slaves.
“There’s not an ounce of grace in her.” Helen Louise shook her head. “She came up from nothing, and she thinks she can bulldoze people into forgetting it. Sad thing is, most people couldn’t care less.”
“She should be proud of what she and Morty have accomplished.” I licked the fork, hoping for one last taste of that amazing chocolate. “But you know what people here are like. She’s never going to be one of the Ducotes of River Hill, no matter how hard she tries.” The populist in me thought it ridiculous, but attitudes about class and position changed slowly in Athena.
Helen Louise snorted. “Let me guess what happened. She wanted to host the gala at Ranelagh, but Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce declined to agree.”
I laughed. “You sure you didn’t hide in the corner of my living room tonight?”
“Honey, they’ve been fighting that same battle for the past decade or more. And the outcome never varies. I bet you anything Miss An’gel already sent out the invitations.”
“She handed me mine before she and her sister left tonight.”
“The Ducote sisters could teach the military how to maneuver,” Helen Louise observed.
Diesel wa
rbled as if he agreed, and Helen Louise and I both laughed. “I don’t want to be anywhere around when Vera finds out.” I could just imagine the explosion.
“Vera ought to be expecting it.” Helen Louise shook her head. “But she always thinks she’s going to outsmart them, and of course, she never does.” She paused. “Sissy Beauchamp show up?”
“She did.” I grimaced. “She and Vera went at each other like two cats. I swear, if every board meeting is going to be like that, I may have to rethink being a member.”
Helen Louise regarded me with a concerned expression. “Now, Charlie, honey, I know it makes you nervous when people carry on like that around you, but you can’t let it upset you. They need you on that board, and I know Teresa appreciates your support.”
I nodded, feeling slightly ashamed. “You’re right. I should stop whining. As long as they don’t try to pull me into too many of their arguments, I guess I can manage.”
Helen Louise leaned forward to squeeze my hand. Diesel rubbed hard against my legs and meowed a couple of times. Helen Louise and I shared another laugh as I reached for the cat’s head and scratched it. Diesel’s rumbling purr sounded loud even against the light background noise from the customers.
As I glanced over Helen Louise’s shoulder, my attention caught by the opening door, I blinked to focus. Sissy Beauchamp strode in, her younger brother, Henry Ainsworth Beauchamp IV—better known as Hank—right behind her. He spoke to her in an undertone, his words unintelligible, but the tension between them fairly vibrated.
Sissy’s mulish expression changed quickly when she spotted me. She smiled and waved, then elbowed Hank in the stomach. He stopped talking and followed the direction of Sissy’s nod. He scowled at Helen Louise and me briefly before he managed to smooth his features into the bland mien he usually presented to the world.
Helen Louise cast a quick glance at me, one eyebrow raised, as she left our table and took her place behind the counter. “Evening, Sissy, Hank, how are y’all doing? What can I get for you?”
“We’re doing just fine, Helen Louise.” Sissy gave no sign now of anything amiss between her and Hank as she slipped into gracious belle mode. Hank nodded, but I couldn’t see that he relaxed at all.
“I’d like a couple of those wonderful éclairs and a café au lait.” Sissy turned to Hank. “What about you, darlin’?”
“Same for me, I reckon.” Hank’s deep voice always surprised me because it seemed bigger than he was. Only about five-nine, he had a slight figure and looked like a good breeze could send him reeling.
“Coming right up.” Helen Louise entered their order in the computerized register and gave them the total.
Hank paid with a credit card, but when Helen Louise spoke after checking the register, her voice held a hint of compassion.
She pitched her voice low, and I barely heard her. “Sorry, honey, but it didn’t go through.”
Hank stared at her for a moment, then uttered an obscenity. He turned and stomped out. Sissy called after him, but he never looked back.
THREE
“Hank, come back here,” Sissy called out to her brother, but he didn’t falter. Throwing an apologetic glance at Helen Louise and then at me, Sissy scurried after Hank. The door clanged shut behind her.
Helen Louise shrugged and punched a couple of buttons on her cash register. She strolled back to the table and resumed her seat.
“What was all that about?” I asked. Diesel chirped several times as if to indicate he wanted an answer as well. I rubbed his head, and he quieted.
An excited babble of voices startled both of us before Helen Louise could answer my question. She turned as I looked past her toward the door. A group of eight young women poured inside, all talking at once. The din struck my ears and made me wince. Diesel hunched against my legs, frightened by the clamor.
Helen Louise offered a wry smile as she stood. “Sorority sisters in desperate search of sugar and chocolate. Sorry, my dear, I have to get back to work.” She leaned down and gave me a quick kiss.
“Okay, we’ll talk later.” I wanted to hold her for a moment, but I didn’t get to my feet in time. She darted behind the counter and attempted to dim the roar to a more acceptable level.
“Come on, boy.” I rubbed the cat’s head. “Let’s go home.”
Diesel couldn’t get out the door and into the car fast enough. As I drove I considered the reasons for Hank Beauchamp’s less than gentlemanly behavior, but I reached no conclusions by the time I pulled the car into the garage.
Once inside Diesel headed straight for the utility room and his litter box. I let the peace of the house settle around me as I gazed at the empty kitchen. More than likely Diesel and I had the house to ourselves, except for Stewart Delacorte in his aerie on the third floor. I’d spotted the lights in his rooms as I drove in.
Justin Wardlaw, my other boarder, was probably still on campus, studying with friends in the library. Final exams loomed as the semester drew to a close, and Justin always made sure he was prepared.
Sean had told me earlier that he had plans for dinner tonight with Alexandra Pendergrast. I had to smile, thinking back to the first time Sean and Alexandra met, over the Delacorte business. The sparks flew that day, Sean sure that he didn’t like Alexandra in the least. Now he thought and spoke of little else, much as I’d expected. Alexandra was beautiful, intelligent, and more than a match for my temperamental, brilliant son. I expected to hear news of an engagement any day now.
Laura spent most of her free time with her beau, Frank Salisbury, a colleague from the theater department at Athena College. As the semester drew to a close, so did Laura’s temporary job. The professor for whom she had substituted this semester came back from maternity leave in January, and Laura planned to return to Los Angeles and her acting career. At least, that was the original plan. Frank no doubt had something to say about that. He would either have to follow my daughter to Hollywood or persuade her to remain here. If I had a say in the matter, I hoped Frank could talk Laura into staying in Athena. Having her at home with Sean and me these past few months made me happy, and I would miss her even more keenly if she went back to California.
Diesel would miss her dreadfully as well. I remained his favorite human, but Laura ran a close second. She always made a fuss over him, and he loved the attention.
I sighed as Diesel ambled into the kitchen, warbling away. I poured myself a glass of cold water from the fridge, and Diesel continued chatting to me as I leaned against the counter and drank.
Christmas was little more than two weeks away, and I was thrilled that the people I cared most about in this world would all be here for it. Thanksgiving had been truly special for that same reason, and I offered up more than one fervent prayer that I could keep them all around me. I even felt the presence of my departed loved ones—my wife, Jackie, and my aunt Dottie—close by. That was as it should be.
As Diesel and I settled down in bed a short while later, I returned to the puzzle of Hank Beauchamp’s behavior. He obviously had money problems if his credit card got declined for such a trifling amount. The Beauchamp family had the reputation, however, of being filthy rich. So what had happened to Hank? And did Sissy suffer from the same problem?
I reminded myself that I had no business speculating over the Beauchamp family finances and tried to relax. At my side, Diesel stretched out, already asleep. I drifted off soon after.
After a decent night’s sleep I stepped out into the chilly morning to retrieve my newspaper. Two deep breaths of the bracing air cleared my head. Diesel had disappeared during the night, and I had no doubt he was snuggled up to Laura. She stayed in bed later than I did, and he liked his rest.
When I reached the kitchen, the sight of my housekeeper, Azalea Berry, startled me. I still wasn’t quite used to seeing her every weekday morning, but with the additions to my household in the past few months, she had recently informed me I needed her every day. I saw no point in arguing with her, especially when she was righ
t.
“Good morning, Azalea, how are you?” I sat at the table and opened the paper.
“Tolerable, Mr. Charlie, tolerable.” She offered a brisk nod as she approached the refrigerator. “I’ll have breakfast ready before long.”
“Thank you.” I had a sip of the coffee Azalea had waiting for me.
“There was company here last night. Cream just about gone.” Azalea turned to frown at me. “And here I was gonna make one of them quiches you like so much.”
“Sorry about that.” I offered her an apologetic smile. “It was a bit last-minute. I made tea for my guests, and I suppose we used most of the cream.”
“Ain’t no never mind.” Azalea shook her head. “I got to go to the grocery store anyway.”
Still feeling obscurely guilty, I said, “I hadn’t planned on it, but I hosted a meeting of the Friends of the Library board. We were supposed to meet at Cathy Williams’s house last night, but she got called in to the hospital at the last minute. Some kind of an emergency with her nursing staff, I think.”
Azalea turned to glare at me. “Then you had Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce here, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for a response. “And I didn’t get around to dusting the living room yesterday. I was saving it for today.” She shook her head. “What on earth they gonna think of my housekeeping now?”
The living room, as I recalled it, was as spotless as it always was. “I’m sure they didn’t think anything bad, Azalea. In fact, Miss An’gel complimented me on how beautifully you keep the house.”
That appeared to mollify Azalea. She turned back to the refrigerator and extracted the ingredients she wanted.
“In fact, Vera Cassity said the very same thing.” I picked up the front section of the paper and started to open it.
Azalea whirled around and glared at me again, an egg in her right hand. “How come you let that trash in this house?”
The venom in Azalea’s voice startled me. I had never heard her speak in such a tone. “What do you mean?”
Azalea crushed the egg in her hand, and I watched in fascination as the contents oozed through her fingers and dripped on the floor. She appeared oblivious to the mess.
Out of Circulation (CAT IN THE STACKS MYSTERY) Page 2