Out of Circulation (CAT IN THE STACKS MYSTERY)

by James, Miranda

  “They think she had a mild heart attack,” Kanesha said. “She’s going to be okay, but she wants to talk to you.”

  “Of course. I’m on my way.” I ended the call, then speed-dialed Stewart. He answered right away. I asked him to come downstairs immediately.

  I turned to Lily to tell her about her sister. “Would you like to come to the hospital with me?”

  She nodded, her lips already working on a silent prayer, and went to fetch her coat.

  When Stewart ran into the kitchen I told him quickly what had happened. He said he would keep an eye on the stove and on Diesel.

  Lily and I made it to the hospital in about ten minutes. I’m sure Lily prayed the entire way, and I silently added my prayers to hers. Kanesha said it was a mild heart attack, but that didn’t make it less worrisome.

  Dr. Sharp stood waiting at the emergency room reception desk when we arrived, and he escorted us to the small room where Azalea lay in bed. She had various monitors hooked up to her, and Kanesha sat in a chair near the bed, her whole body taut with tension. Azalea appeared to be asleep, but her eyes popped open as we approached her.

  I hung back to let Lily talk to her sister first. Kanesha joined me and Dr. Sharp in a corner of the small room.

  “How is she?” I asked. Azalea looked exhausted, and her skin had a gray tinge to it that alarmed me.

  “Doing better than she looks,” Dr. Sharp said. “It was a minor cardiac incident, and fortunately Kanesha was with her when it occurred. She’s going to be fine, but she’s going to have to cut back on the salt and fried foods.”

  Kanesha muttered something that sounded like “Ain’t gonna happen.” Sharp slipped an arm around her, and she leaned against him for a moment.

  “I’m glad she’s in such good hands,” I said, greatly relieved by the cardiologist’s confidence.

  Lily called to me. “Mr. Charlie, ’Zalea wants to see you.”

  I moved toward the bed, and Lily stepped out of the way. I squeezed one of Azalea’s hands gently. “How are you feeling?”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across her face and then disappeared. “Tolerable, Mr. Charlie. Tolerable.” Her stock answer when I inquired about her health. I had a sudden lump in my throat and couldn’t speak for a moment.

  “Looks like they’re taking good care of you,” I finally said. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you let me know.”

  Azalea nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Charlie. They say I got to take it easy for a while. Can’t do no lifting much and things like that. Be okay with you if Lily come help me awhile?”

  “For as long as you need her,” I said firmly. “The important thing is for you to get to feeling better. Nothing else matters.” I would make sure she didn’t have to worry about the hospital bill, either. Unbeknownst to Azalea, Aunt Dottie had left money for just such a contingency, with firm instructions to me to take care of Azalea and not to let her talk me out of doing it. This was one battle with Azalea I would win, I promised Aunt Dottie silently.

  “Can you pull up a chair and sit close?” Azalea said. “Need to tell you something.”

  I glanced at Dr. Sharp, and he nodded as he approached the bed. “It’s okay as long as you don’t talk too long. You need to rest.” He smiled down at her. “I don’t want Kanesha carrying me off to jail if something happens to you. All right?”

  Azalea nodded, and Sharp withdrew, taking Lily and Kanesha with him.

  “What did you want to tell me?” I asked as I scooted the chair close to the bed.

  Azalea’s eyes were closed, and one hand plucked at the blanket covering her. She sighed heavily. “I sure am sorry, Mr. Charlie. Should’ve told you this earlier, but I was feeling like a foolish old woman.” Her eyes opened, and she blinked at me.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said and risked patting her restless hand. Her fingers curled around my hand for a moment and squeezed briefly. “Is this about what happened in that stairwell the other night?”

  She nodded. “I did see something I didn’t tell you about. It like to scare me to death, though. Ain’t never seen nothing like it. I thought it must be the old devil himself coming after that woman.”

  I felt a chill along my spine. I could hear the terror in her voice, and I squeezed her hand again.

  “What did it look like?” I asked.

  She shuddered. “Horrible. I looked up those stairs when I heard that woman up there, and this shadow come up behind her. I saw it move and strike her, and I turned away and tried to hide myself so it wouldn’t come after me.”

  How bizarre. “What did the shadow look like? I know it’s scary for you to think about, but if you can describe it for me, maybe I can figure out what it was.”

  “All right.” She paused. “Reckon it was like a great big ole hand, ’cepting it had horns on it.”

  What on earth could it be? I wondered. “How big was the hand?”

  “Really big.” Azalea sketched out a shape in the air with one hand.

  Even allowing for the distortion caused by light and shadow, it sounded like whatever Azalea had seen was larger than I would have expected a normal hand and arm to look like as they cast a shadow.

  “That does sound really strange,” I said, “but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for it. Don’t worry about it anymore. I promise you I’ll figure it out, but you will need to tell the sheriff about it later, when you’re feeling up to it.”

  That seemed to reassure her. “Okay, Mr. Charlie. Thank you. I be all right now.”

  “Good. You get some rest, and we’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  I didn’t wait for any acknowledgment. I pushed the chair back as quietly as I could and slipped from the room. Kanesha and Lily waited right outside the door.

  “Can I go in now?” Lily asked her niece.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Kanesha glanced at me.

  Kanesha and I moved away from the door to talk. I shared with her what Azalea had told me, and Kanesha frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Maybe she was so frightened of the dark she imagined it. It’s so bizarre.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “But she seemed convinced of what she saw. It wasn’t the devil, obviously, but it was something with a distorted shadow. We just have to figure out what it was.”

  Lily came out of the room and interrupted further conversation. “’Zalea says I should go back with you and finish up dinner.” She smiled, though her eyes were wet with tears. “She go’n’ be okay, she ordering me around like that.”

  “You really don’t have to, Lily,” I said. “I’d rather you stay here with Azalea.”

  Kanesha nodded. “I’ll take you home later.”

  Lily shook her head. “No, ’Zalea be like to have a fit, she find out I didn’t do what she done told me to do. Besides, I be feeling better if I got something to do. You don’t worry ’bout me, ’Nesha.”

  Kanesha hugged her aunt, and Lily clung to her for a moment.

  “Thank you, Charlie,” Kanesha said, her voice husky.

  I nodded and waited for Lily to compose herself. “Call if you need anything,” I said. “Anything at all.”

  Lily was quiet on the ride home. I had plenty to think about, too. Azalea’s revelation puzzled me. What on earth could she have seen?

  Whatever it was, it had to be part of someone’s costume, I figured. I needed to sit down and think carefully about what everyone wore that night and decide what could have made such an odd shadow.

  Stewart, Dante, and Diesel were busy in the kitchen when we arrived. Lily took over at the stove and announced that everything was ready. I filled Stewart in on Azalea’s condition while Lily dished up the food. Dante and Diesel watched her with great interest, and Dante pranced around on his back legs for a moment. Lily grinned at the little poodle, and I was pleased to see it.

  Diesel chattered to me while I talked to Stewart, and I patted his head and stroked his back until he finally calmed down. He obviously
wasn’t happy that I had left him behind for the second time that day, and he had to tell me all about it.

  I asked Lily to eat with us, even though I halfway expected Azalea to rise up out of her hospital bed and come after both of us if Lily accepted. She declined politely and said she wasn’t hungry but might eat later.

  That was that, so I thanked her for the delicious-looking meal of pork chops, green beans, mashed potatoes, and homemade rolls.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, ducking her head shyly.

  “Why don’t you go on home,” I said. “It’s been a long day, and Stewart and I will clean up afterward.”

  Lily looked like she wanted to argue, but I think tiredness won out. “All right, Mr. Charlie,” she said. “Now, if you need me this weekend, you just let me know.”

  I promised I would, and after making sure she had a ride home—she had Azalea’s car—I bade her good-bye. Then Stewart and I tucked into the meal. It was every bit as tasty as it looked.

  After a few mouthfuls I put my fork down for a moment. “You weren’t kidding earlier,” I said. “About Lily being such a good cook. Everything tastes wonderful.”

  “Yes, I had more than a few opportunities to sample Lily’s cooking,” Stewart said.

  “When she was working for the Beauchamps?” I said.

  Stewart nodded. “You might as well know, Hank and I were together for a couple of years. It didn’t work out.”

  “I sort of gathered that from that little episode the night of the gala,” I said, trying to make light of it.

  “Not one of my better moments, I’ll admit,” Stewart said. “It’s too bad, because Hank can be a really great guy. He just has this little problem. Oh, well, he’s moved on, according to Lily, though I don’t know to whom.” He shrugged. “Good for him. And good for Sissy, too. We all thought she would never have a life of her own.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I really don’t know her, but as gorgeous as she is, surely she’s never lacked for attention from men.”

  “No, I guess not,” Stewart said. “But she was stuck in that house for years, looking after that nasty grandmother of hers, then it was her mother, and finally her father. Old man Beauchamp was too cheap to hire extra help besides Lily, so poor Sissy got stuck being the dutiful, unpaid drudge of a daughter. Made Hank angry, but Daddy was the one with the money, and whenever he said ‘Leap, frog,’ they just asked, ‘How high?’”

  “That’s too bad. Beauchamp Senior died about three years ago, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, and it was about ten years too late, if you ask me.” Stewart grimaced. “Nasty, unfeeling old bastard. He gave Hank hell for being a pansy, as he called it. Hank did his best to stand up to him, but it was hard. Of course, Sissy helped. She’s always done anything and everything for her little brother.” He fed Dante a bite of pork chop, and the dog barked excitedly. Stewart told him to hush.

  “I’m sorry things were so rough for them,” I said. “Their father sounds like a nightmare. At least they can live their own lives now, and according to the gossip I’ve heard about Sissy and Morty Cassity, she’s making up for lost time.”

  Stewart shrugged. “I guess so. But that’s the strange thing to me. I always figured Sissy was just as queer as her brother. Surprised the heck out of me when I heard she was slipping around with a married man.”

  “She doesn’t have to slip around any longer,” I said, “with Vera permanently out of the way.”

  “No, she doesn’t. Well, it’s no business of mine.” Stewart attacked his food, and conversation languished. Dante barked occasionally, and Stewart admonished him, but as long as he kept rewarding the behavior with bits of food, the dog would never learn not to do it. I didn’t share this with Stewart, however.

  We worked together once we finished eating to clean up the kitchen and put everything away. Diesel had several bites of pork chop, just like his little buddy Dante, and he was a happy kitty as we trudged up the stairs later on.

  I got ready for bed, Diesel already comfortable on his side, and found a notepad and pen. I wanted to make notes about the costumes my chief suspects wore the night of the gala. I was hoping that inspiration would strike as I worked on remembering everything I could.

  I started with the Ducote sisters, a.k.a. Amelia Peabody and Jacqueline Kirby, then moved on to Morty Cassity, Hank Beauchamp, and finally Sissy.

  As I scanned the details, one item leaped out at me. I focused on creating a mental image of that dark stairwell, and then I was convinced I was right. I was pretty sure I knew what Azalea had seen and who had worn it.

  THIRTY-THREE

  That absurd stuffed Yorkie Sissy had attached to her like a wrist corsage had to be what Azalea saw. It was the only thing on the list that I could imagine would cast a shadow like the one Azalea described.

  That settled it in my mind. Sissy had pushed Vera to her death on those stairs.

  With Vera out of the way Sissy was free to marry Morty—and gain access to Morty’s millions. No more genteel poverty for her or her beloved little brother, Hank.

  A fairly simple solution after all. Money lay at the root of it.

  The motive was easy, but where was the proof? Azalea would tell the sheriff what she saw, and I could explain it, but a good defense lawyer would probably make nonsense of it in court.

  The explanation did sound faintly ridiculous, even though I was convinced of the truth of it. It all came down to the accessories of a costume.

  Costume.

  Something else was niggling at me, something to do with another costume.

  I looked at the list again, poring over the descriptions I’d compiled. What was nagging at me?

  I lingered over the details of Hank Beauchamp’s costume as the rumpled but clever Victorian policeman, Thomas Pitt.

  Rumpled. That was it.

  Poor Hank was reduced to wearing that same suit, because all his other suits were at the cleaner’s. Probably a euphemism for having to sell them, or else he owed the cleaner’s so much money they wouldn’t release his clothes until he paid them.

  Either way, Hank had only the one suit. No wonder it looked like it did.

  There was another elusive memory. Where else had I seen that suit, or part of it?

  It took me a minute, but then I had it.

  Morty Cassity was wearing the jacket when he came to the door the day I went to take Vera’s plaque to him.

  But how?

  Then I remembered a chance remark Stewart had made. I sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was only a few minutes till ten, and I knew Stewart stayed up late.

  I slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb Diesel. I hurried up the stairs to the third floor and knocked lightly on Stewart’s door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still dressed as he had been at dinner, with Dante napping beside him. He put aside the book he’d been reading. “Hi, Charlie. What’s up?”

  “Remember the other day, when you were talking about how you ran into Sissy Beauchamp on the square?”

  Stewart nodded. “Sure.”

  “Can you tell me approximately what time it was when you ran into her, and how long the two of you were together?”

  “Okay, let me see. I’m sure you’ll tell me why you want to know this?” At my nod he continued, “Well, it was around one o’clock, as I recall. We must have spent about an hour together over our milk shakes, so it was probably after two when I left her.”

  “I see.” If Sissy had been with Stewart while I was with Morty Cassity, then it wasn’t Sissy driving that pink car that day. It had to be Hank instead.

  Hank.

  Sissy wasn’t Morty’s lover, Hank was.

  I sat down abruptly on Stewart’s bed.

  “Charlie, what’s the matter? Are you all right?”

  I nodded, my thoughts running amok in my head. “Give me a minute.” I started recalling the various things I’d heard about Sissy.

&
nbsp; The Ducote sisters telling me how surprised they were to hear that Sissy was running around with Morty, when she’d never been known to do that kind of thing before.

  Helen Louise saying much the same thing.

  Stewart telling me, earlier this evening, that he was surprised to hear that Sissy was running around with Morty because he’d always thought she was gay like her brother.

  It all made sense, though. Sissy was known to be willing to do whatever she could to help out her beloved little brother.

  Even pretending that she was having an affair with a married man so that no one would suspect that Hank and Morty were lovers.

  And, finally, pushing Vera down the stairs to clear the way for her brother and Hank—and on top of that, access to those millions for her brother and herself.

  “Charlie, you’re beginning to worry me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  I surfaced from my whirlpool of thoughts to see Stewart regarding me with concern. “I’m okay,” I said. “Just a bit stunned, that’s all.”

  “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” Stewart started bobbing up and down on the bed. “Tell me, tell me, or I’m going to bust a gasket right here and now.” Dante sat up, disturbed by the bobbing, and started barking. Stewart put a hand on him to calm him, and he shut up.

  “Okay. Here goes.” I launched into my explanation.

  Stewart’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head at first, but then he started nodding. When I finished, he said, “I think you have to be right, Charlie. I never could see why Sissy would take up with Morty, but I sure can see why Hank would. He always did seem to have a thing for older men, and powerful men, too. Morty is certainly that, with all that money. I can’t believe I didn’t see it myself.”

  “They were extraordinarily careful,” I said. “Sissy was the key, the smokescreen.”

  “Pretty effective,” Stewart said.

  “Yes, she was.” I felt drained all of a sudden.

  “Charlie, do you think Hank and Morty were in on the murder, though? Was it Sissy acting completely on her own, or do you think they egged her on?” Stewart sounded troubled, and I was sure he didn’t want to think a former boyfriend of his was capable of inciting his own sister to murder.