A voice coming from behind her startled An’gel.
“How may I assist you, madam?”
An’gel turned to see a handsome young man, black hair slicked back, dark suit, dark shoes, and an unctuous smile, regarding her.
“Good afternoon,” An’gel said. “I am looking for my goddaughter, Jacqueline Mims. I need to talk to her.”
The young man shook his head. “I’m sorry, madam, but she is not here.”
An’gel responded tartly, “I parked beside her car just moments ago. Did she abandon her car here for some reason?”
The young man, whom An’gel assumed was one of the sons of Devereux and Sons, didn’t bat an eyelid. “Ah, my mistake, dear lady. Mrs. Mims must still be here.” He gestured with his right hand and arm. “If you will wait in here, I will locate her and tell her you wish to see her.”
“Thank you,” An’gel said. She walked into the right-hand parlor and seated herself on a Victorian-looking divan. “Tell her Miss An’gel Ducote would like to speak to her.”
The young man bowed. “Certainly, madam.” He disappeared, and An’gel thought she heard him on the stairs. From where she was sitting, she could not see into the foyer.
She supposed Jacqueline was upstairs in an office or a showroom, making decisions about the two burials. She didn’t really want to intrude on her goddaughter at this time, but An’gel wanted to see the two murder cases brought to a swift conclusion. She needed to ask Jacqueline a few questions. There were missing pieces, and she hoped her goddaughter could help her fill them in.
“Tante An’gel, why did you come all the way into town?” Jacqueline was bearing down on her. “I was getting ready to leave and would have been home soon.” She seated herself near An’gel on the divan.
“I was restless, feeling cooped up,” An’gel said, “and I decided to get out and come to town. Have you heard the latest news?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No, I haven’t talked to anyone except Mr. Devereux and his sons. I think I left my cell phone in the car. Why? What has happened?”
Bugg might be annoyed with her for telling Jacqueline about Estelle’s murder, but he would just have to be annoyed, An’gel decided.
“Estelle is dead,” she said. “I was with her when it happened.”
“Her heart, I’ll bet,” Jacqueline said, looking stricken. “She was devoted to Maman and all this has been too big a strain for her.” She glanced up, as if to heaven, and sighed heavily.
“No, it wasn’t her heart,” An’gel said. “She was poisoned.”
Jacqueline shot up from the divan. “Poisoned? Oh, dear lord.” She sank back down. “That’s horrendous. Why would someone murder her?”
“Because she knew something that Sondra’s murderer didn’t want her to tell anyone else.” An’gel leaned toward Jacqueline. “Estelle told me at least twice that she knew things, and she said it in a way that led me to believe she was planning to blackmail someone. For all I know, she tried, and the murderer poisoned her.”
She went on to explain the figure she thought she had seen, and she repeated what Jackson had told her about Estelle’s allergy to peanuts.
Jacqueline nodded. “Yes, she was deathly afraid of peanuts in any form.” She covered her face with her hands and said something, but it was too muffled for An’gel to understand.
“What did you say?” she demanded.
Jacqueline dropped her hands and clasped them together in her lap. Her expression one of anguish, she stared at An’gel. “I said what an awful mess this is. What a nightmare.” Tears rolled down her face.
An’gel reached over and squeezed Jacqueline’s hands. “Yes, dear, I know. That’s why we need to do whatever we can to put an end to this. There is something evil at work, and it has to be stopped.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Jacqueline said. “But how? I’m terrified of what might happen next. Is someone staying with Tippy? Maybe I need to get home and look after her myself.” She half rose from the divan but then dropped down again.
“Tippy is safe,” An’gel said. “Either Dickce or Benjy will be with her at all times, and they won’t let her out of their sight. They will protect her. There’s also Peanut. He has apparently taken a shine to Tippy, and you can bet he won’t let anybody hurt her if he’s anywhere nearby.”
“Thank you,” Jacqueline said. “If something happens to her, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“She’s going to be fine,” An’gel said firmly. “We are going to figure out how to put an end to this, and you and she will both be safe.”
Jacqueline nodded. “What can we do?”
“The first thing we have to do is establish the motive for Sondra’s death,” An’gel said. “Once we know that, everything else should fall into place.”
Her goddaughter stared expectantly at her, so An’gel continued. “In my mind, there are two possible motives. One is passion, the other is greed. Until a little while ago, I was convinced, as was Dickce, by the way, that greed was at the root of this. We were certain that someone was in desperate need of money and killed Sondra because he wanted access to her inheritance.”
“You mean Horace, don’t you?” Jacqueline said sadly.
“Possibly,” An’gel said. “He is in deep trouble financially, probably far deeper than he’s told you. But he’s not the only one we considered. Dickce and I are highly suspicious of your lawyer. I even went to the bank just now to talk to Mr. Montgomery because he is the other trustee.” She sighed. “But he assured me there was no way Thurston has embezzled any of Sondra’s money. If he’s telling the truth, then I think we have to look at passion as the motive.”
“If Farley Montgomery says there’s no way the money can be embezzled, then you can believe him.”
For a moment An’gel thought she was having an auditory hallucination. She was looking at Jacqueline, but it was Mireille’s voice she heard. Jacqueline was staring past An’gel and not talking, however.
An’gel turned in the direction Jacqueline was staring, and she almost fainted.
Mireille Champlain stood in the doorway looking at her, every bit as alive as An’gel was.
CHAPTER 35
“I’m sorry, Tante An’gel,” Jacqueline said, sounding stricken. “I wanted to tell you, but Maman insisted that you had to be kept in the dark, along with Tante Dickce.”
“Yes, I did,” Mireille said as she advanced into the room. She sat between An’gel and Jacqueline on the divan.
An’gel’s heart was beating so hard she thought she might pass out. She did her best to slow her breathing and the beat of her heart while she stared at her cousin. Mireille looked perfectly fine, as if she hadn’t had any kind of heart attack at all.
“I, too, am sorry, An’gel,” Mireille said as she took one of An’gel’s hands and rubbed it between both of hers. “I hated to put you and Dickce through all this, but I couldn’t take the chance that one of you, without meaning to, might give the whole thing away.”
An’gel wanted to be angry with Mireille, but she sensed that her cousin was frightened. “I’ll get over it. I’m too happy and relieved to be upset for long,” An’gel said. “May I tell Dickce?”
Mireille sighed. “I’d rather you didn’t, but I know how close the two of you are. You might as well. I’m hoping this will all be over soon, anyway, if we can simply figure out a way to make it happen.”
“If you’ll tell me why you decided to carry out this elaborate charade, perhaps I can help. I want to get this over with, too, before anyone else is hurt. Frankly, I’m concerned about Jacqueline and Tippy’s safety,” An’gel said.
“I’m worried, too,” Mireille replied. “I’ve taken steps to close the one loophole that leaves them vulnerable, but we have no proof as to what’s really going on or exactly who is responsible.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” An’
gel said. She was feeling almost back to normal again and ready to tackle the problem. “First, though, I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”
Mireille gasped and squeezed her hand hard, and An’gel hastily pulled her hand free. “Sorry,” Mireille said. “Involuntary reaction. What is it?”
“Estelle died earlier today,” An’gel said. “She was poisoned.”
Mireille closed her eyes, crossed herself, and uttered a quiet prayer. Her eyes fluttered open when she finished, and An’gel saw that they were damp. Mireille brushed the tears away with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.
“Poor Estelle,” she said. “She was so unhappy. I tried my best to help her, but it was never enough.”
“You did more than enough for her, Maman,” Jacqueline said hotly. “She was sour and mean-spirited.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Mireille said. “But she was my friend.” She looked at An’gel. “Why do you think she was killed?”
“I think she was trying to blackmail someone,” An’gel said bluntly. “Now tell me, did Estelle know about this charade of yours?”
Mireille shook her head. “Goodness, no. Estelle was not in the least discreet. I could never trust her with anything like this. The whole thing would have fallen apart immediately.”
“She told me she knew the moment you died,” An’gel said. “Frankly, it was eerie. She seemed so convinced.”
“She fancied herself as a psychic,” Jacqueline said scornfully. “She was no more psychic than I am. Which is not at all.”
“Estelle was always trying to make herself seem special,” Mireille said. “She could never let go of the bitterness that stemmed from her poverty-stricken childhood.”
“That truly is sad,” An’gel said. Estelle had evidently been trapped by her own inability to let go of her unfortunate past, and An’gel felt a surge of pity for her. Time to focus on the present, however. She had more questions for her resurrected cousin and her goddaughter.
“I imagine Jacqueline has already told you this,” An’gel said, “but I discovered that your grandmother’s wedding dress was intact and in the bottom drawer of your chifforobe. I began to wonder about that whole incident, Sondra’s tantrum and tearing up the dress. Jacqueline said someone must have put Sondra up to it.”
Mireille sighed. “I put her up to it. Jacqueline told you about the destruction of possessions that had great sentimental value to me. That all upset me, and I knew that the person who did those things meant me harm. They were meant to intimidate me as well, because I refused to give Horace money to pay off bad debts.”
An’gel wanted to pursue that point, but first she wanted to hear more of an explanation about Sondra’s role in Mireille’s plan. “How did you talk Sondra into going along with your plan?”
“She wanted to be an actress,” Jacqueline said. “Going to New York after she married was mainly for her benefit, not Lance’s. With her inheritance to back her up, she was convinced she would soon be on the stage in New York. She thought she could finance the plays herself.”
“Good heavens,” An’gel said faintly.
“I know,” Jacqueline said. “It was a crazy plan, but I couldn’t talk Sondra out of it or get her to understand that she would just be throwing her money away. She could act a little, but not enough to carry a Broadway show.”
“I think she might have surprised all of us,” Mireille said. “There was more to her than people credited her with, but her great failing was her inability to step into anyone’s shoes other than her own.” She shook her head. “I told her I wanted to stage a dramatic scene for you and Dickce. Estelle was not part of the plan, however.”
“So Estelle told that awful story about the dead bride without anyone prompting her?” An’gel asked.
“Yes,” Jacqueline said. “I was furious with her myself, and she made Sondra go ballistic. It helped add to the drama for Maman’s plan, but it was unexpected.”
“It worked well, because Sondra really was livid with me for not firing Estelle,” Mireille said. “She wasn’t acting when she ripped apart the replica and threw the pieces over the railing. We had already planned that. Estelle unknowingly increased the theatrical factor.”
“If she had any acting talent,” An’gel said wrily, “she got it from you.” She pointed to Mireille. “You certainly convinced Dickce and me that you were having a heart attack.” Then she pointed at Jacqueline. “You were convincing, too.”
Jacqueline had the grace to look abashed. “I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“It was drastic,” Mireille said, slightly defensively, “but I had to get out of that house, and I had to convince my persecutor that I was beyond his reach. I wanted him to think he succeeded in bringing about my death.”
“Maman hoped it would end there,” Jacqueline said. “We thought by faking her death we could buy a little time to find the evidence to put a stop to all this. Maman didn’t want to go to the police. She wanted to handle everything this way.”
“And buy time for me to make a new will,” Mireille said with a small touch of smugness.
“We didn’t think he would target Sondra,” Jacqueline said.
Mireille grasped her daughter’s hand and held it tightly. An’gel felt sorry for them both.
“I’m assuming Sondra knew you were faking the heart attack?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mireille said. “She knew, but she didn’t know the real reason, of course.”
An’gel couldn’t keep a note of exasperation from her voice when she asked her next questions. “Weren’t you afraid she would slip and give the whole thing away? To her killer, for example?”
“I told her that if she didn’t sustain the charade,” Mireille said, “it would show that she wasn’t a good enough actress. She had too much pride to give anything away.”
An’gel was surprised that her cousin had been willing to manipulate her own grandchild to such an extent. Couldn’t she have found another way to protect herself and identify her persecutor?
An’gel decided there was no point in telling Mireille and Jacqueline that now. Instead she asked another question.
“Why were you willing to let Sondra marry Lance and go off to New York? Surely you realize how unsuitable he is.”
Mireille and Jacqueline exchanged glances, then Mireille turned back to An’gel. “Yes, we’re aware of Lance’s unsuitability. And his proclivities. We aren’t blind.”
“But Sondra was bound and determined to get married and get away from St. Ignatiusville,” Jacqueline said. “And if nothing else, Lance comes from a good family.”
“Yes,” Mireille said. “And I certainly didn’t want to see her marry Trey Mims.” She sniffed. “One Mims in the family is already one too many.”
Jacqueline glowered at her mother but didn’t say anything.
Mireille really could be a snob, An’gel reflected. Perhaps if she had let things alone, let Trey and Sondra get married, things would have turned out far differently. She doubted, however, Mireille would agree with her.
A sudden trill emanating from her handbag startled An’gel. “Excuse me,” she said to the two women. “I’d better at least check to see who it is.” She pulled the phone from the bag and glanced at the display. Benjy was calling. “I should take this,” she said. “It could be important.”
Mireille and Jacqueline nodded, and An’gel answered the call. “Hello, Benjy, is everything all right?” She listened for a moment. “I see. Yes, do tell me.” She listened for a couple of minutes this time. Finally she said, “Thank you. I’m glad you called. I’ll be back at Willowbank in half an hour probably.” She ended the call and dropped the phone back in her handbag.
“What was all that about?” Jacqueline asked. “Tippy is okay, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s fine,” An’gel said. “Dickce is with her now. Benjy was w
ith her most of the afternoon, along with Lance, and then Trey. Dickce sent Lance and Trey about their business, though.”
“Good,” Mireille said. “That was a long conversation, just to tell you that much.”
“Indeed,” An’gel replied. “Benjy had more to tell me. He had a chat with Trey and found out two very interesting things. One is that Lance evidently has a violent temper when he’s thwarted, though he seems not to remember the incidents after he has struck out at someone.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Jacqueline frowned. “But I thought he’d grown out of it. The last time I remember him doing something like that was when he attacked another child at school when he was ten years old.”
“I’m not sure it’s something one grows out of,” An’gel said. “That ties in with the second thing Benjy discovered. Trey told him he had argued with Sondra on the night she died about marrying Lance. He was determined to stop her, but she told him she wasn’t going to marry Lance after all. Instead, she was going to elope with another man. An older man. Benjy thinks it’s possible that when Sondra told Lance, he might have become enraged and struck out at her. The coroner is sure she was dead before her body was thrown off the gallery to the ground below.”
An’gel knew that last bit was rather brutal, but this was no time to be mincing words.
“Do you think Lance could have killed Sondra?” she asked. “And do you think he was behind those vicious attacks on you, Mireille?”
Mireille stared at her. “I suppose he could have killed Sondra in a fit. But he simply doesn’t have the cunning to have carried out that nasty campaign. Nor did he have the reason.”
“What is the reason?” An’gel asked.
“To intimidate me into signing over most of my income and capital to Horace,” Mireille said.
“So Horace is behind it?” An’gel said.
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