0425273059

by Miranda James

  “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 with 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.

  “No, I think he’s an unwilling party to it, however.” Mireille grimaced. “The person behind it is my lawyer, Richmond Thurston.”

  “He can’t get at the money Terence left me and Sondra,” Jacqueline said, “unless he murders poor Mr. Montgomery. But he can get at Maman through Horace and then through me. He drew up Maman’s will, and he knows everything comes to me.”

  “And with Mireille out of the way, he can extort the money from Horace because you would do anything to help your husband,” An’gel said.

  “Yes,” Mireille said. “But what he doesn’t know is that I have now changed my will and hired a new lawyer. There’s no way he can get the money now.”

  “Do you think he killed Sondra?” An’gel asked. “Is he the older man she was going to elope with, do you think?”

  “Yes,” Mireille and Jacqueline said in unison.

  Mireille went on, “Rich Thurston can be a very charming man, and I think he was using Sondra as his backup plan. He’s desperate for money all of a sudden.”

  “Then why would he have killed Sondra?” An’gel asked. “Once they were married, he’d have had access to her money, and Mr. Montgomery would no longer be able to stop him.”

  “I don’t know,” Mireille said. She got up from the divan and began to pace back and forth. “This thing has got to end. Maybe I should just go and confront Rich Thurston right now.”

  “No,” An’gel said. “I wouldn’t do that.” She had the beginnings of an idea. “I think it would take more than that to put an end to his nasty schemes.” She thought for a moment. Yes, it just might work. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do.” She motioned for Mireille to resume her seat, and then she outlined her plan.

  CHAPTER 36

  An’gel pulled the Lexus into the parking lot behind Emile Devereux and Sons and switched off the ignition. “Remember now, we must be extremely careful not to give anything away.”

  “You’ve said that at least seven times in the last fifteen minutes,” Dickce said. “My nerves are every bit as strong as yours, Sister. I won’t be the one to spill the beans.”

  “All right,” An’gel said. “No more admonitions, I promise.”

  “I never knew that Emile Devereux was Mireille’s first beau,” Dickce said as she stared at the sign at the back of the building.

  “I didn’t either, but it explains why she took refuge in the funeral home,” An’gel said. “Even though he married another woman, he still loved her, and she trusted her safety to him and his grandson.”

  “Romantic, in a way,” Dickce said as she opened the door.

  An’gel forbore to comment as she opened her own door and stepped out of the car. She checked her watch. Six forty-five. Right on schedule. “Come on,” she said and started briskly up the sidewalk and around to the front door.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Emile’s grandson said as he opened the door for them. He ushered them into the parlor on the left side. “If you don’t mind waiting here, we’ll be opening the doors for the viewing at seven.” He winked.

  An’gel suppressed a smile. Earlier when she had explained her plan to him and his grandfather, he had agreed to play his part enthusiastically. An’gel suspected that he was happy to do something that fell outside the usual pattern of the mortuary business.

  He leaned close to An’gel and whispered, “The policemen are already in place in there.” An’gel nodded, and he went back to wait by the door.

  She and Dickce walked into the parlor and chose two chairs to the back of the room. They wanted to be sure the chairs closest to the door were free for others.

  The waiting was going to be the most difficult part, An’gel knew. She probably should have planned their arrival for a few minutes later, but she wanted to be there with Dickce before any of the others turned up.

  Farley Montgomery was the next to arrive, and An’gel introduced him to her sister.

  He bowed over Dickce’s hand and murmured, “Such a grievous occasion on which to meet, Miss Ducote.”

 
“Yes, it is,” Dickce said sadly.

  The banker nodded and moved away to sit on a sofa at the side of the room. He crossed his bony left leg over the right, folded his hands, and rested them atop the knee.

  An’gel and Dickce exchanged a quick glance. “See, what did I tell you?” An’gel whispered. Dickce raised her eyebrows in response.

  The door opened, and Horace and Jacqueline walked in, accompanied by Trey. Jacqueline’s eyes were red, An’gel noted when they drew close, and she held a handkerchief to her nose.

  Horace nodded to acknowledge them. Trey did the same before he sat a couple of chairs down from An’gel. Jacqueline maneuvered Horace to a chair in the front row and, when they were seated, leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder.

  An’gel noted her goddaughter’s behavior and approved. Jacqueline was striking the right note for the occasion.

  Next came Benjy, with Lance in tow. Lance appeared confused, but Benjy had a firm grip on his arm and steered him into a seat near Jacqueline. Benjy sat next to him. A close friend of Jacqueline’s was staying with Tippy, Peanut, and Endora at Willowbank.

  Right on the dot of seven, Richmond Thurston walked into the funeral home. An’gel eyed him critically. He was properly dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and a dark tie. His expression was appropriate, a polite mixture of seriousness and sadness. He advanced into the room, moving straight toward Jacqueline. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Such a sad occasion,” he said as he drew back. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He nodded at Horace to include him.

  “Thank you, Rich,” Jacqueline said with a little sob in her voice. “It would mean so much to Maman to know that you’re here.”

  An’gel had the sudden urge to giggle but managed to suppress it. Dickce was the giggler in the family. She cut a swift look at her sister, but Dickce’s composure remained unruffled.