1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart

by Miranda James

The door swung open to reveal her sister’s scowling face. “What on earth is it?”

  “Diesel is missing,” An’gel said. “He’s not in my room anywhere.”

  Dickce’s scowl turned to an expression of dismay. “Oh, dear, I knew I forgot something.”

  “What did you forget?” An’gel glared at her sister. “Is Diesel all right?”

  Dickce took hold of her arm and pulled An’gel into the bedroom. “Yes, Diesel is fine. He managed to get out of your room a couple of hours ago and out of the house, too. I found him in the garage apartment when I went there to check on Benjy.”

  “If I weren’t so relieved,” An’gel said, her heart rate beginning to slow, “I’d snatch you bald-headed. Do you realize what a scare you gave me?”

  “I’m sorry, Sister,” Dickce said, obviously contrite. “I meant to tell you, but I forgot. I’m just as tired as you are.”

  An’gel nodded. “All right. I forgive you. Do you think Diesel will be okay with that young man? After all, we don’t know anything about him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Benjy wants to be a veterinarian, or so he said earlier today. Besides, Diesel obviously thinks he’s a good person; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to be with him.”

  “I can’t believe we’re accepting a character reference from a cat,” An’gel said, shaking her head. “But I’m too tired to argue. If anything happens to Diesel, though, you’ll be the one to explain it to Charlie.”

  “I’m not worried in the least.” Dickce glared at her.

  An’gel knew that mulish expression all too well. There was no point in further argument. “Good night, again.”

  Back in her room, door once again locked, An’gel got comfortable in bed. She decided she was not going to worry about the cat, nor about Rosabelle and her family and their assorted troubles. She decided for once to take the advice of the South’s most notorious belle. After all, tomorrow is another day.

  CHAPTER 15

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the overcast skies promised rain. Ordinarily Dickce enjoyed such days, so long as the storm wasn’t violent. Today, however, she didn’t relish being cooped up inside with Rosabelle and her family during a downpour. At least a good rain might break the oppressive heat for a while. That thought cheered her slightly as she finished setting the table for breakfast.

  Dickce checked her watch. Quarter to eight. Their guests would start turning up any minute. She scanned the room. The orange juice and coffee carafes were on the sideboard, and Clementine and Antoinette ought to be bringing in the large chafing dishes with scrambled eggs, sausages, and biscuits any minute now. An’gel had prepared a small platter with grapes, pineapple, sliced apples, and two kinds of cheese for those who wanted a lighter repast.

  “Surely that will be enough,” Dickce said.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  Startled, Dickce turned toward the door, where Junior Pittman stood, his expression puzzled.

  Dickce laughed. “Sorry, talking to myself. Bad habit.” She waved a hand toward the table and the sideboard. “Please help yourself to coffee and orange juice. The hot food will be here in a few minutes, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you.” Junior headed straight for the coffee. “I’ve been dying for caffeine.”

  Dickce smiled at that. “I hope you found your bed comfortable.”

  “I sure did.” Junior stirred cream and sugar into his mug. “I was pretty much tapped out last night, and I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

  “Good. Was Benjy up when you left to come over here?” Dickce had thought a lot about the bereft young man before she was finally able to sleep.

  “He was taking a shower,” Junior replied. “Ought to be here soon. Said he was hungry.” He sipped his coffee.

  “Miss Dickce, Miss An’gel wants you in the kitchen.”

  Dickce turned to see Clementine wheeling in the serving cart, followed by her granddaughter Antoinette carrying the fruit and cheese tray. Once the two women were clear of the doorway, Dickce headed out. What did An’gel want now? Dickce had already polished the dining room table and the sideboard, before setting them up for the meal, at her sister’s insistence. You’d think we were entertaining the Queen of England, Dickce thought grumpily.

  When she walked into the kitchen, she found An’gel chatting with Benjy. Diesel sat beside the young man, his eyes focused on Benjy.

  An’gel looked up. “This young man was asking for you.” Diesel warbled in agreement.

  “Good morning, Benjy. You, too, Diesel.” Dickce smiled. She was pleased to see that Benjy looked clean and rested this morning. He wore pants with no holes in them and a tucked-in button-down shirt. Diesel looked just fine, too. Spending the night with Benjy in the garage apartment didn’t seem to have done him any harm.

  “Good morning, Miss Dickce,” he said. He glanced sideways at An’gel. Dickce got the impression he wasn’t keen to talk in front of the elder Miss Ducote.

  Diesel chose that moment to head to the butler’s pantry, where Clementine had put down a water bowl, a litter box, and a bowl of dry food. A few seconds later Dickce could hear him crunching away.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Benjy?” Dickce asked. She stared hard at her sister, and An’gel appeared to realize what Dickce wanted, made her excuses, and left the kitchen.

  Benjy waited until An’gel was gone before he spoke. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to eat in here. I don’t really feel like dealing with the Wart and his family right now.”

  “If that’s what you’d prefer,” Dickce said, “then of course you can.” She paused. “You’re going to have to face them all at some point, though.”

  He shrugged. “I wish I could hit the road right now and get away from all of them. They didn’t like my mom, and they don’t want me hanging around.”

  “I know it’s difficult for you because you don’t think of them as family,” Dickce said. “But I like you, and so does An’gel.” She hoped the latter statement sounded convincing, because she actually wasn’t sure of her sister’s attitude toward Benjy. “We want you to stay. Besides, don’t you want to be here to find out who is responsible for what happened?”

  Benjy looked away. He didn’t appear convinced by her words.

  Dickce decided to press a little harder. “An’gel and I want to see this figured out so the person who harmed your mother won’t be able to harm anyone else. With the exception of Rosabelle, whom we haven’t seen in probably twenty years, we don’t know any of those people. You do, however, and you could help us with your knowledge of them so we’ll know the right questions to ask.”

  “Isn’t that the sheriff lady’s job?” Benjy regarded her with obvious skepticism.

  “It is,” Dickce said. “But Deputy Berry can’t be here every moment. I think the others are likely to talk more freely to An’gel and me than they are to the deputy. We might be able to find out important information that could help solve this.” She paused. If that wasn’t enough to persuade him, she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t think his trying to isolate himself was a good idea.

  Clementine and Antoinette returned, and the housekeeper said, “Don’t be letting that food get cold, Miss Dickce. Y’all go in there and have something to eat.” She glanced around. “Where’s the kitty?”

  As if on cue, Diesel padded back into the kitchen and meowed loudly three times. Antoinette laughed as he came up to her and rubbed his head against her jeans-clad leg. “Gram, he’s answering you.”

  “He sure does like to talk,” Clementine said. “He can stay in here while y’all finish breakfast.” She glanced pointedly toward the door.

  “Thank you,” Dickce said. “I am hungry, now that I think about it. How about you, Benjy? Will you join me in the dining room?”

  Benjy hesitated a moment before
nodding. He followed when Dickce left the room.

  Rosabelle and her family were at the table. Dickce wasn’t sure whether she was ready to have them all in the room at the same time, but at the moment they appeared to be concentrating on their food.

  Juanita, seated next to Rosabelle on An’gel’s left, looked up when Dickce and Benjy entered. She pushed back her chair and came around to Benjy. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “How are you doing?”

  Dickce watched the interaction between the two, trying not to be too obvious about it, while she began to load her plate. She saw Benjy shrug.

  “I really am sorry about your mother,” Juanita said softly. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  Benjy nodded, and Dickce heard him say “thank you,” though his voice was hardly above a whisper.

  Dickce wondered whether she should have let the boy remain in the kitchen to eat as he had asked. Perhaps she shouldn’t have urged him to join everyone in the dining room. Accepting sympathy could cause emotions to well up, she knew from past experience.

  No one besides Juanita, however, made any approach to Benjy. After the girl resumed her seat, Benjy came over to the sideboard and picked up a plate. He stared for a moment at the eggs but then added two large spoonfuls to his plate, followed by three sausages and three biscuits.

  Dickce, her own plate full, chose a seat at the end of the table opposite her sister, a couple of chairs away from any of Rosabelle’s clan. Benjy took the chair to her right.

  The room remained quiet except for the sounds of eating. Dickce exchanged glances with her sister. An’gel gave a slight shrug. Even with their extensive experience in social situations, they had never had to sit down to breakfast after a murder and try to make polite conversation with a group that included a murderer.

  What would Miss Manners do? Dickce suppressed a giggle at the irreverent thought. She checked on Benjy and was pleased to see that he was eating, and not simply picking at his food.

  An’gel cleared her throat, and Dickce, along with everyone else, faced her.

  “I trust that you are all enjoying your breakfast.” An’gel paused but no comments were forthcoming. “Clementine will be serving a light lunch at one o’clock. In the meantime there will be light food and drinks in the front parlor if you have need of them.” She had a sip of orange juice before she continued.

  “I have spoken this morning with Chief Deputy Berry. She has informed me that she will return at nine thirty to talk to each of us again about the events of yesterday. She will be using the library for this purpose. She would like everyone to remain in the house until she has finished her interviews sometime later this morning. The weather will be inclement today. In fact, there is a strong chance of thunderstorms and high winds, so it is advisable that everyone remain in the house.”

  An’gel sounded like a prison warden or a school principal—Dickce couldn’t decide between the two. At times like this, she was happy that An’gel was the elder. Acting the heavy came so much more naturally to her. Dickce glanced around the table to gauge the reactions to her sister’s words.

  “I suppose we have to sit around twiddling our thumbs while we wait for our turn?” Maudine glowered at An’gel. “I don’t knit, and I don’t play cards. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do.” She snorted. “Don’t you even have a television set in this house, or is it too modern?”

  Maudine could hardly be more ungracious if she tried, Dickce thought. “There is a television,” she said in a pleasant tone. “It is in the library, however, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to watch it until after the chief deputy has finished her interviews.” She paused, as if struck by an idea. “The library does have shelves and shelves of books, though. You’re welcome to choose one to read.” If you know how, she wanted to add.

  Dickce kept her expression bland as Maudine turned to her. “I’m far too upset to read, thank you very much. This situation is intolerable. I think you people are making a big fuss over what was simply a terrible accident.”

  “That’s enough, Maudine.” Rosabelle’s tone brooked no argument. She folded her napkin and set it down by her empty plate. “You were a stupid child, and I’m sorry to say you’ve learned very little since. If you think what happened yesterday was an accident, then you have even fewer brain cells than I realized.”

  Dickce exchanged an appalled glance with An’gel.

  “Mother, how could you?” Maudine’s face crumpled, and she began to cry.

  “Mother, you should apologize to her right this minute.” Bernice shook a finger at Rosabelle. “You’re not in your right mind. I think Marla and Wade were right, you need to be committed to a psychiatric facility.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The 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 walk
ed 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.