“What are y’all talking about?”
Dickce started at the sound of her sister’s voice. She got up and hurried to An’gel. “Are you okay, Sister?” She gave An’gel a quick hug.
An’gel gave her a wan smile. “My back is getting stiff. I have a feeling it’s going to be sore tomorrow. My neck, too.”
“You need a hot shower and some aspirin,” Dickce said. “Thank the Lord it’s not worse.”
“Amen to that,” An’gel replied. “I’ll go up and take a shower in a few minutes. First, though, I want to hear all about what you found out in Memphis.”
Dickce escorted her sister to a chair, and Peanut came to greet An’gel. He whined, and she rubbed his head. Endora came near her, meowed, and then hopped into Dickce’s lap. An’gel smiled and continued to give Peanut the attention he craved.
Dickce gave her sister a report of the conversation she’d had with Coriander Simpson’s mother. An’gel did not comment until Dickce finished.
“That’s a strange story,” she said. “I wish we knew more about this Wachtel person.”
“So do I,” Dickce said. “Clementine doesn’t remember anybody by that name, either.”
“I’m going to see whether I can find out anything about him,” Benjy said. “I might get lucky, but without more to go on, I might not find anything.”
An’gel’s phone rang. Dickce took it from her hands. “Let me answer this,” she said. “You still look tired.” She glanced at the screen.
“Hello, Kanesha, this is Dickce. An’gel is here with me,” she said.
“Is she doing okay?” Kanesha asked.
“A little stiff, but otherwise okay,” Dickce replied.
“Glad to hear it,” Kanesha said. “I’ve got some news for y’all. We’ve checked the cars belonging to Mrs. MacLeod and Mrs. Dalrymple.”
“Which one of them tried to run An’gel off the road?” Dickce asked.
“Neither of them,” Kanesha said.
CHAPTER 27
An’gel held out her hand. “Give me my phone. I’m perfectly capable of talking to Kanesha.”
“All right then, Miss Grumpy Pants.” Dickce thrust the phone at her.
“Hello, Kanesha. This is An’gel. What were you telling my sister?”
“I hope you’re doing okay, Miss An’gel,” Kanesha said. “I told Miss Dickce we checked both Mrs. MacLeod’s and Mrs. Dalrymple’s cars, and they were intact. No damage.”
“How bizarre.” An’gel was stunned. She had been so sure one of their cars would have been the one trying to force her off the road.
“We also checked Mr. Partridge’s car,” Kanesha said. “It is also intact.”
“Then who on earth was it, do you think?” An’gel said.
“It’s entirely possible it was a hit-and-run by a stranger,” Kanesha said. “We’ll have to keep that in mind. It’s a huge coincidence, though, after what happened to Mrs. McGonigal.”
“It certainly is,” An’gel said. She was thankful to know that Hadley hadn’t been the one who hit her. Perhaps it was just a coincidence after all. The road was slick, and visibility was reduced.
“We’ll be on the lookout for a vehicle with a damaged front end,” Kanesha said. “We still haven’t identified the vehicle that forced Mrs. McGonigal off the road.”
“I hope you can identify it soon,” An’gel said. “Have you made any progress in the search for Mrs. Turnipseed?”
“Nothing new to report,” Kanesha replied. “Sorry, Miss An’gel, but I’ve got to go. Y’all stay safe now, all right?”
“We’ll do our best,” An’gel said, her tone wry.
“Well, what else did she tell you?” Dickce said when An’gel put down her phone.
“She said they checked Hadley’s car, and his isn’t damaged either. Kanesha said to keep in mind the possibility that it was merely a coincidence and not connected to the other incidents at all.” An’gel frowned. “The conditions weren’t great, so someone who wasn’t paying attention could have come up behind me and not realized I was there.”
“Did you remember to turn the headlights on?” Dickce asked. “That car is gray, and in the rain it’s hard to see if the lights aren’t on.”
“I don’t remember,” An’gel said. “I was preoccupied when I got in the car, and I may have forgotten the lights.”
“If you did, it’s no wonder somebody ran into you.” Dickce frowned. “You’ve got to be more careful, Sister.”
An’gel could have sworn she heard a snicker, but she wasn’t sure of its source. Both Benjy and Clementine were looking down at their hands when she checked.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” An’gel said, her temper flaring. “Considering you drive like you’re trying to get away from a stampeding herd of elephants all the time.”
Peanut whined, and An’gel realized she and her sister were on the verge of one of their rare arguments. She knew her sister was worried about her, because the outcome of the accident could have been so much worse.
“Sorry, Dickce.” An’gel reached over and patted her sister’s arm. “I guess I’m still a little off balance from the accident.” Endora swatted at her hand, and An’gel drew it back quickly.
“Apology accepted,” Dickce said.
“What did Deputy Berry have to say about Mrs. Turnipseed?” Benjy asked.
“Nothing new to report,” An’gel said. “I can only hope that, in this case, no news is good news.”
“No telling about that woman.” Clementine sniffed. “She’s liable to be up to anything.”
“I sure would like another chance to talk to her,” An’gel said.
“I hope you won’t bring her inside this house.” Clementine looked determined. “Don’t need that bad stuff coming in here.”
An’gel and Dickce exchanged a swift glance. They had rarely heard their housekeeper speak so harshly of anyone. An’gel hastened to assure Clementine that she wouldn’t talk to Mrs. Turnipseed at Riverhill unless there was no other way.
“Provided, of course,” Dickce said, “she’s not dead in a ditch herself somewhere.” She shivered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I said it when we were on the way home from Memphis, and then we get here and find out you could have ended up in a ditch.”
“The Lord was looking out for Miss An’gel,” Clementine said. “Now it’s my turn. Dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t y’all go on and get washed up?”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Benjy said. “It’s been a long time since lunch.” He stood. “Come on, guys, time for us to go.” He picked up Endora from Dickce’s lap, and Peanut followed him as he went to the kitchen door. “Stopped raining, at least. I’ll be back soon as I get the guys settled. I’ll put the car in the garage, too.”
“We’ll set the table,” An’gel told the housekeeper.
Clementine nodded. “Thank you. I’ll bring the food along shortly.”
An’gel and Dickce left the kitchen. They took turns washing up in the downstairs powder room before they went into the dining room. They began to lay the table while they chatted.
“If that car hitting you wasn’t a coincidence,” Dickce said, “who do you think could have been driving the car?”
“It happened too soon after we all left for any of the others to get home, find another car, and come back.” An’gel frowned. “And Hadley’s car was undamaged. I think surely whoever hit me sustained damage to their car, so that lets Hadley off. Who else is there?”
“I know this may sound odd,” Dickce said, “but the only other person connected to this that we know of is Mrs. Turnipseed.”
“Why would she try to run me off the road?” An’gel asked.
“I don’t know,” Dickce said. “She’s just the only other person I can think of.”
“Unless there’s a Mister or Miss X,
” An’gel said. “Someone we don’t know about yet who is involved somehow.”
“That hardly seems likely,” Dickce said.
An’gel sighed. “I know, but it seems about as likely as Mrs. Turnipseed.”
“She as good as told you that she was actually at Ashton Hall when Callie left,” Dickce said. “She must have seen something or she wouldn’t have tried to get money from us.”
“I agree.” An’gel stood back and admired their handiwork. “Perhaps she put the bite on the person she saw then, and that person has forced her to help them now. Are you thinking something like that?”
“Pretty much,” Dickce said. “Only I wonder what kind of inducement that person is using. Threatening to kill Mrs. Turnipseed if she doesn’t go along with them, or offering a huge bribe. Which might it be?”
An’gel thought about that for a moment. “Actually there’s another possibility. Make that two possibilities. The first is that Mrs. Turnipseed has been behind everything all along. The second one is that the person behind it has equally damaging evidence against Mrs. Turnipseed.”
“I like that second one,” Dickce said. “We don’t have much to go on, based on our only recent encounter with Mrs. T, but I think she’s probably a nasty piece of work. I wouldn’t put much past her.”
“Me either,” An’gel replied. “And you heard what Clementine thinks of her. She’s usually the soul of charity, but when she doesn’t like someone, it means that person is horrid.”
Benjy entered the dining room bearing a large bowl of salad. Clementine was right behind him with the serving cart.
“Something sure smells wonderful,” Dickce said.
“Chicken tetrazzini and garlic bread,” Benjy said with a happy grin. “Man, I can’t wait to dig in.” He set the salad on the table.
Clementine set chilled bowls at each place. She put the large casserole dish on a trivet on the table and then set the garlic bread near it.
“Looks wonderful,” An’gel said. “We’ll clean up. You go on home.”
Clementine nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
Conversation was sparse as the three ate their meal. After his second helping of the chicken dish, Benjy pushed back from the table a little. “I think I’m completely stuffed.”
“I am, too,” Dickce said. “Although I keep thinking I want another piece of garlic bread.”
“There’s only the one left,” An’gel said. “If Benjy doesn’t care for it, go ahead.”
Dickce glanced at Benjy. He shook his head, smiling. Dickce picked up the slice of toasted bread and took a bite out of it.
“While my sister munches in peace,” An’gel said, “what are your plans for tomorrow, Benjy?”
“I’m going to continue my research,” he replied. “I’ll probably work some tonight. I want to see if I can track down this H. Wachtel person. I thought I might also try searching English newspaper archives to see if I can find anything on Coriander Simpson’s death.”
“Excellent. I hope you can find something,” An’gel said. “If you can’t, it won’t exactly prove that Coriander didn’t die in England, of course.”
“No, but a negative result will tell us something,” Benjy said. “I might have to pay to get into some of the archives. Is that okay?”
“Certainly,” Dickce said. “Use your credit card.” They had given him his own card recently, but he was careful about using it unless he discussed it with them first.
“Thanks.” Benjy stood and began to clear his side of the table.
“We’ll take care of the rest,” An’gel told him. “You go on and see if Clementine left anything in the fridge for dessert.” She winked. “Then go and research.”
Benjy laughed. “I shouldn’t eat anything more, but Clementine’s desserts are hard to resist. I guess I’ll say good night then.”
An’gel and Dickce both wished him good night, and he left the dining room humming.
“It’s wonderful to see the change in him since we first met him three months ago,” Dickce said. “He’s become so much more confident, and he smiles a lot.”
“Having a home, good food, and people who actually support him and pay attention to him has made a huge difference.” An’gel smiled. “I’m glad you talked me into making him our ward.”
Dickce picked up her glass and stared into it. An’gel waited. She knew Dickce had something on her mind, but there was no point in rushing her.
After a moment, Dickce said, “I’ve been thinking about that, having him as our ward. We use that term, but there’s really nothing legal behind it to define the relationship.” She paused. “I want to adopt him.” She held up a hand toward her sister. “And before you tell me that’s a ridiculous idea, a woman my age adopting anyone, I’m pretty determined about this.”
“I’m not going to say it’s a ridiculous idea,” An’gel replied. “I’ve been thinking about it myself. We have no direct heirs, and when we’re gone, I want someone who will appreciate Riverhill to have it and take care of it. I think Benjy could be the right person for that.”
“I do, too.” Dickce smiled, obviously relieved by her sister’s words. “I’m so glad you agree.”
“My only stipulation is that we wait until Benjy has been with us a year,” An’gel said. “We need more time to get to know him, and he to know us. At the end of a year, we can sit down and talk about it. Will you agree to that?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Dickce said. “I know I shouldn’t be too hasty with a decision like this.” She thought for a moment. “Okay. A year it is, but I’ll hold you to it.”
An’gel laughed suddenly. “We’re certainly optimists, aren’t we? At our age, talking about what we’ll do nine months from now.” She sobered. “Still, I think it’s best that we wait.”
“Agreed.” Dickce stood and began to gather dirty utensils and plates to take to the kitchen.
An’gel knew her sister was bothered by the mention of their ages, but they had to be realistic. They were both in excellent health, but so many things could happen to change that, and quickly. She’d had a lucky escape today, thank heavens, and she didn’t care to think about how bad it could have been.
She forced her thoughts away from that subject. Time to focus on something else. She thought about Callie Partridge and how easily—or so it seemed—she had slipped from their lives. They hadn’t questioned it among themselves, at least not seriously. Gossip had quickly provided an answer, but as it turned out, not the correct one. Callie had lain in a grave at Ashton Hall all these years.
An’gel was struck by an odd thought. There were two women missing: Callie and Coriander. What if those weren’t Callie’s remains they’d found? What if they’d belonged to Coriander instead?
CHAPTER 28
An’gel followed as Dickce pushed the serving cart, now laden with the remains of their dinner, dirty plates, and utensils, back to the kitchen. Could she possibly be right? she wondered. She debated whether to share her idea with her sister. Dickce might think she was being foolish to think such a thing. After all, An’gel thought, what motive could there have been to murder Coriander Simpson?
She continued to play with the idea in her mind while she and Dickce rinsed the dishes and put away the meager leftovers of the chicken tetrazzini. When they finished their tasks, Dickce declared she was going to the front parlor for a glass of postprandial brandy.
“Sounds good,” An’gel said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
Dickce looked at her oddly but didn’t question her. The moment she left the room, An’gel picked up the kitchen phone and punched in a number.
“Good evening, Elmo,” she said when the elderly doctor answered. “How are you doing?”
“Tolerable, just tolerable,” Gandy replied. “How about your lovely self, An’gel?”
“I’m doing fine.” An’gel moved
over to the table and sat. Elmo could be long-winded sometimes, and she felt tired. “I hope you won’t mind my calling, but there’s something weighing on my mind. I’m hoping you can help me with it.”
“What’s that?” the doctor asked, sounding concerned. “Your sciatica acting up again?”
“No, that’s not bothering me, thank heavens,” An’gel said. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about is Callie Partridge.”
“What about her?” Gandy said.
When An’gel didn’t immediately respond to his question, the doctor went on. “This is about the remains found up at Ashton Hall, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” An’gel said. “Ever since we found them, Callie has been weighing heavy on my mind. I just wondered if you were able to help the sheriff’s department identify them.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t. I suppose it’s all right to tell you this, but Callie, you see, had never broken any bones to my knowledge, and there was no evidence of broken bones in the remains. So that was a washout. The remains are approximately the size Callie was, about five foot seven, but that’s not positive proof. That anthropologist from the college thinks the woman was roughly the same age as Callie was when she disappeared, but he can’t say precisely how old she was.”
“What about dental records?” An’gel said.
“They’re trying to track down her dentist. He left town a good twenty-five years ago, and he was in his early sixties then, if I’m remembering correctly. Her records may no longer be available.”
“That’s frustrating,” An’gel said. “At this rate we may never know for sure who was buried in that grave.”
“If they can track down a member of Callie’s family and get a good sample, a DNA test will provide the answer,” Gandy said.
“True,” An’gel said, “but who knows how long that could take?” She debated whether to share her idea that the remains might belong to Coriander Simpson. She decided the notion was a bit too farfetched and would only complicate matters at this point. She would have to think about it more before she discussed it with anyone else.
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