“Definitely,” Helen Louise said.
“Have you seen Sean and Alexandra?” I asked. “I’m curious to see how they’re dressed.”
“They’re here somewhere,” Frank said as he glanced about. He waved. “Here they come now.”
Sean and Alexandra Pendergrast loomed into view, and they made a particularly striking couple. Sean was six-three, and in her heels Alexandra was only a couple of inches shorter. Sean had his hair slicked back in a severe style, and he sported a monocle in his left eye. His Edwardian-style evening wear flattered his muscular figure, and Alexandra’s frock, a straight flapper dress with sheer beaded overdress, complimented his attire nicely.
“Good evening, all. What an absolutely frightful crush.” Sean’s attempt at an aristocratic English accent was excellent. His sister must have coached him.
“I think there’s another actor in the Harris family,” Alexandra said with a fond glance at my son.
Laura grinned. “I know. I’ve been telling Dad that Diesel would be a natural for cat food commercials.”
“So frightfully unamusing, sister dear.” Sean’s tone was frosty, but his eyes twinkled.
“My dear Lord Peter,” I said, addressing my son, “it doesn’t do to insult one’s sister in public.” I turned to Alexandra, who was as big a fan of Dorothy L. Sayers as my son was. “Miss Vane, you are looking particularly lovely tonight.”
“Merci beaucoup, M’sieur Poirot.” Alexandra’s French accent was flawless, as were the teeth she flashed in a broad smile.
We continued to chat for a while, and I enjoyed myself. Nothing pleased me more than having those I loved so close by. If only Diesel and Justin were here with us, I thought.
The party wore on, but by nine thirty people began to leave. Tomorrow was a workday for many of those in attendance, including Helen Louise and me, and I was ready to go home. As a board member, however, I needed to hang on for a while yet. Laura, Frank, Sean, and Alexandra had departed about twenty minutes prior, and only five other people were still in the parlor. Even the waiters had left the room.
Neither of the Ducote sisters was present, nor did I see Sissy, Hank, or Stewart. I thankfully hadn’t seen Vera since she had received her award. Perhaps she and Morty had left already.
“Let’s go find Miss An’gel,” I said to Helen Louise, “and let them know we’re going.”
“Good idea.” Helen Louise covered her mouth as she yawned. “I have to be up at four.”
“Poor baby. You’ll be exhausted at work all day.” I tucked her hand in my left arm as we headed for the parlor door.
In the hallway we encountered Kanesha and Robert Sharp. Kanesha appeared worried. “Charlie, have you seen my mother recently? We can’t find her anywhere. She’s not in the kitchen, and Miss Clementine hasn’t seen her in half an hour, at least.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, honey,” Sharp said, a protective arm sliding around Kanesha’s shoulders.
“Who’re you looking for?” Morty Cassity walked up to us. “I can’t find Vera, neither. Any of you seen her lately?”
THIRTEEN
Azalea and Vera both unaccounted for—that earlier ugly scene between them reran in my head. What if they had confronted each other again?
“We need to find them,” I said. “Quickly.”
Kanesha’s eyes narrowed as they bored into me. I knew that look of suspicion all too well. “Right. Robert and I will take the third floor. We’ve already been through this floor. Helen Louise, you and Mr. Cassity take the second. Charlie, would you find Miss An’gel or Miss Dickce? They’re probably down here somewhere.”
She didn’t wait to see if we obeyed, simply took that as a given. Dr. Sharp followed her as she ran up the grand staircase, his long legs allowing him to keep up easily.
“Come on, Morty,” Helen Louise said, taking hold of his arm. “Get moving.”
I started checking each room on the first floor. I knew the Ducotes weren’t in the parlor, so I started with the room across the hall, the dining room. No sign of them there.
No sign of either sister in any of the rooms. I came at last to the kitchen. I’d expected to find the catering staff at work cleaning up, but the room was empty. They couldn’t have left yet, because there was still equipment on the counters. The back door stood slightly ajar, and I strode over to it. As I neared I could smell the cigarette smoke and hear the sound of laughter and conversation. Evidently the workers had stepped outside for a smoke break before finishing up.
I was about to stick my head out the door to ask if they’d seen the Ducote sisters when I heard a muffled thumping nearby. I moved away from the back door and scanned that side of the room. There were two doors on the wall near me. The first one turned out to be the entry to the pantry, but it was empty of people.
The next door was five feet further down the wall. As I came closer I could hear the thumping again, and this time I heard the faint sound of a voice. I grabbed the knob and pulled, but the door wouldn’t open. I glanced down and saw a doorstop jammed under the bottom of the door.
“Hold on, gotta get the door loose.” I raised my voice to be heard over the thumping as I kicked at the doorstop. My feet failed to dislodge it, so I bent down to wrest it away with my hands.
The darn thing was really wedged in there, but I managed to loosen it and get it out of the way. I twisted the knob, and the door burst open. Azalea Berry stumbled into my arms. “Thank the Lord. I been beating on that door for ten minutes.” She pulled away to stand on her own. Then she started trembling. “Oh, Mr. Charlie. It’s terrible.”
“What is?” I said, afraid she was going to pass out. I reached toward her, but she turned and pointed toward the open door.
“In there.”
I stepped around her and peered into the dim light of what turned out to be a narrow staircase leading up. I gasped when I saw a body sprawled headfirst and prone about halfway up the stairs. A hoop skirt was canted forward with the crinolines revealed, and the red silk of the gown covered the head. One arm extended beyond the cloth.
Inching forward to the foot of the stairs, I reached out to touch the one visible wrist. I felt for a pulse, but there was none.
Vera Cassity was dead.
I withdrew my hand and backed away. As I did the door at the top of the stairs opened, and more light streamed in.
“Who’s there?” a voice called down to me. I looked up to see Kanesha on the landing, peering down.
“It’s me, Charlie,” I said. “Your mother is down here in the kitchen with me, Kanesha. She’s okay.”
“Is that Mrs. Cassity on the stairs?” Kanesha asked.
“Yes, and she’s dead. Don’t try to come down the stairs.” She couldn’t come down at all, I realized, as I took in more of the scene in front of me. Vera’s hoops blocked the narrow stairs completely. That made me wonder whether she had simply stumbled and fallen and had the bad luck to break her neck.
Maybe it wasn’t murder after all. That was my first assumption, but I hoped like anything I was wrong.
The catering staff began to come in through the back door, and I wasn’t sure what to do. It was cold outside, and I didn’t think they would pay any attention to me if I told them they shouldn’t come back into the kitchen.
“Listen, everyone, please listen.”
They stilled and stared at me curiously, and in some cases, with hostility. I was sure they were tired and ready to finish up, but they probably wouldn’t be going home for a couple of hours yet. Neither would I, I realized as a wave of exhaustion washed over me.
“Thank you. There’s been an accident, and I’m afraid you’ll have to wait on packing up and leaving.”
The grumbling started, but Kanesha’s voice cut through it. She must have run through the mansion at top speed to get to us so quickly.
She strode forward to where I stood, pushing her way through the milling group of workers. She identified herself as she moved closer.
“Mr. Harris
is right. I need you all to move out of the kitchen for now. Please make your way to the front parlor and wait there. The sheriff’s department is on the way, and someone will be talking to you soon. We’ll let you go as soon as we can.”
There was more grumbling as they complied with Kanesha’s orders, but no outright rebellion.
Kanesha turned to her mother, who had slumped into a nearby chair. “Mama, are you okay?”
Azalea nodded wearily. “She be dead, Kanesha, but she that way when I found her.”
“Okay, Mama,” Kanesha said gently. She turned to me. “Charlie, will you find Robert and send him in here? I want him to check my mother. He’s in the front parlor with the others.”
“Sure.” I was glad to get out of there.
Dr. Sharp stood at the door of the parlor, and as I reached him I heard the drone of sirens approaching the house. I explained what Kanesha wanted. He hurried off.
I was about to enter the parlor when the front door opened. Men in uniform streamed in, including the sheriff himself. Gerald Tidwell was a massive man, about six-three and probably two hundred and fifty solidly muscled pounds. He barked out orders to his men. Obviously familiar with the layout of the house, he sent two men ahead of him to the kitchen. He turned to another, an officer I recognized as the man who often accompanied Kanesha, Deputy Bates. After a brief conferral Bates nodded and headed toward me. Sheriff Tidwell strode off toward the kitchen.
“Evening, Mr. Harris.” Bates paused in front of me. “Why don’t you go on in, sir? I need to speak to everyone.”
“Certainly.” I walked into the parlor, and all eyes focused on me and the man entering behind me.
Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce occupied one sofa, and Helen Louise shared it with them. Stewart sat on the arm of the sofa next to Miss An’gel. Hank and Sissy Beauchamp sat in chairs nearby, while Morty Cassity stood staring out a window opposite the door. Teresa Farmer, now wigless and looking exhausted, sat with Clementine on another sofa. Cathy Williams must have left already—probably had to go to the hospital to deal with some emergency among her nursing staff, I speculated. Then I realized the catering staff wasn’t in the room, and I wondered where they were. Someone, perhaps Dr. Sharp, had probably sent them to another room where there were enough chairs for them all. There wouldn’t have been in here.
“Evening, folks.” Deputy Bates took up a stance in the middle of the room as I moved to sit on the arm of the sofa by Helen Louise. I put my hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her hand brushed mine gently as she gazed into my eyes. I wished there were room on the sofa so I could put my arm around her and draw her close. I could certainly use the comfort, and no doubt she could, too.
The officer continued. “I’m sorry to have to tell y’all this, but there’s been an accident involving Mrs. Cassity. Sheriff Tidwell is here and will be investigating. I have to ask y’all to remain here until the sheriff can talk to you. In the meantime I also have to ask you not to talk about anything to do with the accident until the sheriff has interviewed you.”
“Certainly, Officer Bates.” Miss An’gel spoke for us all. “We will do whatever we can to assist the sheriff.”
As we waited for the sheriff to appear, I finally felt my head clear enough to think about what I had seen in the kitchen. My forebodings of disaster for the evening had come true, and I wondered whether I had some sort of affinity for dire happenings.
Another murder. This made the fourth time I’d encountered a dead body, a potential homicide.
I chided myself. It could have been an accident. Vera might have been in a hurry, trying to rush down the stairs, when her hoops stuck. In trying to wrench them free she could have fallen and broken her neck.
I prayed again that it would turn out to be an accident. Tragic, but an accident.
But what was Azalea doing locked in the back stairway with Vera?
Could they have argued again? Did Azalea’s temper get the better of her? Could she have pushed Vera down the stairs in anger?
The arrival of Kanesha and Dr. Sharp cut my speculations short. Kanesha’s normally impassive countenance was gone, replaced by an expression of sheer fury.
She made a beeline for me, shrugging away her companion’s restraining hand and ignoring Bates’s command to halt.
Kanesha looked so angry I thought she was going to strike me, and I jerked myself up from the arm of the sofa and braced myself for an attack.
Instead of hitting me, however, she halted mere inches from me and glared at me. “I’m going to need your help. My idiot boss thinks Mama killed Vera Cassity.”
FOURTEEN
“Deputy Berry.”
Bates’s voice rang out, and Kanesha turned to face him as he strode toward her. He did not look happy.
“I know you’re upset, but it’s not gonna do you any good if you piss off the sheriff.” Bates spoke in a low voice, but he was close enough that I heard every word.
Kanesha sighed. “I know, Bates, I know. Thanks for the reminder. But he’s telling me I can’t work this case. He’s crazy if he thinks my mama killed that woman.”
Bates realized that both Dr. Sharp and I were listening avidly to his conversation with his superior officer, and he motioned for her to follow him to the area near the door.
“This is nuts,” Dr. Sharp muttered as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets.
I nodded in sympathy, but since Bates kept glancing my way, I didn’t dare speak. The doctor nodded back in understanding.
Azalea as the chief suspect in a murder. How bizarre.
Then it hit me.
If the sheriff considered Azalea a suspect, that had to mean he thought he was dealing with a murder, not an accidental death.
I wondered what evidence of homicide the sheriff might have found. I also wondered how competent he was at investigating murder. Usually that duty fell to Kanesha, as chief deputy, or in special cases the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation.
Considering the identity of the victim, I thought it highly possible the MBI could be brought in to handle this.
No matter what the sheriff thought, I couldn’t see Azalea as a murderer. I knew she hated Vera with a passion, although I didn’t know why. But Azalea was a woman of strong faith and ironclad principles. She wouldn’t kill a person simply because she hated her.
But I also recalled those words I’d heard not that long ago, from Azalea herself—she hoped the Lord would strike Vera down. Had Azalea considered herself an instrument of God and pushed Vera down the stairs?
Down the stairs.
There was something wrong with that picture. I frowned, forcing my tired brain to recall the scene in that dimly lit staircase.
The door was blocked from the outside, and it opened outward. Azalea was stuck inside because she couldn’t get the door open. She might have been able to get out if she went up to the next floor, however.
She couldn’t do that, I realized, because Vera’s body and her big hoops blocked the narrow stairwell effectively. Azalea would have had to climb over Vera’s body to go either up or down the stairs, and I couldn’t see her doing that.
The crime-scene investigators would surely find some sign if Azalea—or anyone else—had climbed the stairs over Vera’s body. That could be why the sheriff was convinced Azalea had done it. He’d found evidence to that effect.
No, I simply couldn’t see it. Azalea had to have been at the bottom of the stairs when Vera fell—or was pushed.
In that case, maybe Azalea knew who the killer was because she’d seen the person behind Vera on the stairs. This could all be over quickly if she had witnessed the attack.
I perched on the sofa arm again, and Helen Louise’s hand sought mine. I squeezed it, and she leaned against me. I knew if I was tired, she must be exhausted. She had put in a pretty full day at the bakery—a day that started at four a.m.—even before we came to the gala.
At least another quarter of an hour passed before the sheriff finally came to the p
arlor. He called Kanesha out into the hall, but they reappeared a couple of minutes later. Kanesha beckoned for Dr. Sharp to join her. After a brief conversation, he returned to his former position near me while Kanesha departed.
Where was Azalea? I wondered. I hoped that the sheriff had allowed Kanesha to take her home and that she wasn’t sitting in a cell at the county jail right now.
Sheriff Tidwell addressed the room. His attention seemed focused on Miss An’gel, however. “Thanks for your cooperation, folks. I know y’all must be mighty tired by now, but I’m sure y’all understand that we’ve got a serious situation we’re dealing with here. I’m going to need to talk to each and every one of you, and then you’ll be able to go home. I promise to make it as quick as possible. Miss An’gel, I’d like to start with you.”
Miss An’gel rose. “Sheriff, since I am in my own home and don’t have anywhere else to go, I suggest you leave my sister and me to the last, and take my guests first.”
Considering the tone Miss An’gel used, she did more than suggest. The sheriff knew when he was outmatched, I was sure, and he didn’t argue. He simply nodded.
“All right, then,” he said. He surveyed the room. “Mr. Cassity, I’ll start with you. Come with me, please.”
Morty and the sheriff left the room, and Bates resumed his position at the door.
Ten minutes dragged by, then the door opened again. Another officer, whom I didn’t recognize, summoned Dr.Sharp.
First Stewart, then Sissy, then Hank, then Helen Louise, until only the Ducote sisters, Clementine, and I were left.
Finally my turn came, and I drooped with fatigue as I bade my hostesses and their housekeeper good night. I followed the deputy across the hall, where he motioned for me to enter the library.
Sheriff Tidwell sat behind a massive desk. He pointed to a chair facing the desk and indicated that I should sit. I glanced at my watch as I did and noticed dully that it was about twenty minutes to midnight.
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