“Not at River Hill,” Miss Dickce said, eyes flashing. “We would never desecrate our own home like that. There have been enough deaths there over the years.”
“I do see your point.” I glanced over at Diesel, who appeared slightly antsy, thanks to the sudden tension in the room. He moved away from the Ducotes and clambered behind me into his usual spot in the window. “Besides, as much as we all disliked Vera, the person who killed her had to hate her to the point of desperation.”
“Exactly.” Miss An’gel nodded vigorously. “We want you to figure out who that person was. He or she had to have a motive far stronger than any one that my sister or I could have. We pitied Vera and—I must admit—disliked her heartily, but she didn’t deserve to be killed.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, ladies, but the sheriff wouldn’t be too happy to have me poke my nose into this.” I had poked my nose into things in the past, despite Kanesha’s best efforts, but I had done my best not to interfere in her investigations. Of course, Kanesha was on the sidelines this time, I remembered.
“Don’t you worry about Gerald Tidwell.” Miss Dickce waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “If he gives you any trouble, An’gel will have a little talk with him. He’s coming up for reelection next year, and without a good word from An’gel he’ll have a hard time winning.”
“Dickce, you shouldn’t say such things.” Miss An’gel scowled at her sibling. “Even if it’s true. People will get entirely the wrong idea.” She turned to me. “I don’t think Gerald will be a problem, really. Besides, he has the notion stuck in his head that Azalea Berry killed Vera. That’s the biggest load of bull hockey I’ve ever heard.”
That was probably the closest to swearing that Miss An’gel would come in mixed company, and once again I had to resist the urge to grin.
“Azalea Berry is a fine Christian woman,” Miss Dickce said. “She would never strike another person in anger. She does have a temper, the good Lord only knows, but she would never turn violent.”
“Even though she did have plenty of reasons to despise Vera.” Miss An’gel sighed. “Now, think about your aunt Dottie, Charlie. Wouldn’t she have wanted you to do your best for Azalea?”
That was hitting below the belt, and from the gleam in Miss An’gel’s eye, I saw she knew exactly what she was doing and was daring me to deny her.
I’d rather take on Attila and a battalion of his Huns before I’d hold out against Miss An’gel. “Very well, I’ll do what I can.”
“Good man.” Miss An’gel beamed, and Miss Dickce nodded. They both rose. Miss An’gel continued, “Now you must excuse us, Charlie. We have an appointment with Q. C. Pendergrast. If you need anything at all, let us know.” After calling good-bye to Diesel and receiving meows in return, they departed.
Too late I realized I hadn’t asked them about Azalea’s possible motive for killing Vera. If I was going to help exonerate Azalea completely and identify the real killer, I needed to know the source of Azalea’s loathing for Vera. Otherwise I’d just be spinning my wheels and not accomplishing much.
I turned to look at my cat lounging in the window. “I have my marching orders, boy, but I’m not too thrilled about it.” I reached forward to rub his head, and his expression of blissful contentment tickled me. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him for a week or two, though the litter box might not be that much fun. “All that will have to wait, though. Right now I need to get back to the work I’m actually paid to do.”
“I always figured you talked to that cat. What I want to know is, does he talk back?”
I whirled around to see Kanesha Berry standing in the doorway. Her expression enigmatic as ever, I couldn’t tell whether she was amused or annoyed. I felt my face redden.
“Please, come in.” I stood and beckoned her forward.
We both sat, and I watched her warily. Was this an official visit? I presumed it was, since she was in uniform.
“I’m not part of the investigation into Mrs. Cassity’s murder.” Kanesha stared right at me. “So this is all off the record, all right?”
Surprised, I nodded. “Fine with me.”
“Despite the evidence to the contrary, the sheriff is insisting on treating my mother as the chief suspect.” Kanesha’s nostrils flared, a slight crack in the facade. “It’s absolutely ridiculous because it would have been physically impossible for Mama to push that woman down the stairs.”
“I know,” I said, and Kanesha’s eyes gleamed. “She was locked in at the bottom of the stairs—the narrow stairs—and there was no way she could have pushed Vera down from above and then gotten herself to the bottom without trampling all over the body.”
“Exactly.”
“Is the sheriff that dumb, that he can’t see the obvious?”
“No, but he’s using Mama to get at me.”
“I thought he was the one who promoted you in the first place. Why would he want to get at you?” I couldn’t figure that one out.
“Because I’m too good at my job.” Kanesha shrugged. “Next year he’s up for reelection, and he has this crazy idea that I’m going to run against him.”
“Are you?”
“Not yet.”
Neatly, coolly said. I admired the woman’s sangfroid. “Even so, he’s not going to be able to railroad Azalea on this. When it comes to court, he’d be a laughingstock.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to push it as far as he can, do his best to humiliate me and my family. I am not going to let that happen.”
Tidwell had better watch his back. He’d made an enemy now, an implacable one.
“It won’t. Your mother has some powerful allies, you know.” I told her about the Ducotes’ visit, and she relaxed, almost imperceptibly.
“That’s good to know. And I appreciate the fact that you are willing to stand up for Mama, too.”
“I am,” I said and decided it was time to get everything out in the open. “One thing puzzles me, though. I know your mother despised Vera, but I don’t know why. I can’t imagine Azalea has a strong enough motive to want to kill Vera.”
“That’s just the problem.” Kanesha’s tone was cool. “Mama and I both have reason to want that witch dead. Vera Cassity as good as murdered my cousin.”
SEVENTEEN
“Murdered your cousin? How horrible.” That was the last thing I expected to hear. I felt a paw on my shoulder—the tone of my voice made Diesel anxious. “It’s okay, boy, I’m all right.” I patted his paw, and he settled back down.
“He didn’t die by her hand,” Kanesha said. “But he might as well have.”
“What happened? I’m sorry. I know it must be painful for you to talk about.” I hated to make her dredge up sorrow-laden memories, but I needed to understand the situation.
Kanesha shrugged, but her gaze hardened. “Johnny Golliday was my mother’s sister’s only son. Her only child, as a matter of fact. He started getting in trouble when he was thirteen or fourteen, nothing too serious. At least, no felonies. But my aunt was always there to bail him out. He was in his twenties when he got mixed up with a rougher crowd, started getting into bigger trouble. Spent some time in jail.”
Suddenly Kanesha got up from the chair and began to pace. “Johnny going to prison like to’ve killed my aunt. My mother, too. They’re both proud women, and Johnny was the first one in the family who ever spent time behind bars.” She came back to the chair and gripped the back of it with both hands as she looked at me. “But he was doing better, had a job, was living at home, helping his mother take care of his father who was a quadriplegic.” Her voice cracked slightly.
She let go of the chair and turned away a moment. When she faced me again she seemed to have regained her composure. Behind me, Diesel moved restlessly on the windowsill. He muttered in that peculiar way of his, and I knew he was unsettled by the tension emanating from Kanesha.
I felt at a loss, because I had never seen her this vulnerable. In my way I was as uncomfortable as
Diesel. My normal response would have been to go to her, give her a hug or at least a friendly shoulder squeeze, but Kanesha and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. My heart went out to her, because I could imagine how painful all this was for her.
Kanesha resumed her seat. “One day nearly ten years ago, Johnny went to the bank with a couple of his so-called friends. What they didn’t tell him was they were planning to rob the bank.”
“Oh, no.” The words slipped out before I could stop myself. I could see the scene unfolding in my mind, and I didn’t like the picture.
Kanesha didn’t appear to have heard my comment. “When they reached the bank, one of the men pulled a gun and told Johnny he was going to help them. Johnny tried to get away, but he was terrified they would shoot him. So he went into the bank with friend number one while number two waited in the car.” She paused for a couple of deep breaths. “Johnny wasn’t too coordinated, always dropping things, stumbling, and the idiot with him made him take a gun. He was terrified of them. Johnny said he was shaking so hard he dropped the gun three times.”
“What happened when they made it into the bank?”
“Stupidity, that’s what happened.” Kanesha’s tone turned vicious. “Idiot number one was trigger-happy and ended up shooting one of the tellers and pistol-whipping a customer.”
“Oh, my Lord,” I said, appalled. “Did the teller die?”
“No, thankfully,” Kanesha replied. “It could have been worse in so many ways, if Johnny’s so-called friend wasn’t so inept. Johnny stumbled all over the place, and it was his bad luck he tripped and fell onto another customer. Vera Cassity. Knocked her down and she banged her head on the floor. At the trial she claimed he threatened her with his gun. Said he’d kill her if she made a sound.”
Kanesha slumped back in the chair, eyes closed. “The police arrived in less than two minutes. Caught them still inside the bank. Johnny was sentenced to thirty years in the state pen. Wasn’t eligible for parole because he was convicted for armed robbery. Might have received a lighter sentence—not that it mattered in the long run—but Vera Cassity, egged on by the prosecutor, made it sound like the only reason she wasn’t killed was because the police arrived so quickly.” She opened her eyes and stared at me, though I wasn’t sure she actually saw me. “Johnny insisted he dropped the gun right after he entered the bank, but nobody could attest to that. With Vera swearing he threatened her with it, nobody believed him.”
“Except his family,” I said softly. I had to consider that Kanesha was prejudiced in her cousin’s favor, but if he was truly uncoordinated and afraid of guns, I could see him dropping the thing and not bothering to pick it up again.
Kanesha nodded. “I knew my cousin, Mr. Harris, and I believed him. I knew what a klutz he was and how scared he would have been. If he said he dropped the gun and only stumbled into Vera Cassity, then that’s what happened.”
“Where does murder come into it, then?”
“Two and a half years after Johnny went to the state pen, he was killed by a couple of the other inmates.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing the words were completely inadequate.
“Aunt Lily was devastated, and so was my mother. They blamed Vera Cassity—mainly because she was so nasty in the courtroom. He would have gone to prison regardless, but the way Vera talked him down, well, they just couldn’t forgive her.” She threw up her hands. “The whole thing was so freakin’ stupid, from beginning to end.”
I waited a moment before I spoke, trying to marshal my thoughts. I could understand why Azalea and her sister Lily had taken against Vera so harshly, but I honestly couldn’t see that their feelings translated into an active motive for murder.
I voiced that to Kanesha, and she nodded. “I agree with you. Mama and Aunt Lily hated Vera like you wouldn’t believe, but neither one of them would ever have laid a hand on her.”
“But the sheriff obviously disagrees,” I said.
“Up to a point.” Kanesha shook her head. “Once he thinks he’s done me enough damage, he’ll ease off my mother.”
“What are you going to do about it in the meantime?”
“Do my best to figure out who really killed Vera,” Kanesha said. “But it can’t look like I’m doing it. That’s where you come in.”
I wasn’t completely flabbergasted. I had helped her on previous cases, pretty sub rosa as well, but her words sounded more like an order than a request. “I’ll do what I can to help, naturally.”
“Good. The first thing I want you to do is to talk to my mother. She won’t talk to me about it, no matter what I say to her.” I could hear the frustration in her voice.
“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?” I quailed at the thought of cornering Azalea and persuading her to talk to me.
“I’m not sure she will,” Kanesha admitted. “But you’ve got to try. I know she likes and respects you.”
“Really?” With Azalea I had never been able to tell what she thought of me. Most of the time I felt like an inept schoolboy when she was around.
Kanesha nodded. “Oh, I know what she’s like, believe me. Makes you feel like you can’t even tie your own shoes without someone helping you. But that’s just her way. She doesn’t tolerate fools, and to her a lot of the world is filled with fools. But she doesn’t think you’re one of them.” She graced me with a brief smile.
There was no point in holding out. The moment I’d agreed to do what the Ducote sisters wanted, I knew I’d have to talk to Azalea. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.”
“How about now?” Kanesha stood. “The sooner, the better. We need to find out whether Mama saw anything. That’s the thing that really puzzles me. She had to be in that stairwell when Vera fell down the stairs, so surely she must’ve seen whoever pushed Vera.”
“But why isn’t she saying anything?”
“Exactly my point.” She stared hard at me. “So when are you going to talk to her?”
“I’m at work,” I said. “I can’t just walk out and go play detective.” Actually I could probably have the time off, but I really dreaded confronting Azalea.
“You couldn’t get some time off today? Surely they’d understand, after what happened.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I’ll see if I can’t take the rest of the day off. The sooner I talk to Azalea and get it over with, the better.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this.” She handed me a card. “My private cell phone number is on the back. Call me if you turn up anything significant.”
“I will.” I stuffed the card in my shirt pocket.
Kanesha headed out the door, and I turned in my chair to regard my cat. “Well, boy, looks like we’re going home early today. Time to get your harness back on.”
Diesel meowed, then stood and stretched. He knew what home meant.
Five minutes later, we headed out the front door. I explained to Melba Gilley, the director’s secretary and an old friend, that I didn’t feel well and was going home for the day. I knew Melba was dying to quiz me over what had happened at the gala, and I promised to tell her all about it later.
On the brief walk home, I pondered where to talk to Azalea. I figured the kitchen might be best, because I tended to think of it as her domain. I was pretty sure she did, too.
The house was quiet when Diesel and I entered through the back door. I hoped everyone besides Azalea was out, because it could be awkward if someone walked in on us.
“Hello, anyone home?” I released Diesel from his harness, and off he trotted to the utility room.
When there was no response to my question, I walked into the front hall and repeated it, aiming my voice up the stairs. About ten seconds passed, and Azalea appeared at the top of the stairs, dust cloth and furniture polish in hand.
“You need something, Mr. Charlie?” She frowned. “You sick? What you doing home so early?”
“I came home early because I need to discuss something with you. Would you mind coming downstairs? It’s impor
tant,” I added when she hesitated.
Her frown deepened, but she came down the stairs and followed me into the kitchen.
“Want some coffee?” she asked as she laid the dust rag and polish on the counter. “They’s still some left from the pot Miss Laura made a while ago.”
“No, thank you,” I said. Diesel wandered into the kitchen. He paused to warble at Azalea, and she gazed at him blankly. “Please, Azalea, sit down. I really need to talk to you.”
She complied, but her expression threatened mutiny, to judge by the set of her lips. “What is it?”
“It’s about last night,” I said. I held up a hand as she started to rise, mutiny turning swiftly to outrage. “Azalea, please. I’m serious. For your own sake, sit down and talk to me. You’re in trouble, whether you want to believe it or not.” She hesitated, and I played what I considered my trump card. “Aunt Dottie will haunt me to the end of my days if I don’t do everything I can to help you. She might just haunt you, too, if you don’t listen to reason.”
I braced myself for the lightning strike that I figured was about to hit, but to my great surprise, Azalea burst into tears instead.
EIGHTEEN
I froze. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Aunt Dottie. I’d never expected Azalea to react like this. What should I do?
Diesel acted while I hesitated. He went to my housekeeper and placed a paw on her thigh. Startled, she glanced down at him, still sobbing. “What’s he doing?” she finally managed to choke out.
“He’s showing you that he’s concerned. He knows you’re upset, and I’m sorry about that. The last thing I meant to do was upset you.” I started to get up, but she indicated that I should stay where I was.
“I be okay in a minute, Mr. Charlie.” Azalea blew her nose into a handkerchief that suddenly appeared in her right hand. She looked at Diesel again, still sitting beside her and watching her closely. “Don’t you worry no more, cat.”
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