Alesha Jackson—out for revenge for her father’s wrongful death, and also money from Nathan’s company.
Truss Wilbanks—out of passion from mistreatment by his lover, and perhaps for money as well from the business.
Marcelline Beaupré—in order to protect Mary Turner and her beloved house.
Mary Turner Catlin—out of fear of losing her family home and seeing it razed to the ground.
Henry Howard Catlin—for his wife’s sake perhaps, but if he didn’t know about Nathan Gamble’s threat, his motive was weak.
One of them did it, An’gel knew, but which one?
If Alesha Jackson were to be believed, Serenity had a loud, potentially violent argument with Nathan Gamble around eleven thirty last night. She could have killed him then. But how? An’gel felt incredibly frustrated by her lack of knowledge about how the man died.
He was either alive or dead when Serenity left him after the argument. Henry Howard was the next person on the scene. He had come upstairs from the library a minute or so past midnight to carry out his performance. He slipped into the room through the secret panel in the wardrobe and attempted to frighten the occupant of the room. He got little reaction, aside from a moan or two that he thought he heard.
Gamble might still have been alive, or he might have been dying. That was a horrible thought, and she hoped it didn’t occur to Henry Howard that he might have been able to save the man’s life. But Henry Howard, seeing his prank falling flat, had left the room the way he came in. He had gone to bed soon after that.
Had anyone else gone into the French room after Henry Howard?
An’gel had no way of knowing. She had slept through the comings and goings last night, and she had never heard the argument between the siblings. Neither had Dickce, or she would have mentioned it by now.
Any one of the five could have done it. Mary Turner could have slipped across the hall and killed Nathan, either after his argument with Serenity and before Henry Howard went in to play his prank. Or afterward, when Henry Howard was asleep, and the house was quiet.
Marcelline could have come upstairs at some point. She probably had a passkey, the same one that Henry Howard and Mary Turner had. She had to oversee all the housekeeping, so certainly she had one. An’gel hadn’t considered that before.
Last, but to her mind, least, Truss Wilbanks could have gone back to Nathan Gamble’s room sometime after midnight, after Henry Howard was in bed.
Any one of them could have done it. An’gel wanted to scream in frustration. If Lieutenant Steinberg had convincing evidence, he would have at least taken one of the five in for questioning at the police station, An’gel felt sure. He hadn’t, however, so she figured that meant he had no clear lead to the killer’s identity.
She wished she could persuade him to tell her how Nathan Gamble was killed. If he actually knew himself. Perhaps he did know, and had known all along, but was being cagey with all of them when he had originally said the cause of death wasn’t immediately apparent. She wouldn’t put it past him, nor could she blame him for doing so. It was a good tactic, to keep the murderer in the dark.
An’gel got to her feet. Time to find Dickce and Benjy and share the information from their separate interviews. Maybe Dickce or Benjy had picked up a clue from Marcelline or Truss Wilbanks that could be useful.
She pulled out her cell phone and texted both of them to find out where they were at present. Benjy responded right away to say that he was in his room, and that Dickce was with him. An’gel replied that she was on her way to join them.
As she stepped into the hall, the doorbell rang. An’gel answered it. Lieutenant Steinberg stood on the porch, along with two of his officers.
“I’m glad you’re here, Lieutenant,” An’gel said. “I have some things to tell you.”
“This may surprise you, Miss Ducote,” the policeman said as he stepped inside, followed by his men, “but I am eager to hear them.”
CHAPTER 34
An’gel was slightly suspicious of Lieutenant Steinberg’s change of attitude toward her. What on earth could have brought it about?
“I must say I’m rather surprised, Lieutenant,” An’gel said.
Steinberg nodded. “I’ll explain everything to you, Miss Ducote, but first I have to speak to Mr. Catlin.”
“Here I am, Lieutenant.” Henry Howard appeared in the hallway near them, having apparently come from the direction of the kitchen. An’gel had not heard his approach.
“In the library, please,” Steinberg said to Henry Howard. To An’gel, he said, “Perhaps you won’t mind waiting in the parlor?”
“No, not at all,” An’gel said. “I’ll be ready when you want to talk.” She watched as Steinberg, his men, and Henry Howard moved into the library and closed the door behind them.
She took time to visit the powder room before she did as the policeman asked and went into the parlor to wait. She texted Dickce and Benjy again, telling them of the lieutenant’s arrival and asking them to join her in the parlor. After a moment, she added, When you come through the kitchen, if Marcelline is there, ask her for something to drink.
Dickce acknowledged the texts, and An’gel set aside her phone. While she waited for their arrival, she speculated on what—or who—had changed Steinberg’s mind. She was pretty certain that it was Kanesha Berry who had effected the change. Steinberg must have talked further to Kanesha about her, Dickce, and Benjy. She would have to thank Kanesha later for doing so.
Dickce and Benjy arrived in the parlor a few minutes after the text exchange. Peanut and Endora accompanied them. As always, upon sight of An’gel, Peanut got excited and bounded over to her to receive the attention she never failed to provide. Endora, atop Benjy’s shoulder, was obviously not in the least interested in An’gel. The moment Dickce took a seat beside An’gel on the sofa, however, the Abyssinian leapt to the floor and then onto Dickce’s lap. Benjy chose the nearby armchair. Peanut remained by An’gel’s side for the moment.
“Marcelline is going to bring us iced tea and cookies,” Dickce said. “She offered to make hot tea, but the iced tea was already made. I said that would be fine.”
“Thank you,” An’gel said. “I could use a cold glass of tea.”
Marcelline brought in a tray with three glasses of iced tea, a plate heaped with both chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies, along with dessert plates and napkins. She set the tray on the coffee table and, without waiting to find out if they wanted anything else, hurried from the room.
After a couple of sips of the sweet tea, chilled to perfection, An’gel said, “I’m not sure how much time we have to talk before the lieutenant finishes with Henry Howard. I told him he had to tell the police about his prank, especially since he was in the French room around midnight last night.”
“I suppose he was trying to scare Nathan Gamble,” Dickce said.
“No, he was trying to scare me. He didn’t know that I’d switched rooms with Gamble, you see. He didn’t get a reaction from Gamble, however,” An’gel said.
“Do you think Gamble was already dead?” Benjy reached for a cookie and began to munch.
“It’s possible,” An’gel said. “The interesting thing, however, is how Henry Howard got into the room.” She told them about the secret panel in the back of the wardrobe.
Dickce nearly spit out her tea. Once she recovered, she said, “You were right after all, Sister. At some point, after this is all over, I want to see it.”
“Me, too,” Benjy said.
“That makes three of us,” An’gel said.
“Why did he go in that way,” Benjy asked, “instead of going through the door? He has a passkey, doesn’t he? That seems like the way most people would do it when the person in the room was probably asleep.”
“Henry Howard said he wanted to be able to duck back into the wardrobe, rather than have to hurry
over to the door, to get out of the room if he needed to,” An’gel said. “Or words to that effect.” She smiled. “I think he simply liked the drama of it as part of his ghostly behavior.”
Next she told Dickce and Benjy about her interviews with Henry Howard and Alesha Jackson. She kept the details to the most pertinent ones, because she wanted to get through it all and still have time to hear the reports of their interviews with Marcelline and Truss Wilbanks before the lieutenant was ready to talk.
“I’ll go first,” Dickce said. “My talk with Marcelline didn’t last long. According to her, she goes to bed every night around eight thirty. Nine at the latest, because she gets up at five to start preparing breakfast for the guests. Her bedroom is right off the kitchen. She says she sleeps soundly. She takes sleeping pills to make sure she gets enough rest.”
“So she didn’t hear or see anything unusual last night?” An’gel asked.
“No,” Dickce said. “She seemed to be telling the truth, though she was busy rolling out dough while we were talking. I couldn’t see her face most of the time, so it was hard to judge.”
An’gel turned to Benjy. “Any luck with Mr. Wilbanks?”
“Yes,” Benjy said. “You know, I really feel sorry for him. I think basically he’s a nice guy, and he’s terrified the police are going to try to pin it on him. His words exactly.”
“Because of the nature of his relationship with Nathan Gamble?” Dickce asked.
Benjy nodded. “Yes. I didn’t try to talk him out of that; there didn’t seem to be much use. He’s really upset by it, plus I think he’s really upset by his partner’s death.”
“What about his movements last night?” An’gel asked.
“He and Serenity got fast food for dinner last night,” Benjy said. “They brought it back to their rooms, or rather Truss brought it back. He went to get it while Serenity stayed in her room. They ate in their own rooms. Truss watched TV for a while, played around on his tablet and his phone, then went to bed around ten.” Benjy paused for a sip of tea, then he continued.
“He took something to help him sleep because he was upset and didn’t think he could sleep without it. It made him groggy but it didn’t really put him out. He says it does him like that sometimes. I asked him whether he heard or saw anything last night, and he said he remembered hearing a door nearby open and close. He thinks it was sometime after eleven. After that he finally passed out and didn’t wake up until this morning.” Benjy reached for another cookie.
“Did you try to broach the subject of the will?” An’gel asked.
“I did, because he seemed so happy to have someone to talk to,” Benjy said. “He may regret it later, but he did talk about his relationship with Nathan. Both the personal and professional side of it. According to Truss, Nathan was really smart at making money, but he wasn’t generous with it. Truss earned money as Nathan’s lawyer, but not as much as he could have working for some other company. Or so he says.”
Benjy finished his cookie and washed it down with more sweet tea before he went on. “I finally came out and asked him what would happen to the business and Nathan’s personal money. Truss says another lawyer handled Nathan’s will but he’s pretty sure everything is divided between him and Serenity.”
“So they both have a strong financial motive for killing Nathan,” Dickce said.
“Yeah,” Benjy replied. “Though I don’t think Truss did it. I don’t think he’d have to guts to kill anybody, even if he was really angry with them.”
“That’s my impression of him, too,” An’gel said. “Though he can’t be counted out simply because we don’t think him capable.”
“I’d put him in the middle of the list, maybe ahead of Marcelline and Mary Turner, but behind Serenity Foster and Alesha Jackson,” Dickce said. “I don’t think Henry Howard is in it.”
“I haven’t told you yet about what I found out from him, and from Mary Turner,” An’gel said. “Once you hear it, you might revise your list.”
“Good heavens, what did you find out?” Dickce asked.
An’gel told them about Nathan’s gloating over having bought the mortgage to Cliffwood and Serenity’s threat earlier that day. “So you see, that moves Mary Turner and Marcelline right up on the list.”
“Because Marcelline would do anything to protect Mary Turner,” Dickce said.
“Do you really think Mary Turner would kill somebody?” Benjy appeared upset at the idea.
“I hate to think so, Benjy, but based on my talk with her earlier, and on a couple of conversations with Henry Howard, I’m afraid she might be obsessed with this house. Obsessed to the point that she would do something drastic to keep it safe.”
“I hope you’re wrong about her,” Benjy said. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I hope I’m wrong, too,” An’gel said. “Lieutenant Steinberg isn’t going to rule her out, and neither can we.”
“This is so upsetting,” Dickce said. “To think of that nice young woman, sweet Jessy’s granddaughter, as a killer.” She shook her head, her expression doleful. “But I have noticed that she is really devoted to the house and its care.”
“I have a question for you both,” Benjy said. “About this house.”
“What is it?” Dickce asked.
“Okay, we know now Henry Howard was playing spook in the French room,” Benjy said. “But what about the other things? That shadow you saw, Miss An’gel, and the cold you felt on the stairs, Miss Dickce? And remember the door?” He turned slightly in his chair and pointed toward the parlor entrance. “How do you explain those things?”
“I can’t at the moment,” An’gel said. “I didn’t ask Henry Howard about any of those incidents. I suspect he somehow was responsible for the shadow, though I don’t know how he worked it. Maybe this door, too.”
“But the cold spot.” Dickce shivered. “I don’t see how he could do that. It wasn’t like cold air blowing on you, from an air conditioner vent or anything like that. It was this sudden feeling of being enveloped in cold.”
“Like at Riverhill?” An’gel asked.
Dickce nodded.
“So do you think that cold spot means there really is a spirit in this house?” Benjy asked.
An’gel and Dickce looked at each other. Dickce nodded, then An’gel. “I hate to admit it,” An’gel said, “but that’s one thing I can’t see any explanation for, especially since we’ve experienced the same thing at Riverhill.”
“I’m not sure I want to feel it,” Benjy said, “though it might be interesting. Funny, though, that Peanut and Endora don’t react when they go up and down the stairs.”
“That may just mean that the spirit isn’t there when they do,” Dickce said. “It might not care for animals.”
Benjy laughed suddenly. “It’s too bad we can’t get the spirit to tell us who murdered Nathan Gamble. Maybe it was in the French room when the murder happened. Who knows?”
An’gel started to laugh, and then she thought about what Benjy had said about getting the spirit to reveal the killer.
“You know,” she said slowly, “that might not be such a bad idea.”
CHAPTER 35
An’gel spent at the most twenty minutes sharing what she had learned with Lieutenant Steinberg. She stuck to the main points. She knew he would have to dig into the details anyway and verify everything she told him.
She had been right about the lieutenant talking further with Kanesha Berry. The Athena sheriff’s deputy had convinced Steinberg that he would be remiss in his duties should he ignore An’gel and any information she managed to uncover. Steinberg hadn’t apologized for his earlier attitude, and An’gel didn’t expect him to. The main thing was that he was now listening to her and taking notes.
“That’s all,” An’gel said when she’d finished.
“That’s a lot.” Steinberg laid aside
his pen. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment. An’gel thought he looked tired.
“Do you have any further questions for me?” An’gel asked. “If not, I’d like to ask you one.”
Steinberg’s eyes popped open. “No other questions right this minute, Miss Ducote. What is it you want to ask me?”
“Will you tell me how Nathan Gamble died?”
Steinberg looked at her for a long moment. “At this point, I don’t see why not. We believe that he was smothered to death. There were signs of asphyxia when the doctor examined him on the scene.”
I knew it, he purposely misled us, An’gel thought. He was playing his cards close to his chest.
“Further,” Steinberg continued, “we think that he may have been drugged into a sound sleep. We will have to wait for the outcome of the toxicological analysis on that to be absolutely sure, but there are indications that he was too out of it to fight back.”
“Then that means pretty much anyone could have killed him. They wouldn’t have to be particularly strong to do it if he was in no condition to fight them,” An’gel said.
“Yes, exactly,” Steinberg said. “And there you see my biggest problem. I don’t know who did it.”
“Do you have any idea where the sleep medication came from?” An’gel asked.
“There was no bottle or container of it in the room,” Steinberg said, “so we have to assume it came from someone else. We also don’t know whether he took it willingly or if he was unaware. During our search of the house, we discovered that four people had sleeping pills with them.”
“Will you tell me who they are?” An’gel asked.
Steinberg hesitated, then said, “The housekeeper, the lawyer, the deceased’s sister, and the so-called psychic.”
At first An’gel was thankful that he hadn’t mentioned Mary Turner, but then she realized that Mary Turner could have easily gotten the pills from Marcelline. How had the killer managed to get Nathan Gamble to take the pills? Or had he taken them himself?
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