Jacqueline must already have come to that conclusion, An’gel thought, because she didn’t appear at all surprised by the idea.
“I think you may be right.” Jacqueline looked troubled as she deposited the fabric once again on the coffee table. She took a deep breath and faced An’gel squarely. “There’s something neither Maman nor I told you and Tante Dickce. We probably should have, but Maman didn’t want to worry you.” She smiled briefly.
An’gel decided to let that statement pass. Mireille should have confided in them, and perhaps all this could have been averted. She didn’t want to upset her goddaughter by telling her that. Instead she said, “What didn’t you tell us?”
“There were a few other little incidents that upset Maman,” Jacqueline said. “At first we thought they were just coincidences, but then they got a bit ugly.”
“Tell me about these incidents,” An’gel said.
Jacqueline leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed. “A set of Dresden figurines that Papa gave her on their tenth wedding anniversary were broken. Maman thought either Estelle or Jackson had done it and were too embarrassed to admit it. She didn’t want a confrontation, so she said nothing about it to either of them. Especially because Jackson is rather shaky sometimes, and Maman didn’t want to upset him.”
An’gel nodded. Typical of Mireille, she thought, to refuse to confront someone.
“A couple of other small, treasured possessions got broken,” Jacqueline said. “Maman still refused to say anything, and she wouldn’t allow me to. I was surprised, frankly, that nobody owned up to it. Jackson, in particular, because he’s always been so honest. Because of that, I decided it had to be Estelle. She can be spiteful sometimes, and she’s angry whenever Maman doesn’t give in to her and do things her way.”
“I think I would have said something to Estelle anyway, no matter what your mother wanted,” An’gel said. “That kind of behavior can’t be allowed to go on unchecked.” Because it may have escalated into something far worse.
“I argued with Maman about it, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she would handle it in her own way. The incidents stopped for a few weeks, and then a couple of days before you arrived, the worst one happened.” Jacqueline shuddered.
“What was it this time?” An’gel asked.
“One of Papa’s gifts to Maman,” Jacqueline said. “Probably the one she valued above all, a beautiful seventeenth-century French prayer book, still in its original binding. Maman found it cut loose from the binding, and the binding destroyed. I swear I thought she might have a heart attack then.”
An’gel felt sick to her stomach. “That was wicked. Mireille should have called the police.”
“I tried to get her to,” Jacqueline said. “Nothing I said could convince her. She kept insisting she would take care of it. I asked her point-blank if she thought Estelle was the culprit, but she just shook her head.” She paused. “I knew it couldn’t be Jackson, because he’s as devout a Catholic as Maman. Estelle isn’t devout by any means.”
“I agree with you about Jackson,” An’gel said. “He would never do something he would consider blasphemous. If it wasn’t Estelle, however, then who do you think it was?”
Jacqueline looked ready to burst into tears again. “I don’t want to think it, but I’m afraid Horace did it. He was trying to talk Maman into lending him money, but she refused. He wasn’t happy about it.”
CHAPTER 27
An’gel’s heart went out to her goddaughter because she could see how troubled Jacqueline was and how much it cost her to admit that she suspected her husband of such a vile act.
“Horace has always seemed like such a confident, successful businessman,” An’gel said. “Has he been having financial problems recently?” She began to suspect that this was more than a minor cash-flow issue.
“Horace has been very successful,” Jacqueline said, a note of pride in her voice, but it quickly turned bitter. “Horace also likes to gamble. Not at the casinos, mind you, or card games. He gambles with the stock market and investments in business ventures.” She looked angry now, An’gel thought.
“And lately those haven’t been going too well.” An’gel knew from her own experience as an investor that things could quickly turn against a person. She and Dickce, however, always exercised caution when considering any kind of new venture.
“He’s never had such a string of back luck,” Jacqueline said. “It’s like he’s lost his touch somehow. He’s also lost his confidence, and I hate seeing him this way.”
“Why did he approach Mireille for a loan?” An’gel asked. “Couldn’t you help him from your own income?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “Not without the permission of the trustees, one of whom is Richmond Thurston. The other is a cranky old stuffy banker in St. Ignatiusville who has turned down every request I’ve ever made. Both trustees have to agree. Rich would probably say yes, but old fussy pants won’t.”
“I see,” An’gel said. “Mireille obviously turned Horace down. Did she give a reason?”
“No, she didn’t,” Jacqueline said. “Maman has always been secretive about her affairs. She seems to be comfortably off, and I know she and Estelle have made good money from the bed-and-breakfast scheme, but other than that, I don’t have a clue what her financial situation is. Daddy left her a fair amount of money, but Willowbank is expensive to maintain.”
An’gel certainly understood that last bit. She and Dickce spent a considerable sum every year keeping their own antebellum home in tip-top condition.
Jacqueline went on, “I know how important Willowbank is, er, was, to Maman, and I love it, too. But at the end of the day, it’s a house, and there are times when people are more important than houses. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, my dear, I do,” An’gel said gently. “I understand your mother’s feelings for her home, though. When you get to be our age, you often look back into your past, and there you see all the people you love who are no longer with you. People who lived, loved, and perhaps died in the house, and you want to cherish that house because it holds the memories of those loved ones. The house connects you to so much that makes you who you are.”
Jacqueline looked a little teary-eyed by the time An’gel finished, and An’gel felt slightly choked up herself. She always thought of her beloved parents whenever she talked about her home. In every room in Riverhill, she heard echoes of the past, of a time when she and Dickce were children and her parents were young and full of love for each other and for their daughters.
She rarely revealed her feelings to this extent to anyone other than her sister, and she was momentarily embarrassed that she had let her guard down, even to a loved one like her goddaughter.
“I understand,” Jacqueline said softly. “Thank you for sharing that with me. You’ve helped me understand Maman even better, and I can’t blame her for not wanting to put her home at risk for one of Horace’s uncertain ventures.”
An’gel smiled. She waited a moment, then she asked the question that had to be asked.
“Other than the fact that he needs money pretty desperately,” she said, “why do you think Horace could be behind these nasty incidents? Has he ever done anything of this sort before?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No, and that’s the one thing that makes me a bit doubtful. He can be really hard when it comes to business. He’s hard on Trey and makes him toe the line, even when Trey tries to get around him on something. But I’ve never seen him be vicious or vindictive.”
An’gel believed her. Jacqueline and Horace had been married for nearly fifteen years, and surely in that time, if Horace were capable of such revolting behavior, Jacqueline would have seen some evidence of it.
“In that case,” An’gel said, “I think Horace is probably not the culprit. With him off the list, along with Jackson, whom does that leave us with?”
�
�Estelle,” Jacqueline said promptly. “There’s always been something about her that I’ve never trusted. She’s sly, and that is a quality in a person that I simply can’t stand.”
An’gel found it hard to disagree with her goddaughter. Sly was a good word for Estelle. An’gel would also have added passive-aggressive because she thought Estelle was manipulative, particularly when it came to Mireille.
“Estelle, certainly,” An’gel said. “But we have to consider others as well.” She hesitated a moment. “I hate to ask this, but what about Sondra?”
Jacqueline looked offended for a moment, but then appeared to consider the question seriously. She finally said, “I understand why you mention her, but I really don’t think she would have done those things. She might have broken the ornaments and not told Maman, but she wouldn’t have done it deliberately.” She smiled briefly. “I know she wouldn’t have dared touch the prayer book, because she was superstitious about anything religious like that.”
An’gel wasn’t totally convinced, but for the moment she simply nodded. With both Sondra and Mireille now dead, there was no way to know the truth.
“What about Trey?” she asked. “He doesn’t live here, does he?”
“No,” Jacqueline said. “He has a small house in St. Ignatiusville. Horace insisted he move out after he got Sondra pregnant.”
“Would he take it on himself to persecute Mireille to help his father?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Jacqueline said. “He always wants to please Horace and show his father that he can be every bit as astute a businessman as Horace. But I’ve never seen him be vicious either. He has a temper, I’ll admit that, but once he boils over, he usually calms down quickly.”
A person with a temperament like that was the opposite of one who would coldly carry out a campaign of vindictive acts against another, An’gel reasoned. She was inclined to believe Jacqueline, and that meant scratching another name off the list.
“All right then,” she said. “Who’s left, among persons who are regularly in the house?”
“Lance, of course,” Jacqueline said. “But I think we can discount him because, well, because he’s Lance. He’d never think up anything like that on his own, and he had no reason I can imagine to want to hurt Maman. She’s always been quite fond of him, and he of her, in his way.”
An’gel agreed that Lance wouldn’t have thought of harming Mireille through destruction of beloved possessions, but if another person talked him into it somehow? That was a possibility, even if only a small one. “Is he easily manipulated or suggestible?” An’gel asked.
“I suppose he is,” Jacqueline said. “But he’s at heart a truly sweet boy. He would know that Maman would be hurt by losing things dear to her, and I don’t think he would do it on his own or be manipulated into it because of that.”
“Anyone else?” An’gel said. “What about your lawyer, Mr. Thurston? Is he in the house frequently?”
“Yes, he is,” Jacqueline said. “He’s never married and has no family to speak of, and he was Terence’s best friend. Maman relies on him a lot as an advisor, and he comes to dinner a couple of times a week.” She frowned. “I’d hate to think of him doing such a terrible thing to Maman because she’s so fond of him, almost treats him like a son in some ways. He took Terence’s place, I suppose, because Maman adored Terence, and the two of them were friends from childhood.”
“No one else?” An’gel asked.
“No, no one that’s here on a regular basis,” Jacqueline said.
An’gel felt frustrated because Jacqueline had reasonable arguments to explain why almost everyone on the list couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be the person behind the nasty tricks on Mireille.
Almost everyone, she thought. Everyone except Estelle.
She was so lost in thought she didn’t hear Benjy enter the room. He startled her when he spoke.
“Excuse me, ladies, but Estelle wanted me to tell everyone lunch is ready.”
“Thank you, Benjy.” Jacqueline rose. “Do you know where Tippy is?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s with Miss Dickce in the kitchen. I thought I’d eat in the kitchen with her, and then take her upstairs to play or to nap,” Benjy said diffidently. “Does she take a nap in the afternoon?”
“Usually,” Jacqueline said, “though she can be difficult to settle down sometimes. If you can get her to be still for a few minutes, though, she’ll drop right off.”
“If you don’t mind me having Peanut and Endora in her room, I’m pretty sure I can get her to be still.” Benjy grinned. “I’ll tell her the animals need a nap.”
Jacqueline smiled. “I don’t mind at all. I may have to think about getting a dog or a cat for Tippy. We always used to have both in the house, but not since Tippy was born.” Her face darkened for a moment. “Someone told Sondra that old wives’ tale about a cat sucking away a baby’s breath, and after that she didn’t want an animal in the house.”
Benjy obviously didn’t know how to reply to that, so An’gel spoke to save him any embarrassment.
“Peanut and Endora are smart and well behaved,” she said. “They won’t harm Tippy, both Benjy and I can promise you that.”
“I’m not worried,” Jacqueline said. “I really appreciate you looking after my granddaughter.” She nodded at Benjy. “I think I’ll go wash up before we eat, if you’ll excuse me.” She walked out of the room after An’gel nodded.
“I never heard that,” Benjy said. “About a cat sucking away a baby’s breath. That’s crazy.”
An’gel shook her head. “Folklore, I suppose. Who knows how it got started? Probably something to do with witches and their familiars, who were usually black cats.”
“Interesting,” Benjy said. “I guess maybe people thought witches sent their cats to harm babies.”
“Something like that.” An’gel rose. “Enough of that morbid subject. I need to freshen up a bit myself. Thanks for all your help.”
“My pleasure.” Benjy smiled. “I’ll head back to the kitchen. I’ll need to take Peanut out again later this afternoon, so if you or Miss Dickce could take over for a little while, that would be great.”
“One of us will,” An’gel said. She intended for it to be Dickce, but she wouldn’t tell Benjy that.
They parted ways at the stairs, and An’gel trod up to her room, right off the landing at the back of the house. She went first to the bathroom to wash her hands, then into her room to check her hair and makeup. The vanity stood next to a window that looked out over the backyard toward the servants’ quarters, and when she finished her appraisal of her hair and makeup, An’gel stood and surveyed the scene.
The sun was out, and there were no clouds, she was thankful to note. A movement she noticed with her peripheral vision drew her gaze toward the servants’ quarters. She thought she saw the back of some person disappearing around the side of the building, into the trees, but she couldn’t be sure. She watched a bit longer, but whoever had ducked around the corner didn’t come back.
What reason could someone have for going into the woods? She couldn’t imagine why Jackson would be rambling around among the trees, and she knew Estelle should be downstairs in the kitchen.
So who was it? And what was he up to?
CHAPTER 28
An’gel wasted no further time in speculation. She headed downstairs to the kitchen to make sure Estelle was there and to find out where Jackson was.
On her way down the hall past the dining room, she caught a glimpse of the butler placing a dish on the sideboard. There was no way he could have made it from the servants’ quarters into the house so soon after An’gel spotted someone there.
Moving into the kitchen, she found Estelle busy at the stove, while Benjy and Tippy occupied two spaces at the table. Estelle noticed her and scowled.
“No need for you in here,” she said. “Most of the foo
d’s in the dining room.”
“Fine,” An’gel said. “But I want to talk to you later.” She exited the kitchen before Estelle could reply. She really did not appreciate the woman’s constant rudeness, and that made her all the more determined to have it out with the housekeeper the moment lunch was done.
In the dining room she found Jacqueline and Dickce, along with an unexpected guest, Lance Perigord. He was sporting a black eye and a bruised nose but otherwise seemed his usual inconsequential self. When An’gel came into the room, he was telling his hostess and Dickce about a television show An’gel had never heard of but that Lance swore was totally riveting.
Jackson hovered near the sideboard, and he smiled when he saw An’gel. She immediately went to him and asked him how he was doing. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said.
“Thank you kindly, Miss An’gel,” he said. “I’m doing all right. The Lord is giving me strength.”
“Good. He does look after us,” An’gel said, and indeed the man did look better, she thought. His back was straighter, and his whole demeanor more positive than the last time she had seen him.
“That He does,” Jackson said. “That He does. Now why don’t you have a seat, Miss An’gel, and let me serve you your lunch?”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. She joined the others at the table, choosing a seat across from Lance. She wanted to observe him as much as possible.
Lance continued to drone on about the television program, and Jacqueline and Dickce nodded occasionally as they ate their food. Jackson put a plate in front of An’gel. Estelle had taken the ground beef and made it into large patties. There was also grilled asparagus, mashed potatoes, and corn that An’gel suspected came from a can. She tasted the ground beef, and it was cooked to perfection and seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic, and another herb she couldn’t quite place.
When Lance finally ran out of things to say about the television show, An’gel spoke up. “I’m happy to see you, Lance. I was worried about you after what happened.”
Dead with the Wind Page 17
