Dickce felt pleased by what she determined was proof of innocence in Benjy’s case. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt drawn to the boy despite his appearance. Why would anyone want rings in his eyebrows? Rebellion, she supposed, happy that part of her life was over long ago. She glanced down at the cat beside her. Diesel obviously sensed goodness in Benjy as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken so quickly to him. The cat seemed to be an excellent judge of character, and Dickce decided she would trust the cat’s instincts and her own.
The deputy interrupted her reverie with a cough. “Miss Ducote, Chief Deputy Berry would like you to join her in the other room now.”
Dickce smiled at the earnest expression. “I’m ready, Deputy,” she said as she stood. Diesel stretched again before he jumped to the floor to follow her.
The deputy escorted her and the cat across the hall to the parlor and opened the door for them. Dickce thought Diesel might go in search of Benjy or head to the kitchen, but he came into the parlor with her.
Dickce wasn’t surprised to see An’gel ensconced on the sofa. She wondered whether her sister had been there the entire time Kanesha was interviewing Rosabelle’s family. Trust An’gel to be in the middle of it all, she thought with a tinge of resentment.
Kanesha stood. “Miss Dickce, I’m sorry I had to leave you for last. I know it must have been pretty tedious having to wait for so long.” She glanced down at Diesel. “I’m assuming you had company, though.”
Dickce smiled. “Yes, Diesel was there the whole time.” She took a seat beside her sister. The cat climbed up into the space between them and arranged himself across both their laps. “Have you been here all along?”
An’gel shook her head. “No, of course not. Kanesha called me back in just now so the three of us could talk.”
“First,” Kanesha said, “I’d like Miss Dickce to take me through what happened this afternoon from her perspective.” She flipped to a new page in her notebook.
Dickce took a moment to marshal her thoughts. “It all started when An’gel made the mistake of letting Rosabelle in the house.” She cut a sideways glance at her sister. She could see that An’gel was not amused. Dickce was tempted to stick out her tongue, but she knew this was a serious matter. She focused on complying with the chief deputy’s request.
“Thank you,” Kanesha said when Dickce finished. “Now, I’d like to clarify a point or two. To your knowledge, did either Mr. Pittman or Mr. Stephens have an opportunity to go upstairs today?”
“I was thinking about that while I was waiting,” Dickce said. “I’m sure that neither of them did. I took Junior Pittman out to the garage apartment while An’gel took his aunt, his mother, and his cousin upstairs. He was with me the entire time until we came back to the house. That’s when he accompanied An’gel to the parlor.”
“And Mr. Stephens?” Kanesha prompted.
“Mr. Pittman and I found him in the garage apartment. I don’t see any way he could have gotten into the house without our knowing it. He came with Junior and me into the kitchen, and then he went with An’gel and Junior to the parlor.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Kanesha said. She closed the notebook and put it aside on the table near her chair. “At this point I’m reasonably certain we can rule out Mr. Pittman and Mr. Stephens as being responsible for what happened. And the two of you, of course.” Kanesha smiled briefly.
Dickce was pleased to hear that Kanesha didn’t regard Benjy as a suspect. Or Junior either, she thought. He seemed like a nice young man.
Kanesha continued, “Earlier I asked Miss An’gel how she felt about allowing your guests to remain here. We discussed the situation, and I told her I would arrange for them to be accommodated at one of the hotels in the area.”
“I said I thought it best to keep them all here,” An’gel said.
“Why on earth?” Dickce asked. She wasn’t really surprised, but she wanted to hear her sister’s reasoning.
“It will be easier for us to keep an eye on Rosabelle,” An’gel said, her tone firm. “I am not happy harboring a murderer in this house, but I don’t think he or she will try again as long as they’re here. I would fear for Rosabelle’s safety if they moved into a hotel.”
And out of your control, Dickce thought somewhat snidely. Except that An’gel hadn’t been able to stop the killer the first time.
“Besides,” An’gel said, her gaze narrowing as she looked at Dickce, “I’ve arranged with Kanesha to hire off-duty deputies to remain in the house with us for a few days until the case is solved.”
“What a good idea,” Dickce replied. “Whoever arranged that nasty fall for Rosabelle will probably think twice about trying something funny with an officer of the law in the house.”
“I should certainly hope so.” An’gel gave an unladylike snort. She turned to Kanesha. “Is there anything else you need from us right now?”
“No, ma’am,” Kanesha said. “I need to check on the status of the evidence search, and as soon as it’s done, I will let your guests go to their rooms.” She glanced at her watch. “I imagine you’ll be ready to have dinner before long. It’s nearly seven o’clock.”
“Goodness, yes,” Dickce said. Now that she thought about food, she realized she was ravenous. Lunch was a long time ago, and she had eaten only a few bites of the snacks she took to the library for Rosabelle’s family members. “I should go see how Clementine’s getting along. I’m sure she’s wondering when we’re going to serve dinner.” She slid Diesel gently off her lap and stood. The cat chirped in protest at being disturbed, but An’gel patted his head to reassure him.
In the hall Dickce remembered the serving cart and food tray in the library. She decided she might as well retrieve them and take them to the kitchen. She found Rosabelle and her family in the room, watched over by the same young deputy. She was slightly surprised but then realized that this room was larger and more comfortable than the office where each person was sent after the interview with Kanesha.
Dickce explained her errand to the deputy, and he nodded. Then Dickce addressed the assembled guests. “I’m about to go check on dinner. I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re able to eat. For whoever might be hungry,” she said.
Rosabelle nodded, and Dickce could see interest in the faces of several others. She smiled at them before she picked up the food tray and placed it on the middle shelf of the serving cart. As she did so, she spotted something odd.
She straightened, her heart beating faster as the implications of what she found sank in. Her hands trembled as she grasped the cart’s handle and began to wheel it out of the room. She headed back across the hall to the parlor. The moment she had the cart and its contents far enough inside, she closed the door behind her.
An’gel and Kanesha glanced up from their conversation, and Dickce could see they were startled by her sudden entrance.
“There’s something here you need to see,” she said.
CHAPTER 12
“What did you find?”
Dickce ignored An’gel’s imperious tone. “Come see for yourself.”
Kanesha reached the cart while An’gel was still rising from the sofa. “Show me, please,” she said, her tone firm.
Dickce pointed to the food tray. “Look under that.”
Kanesha squatted beside the cart and used her pen to lift the paper towel Dickce indicated. Beneath it was a plastic tube labeled Vaseline.
An’gel approached and peered over Kanesha’s shoulder. “Brazen,” she said.
“Imagine the nerve it took to keep that on your person and then somehow manage to drop it on the tray when nobody was looking.” Dickce shook her head. “It makes my blood run cold.”
Kanesha stood and pulled out her cell phone. She stepped away from the cart and punched in a number. “Bates, I’m in the parlor. Miss Dickce found something we need to bag, and I don’t have what
I need.” She paused. “Right. Thanks.” She ended the call and put away her phone.
“I didn’t touch it,” Dickce said. “I left it the way I found it, except of course for moving the tray onto the cart.”
Kanesha nodded. “Yes, ma’am. About the paper towel. I don’t see any others here. Where do you think it came from?”
“There’s a roll in each of the bathrooms upstairs,” An’gel replied.
“In the cupboard under the sink,” Dickce added.
“Thank you, that’s helpful.” Kanesha thought for a moment. “Did either of you have a tube like that upstairs in your rooms? Or was there one in any of the guest rooms or bathrooms?”
“I have one of those little containers of it in my bathroom. You know, the kind with the lid?” Dickce said. “I don’t recall putting any in the guest areas.” She glanced at her sister. “Did you?”
An’gel shook her head. “To my knowledge there wasn’t any in the guest rooms. Like my sister, though, I have a container in my bathroom.”
“Thank you,” Kanesha said. She looked toward the door. “Ladies, if you don’t mind stepping back, Deputy Bates will take care of this now.”
Bates nodded at Dickce and An’gel as they moved away from the serving cart. “Evening, ladies.”
Dickce watched with great interest as Bates pulled on plastic gloves. He pulled out a pair of mid-sized tweezers and proceeded to put the tube and the paper towel in separate plastic evidence bags.
“Are you going to dust the cart for fingerprints?” Dickce hoped Bates would do it so she could watch. She felt guilty even thinking it, but it was a bit thrilling to be this close to an actual investigation.
“No, ma’am,” Bates said. “We wouldn’t gain any real helpful information, because probably every one of you touched the cart today. We will be testing the tube and the paper towel, of course, but they’ll have to go to the state crime lab.”
“Surely you didn’t think he was going to whip out his fingerprint kit and do it right here?” An’gel glared at Dickce. “You need to stop watching all those forensic shows on television. You’re getting positively morbid about such things.”
Well, someone is obviously tired and cranky, Dickce thought. An’gel always got this way when she wasn’t in control of a situation. Dickce once again had the urge to stick her tongue out at her sister but knew she would be embarrassed if either of the deputies saw her do it.
Instead she settled for a tart rejoinder. “What I watch is certainly more educational than those trashy reality shows about trashy people.”
An’gel drew back at that, and Dickce would have sworn for a moment that her sister started to blush. But decades of training asserted itself, and An’gel maintained her composure.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Kanesha said. “I think we are done here for the moment. I’ll just go across the hall to speak with your guests, and then we will be leaving. Except, of course, for the deputy, who will remain here until he can be relieved by an off-duty deputy.”
“Thank you,” An’gel said. “I know I will certainly rest easier tonight knowing that one of your men is on guard here.”
Kanesha nodded before she headed for the door. Bates hesitated a moment before he followed his boss, and in that moment, Dickce thought he winked at her.
She wanted to giggle. He was such an attractive man. Broad-shouldered with a trim waist, he had the chiseled face of a movie star. She had heard an interesting rumor about him and Stewart Delacorte recently. She wondered if it was true, and if it was, she was happy for Stewart because he deserved a nice man.
“If you’re done mooning over that deputy,” An’gel said, “let’s get this out to the kitchen and see about helping Clementine with dinner.” She grabbed the cart handles and started pushing.
This time Dickce did stick out her tongue—at her sister’s retreating back.
Maudine and Bernice were the first of the guests to appear at the dining room table. Dickce thought cynically there probably wasn’t much that would put Maudine off her food. The avid gleam in her eyes as Maudine surveyed the table told Dickce she was probably right. Dickce had to admit, however, that a table full of Clementine’s wonderful Southern cooking was a sight to gladden anyone’s eye. Anyone who isn’t a health nut, she amended.
An’gel invited them to sit, and moments later, Wade and Junior came in. They took chairs opposite the women. An’gel sat at the head of the table, her usual place, while Dickce decided for once to sit at the foot, instead of at An’gel’s right. Three places remained unclaimed.
Dickce wondered whether An’gel would insist on the usual saying of grace before anyone was allowed to eat. Then she noticed that Maudine and Wade were already helping themselves to the food. Dickce caught An’gel’s eye and shrugged. She could tell her sister wasn’t pleased, but given their experiences with these people so far, she thought An’gel shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of manners at the dinner table.
Juanita entered the dining room and went straight to An’gel. “Miss Ducote, Grandmother asked me to express her regrets, but she doesn’t feel well and really isn’t up to sitting down to dinner. Would it be okay if I take a plate up to her?”
“Of course, my dear.” An’gel actually looked relieved, Dickce thought. She certainly was, because she hadn’t relished the idea of listening to Rosabelle carry on over the dinner table. Everyone else seemed relieved as well, Dickce would have been willing to bet.
Juanita prepared a plate of chicken and vegetables for her grandmother while An’gel went to find a bed tray for her.
“Thank you,” the young woman said when An’gel returned. “I’ll take this up and be back down shortly for my own dinner.”
Dickce had picked up her fork, ready to eat, when she realized there was still one person unaccounted for. Benjy was missing. She hesitated but decided after brief thought that he would turn up soon. A boy his age was always hungry, and he wouldn’t miss a meal.
Ten minutes later, when Benjy still hadn’t turned up, Dickce began to worry. There was no conversation at the table, other than the “would you pass the corn” variety. Juanita had rejoined them, but no one else seemed to notice that Benjy wasn’t there.
“Mr. Pittman,” Dickce said, “do you know why Benjy hasn’t come to dinner?”
Junior looked up from his plate with a frown. “Oh, he said he wasn’t hungry. I tried to get him to come, but he wouldn’t.” He returned his attention to his food.
Dickce glanced at her sister. She could tell An’gel was concerned, too. Dickce decided that she would go check on Benjy. She hadn’t meant to forget about him, but until now there hadn’t been a chance to talk to him.
“Excuse me,” Dickce said as she pushed back her chair and stood.
An’gel nodded, as if giving permission for her to leave the table, and Dickce shrugged. She was going to check on that young man whether An’gel approved or not.
The kitchen was empty. Clementine had gone home, and An’gel had insisted that Diesel be put upstairs in her bedroom during dinner. Dickce knew the cat was not happy being isolated like that, but she supposed An’gel was right. They weren’t used to having an animal begging for food while they ate, and An’gel certainly wouldn’t allow it with guests at the table.
The evening sun hung low in the sky as Dickce stepped outside. The heat and humidity hadn’t abated with the approach of darkness, and Dickce was glowing with perspiration by the time she reached the door to the garage apartment.
She opened the door and stepped inside. “Benjy, is it okay for me to come up? It’s Dickce Ducote.”
For a moment she thought the apartment must be empty, then she heard a familiar chirping.
What on earth is Diesel doing here? she thought, startled.
Benjy appeared at the head of the stairs with the cat beside him. “Sure, you can come up here if you want to.” He tur
ned and moved away, but Diesel remained where he was.
“How did you get here, you rascal?” Dickce tapped the cat on the head when she reached him.
“I heard something scratching at the door downstairs a little while ago,” Benjy said, his tone defensive. “When I went down there, I found him trying to pull the door open. He had one paw in the crack, but that door kinda sticks, and he couldn’t budge it.”
Dickce had to laugh at the mental image. “Charlie—that’s his owner, Charlie Harris—told us Diesel could open doors on his own, but I don’t think I really believed him until now. He wouldn’t have had much trouble getting out of An’gel’s room, or out the back door, I guess, because those doors are in better shape.”
Diesel warbled several times, as if he knew he was being discussed. Benjy smiled slightly as he indicated a chair. “He sure is one smart cat. Please sit.”
Dickce noted that Benjy waited until she was seated before he plopped on the couch across from her. Diesel joined him, his head butting the young man’s upper arm. Benjy put his arm around the cat and hugged him close. Diesel started purring.
“I’m glad he found his way to you,” Dickce said. “He always seems to know when someone needs a little comfort.”
“I’m okay,” Benjy muttered and ducked his head.
Dickce waited a moment, but he didn’t continue. “I was a little concerned when you didn’t join us for dinner. I know you must be terribly upset by what’s happened, but you need to keep up your strength. Clementine is a wonderful cook, and hot food will help you feel better.”
“Miss Clementine gave me some food.” Benjy pointed toward the table across the room. “I just didn’t feel like being in the same room with the Wart and his family.”
Dickce glanced over at the table. She could see a plate, cutlery, napkin, and glass. Plate and glass were empty. Knowing Clementine, that plate had been heaped with food. Unless Benjy had fed most of it to Diesel—and she sincerely hoped he hadn’t, because the cat would undoubtedly get sick—he had eaten well.
1 Bless Her Dead Little Heart Page 8
