Digging Up the Dirt

by Miranda James

  An’gel repeated her question again, and finally Lottie answered in the affirmative. “The ambulance is on the way. I checked her pulse, and she’s dead. I swear she is.”

  “Hang on. Sister and I will be on our way there as soon as we can.” An’gel mimed cranking the car, and Dickce stood and hurried out of the room in search of her purse. “Lottie, did you hear me?” She waited, but no response came.

  “Drat the woman,” An’gel muttered when she realized Lottie had ended the call. She debated calling back but figured it would be a waste of time.

  Dickce hurried in with her purse and brandished the car keys. “Let’s go. Fill me in on the way.”

  Two minutes later the Lexus headed down the driveway, Dickce at the wheel. An’gel shared the gist of Lottie’s call with Dickce.

  “I never realized Sarinda had a drinking problem,” Dickce said when An’gel finished. “Had you?”

  An’gel stared intently through the windshield into the dark night. “Don’t forget to be on the lookout for deer.”

  “I won’t,” Dickce said. “Did you hear what I said about Sarinda?”

  “I heard.” An’gel scowled. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Either Sarinda was incredibly adept at hiding it, or Lottie has things mixed up. Wouldn’t be the first time she’s gotten carried away on little evidence. I hardly believe Sarinda was reeking of bourbon.”

  “Doesn’t sound like her,” Dickce said as she guided the car at top speed down the highway into Athena.

  “We’ll find out,” An’gel said as she braced her feet against the floorboards. “If we get there alive ourselves, that is. That was a stop sign back there, or didn’t you notice?”

  “I noticed,” Dickce replied. “I could see there was no other traffic, so I didn’t think there was any reason to stop.”

  An’gel uttered a prayer under her breath. If they didn’t get killed, they ought to arrive at Sarinda’s house in record time.

  Sure enough, five minutes later Dickce screeched into a spot by the curb a couple of houses down from Sarinda’s lot. An’gel caught her breath while she surveyed the scene.

  The rotating lights of the ambulance and two police cruisers flashed against the white facade of Sarinda’s large three-story Greek Revival–style house. The house, known as Fairleigh, stood well back from the street in one of the oldest residential areas in Athena. The large lawn, though not as generous in proportion as the one at Riverhill, was nevertheless spacious at an acre and a half. The houses on either side had been built within a few years of Fairleigh, but those across the street dated from the late nineteenth century. Sarinda had inherited the house upon her parents’ deaths in an accident when she was in her twenties and had lived there alone ever since.

  A group of people milled about in the street. Neighbors come out to gawk, An’gel thought grimly. She opened the door and stepped outside. She shivered. The night was chilly, and neither she nor Dickce had thought to bring a coat with her.

  An’gel strode down the sidewalk, aware that Dickce walked barely two paces behind her. They approached a police officer, Pete Peterson, a grizzled veteran they had known since he was born. They had funded the scholarships that put his younger brother through college and medical school after their father died when they were teenagers. He smiled when he recognized the two new spectators.

  “Good evening, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce.” Peterson nodded. “What are y’all doing out tonight? This lady here a friend of yours?”

  An’gel and Dickce returned the officer’s greeting. Then An’gel said, “Yes, Pete, she is a good friend of ours. Another friend, Lottie MacLeod, called us. She said she’d found Miss Hetherington and that she was dead. Can you tell us, is that true? Is Miss Hetherington really dead?”

  Peterson looked uncomfortable. He glanced around and, evidently satisfied that no one would overhear, he said, “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid so. EMTs tried to revive her, but she was gone. I sure am sorry.”

  An’gel felt Dickce’s arm slip around her waist, and the sisters leaned against each other for comfort. After a moment An’gel pulled away and said, “Thank you for telling us, Pete. This is terrible. We were truly hoping that Lottie was wrong.”

  Peterson shook his head, his expression one of sympathy. “I sure am sorry,” he said again. “I think it’s best if you ladies go on back home. It’s getting chilly out here, and you need to be somewhere warm. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  An’gel appreciated the officer’s concern and said so. “We’ll go in a moment. First, though, did you go inside the house? Did you see?” She couldn’t quite say the words the body aloud.

  Peterson glanced around again before he replied. “Yes, ma’am, I did. You sure you want me to tell you what I saw?”

  “Yes, Pete, I’m sure,” An’gel said. “I know this could get you in trouble, but I promise we won’t tell anyone.”

  “I know, Miss An’gel, I know,” Peterson said. “Well, the lady was lying at the bottom of the stairs. Looked like she fell headfirst and landed on her front.” He hesitated. “There was a broken bottle of bourbon on the floor by her.”

  An’gel swallowed. She hated the picture of Sarinda that now lodged in her mind. “Thank you, Pete. I think you’re right. Sister and I had better go home now.”

  Dickce thanked the officer also before they turned to walk back to their car. Peterson offered to accompany them, but they declined.

  Before they had taken more than a few steps, however, a voice hailed them. An’gel tensed. She recognized the voice. She and Dickce halted and turned. They looked at each other and grimaced.

  “Martin, what are you doing here?” An’gel eyed Reba Dalrymple’s forty-five-year-old son warily.

  Martin, who always made An’gel think of Ichabod Crane, wasn’t quite the goofy old scarecrow described by Washington Irving, but he came close. He shambled to a stop about two feet from the sisters and stared at them, his eyes large with excitement.

  “Mother sent me.” Martin shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket, a habit with him. All of his jackets sagged on the sides. An’gel had never seen him in one that didn’t.

  “How did Reba know anything had happened?” An’gel asked. Martin might be a wiz with computers, she thought, but he had no more social skills than a sock monkey. Talking to him always wore her patience thin.

  “Miz Gross called her.” Martin blinked at her.

  Because Lottie called Barbie first, as she always did. Lottie made few moves without Barbie’s knowledge and approval. The two were as close as she and Dickce, but Lottie did not have nearly as forceful a personality as her best friend.

  “Did your mother send you for any particular reason?” Dickce asked after a sideways glance at An’gel.

  “She wanted to know what’s going on.” Martin giggled. “You know how she is. Nosy Rosy.” He giggled again. “Looks like Mother isn’t the only Nosy Rosy.”

  An’gel ignored that. “Did you find out anything?” She doubted he had, but she might as well ask.

  Martin shrugged. “Not really.” He stepped back. “Better get home. Mother is waiting.” With that he turned and loped off.

  “He is so aggravating,” Dickce said. “Sometimes you just want to jerk that knot in his tail.”

  “Dickce, why do you have to use that awful expression?” An’gel shook her head. “I agree, though. He can be mighty exasperating. I think he did find out something but he’s going home to tell Reba first. Come now, let’s go home.”

  An’gel didn’t feel like talking during the drive back to Riverhill, and apparently neither did Dickce. An’gel pondered Sarinda’s sudden and rather odd death. How could they have all missed the fact that Sarinda had a drinking problem?

  An’gel knew that many alcoholics were adept at disguising their addiction, and perhaps Sarinda had been among their number. An’gel found it s
ad. Sarinda had never married, though An’gel was never certain why. She wondered whether Sarinda had been carrying a torch all these years for Hadley Partridge. Seeing him today might have been a shock, although An’gel would have supposed it to be a pleasant one.

  But for Sarinda, it might have been a bitter reminder of forty lonely years. Could Hadley’s sudden return—and show of pointed interest in her, rather than in Sarinda or any of the other women—have had anything to do with Sarinda’s getting so drunk she fell down the stairs?

  Another, more sinister interpretation of Sarinda’s death occurred to her. Sarinda had asked the odd question, “What if Callie never left Athena?”

  They had all thought it was merely a bid for attention this afternoon. In light of Sarinda’s sudden demise, however, An’gel found herself reconsidering the idea that Sarinda had had another purpose in mind when she posed the question. If she had known more than she let on about what happened to Callie all those years ago, and if what happened to Callie was the result of foul play, could someone in that room today have been responsible? Not only for Sarinda’s death, but also for Callie’s disappearance?

  Had both women been murdered?

  CHAPTER 6

  You’ve been watching too many reruns of old detective shows. Turning everything into a mystery.

  An’gel scolded herself mentally for the wild ideas she was entertaining over Sarinda’s death. The timing of it was simply coincidence. If Sarinda truly had been a secret drinker, then it was only a matter of time before she had an accident. In this case, it sadly turned out to be a fatal accident.

  An’gel’s thoughts had seesawed back and forth between a verdict of sad accident and deliberate murder since the previous evening. As she sat finishing her third cup of coffee at the dining room table this morning, she was glad she hadn’t shared any of this with her sister.

  Dickce broke into her thoughts. “You’ve hardly said a word since we got in the car last night to drive home from Sarinda’s. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what’s on your mind. You’re stewing over Sarinda’s death, obviously.”

  Her sister knew her only too well, An’gel reflected. “Yes.” She hoped the terse response would be enough to quell her sister for the moment, but Dickce didn’t snub that easily.

  “You think someone pushed Sarinda down the stairs, don’t you?” Dickce toyed with a small bit of scrambled egg on her plate.

  “I think it’s a possibility,” An’gel said.

  “I do, too.” Dickce set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “Maybe we’re simply all off balance, thanks to Hadley, but the more I think about the meeting yesterday, the more I believe there was something going on underneath it all that we don’t understand.”

  “That’s what I’ve been feeling,” An’gel said. “But I wonder whether I’m trying to make too much out of Sarinda’s behavior yesterday.”

  “It’s possible,” Dickce said. “After what we’ve been through the past few months, we’re bound to be oversensitive, I suppose. Murder here at Riverhill, and then more murder at Willowbank, when we went to St. Ignatiusville for the wedding.”

  An’gel grimaced. “The last thing we need is to be involved in another murder, and I’m hoping that this turns out to be an accident.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “All right. I’ve had enough of this. The sun is shining, the morning is warm, and I have gardening to do.”

  “You’d better get it done this morning,” Dickce said. “I was listening to the weather report before I came down to breakfast, and we’ve got a storm system coming our way by mid-afternoon. Sounds like we could be in for nasty weather. Heavy rain, thunderstorms, and high winds.”

  An’gel pushed her chair in to the table and stood with her hands along the back. “I didn’t check the forecast this morning.” She paused. “If we’ve got that kind of weather coming, I shouldn’t bother putting in new plants, then. The wind is liable to wreak havoc with whatever I do today. Not to mention the azaleas I planted yesterday.”

  “In that case,” Dickce said, “why don’t you come with Benjy and me this morning? I’m taking him shopping for clothes and shoes. He’s going to need new things for when he starts at Athena College in the spring.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stay here.” An’gel didn’t care much for shopping, though her sister did. “I need to catch up on correspondence and a few other business issues.”

  Dickce stood and began to gather the breakfast dishes. “Suit yourself. If you get bored and want to join us in town later, we’re going to be lunching at the Farrington Hotel.”

  “You’re taking Benjy’s car, then?” An’gel referred to the small sedan they had bought their ward two weeks ago so he would be able to drive back and forth to classes and also run errands when needed.

  “Yes, Benjy insists on driving, so we’ll leave the car for you.” Dickce, plates and utensils neatly stacked in her hands, walked out of the dining room.

  An’gel realized suddenly that she would no doubt be left in charge of Peanut and Endora, because Dickce and Benjy certainly wouldn’t take them shopping. The animals could spend part of the time in the kitchen with Clementine, the housekeeper, An’gel decided. Clementine was fond of both pets and didn’t mind keeping an eye on them. An’gel’s office was on the small side for one woman, a dog, and a cat—particularly a dog and a cat that liked to play while the woman tried to concentrate on business.

  After a heavy sigh, An’gel picked up her coffee cup and saucer and bore them off to the kitchen. After a brief chat with Clementine about Peanut and Endora, An’gel went to her office to work.

  Her first chore was to check e-mail and deal with any messages that needed an immediate response. As she worked, she found her mind drifting to the death of her friend. After reading one message three times and failing to comprehend it, she gave up and picked up the phone handset on the desk beside her computer.

  She hesitated a moment, then punched in the number for the Athena Police Department. She identified herself and asked to speak to the chief of police, Drew Carson. After a delay of about thirty seconds, Carson came on the line.

  “Good morning, Miss An’gel, how are you and Miss Dickce these days?”

  “We’re doing fine, Drew, and I hope you and Adele are doing well.”

  “Tolerable, Miss An’gel, tolerable.” The police chief chuckled. “Adele’s busy playing with the new grandbaby.”

  “That’s right,” An’gel said. “Your son and his wife have a new baby. Another boy, I believe.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carson said. “He’s doing fine. Growing like a little weed.”

  The pleasantries continued for a moment, then Carson said, “What can I do for you, Miss An’gel? You wouldn’t be calling about the death of Miss Sarinda Hetherington, would you?”

  An’gel chuckled. “I’m afraid you know me too well. Yes, I’m calling about Sarinda. Dickce and I were stunned to hear about her death, naturally, but even more stunned to hear the cause of it.”

  “What exactly did you hear, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  An’gel registered the note of caution in the chief’s question. She couldn’t blame him for being wary, because he wasn’t a man who appreciated outside interference in the work of his department.

  “We heard that she had been drinking heavily and fell down the stairs and died. Broke her neck, presumably,” An’gel said. “And that surprised us both, because we had no idea Sarinda was a heavy drinker.”

  “I have to tell you, in my experience, alcoholics can be real clever in concealing the fact that they drink. Especially when they drink in secret. Miss Hetherington lived alone, far as I know, and didn’t go out a lot. Not an unusual pattern.”

  “I suppose not,” An’gel said. “But Sarinda was active in her church and with different clubs, including the garden club. We saw her yesterday at a garden c
lub board meeting, in fact.” She debated whether to confide in the police chief her misgivings over Sarinda’s behavior at the meeting and her sudden disappearance. She made a quick decision to keep it to herself for the moment. Thus far Carson hadn’t said anything to indicate he considered the death anything other than accidental.

  “We’ll be looking at the whole picture,” Carson said. “I know you’re upset about your friend, but I promise you we’ll investigate thoroughly. We’ll be talking to her neighbors and her doctor. I have to say, though, I think this one’s going to be pretty quickly wrapped up.”

  “I appreciate your time, Drew. If you wouldn’t mind letting me know the outcome of the investigation, I’d be grateful.” Struck with a sudden idea, An’gel was eager to conclude the call. She, Dickce, and Sarinda all went to the same doctor and had done so for the past thirty years. The minute she got Drew Carson off the phone she planned to call Dr. Gandy. She had a few questions to put to him, and she hoped he would be willing to answer under the circumstances.

  After she bade Carson good-bye, An’gel ended the call and reached for the phone book to double-check the doctor’s number. Once she found it, she punched in the number and waited for an answer.

  “I made a list of the things I think you’ll need.” Dickce pulled a small notepad from her purse and opened it to the page where she had jotted her notes.

  “It’s awesome of you and Miss An’gel to buy me new clothes and stuff,” Benjy said, his gaze focused on the road ahead. “But I really don’t need that much, honestly.”

  Dickce smiled and shook her head. He was a dear boy and always seemed to be worried about any money she and An’gel spent on him. He had fussed about the car, too, but Dickce knew how thrilled he was to have his own transportation. At nineteen, he needed to be able to come and go on his own, and he was a responsible driver.

  “I swear you’ve grown an inch in the past three months,” Dickce said. “Your ankles are sticking out of your jeans, and surely your shoes must be giving you blisters by now.” She glanced down at the ragged sneakers he was wearing. They definitely had to go, plus the boy needed dress shoes and a couple of suits for formal occasions.