Out of Circulation

by Miranda James

Before the sheriff said anything, I had a question for him. “Where is Ms. Brady, Sheriff? She came with me, and I’d like to see her home.”

  “No need to worry about that, Mr. Harris. One of my men is driving her home right now.”

  “Thank you.” I was glad Helen Louise would soon be in bed and hopefully asleep, but at the same time I was irked that I hadn’t had a chance to say good night.

  “Mr. Harris, you seem to have a knack for turning up where dead bodies are present.”

  I couldn’t tell whether Tidwell was amused or irritated. I, however, was definitely the latter.

  “Simply a coincidence, Sheriff. I was looking for Mrs. Berry and happened to be the first one to find her. With the body.” Waves of tiredness washed over me, and all I wanted was to get home to my bed. I surely didn’t feel like sparring with the sheriff.

  “How well did you know the deceased?”

  “Not particularly well. She often came into the library on Friday afternoons when I volunteer there. I had some dealings with her in the past couple of months as a fellow member of the board of the library’s Friends group. That’s about it.” At this stage I wasn’t going to mention the unpleasant scene I’d had with Vera in the archives office.

  Tidwell hardly waited until I finished answering one question before he was on to the next. “What about Miz Berry? How long have you known her?”

  I thought back. Azalea had started working for my late aunt about twenty-five years ago, and I had met her several times when my family and I visited Aunt Dottie. I explained this to the sheriff.

  “And she’s worked for you how long?”

  “Since I moved back to Athena four years ago,” I said. With a slight smile I continued, “I inherited Azalea along with the house. I had little say in the matter.”

  Tidwell smiled also. “She’s a strong-minded woman.” The smile faded. “Tell me what you saw when you found Miz Berry.”

  I took a moment to collect my thoughts. My brain felt fuzzy. I focused on the door in the kitchen and the sounds I heard. Then I gave the sheriff a summary of what I saw.

  “The door was definitely blocked from the outside?” Tidwell asked when I finished.

  “Yes, the doorstop was wedged very firmly under it, and I actually had to bend down and pull it out with both hands. I tried kicking it aside, but it was embedded too deeply.”

  Tidwell frowned. “So in your opinion, was Miz Berry unable to get out of that stairwell on her own?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t elaborate further.

  “Describe for me again Miz Berry’s demeanor when you found her.”

  “She was obviously upset. She seemed frantic to get out of the stairwell, and frankly I couldn’t blame her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That she had been banging on the door for ten minutes. Then she said it was terrible. That’s it, really.”

  Tidwell stared hard at me. “You’re sure that’s all she said?”

  His tone irritated me. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “What was Miz Berry’s relationship to Miz Cassity?”

  “None that I know of.”

  I thought he would press me on that, and when he didn’t, I found it strange. He was no dummy, despite Kanesha’s earlier comment when she referred to him as an idiot. That was only her anger talking. Tidwell was a sharp, politically savvy man, and he might be perfectly aware of Azalea’s antipathy toward Vera.

  My mind flashed back to the scene I’d witnessed between the two women earlier tonight. I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell the sheriff about that, at least not until I’d had a chance to talk to Azalea about it—and Kanesha, too.

  “I reckon that’s all for now, Mr. Harris. If I have more questions, I’ll let you know.”

  I rose gratefully. “Certainly, Sheriff.” His deputy showed me out and escorted me to the front door.

  I found my car, keys in the ignition, in the driveway. A deputy waited nearby, and I figured they had sent the valets home earlier. I climbed in and headed for home, yawning the whole way.

  The house was quiet when I reached it, with lights burning in the kitchen and the hallway. I made my way slowly up the stairs to my bedroom, and within five minutes I was in bed. I barely had time to wonder where Diesel was before I dropped off to sleep.

  Having failed to set the alarm before I stumbled into bed, I woke two hours later than usual, around eight thirty. As I began to stir, I felt a paw on my arm. I turned to see Diesel sitting on the bed beside me. He meowed at me, and I scooped an arm around him and pulled him closer. He warbled for me as I rubbed up and down his back, then concentrated on his head. There was no standoff kitty routine this morning. He was as happy to see me as I was to see him.

  Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed for work, I caught the scents of fresh coffee and bacon as Diesel and I headed downstairs. My stomach rumbled. Either Stewart or Laura must be cooking breakfast, and I was grateful. Even though I was running late, I was so hungry I wasn’t going to skip this meal. I needed energy for the day ahead.

  When I walked into the kitchen, Azalea turned away from the stove to glare at me. “I didn’t murder nobody. Not even that hateful woman.”

  FIFTEEN

  I hadn’t expected to see Azalea at her usual place at the stove this morning. For one thing, she had to be even more exhausted than I was last night. But here she was. The woman was indomitable.

  “Of course you didn’t.” I put every ounce of conviction I could muster into those four words.

  The rigid set of my housekeeper’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Thank you, Mr. Charlie. I appreciate that.” She turned back to the stove.

  At a loss as to what I should say next, I sat down. Diesel walked around me and over to where Azalea stood. He sat by her feet, looked up at her, and chirped several times.

  Startled, she glanced down at him. “He be trying to tell me something.” Uncertainly she faced me again. “He upset with me?”

  Smiling, I shook my head. “No, in his way, he’s trying to tell you he knows you’re upset and he wants you to feel better.”

  “Well, don’t that just beat all?” Bemused, she watched the cat for a moment, then reached with a trembling hand to touch his head. Diesel, smart boy that he was, simply sat there and let her stroke him tentatively.

  “You maybe ain’t so bad after all, cat.” Azalea went to the sink and washed her hands, and Diesel moved to sit beside me.

  I never thought I’d see the day. My mouth probably hung open in astonishment. Diesel appeared to be smirking. He could be quite a self-satisfied puss on occasion, but he more than deserved to be this time.

  “I was about to forget your coffee, Mr. Charlie.” Azalea muttered to herself as she brought the coffeepot and filled my cup.

  “Thank you.”

  “Breakfast is almost ready. Let me just check on the biscuits.” She bent to peer in the oven door.

  “Morning, Dad, Azalea. Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” Laura breezed into the kitchen. “The semester is done, I’ve turned in all my grades, and now I’m a free woman. I could eat a horse.”

  Talk about strange. Laura and Sean and their dates had left the party before Vera’s body was discovered, and obviously she hadn’t heard the story from anyone yet this morning. Stewart must still be in bed. Otherwise the whole house would be buzzing with the news.

  What could I say? I didn’t want to bring the subject up in front of Azalea, but my housekeeper solved my dilemma for me as she set my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits on the table.

  “Something bad happened last night, Miss Laura. I reckon you was gone by the time it happened.” She set down Laura’s plate and then disappeared into the laundry room.

  Wide-eyed, Laura left off stroking Diesel and gazed at me. “What on earth happened, Dad?”

  “Happened where?” Sean startled me. He wandered over to the stove and filled a plate. “Want coffee, bug breath?”

  “No, thanks, snot brain.” Laura glared at he
r brother. “Go on, what went on after we left last night?” She sneaked Diesel a bite of bacon when she thought I wasn’t looking.

  Maybe one of these days my darling children would stop referring to each other by those silly nicknames. “Vera Cassity died, and it looks like she might have been murdered.”

  Sean paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and the eggs plopped back onto the plate.

  Laura groaned. “Don’t tell me. You found the body, didn’t you?” She and her brother shared a glance—of commiseration, I assumed.

  “Not exactly.” I had a sip of my coffee. “Kanesha was worried because she couldn’t find her mother, and Morty Cassity mentioned he hadn’t seen Vera. So we started looking for them.” I gave them a brief account of my discovery of Azalea and Vera’s body in the stairwell.

  Laura shivered, her breakfast forgotten. “How terrible for Azalea. Locked in with a corpse.”

  “Sounds like the title of a Golden Age detective story.” Sean scooped up the fallen egg and popped it into his mouth. Not much interfered with his appetite.

  “Don’t be facetious, son.”

  Sean shrugged. “Sorry.”

  I suppressed a sigh of irritation. “Azalea was terrified, and Kanesha was pretty upset, too. She seemed to think Sheriff Tidwell was considering her mother as a suspect in Vera’s death.”

  “Azalea? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sean set his fork aside. “No way she’d kill someone. Did she even know Mrs. Cassity?”

  “She knew her.” I hadn’t confided in either Sean or Laura about my set-down from Azalea or the reason for it. I would explain that to them later. I didn’t want Azalea to come back into the room and catch me talking about it.

  “To know her was to loathe her, evidently.” Laura broke off another bit of bacon and gazed innocently at me as it disappeared under the table. Smug purring followed.

  “That’s putting it mildly. Vera made enemies all too easily.” I had some bacon and biscuit and a forkful of eggs.

  “Maybe one of the Ducote sisters caught her snooping and pushed her down the stairs. Maybe Ducote is French for ‘ruthless.’” Sean was being particularly smart-mouthed this morning.

  My temper flared. “I’m not too happy with you right this minute, Sean. Your flippancy is totally out of place. What happened last night was horrible, and you ought to have more respect for Azalea and what she went through than to carry on like this.”

  Diesel appeared at my side, meowing anxiously. He got agitated anytime he thought I was upset. In taking a moment to reassure him I began to calm down myself. I almost—almost, mind you—regretted my outburst.

  “Sorry, Dad.” Sean looked suitably abashed. “I guess it seems a little unreal. I didn’t know Mrs. Cassity.”

  “Neither did I, but I do know Azalea.” Laura seemed to withdraw for a moment, and I realized she must be thinking of the events of three months before when a friend of hers was murdered and she found the body. “I’m sorry she had to go through all that.”

  Sean reached over and squeezed her shoulder. His voice was gruff when he spoke. “Sorry, Laura, I was really insensitive.”

  “It’s okay.” Laura offered the ghost of a smile. “Dad, is there anything we can do for Azalea?”

  “Just let her be,” I said. “She’s a strong woman, and if she needs us to lean on, we’ll be here.”

  “What about her being a suspect?” Sean poked at his eggs. “Do you think the sheriff is really serious?”

  Before I could respond, Laura asked, “Is the sheriff investigating this? And not Kanesha?”

  “Yes, the sheriff is in charge. It wouldn’t be ethical for Kanesha to investigate, I suppose, because her mother was found with the body.” I sighed. “Kanesha’s not going to be happy having to sit this one out.”

  Sean reminded me I hadn’t answered his question.

  “I know from my own experience that they tend to be suspicious of the person who finds the body. But I think once the sheriff and his team have had time to evaluate the evidence, they’ll have to conclude that Azalea couldn’t have pushed Vera down the stairs.” I paused. “If that’s what caused her death.”

  “You sound awfully sure,” Laura said.

  I explained my reasoning, keeping an eye out for Azalea. She’d been in the laundry room for a good ten minutes or more, and she might pop back in any minute now.

  She hadn’t reappeared by the time I finished my explanation. Sean looked particularly thoughtful. “How wide is that stairwell?”

  I thought for a moment. “Maybe an inch or so wider than my shoulders. It really is a tight squeeze.”

  “Then I don’t see how Azalea could have done it, unless she’s a world-class gymnast.” Sean rolled his eyes. “I thought the sheriff was smarter than that.”

  “I’m sure he is,” I said. “I don’t know him personally, but I know he’s highly regarded. He seems to run the department effectively—and honestly, from all I’ve heard.”

  Laura pushed her plate aside. “Then by now he’s surely realized that Azalea is innocent. Just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “For her sake,” Sean said, his tone grim, “let’s hope the murderer didn’t know she was there, or she could be next on the list.”

  “That thought had occurred to me.” I got up to refill my coffee. “I’m sure it’s occurred to Kanesha, too. Frankly I’m surprised she’s let her mother out of her sight.”

  “Do you really think Azalea is going to let Kanesha tell her what to do?” Laura grinned.

  “That girl don’t need to be minding my business.” Azalea walked into the room with a basket of laundry. “I been taking care of myself just fine on my own.” She disappeared in the direction of the stairs, and seconds later we heard her going up to the second floor.

  Diesel meowed, and we three humans shared a smile. Azalea truly was indomitable. The sheriff was no match for her.

  SIXTEEN

  On the walk to work at the college library I pulled out my cell phone and called Helen Louise. I figured by now the morning rush had subsided and she might have a moment to chat. She answered after two rings.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Are you totally exhausted?”

  “Pretty wrung out,” she responded, and I could hear it in her voice. “I think I managed about four hours’ sleep, if that much.”

  “Any chance you can sneak in the back and have a nap in your office? Or take the afternoon off to get some rest?”

  “Not today.” Helen Louise sighed heavily. “I have a huge order of petits fours for a garden club tea this afternoon and three dozen quiches for a bridge party this evening.”

  “Poor baby. I’m glad business is so good, but I wish you had some time to rest.”

  “That will have to wait until tonight. I’m planning to leave around seven and go home and drop in the bed straightaway.”

  “No dinner tonight, then.” I was disappointed, but she needed the rest.

  Diesel could hear her voice emanating from the cell phone, and he meowed and chirped. I told her that, and she chuckled. “Give him a kiss from me,” she said. “Afraid I have got to go now, sweetie.”

  “Talk to you later, then.”

  By now Diesel and I had reached the steps of the antebellum house that housed the library’s administration offices and the rare book room and archives.

  Diesel scurried up the steps as soon as I released him from his halter, and moments later I heard him warbling away. I trotted up the stairs after him to see what had him so excited.

  As I stepped onto the second-floor landing and glanced down the hall toward the door of my office, I saw two figures, their backs to me, bending down to pet the cat.

  “Good morning, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce. How are you?”

  “Tired, Charlie, but otherwise tolerable.” Miss An’gel straightened. “You’re running a bit late today.”

  “Goodness, An’gel, the poor man probably overslept after such a terrible night.” Miss Di
ckce scowled at her sister. “I know I would have if you’d left me alone.”

  Miss An’gel shot her sibling a look of withering contempt, and I had to suppress a smile as I responded. “I’m afraid I did oversleep this morning, ladies. Forgot to set the alarm, and my backup didn’t try to rouse me the way he usually does.” I begged their pardon as I stepped around them to unlock the door.

  “Diesel, I’m surprised at you.” Miss Dickce chuckled.

  “Sometimes he takes pity on me,” I said as I switched on the lights. “Please come in.” I strode ahead to find a second chair to add to the one in front of my desk.

  The Ducotes seated themselves, Diesel between their chairs, and I faced them from behind my desk. “Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea, or water? It won’t take a moment.”

  Miss Dickce opened her mouth to speak, but Miss An’gel cut her off. “No, thank you, Charlie, we’ve just come from breakfast at home.” Miss Dickce looked decidedly grumpy now. She stroked Diesel’s head, and her frown eased into a smile.

  “What can I do for you?” I couldn’t think what brought them to my office so soon after the events of the previous night.

  “You’ve been involved in other murders.” Miss An’gel got straight to the point. “We want you to help us figure out who murdered Vera. The sooner this is resolved, the better for all of us.”

  “We can’t believe someone had the audacity to commit murder at River Hill,” Miss Dickce said. “Vera will probably haunt us for the rest of our lives now.”

  “Beauregard will take care of that,” Miss An’gel sniffed. “She wouldn’t dare. The point is, Charlie, I will not have it said in Athena that Dickce and I had anything to do with Vera’s death. We had no reason whatsoever to want the wretched woman dead. We had already taken steps to remove the thorn from our side, and it didn’t involve anything to do with murder.”

  “I have to say, it certainly was a masterstroke how you maneuvered Vera into retiring from active charitable works.” Despite the gravity of the situation I was hard-pressed not to grin as I recalled the presentation of the award.

  “Thank you,” Miss An’gel responded with a prim smile. “But that’s just the point, you see. Vera had to accept that award or become a laughingstock by making a scene and refusing it. Arranging it that way, so she would have to resign from all her committees, was the worst thing we could have done to her. We didn’t need to push her down the stairs.”