“He knocked on the door but he didn’t get a response,” Mary Turner said. “By that time I’d caught up with him. He knocked again and waited, but there still wasn’t any answer. So he opened the door and went in. I hesitated to follow him, but then I heard him cry out.” She flushed suddenly. “I can’t repeat what he said. It wasn’t a nice expression. Anyway, I did go in then. Henry Howard was standing over the bed, staring down at Nathan.” She shuddered and closed her eyes.
“My dear, I’m so sorry, I know it must have been a shock to you,” An’gel said. “You don’t have to tell us any more if you don’t feel up to it.”
Mary Turner nodded. “It was a shock, I don’t mind telling you. Poor Nathan. I never liked him, but now he’s dead.” She shuddered again. “He had the most horrible expression on his face. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”
“Do you think he suffered a great deal?” Dickce asked. “Perhaps he had heart trouble and didn’t know it.”
“He looked terrified,” Mary Turner said. “Like he had been scared to death.”
An’gel exchanged a glance with her sister. She knew they were thinking the same thing. Had a malign spirit appeared in the French room during the night and frightened Nathan Gamble into having a heart attack?
An’gel didn’t want to believe that. She patted Mary Turner’s hand. “Many people are fearful when they realize they are dying, child. Don’t place too much emphasis on his expression.” She looked at Dickce again, and her sister picked up the cue.
“Heavens, no,” Dickce said. “The poor man may have had a seizure right before he passed away.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Benjy asked.
An’gel shot him an approving glance. “Yes, we’ll all be happy to do whatever you need.”
“Henry Howard is in the office calling the doctor,” Mary Turner said. “And I guess he’ll have to call the police as well, since Nathan died unexpectedly.”
“Yes, the authorities have to be notified,” An’gel said. “Let’s wait here until Henry Howard gets through with his calls. In the meantime, you need some more hot coffee. You’re starting to look too pale again.”
“I’ll get it for her.” Benjy reached for the cup and took it to the sideboard.
An’gel glanced across the table at Dickce and then noticed that Primrose Pace had disappeared from the room. Where was she? An’gel wondered. She had no time to ponder the question further, because Serenity Foster and Truss Wilbanks walked into the dining room then.
“Good morning,” Serenity said. “I hope we’re not too late for breakfast.” She looked around the room for a moment, and when she spotted the coffee urn on the sideboard, she made a beeline for it.
“We’re here before eight,” Wilbanks said as he glanced around the room. “As you told us to be.”
Marcelline bustled into the room, and An’gel wondered if the housekeeper had been standing at the kitchen door, watching for the two of them. She started to recite the breakfast menu but broke off when she noticed Mary Turner sitting at the table with An’gel standing by her.
She hurried over. “Miss Mary, what’s wrong? Are you sick, honey?”
Mary Turner shook her head. “No, Marcelline, I’ll be okay. Something really sad has happened, and I’m a little shaken by it. And now I have to talk to Serenity.” She looked across the table toward the sideboard, where her cousin stood sipping coffee.
“What is it?” Serenity asked as she approached the table. “Did Nathan fall down the stairs and break his leg? I warned him about snooping around during the night. He can barely see in the dark.” She laughed.
An’gel would have found the young woman’s remarks in poor taste at any time, but now they seemed particularly unfortunate.
“Mrs. Foster, I think you’d better sit down,” An’gel told her. “You, too, Mr. Wilbanks. I’m afraid Mary Turner has bad news for you.”
Serenity Foster looked taken aback but did as An’gel told her to. Wilbanks came to stand behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Go ahead, what is it?” Serenity said, her tone harsh.
“Nathan is dead, Serenity,” Mary Turner said. “We found him, Henry Howard and I did, I mean, only a few minutes ago. He must have died in his sleep. He was still in bed.”
Serenity stared across the table at her cousin. All the color drained from her face, and An’gel thought the young woman was going to faint. Wilbanks tightened his grip on her shoulders, An’gel noticed.
“He can’t be dead,” Serenity said. “He’s too young, and he was in perfect health as far as I know. Is this some kind of sick joke you’re trying to play, Mary Turner?”
“No, it’s not a joke, Serenity.” Henry Howard spoke from the doorway. He walked into the room, his own shock still evident in his expression. “Nathan is dead. I’ve called for the doctor, well, an ambulance, that is, and I’ve called the police.”
“The police? What the hell for?” Serenity said. “Do you think he was murdered?”
“Calm down, Serenity,” Wilbanks said. When Serenity tried to rise from her chair, he kept her in place. “No one is saying he was murdered.”
“Why would you think that?” Marcelline demanded. “Why would someone want to kill that brother of yours? He probably had a weak heart, and something scared him to death.”
An’gel wished the housekeeper hadn’t used those unfortunate words.
“That’s crazy talk,” Serenity said hotly. “There aren’t any ghosts here. That’s just Mary Turner trying to scare Nathan away from this place. She’s never wanted him to have what was rightly his. Whatever happened to him, I know she did it.” She tried again to get out of her chair, and Wilbanks forced her down again.
“Take your hands off me,” she told him. “I’m not going to rip her face off, though I sure the hell would like to. I’ll wait and tell it all to the police.”
“I think you’d better take her out of here, Truss,” Henry Howard said, a steely glint in his eye. An’gel was happy to hear him finally speak up and take charge of the situation. “Why don’t y’all go out to the kitchen with Marcelline, and she can give you breakfast there if you feel up to eating anything.” He held up a hand when Serenity started to protest. “I’ll let you know as soon as the police are ready to talk to you, I promise.”
“Come on,” Wilbanks said. He stepped back to allow Serenity out of her chair. “We’ll do that.”
An’gel could almost feel the heat pouring off Marcelline. If looks could kill, she thought, Serenity Foster would be joining her brother soon if Marcelline had her way.
“Please, Marcelline,” Mary Turner said.
“All right, Miss Mary,” the housekeeper said. “For your sake.” She marched out of the dining room and didn’t look back to see whether Serenity and Wilbanks followed.
Serenity stared hard at Mary Turner. “You’re not going to get away with this.” She allowed Wilbanks to lead her from the room after that parting shot.
“We never should have let any of them in the house,” Henry Howard said in an undertone. “What a nightmare this is going to be.”
“I know you’re both upset,” An’gel said to the couple, “but there isn’t much time before the police and the doctor arrive. Henry Howard, how closely did you look at Mr. Gamble?”
Henry Howard stared at An’gel as if he weren’t sure he had heard her correctly. “I looked close enough to see that he was dead. I also felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. He wasn’t breathing. What are you getting at, Miss An’gel?”
“Did you notice anything unusual about the body?” she asked. “Other than his expression. Mary Turner said he looked terrified.”
Henry Howard frowned. “I didn’t notice anything else. He was lying there.” He thought a moment. “His hands were clutching the bedclothes, I remember now.”
“Tightly?” An’gel asked.
“I don’t really remember,” Henry Howard replied. “Is it important?”
“It could be,” An’gel said. After another look at Mary Turner, she decided to let it drop. The poor girl looked sick, despite having had more coffee, and An’gel couldn’t blame her. Gamble’s death had come as a great shock. She would only look worse if An’gel started talking about rigor mortis. Depending on what time Nathan Gamble actually died, if his hands were tightly holding the bedclothes, that would indicate he had died most likely less than twelve hours ago. It was barely 8 a.m. now, according to An’gel’s watch. She wondered what time he had gone to bed.
The doorbell sounded, and Henry Howard left to answer it. He shut the door behind him.
An’gel heard sirens coming nearer and nearer the house. The police and the emergency responders were arriving.
Mary Turner looked up at An’gel. “What are the police going to think, Miss An’gel? We can hardly tell them that a ghost frightened Nathan to death.”
“My dear, don’t start thinking things like that,” An’gel said. “We don’t know that any such thing happened. More than likely, he had a heart condition. He might not even have known about it. That kind of thing happens even to men his age. And to women, too.”
“Maybe,” Mary Turner said, “but I can’t help thinking about what I said to you and Miss Dickce yesterday, about hoping that a ghost scared the life out of him.” She started crying. “I didn’t want him to die.”
“We know you didn’t,” Dickce said gently. “It’s a terrible thing to happen to one so young, but you’re not to blame. Even if your cousin did happen to see something spooky in his room during the night, it wasn’t anything you did. If there truly is a spirit loose in this house, it’s going to do what it wants to. Not what you want or tell it to do. Right, Sister?”
“Right.” An’gel spoke with far more assurance than she felt, and she knew Dickce did as well. “All this speculation isn’t going to do anything but keep you upset. The doctor will have to sort it out. There will likely be a postmortem if the doctor can’t determine the cause of death after examining him. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Mary Turner seemed calmer after that little speech, An’gel was relieved to see. She urged the young woman to try to eat something. “I’ll go ask Marcelline to fix you something,” she said.
“No, thank you,” Mary Turner said. “I really don’t think I could eat anything right now. Coffee is fine for the moment.”
“All right,” Dickce said. “But if you change your mind, let us know.”
“Thank you all for being so kind,” Mary Turner said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t think I could bear any of this otherwise.”
An’gel gave her a hug, and she felt the young woman tremble. “Everything will be okay,” she said before she released Mary Turner.
Silence ensued in the dining room but An’gel could hear sounds of activity in the hallway. Voices, footsteps, everything muffled by the closed door but still audible. They all sat looking at the door, waiting for someone to come in.
An’gel noticed again that Primrose Pace wasn’t with them. Where had the woman gone? Had she packed her bags and run off? If she had, An’gel reckoned, that would be a strange thing to do, unless she had something to hide from the authorities.
Even if she hadn’t done a bunk, her behavior was still odd. An’gel had a new thought. Had the woman gone up to the French room to see the dead body?
CHAPTER 18
What reason could Primrose Pace have for going to look at Nathan Gamble’s corpse?
An’gel considered that question. Simple morbid curiosity was one answer. Or perhaps Mrs. Pace might consider it professional interest? After all, she professed to be a medium, so maybe she went upstairs to try to communicate with the spirit of Nathan Gamble to help him move on to the next plane of existence. Wasn’t that what they called it?
That sounded wacky but plausible to An’gel, though she really had no idea how a medium would behave in a situation like this. She felt certain, however, that the reason Mrs. Pace had disappeared from the room had something to do with Nathan Gamble’s death. She certainly hadn’t acted or looked like she was ill from what An’gel had noticed in the brief moments she was aware of the woman’s presence.
The police would not be amused if they caught the medium in the room with the body but somehow An’gel didn’t think Mrs. Pace would be caught off guard like that. She suspected that the medium was far too canny.
An’gel remembered what Mrs. Pace told them about Nathan Gamble’s family, that his father or grandfather had been in the construction business in some fashion. She looked at Mary Turner, who now appeared calm. She hoped what she was about to ask wouldn’t unsettle the young woman any further.
“Mary Turner, Mrs. Pace mentioned earlier that your cousin’s family, either his father or grandfather or both, was involved in building or remodeling. Also that your cousin himself was a realtor. Is that true?”
Mary Turner nodded. “Yes, Nathan’s grandfather was a builder, and his dad specialized in renovations. Nathan was more interested in selling real estate than in building, but he inherited the construction company from his father.”
“What about Serenity?” Dickce asked. “Is she involved with the company?”
“No, she isn’t,” Mary Turner said. “Their grandfather and their father didn’t think women had any business in construction, although I think Serenity’s dad did let her help some with redesigns. From what I’ve heard, though, she doesn’t have any real talent for it.”
“So she has no financial interest in the company?” An’gel asked.
“Not that I know of,” Mary Turner replied. “I believe her father set up a trust fund for her, but that’s separate from the business. They were quite successful over the years, although there were a lot of complaints about the quality of their work.”
“What will happen to the company now, do you think?” Dickce asked. “Will Serenity inherit?”
“I have no idea,” Mary Turner said. “That depended on Nathan, whether he even had a will.” She frowned. “There’s not really anyone else to leave it to, except for Serenity’s boys, but they’re really young, under ten, I think.”
An’gel exchanged a look with Dickce, sure that they were thinking similar thoughts. If there turned out to be anything funny about Nathan Gamble’s death, Serenity Foster might have a strong motive to want her brother dead. An’gel recalled the bitter words the young woman had spouted yesterday about her need for money for setting up a proper home for her children.
You’re getting way ahead of yourself, An’gel thought. Most likely Nathan Gamble died of natural causes. The fact that he died in a room allegedly visited by a mischievous spirit probably had nothing to do with it. Just because you’ve been involved in several murders recently doesn’t mean that this is going to be another.
The reasonable part of her agreed with this, but there was that niggling little voice that seemed convinced natural causes weren’t the answer in this case. An’gel was, like everyone else, curious to hear what the doctor had to say about Nathan Gamble’s demise.
“I wish Henry Howard would come back,” Mary Turner said. “I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to go out there and find him. Why doesn’t someone come and tell us what’s happening?”
“There is a lot to do when the authorities first arrive at a scene,” An’gel told her. “It might be a while yet before we find out anything. I’ll go stick my head out into the hall, though, and see what there is to see.” She patted Mary Turner’s shoulder before she headed to the door.
An’gel stuck more than her head out because all she could see was a hallway devoid of people. She could hear voices emanating from upstairs. Various sounds floated down the stairs, but she had trouble making out the words. She took a coup
le of steps out of the dining room toward the stairs, thinking she might actually go up a little way in order to hear more clearly.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
An’gel had barely put her foot on the first tread when the voice from behind her startled her so badly she nearly stumbled and fell up the stairs. A strong, uniform-clad arm reached out to steady her. She looked up into the face of a young, tall police officer. He had to be at least six foot five, she reckoned, because she had to crane her neck back in order to look him in the eye.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” the young officer asked, his voice a deep baritone. He let go of her arm.
“Yes, Officer, thank you,” An’gel replied. “I was only a little startled.”
“Was there something you wanted?” the policeman said.
“I was looking to see whether anyone was around,” An’gel said. “There are several of us in the dining room, and naturally we’re wondering what’s going on.”
The officer nodded. “I see, ma’am. Someone will be in to talk to you soon. They’re all upstairs at the moment. How many are there in the dining room with you?”
An’gel thought for a moment. “Three others. My sister, our ward, and Mrs. Catlin.”
“Thank you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind going back to join the others, I’d appreciate it.” The officer smiled.
“Certainly.” An’gel felt like a guilty child caught out doing something she’d been expressly told not to. She headed to the door and slipped inside, nearly bumping into her sister. Dickce had apparently been at the door watching everything.
“Did you find out anything?” Dickce asked the moment the door closed behind An’gel. “It didn’t sound like it.”
“No, only that everyone is upstairs now. Someone will be coming to talk to us soon,” An’gel said. “Though I wouldn’t place any bets on how soon soon really is.” She shared the news with the others and resumed her place beside Mary Turner.
Fixing to Die Page 12
