If Gamble had been murdered by some other method, the killer would have needed access to the room while the door was locked. The killer might have a passkey. The locks on the bedrooms weren’t sophisticated ones, An’gel knew. They had been updated at some point in the recent past but were definitely not state-of-the-art. Could they be easily manipulated? Another question for Henry Howard.
The killer could have come in through one of the windows from the gallery. An’gel glanced casually toward the young policeman. At the moment his attention seemed focused on Serenity Foster. An’gel leaned toward Henry Howard again. “Were the windows in the French room locked, do you know?”
“They usually are,” Henry Howard whispered. “But I didn’t check them this morning. I’m sure the police did, but they didn’t say.”
An’gel wanted to groan with frustration. Too many variables, too many questions for which she had no answers. She had no hope of being able to get those answers from Lieutenant Steinberg. An’gel was pretty sure he wouldn’t welcome any assistance from her quarter. If only Kanesha Berry was investigating this. Kanesha, the chief deputy in the sheriff’s department in Athena County, knew and respected An’gel. Though Kanesha didn’t precisely welcome An’gel’s and Dickce’s assistance, she didn’t disdain it either.
An’gel refocused her thoughts on the question of access to Nathan Gamble. If the door and the windows were locked and the killer needed to be able to get into the room, was there another way in? An’gel hadn’t quite given up on her notion of a secret passage or a hidden door.
If such a passage or a door existed, where was it? An’gel reluctantly had to rule out the secret passage after a few moments’ thought. The architecture simply didn’t support that idea. There was no unaccounted-for space between the French room and the bathroom next to it that she had been able to discern.
If there was a secret door into the French room, then it had to be through the bathroom, the only contiguous space other than the hallway and the gallery outside. An’gel decided that the moment the police released them from the parlor, she would head upstairs and examine the wall between the two rooms as minutely as possible. Benjy could help her. His young eyes might spot something more easily and quickly, and his young knees could stand crawling along the floorboards far more easily than her elderly ones. He would enjoy the experience, she knew. By now the police would have sealed off the bedroom, of course. She would have to rely on her memory for now for the way the room was arranged. What was along the mutual wall?
Truss Wilbanks lumbered into her line of vision, and his reentry distracted her from her speculations. The man looked dreadful, she thought as she moved from his former place back to her spot next to Benjy on the other sofa. His time with the lieutenant had not eased his mind. That much was obvious. His hands and arms trembled, his legs looked shaky, and he was still perspiring. The man actually looked ill. She wondered if he suffered from any particular medical condition that could account for any of this. If he needed help, though, surely he would ask for it.
Was guilt the reason for his obvious terror? If not guilt, then perhaps it had something to do with the nature of his relationship with the deceased. Was Wilbanks worried that the police would focus all their efforts on him because of that relationship?
An’gel leaned forward and caught the man’s eye. “Mr. Wilbanks, you don’t look well at all. Are you ill? Should we call a doctor for you?”
Wilbanks shook his head. “No, I’m just upset, and I have a bad headache. Thank you, though. This is all a bit overwhelming.”
“If you change your mind, I’ll see that you get medical attention,” An’gel said.
The man had to be dehydrated by now because he had perspired so heavily, An’gel realized. The least she could do was to see that he had water to drink. She called out to the young policeman. “Officer, I’m sure that everyone here is as thirsty as I am by now. Couldn’t one of us go to the kitchen and get water for everyone?”
“I’ll see to that, ma’am,” the young man said. “Just a moment.” He walked to the door and conferred with someone in the hall, then turned back into the room. “One of the officers will bring water in a minute.”
Marcelline stood and advanced toward the policeman. “No one is going to be rooting around in my kitchen except me. I won’t have someone making a mess that I have to clean up later, young man. Let me go, and I’ll take care of it.”
The officer nodded. “All right, ma’am. If you’ll go with the officer there.” He indicated the female officer An’gel had noticed before. Marcelline moved briskly to the door and disappeared into the hallway.
“Thank you, Miss An’gel,” Mary Turner said. “I’m about parched myself.” She cast a sideways glance at Truss Wilbanks. “I’m sure we could all use some water.”
Wilbanks nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”
An’gel smiled in return. Then she looked at Serenity Foster. The young woman didn’t appear upset or grieving, An’gel thought. If anything, she looked bored. Was that because she was too stupid to understand the gravity of the situation? An’gel didn’t give the woman high marks for intelligence. Or maybe she was innocent and thus not worried about the police investigation? Either was possible to An’gel’s way of thinking.
Now that Wilbanks was back in the room, An’gel wondered, had the lieutenant finished with his questioning? She was getting hungry. According to her watch, it was nearly one thirty, well past her usual lunchtime. She glanced around and realized that Primrose Pace was no longer in the room. She must have been called in to speak with Steinberg again, An’gel decided.
Either that, or she had slipped out the front window near her chair while everyone’s attention was directed elsewhere.
Like when you asked the policeman for water.
That would have been the perfect time for Primrose Pace to act. An’gel looked where Mrs. Pace had been sitting.
The window was open. Mrs. Pace was gone.
CHAPTER 25
An’gel got immediately to her feet. “Officer, did anyone escort Mrs. Pace to talk to Lieutenant Steinberg?”
The young man shook his head. “No, ma’am, he hasn’t asked for her yet.”
“Then she’s gone,” An’gel said. “Look at the window. She was sitting right there a few minutes ago.”
The policeman whirled around to stare at the window. He stood frozen for a moment. Then he shouted for backup as he ran for the window and climbed through it. Another officer ran in, spotted the open window, and followed behind the first man.
Marcelline and the woman officer who had accompanied her to the kitchen returned amid the excitement. Marcelline had the rolling tea cart, and atop it sat two large pitchers of ice water and numerous glasses.
“What’s all the fuss about?” Marcelline asked, seeing everyone standing and staring toward the front windows.
“Mrs. Pace made a run for it,” Henry Howard said. “She must be the one who killed Nathan.” He glanced at Mary Turner. “I thought it was a bad idea to have that woman in the house. She’s nothing but a fraud.”
“How was I to know that, Henry Howard Catlin?” Mary Turner said, obviously stung by her husband’s words. “She seemed like a nice person to me, not some con artist.”
Her husband’s reply was acid-tinged. “That’s how they work, honey.”
“Don’t start getting all superior on me because I thought she was a nice woman.” Mary Turner suddenly burst into tears. “Oh, dear Lord, what if she really did kill Nathan?”
An’gel felt she had to get the situation under control. The police officer wasn’t making any effort to, and An’gel didn’t want Mary Turner and Henry Howard’s argument to escalate any further.
“Marcelline, please see that everyone has water, and start with Mr. Wilbanks.” An’gel spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. Marcelline went to work immediately and handed Wilbanks a gl
ass.
An’gel turned her attention to Mary Turner and Henry Howard. “Now is not the time for recriminations. We don’t know for sure that Mrs. Pace had anything to do with Nathan Gamble’s death. I agree it looks highly suspicious, her sneaking away like this, but there could be other reasons.” Like because she’s a fake and a con artist, she thought, but didn’t say aloud. She didn’t want to injure Mary Turner’s feelings any further.
“I don’t care what you say.” Serenity Foster was on her feet, looking furious. “Why would that woman disappear like that if she wasn’t guilty? The sooner they catch her and throw her in jail, the better.” She stared hard at Mary Turner. “And you’re the one who let her stay here. I’ll bet you were in on the whole thing with her, maybe even asked her to come here.”
For a moment An’gel thought Mary Turner would launch herself from her position near the sofa to attack her cousin ten or more feet away. She had never seen the young woman so angry before. “You sit down and shut up, Serenity,” Mary Turner said, “or I swear to God I will take you to court and sue you for everything you’ve got. I have not had anything to do with that woman, other than make the mistake of letting her stay here. Whatever she did to Nathan, she did on her own.”
An’gel figured she had better back up Mary Turner yet again, because Serenity didn’t appear cowed by what her cousin said.
“I will remind you, young woman, that I have already offered to serve as a witness for Mary Turner against you, and I know my sister and our ward will do the same. You had better shut that mouth of yours and try to get control of your temper. These wild accusations aren’t doing anything to improve the situation.” She didn’t bother to look at Truss Wilbanks. The poor man was in no shape now to rein in his client.
Serenity opened her mouth to speak but Marcelline gave her no chance. She marched over to within a few inches of the young woman and got right up in her face.
“You’d better listen to Miss An’gel, girl, if you have any brains at all. I don’t reckon you have many, but you’d better use ’em. Miss An’gel is too much a lady to come slap your face, but I’m not. I’m not putting up with you calling Miss Mary a murderer, no way, no how.”
An’gel hoped Serenity wasn’t going to be stupid enough to ignore Marcelline’s warning.
She wasn’t, An’gel saw. Serenity backed away from the housekeeper, never taking her eyes off Marcelline’s face. She put the chair between them and nodded.
“That’s the last I want to hear out of you,” Marcelline said. “Now sit down in that chair, and keep your mouth shut till somebody asks you to open it.”
Serenity slowly complied with the housekeeper’s command. Her legs shook, and she dropped quickly into the chair. Marcelline stood over her for a moment, then moved away to stand by her employer.
“Thank you, Marcelline.” Mary Turner stared hard at her cousin. “Once this is all done, I never want to see you in this house again or anywhere near it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no family of mine.”
By this time An’gel had had enough of the drama. Her head had begun to ache, partly from the need for food, but mostly from the tension and the shouting. She used her sternest tone. “Everyone, sit down. Right now. Enough of this carrying-on.”
Even the police officer started to sit, evidently realized she wasn’t supposed to, and straightened up again. An’gel surveyed the results of her command with satisfaction. She heard light clapping and knew without turning her head that Dickce was applauding. She ignored her sister for the moment.
“Officer, I would like to speak to Lieutenant Steinberg,” An’gel said. “Please get word to him right away.”
The policewoman nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She hurried from the room. An’gel hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving them alone, but the officer returned in less than twenty seconds at An’gel’s estimation.
“He’s ready for you, ma’am,” the officer told her.
“Thank you.” An’gel did not relish the thought of the conversation she was about to have with the taciturn Steinberg. He was not going to be happy with her when she had her say, but she had faced worse.
Another officer opened the library door for her, and An’gel walked in. Steinberg stood before the fireplace, his back to it. “You wanted to speak to me, Miss Ducote?” He gestured to a nearby chair, about seven feet away from where he stood.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” An’gel approached the chair, but instead of seating herself, she took her position beside it. She let her right arm rest on the back of the chair.
“I have two things to discuss with you, although the first is more in the nature of a confession.” An’gel paused to gauge the effect of her words. The lieutenant did not react in any way that she could detect. “I’m not confessing to causing the death of Nathan Gamble, mind you. I believe it was my fault that Mrs. Pace had the opportunity to exit the house without being seen.”
Steinberg frowned. “Would you care to explain that, ma’am?”
“I plan to,” An’gel replied, a little more tartly than she’d intended. “I could see that Mr. Wilbanks appeared to be in distress. He had been perspiring heavily, and I was afraid he was becoming dehydrated. I asked the young officer in the room if we could have water brought to us. I believe that while he was distracted by my request and trying to get water for us, Mrs. Pace seized her chance and went out the window. I didn’t notice it for at least two or three minutes after she must have done it. I alerted the officer as soon as I realized what must have happened.”
“I appreciate your candor, Miss Ducote,” the lieutenant said.
Was that a none-too-subtle payback for her question earlier about Nathan Gamble’s death? An’gel wondered. If so, she decided to ignore it. She simply nodded.
“It’s unfortunate that Mrs. Pace chose to take such action,” Steinberg said, “but she will soon be in our custody. I’ll see that she doesn’t escape again. Now what is the second thing you wish to discuss?”
“Food,” An’gel said. “It’s nearly two o’clock now, and I don’t believe any of us has had anything to eat since around eight this morning. I request that you allow us to feed ourselves, either from the kitchen here, or I will be happy to call and have food delivered. Enough food for everyone, including you and your officers.”
“That’s kind of you,” Steinberg said. “My officers and I have to decline your offer, but I see no reason that you and everyone else can’t eat now. Except for Mrs. Pace, of course. I will need to talk with her first.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” An’gel said. “I know everyone will be grateful.” Did she dare push her luck and ask another question? She had many, of course, but figured the most she could hope to get away with was one. But which one?
“Was there anything else, ma’am?” Steinberg asked.
“Yes, there is.” Might as well try, she thought. “Was Nathan Gamble murdered? He didn’t seem the type to commit suicide.”
Steinberg regarded her in silence, probably only for ten seconds, but those ten seconds felt like a hundred when she thought about it later.
“Suicide seems unlikely,” the lieutenant said. “That’s all I can tell you. I trust it will go no further at the moment, although I’m sure you will want to tell your sister.”
“Yes, I will.” An’gel wondered why he had answered. She really hadn’t expected him to.
“I know who you are, you see,” Steinberg said.
“I beg your pardon,” An’gel said, confused.
“I know Kanesha Berry,” Steinberg said. “We recently served on a state law enforcement task force together. She had several interesting stories about the Ducote sisters.”
“I see,” An’gel said. She might have a little talk with Kanesha when they were home again. She wanted to know exactly what the deputy had been telling her colleagues.
“Kanesha assured me that if I
ever encountered you in the course of an investigation, I might as well resign myself to being helped.” Steinberg quirked an eyebrow. “She also told me that you wouldn’t overstep and that I should listen to you if you had something to tell me.”
“That was kind of her,” An’gel said, now feeling embarrassed. Was the lieutenant about to confide in her? Give her more details of the case?
“I would appreciate it, Miss Ducote, if you and your sister did not try to help me,” Steinberg said. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have to get on with this investigation.”
“Very well, Lieutenant,” An’gel said. He hadn’t been rude. His tone had been respectful, but nevertheless her pride was smarting. She turned to walk out of the room, but before she could leave, two of Steinberg’s officers escorted Primrose Pace into the room.
An’gel moved around the trio but contrived to remain by the door in hopes that Steinberg might forget about her momentarily.
“That was not a smart thing to do, Mrs. Pace,” Steinberg said. “Or would you rather I address you by your real name?”
CHAPTER 26
An’gel slipped a little farther out the door and pressed herself against the wall right outside, her head slightly cocked.
“All right,” the lieutenant said. “Alesha Jackson. Have a seat, Ms. Jackson.” Then there was a pause until Steinberg barked out an order. “Shut that door.”
An’gel sidled away by the wall as quickly as she could. No one left the room before the door closed. Belatedly she realized that she had forgotten to look in the hallway to see whether there was an officer observing her. She turned and looked toward the parlor door. The hallway was empty of cops at the moment. Suppressing a huge sigh of relief, she hurried into the parlor.
Fixing to Die Page 17
