Fixing to Die

by Miranda James

  She almost knocked right into the female officer.

  An’gel caught herself in time, and the officer neatly sidestepped her. “So sorry,” An’gel said.

  “No harm done, ma’am,” the officer replied.

  “Officer, Lieutenant Steinberg said it would be okay for us to have something to eat.” An’gel smiled. “Breakfast was around six hours ago, and I for one am famished. I’m sure the others are, too.” She raised her voice as she turned to address the group. “Aren’t you?”

  “Hungry?” Benjy piped up. “I certainly am.” Peanut woofed to let everyone know he would be happy to eat as well. An’gel thought he and Endora both deserved treats because they had been so well behaved the past hour or so.

  Mary Turner stood. “Marcelline, let’s go to the kitchen and see what we can put together for everyone. Will that be okay, Officer?”

  “Just a moment, ma’am,” the policewoman replied. “There needs to be an officer with you, if you don’t mind. I’ll call for someone.” She stepped away toward the door, and An’gel took this as her cue to resume her seat.

  In a couple of minutes another uniformed cop appeared to accompany Marcelline and Mary Turner to the kitchen. The latter waved away Dickce’s offer of assistance.

  “Thank you, Miss Dickce, but we’ll manage. Why don’t y’all go ahead and move into the dining room, though, and we’ll bring the food in there.”

  “Excellent idea,” An’gel said, getting to her feet once again. She grabbed a glass of water for herself from the tea cart and carried it with her. Her throat was feeling parched, but the water soothed her and eased her headache a little.

  Henry Howard made sure there were enough places at the table for everyone and encouraged them to sit. An’gel, Dickce, and Benjy, with Peanut and Endora with him, sat at one end of the table. Truss Wilbanks took the seat next to Dickce. Serenity Foster chose a place at the other end, away from the others. Henry Howard sat next to Benjy. Their minder, as An’gel thought of the officer, stood in the doorway watching them.

  An’gel kept glancing at her watch and saw that it was a full twenty minutes before Marcelline and Mary Turner brought in two large trays, cold roast beef and sliced chicken on one, bread and cheese on the other. Marcelline, along with her escort, went back to the kitchen to fetch in the drinks and the condiments. Henry Howard found utensils from the sideboard, and soon they were all making and eating sandwiches and drinking cans of cold soda.

  An’gel hadn’t yet had a chance to share with Dickce and Benjy the fact that Primrose Pace was an alias. She glanced around the table. Henry Howard moved next to Serenity so that Mary Turner wouldn’t have to, but Marcelline had no choice. Marcelline didn’t look at the woman. Everyone seemed intent on eating, and An’gel wondered whether she dared risk talking to Benjy and Dickce.

  No, she decided, others would overhear, and she didn’t want the lieutenant to find out she had let something slip in front of all of them. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and composed a brief text to her sister and Benjy. They both observed her with her phone, and neither one reacted when their own phones registered receipt of her text. Dickce waited for at least a minute before she pulled out her phone to look at it, and Benjy not long after. From what An’gel could tell, no one else was paying any particular attention. In fact, both Serenity and Truss had their own cell phones out, fiddling with them.

  An’gel had kept her message brief: Primrose Pace is really Alicia (? Alesha? Alisha?) Jackson. Benjy looked up and nodded. An’gel knew that as soon as he was able, he would see what he could dig up on Ms. Jackson. She put her phone aside.

  She continued to observe the others as discreetly as possible. Truss Wilbanks looked considerably better now, and An’gel was glad to see that. She had really been afraid he might collapse on them earlier. Had he played any role in Nathan Gamble’s death? Had his near-collapse been symptomatic of guilt or simply sheer nerves?

  Henry Howard and Mary Turner continued to whisper to each other. Henry Howard met An’gel’s glance from across the table but immediately dropped his eyes.

  How long would they all have to remain together like this? An’gel was eager to go upstairs and start examining the bathroom for signs of a hidden door. Surely Lieutenant Steinberg would release them soon, maybe once he had finished dealing with Alesha Jackson, alias Primrose Pace. She must have a police record, An’gel thought. Her fingerprints had given her away. If Ms. Jackson had nothing to do with the death of Nathan Gamble, she’d had a mighty unlucky break when she chose Cliffwood to try her scam on a trusting Mary Turner Catlin.

  Let that be a lesson to her.

  Mary Turner might not press charges, An’gel figured. After all, what had the woman taken? One night’s stay here at Cliffwood and two meals. Two hundred dollars, maximum. Unless she was wanted in connection with another crime, Ms. Jackson might go free.

  The entrance of Lieutenant Steinberg into the dining room surprised everyone, An’gel thought, even her. They had all relaxed, thanks to the food and drink, but with Steinberg in their midst, An’gel felt the level of tension begin to rise again.

  “If I could have your attention, please,” Steinberg said, although no one was talking and all eyes were gazing at him. “I wanted to bring you up-to-date and also tell you that you will be free to move about the house. The French room, as I understand it is called, is off-limits at the moment and is sealed. I must warn you that any attempts to tamper with the seal will not be treated lightly, and you could face charges if you do make an attempt.” He paused to glance around the room.

  “We have apprehended Alesha Jackson, who was presenting herself to you under the name Primrose Pace. I’ll be talking with Mr. and Mrs. Catlin to discuss whether they want to file any charges against her for fraud. And maybe for theft of room and board as well. As I told you before, we are treating the death of Nathan Gamble as suspicious. For the moment I must ask you all to remain in the house until we have made further progress with the investigation. If you have any problems because of that, I will be happy to discuss the situation with you. Now, are there any questions?”

  Marcelline spoke up immediately. “Am I allowed to go to the grocery store? We’re going to run out of food before much longer. I had no idea all these people would be here for more than a couple of days.”

  “I will see that you’re able to go to the grocery store,” the lieutenant said. “Just let one of the officers on duty know when you need to go.”

  At least we won’t be on starvation rations, An’gel thought. She had no pressing need to go anywhere outside the house at the moment, but knowing that she couldn’t, at least not without a police escort, was annoying. The sooner this situation was resolved, the better. Despite the lieutenant’s words during their last interview, An’gel wasn’t going to sit idly and wait for him to wrap everything up. Not, that is, if she happened to discover anything pertinent that could move things along.

  “Lieutenant, I have a question,” Mary Turner said.

  “Yes, ma’am?” the lieutenant prompted when she didn’t immediately continue.

  Mary Turner cast a quick glance at Henry Howard before she addressed the policeman again. “It’s about Mrs. Pace, or rather Mrs. Jackson. Will she be remaining here as well?”

  “That depends on you and your husband, Mrs. Catlin,” Steinberg replied. “If you press charges, then we will escort her to jail. If you don’t, then yes, I would like her to remain here with everyone else.”

  “I don’t intend to press charges,” Mary Turner said.

  Henry Howard started to protest, but Mary Turner shook her head. “No, we’re not going to press charges, Henry Howard.”

  Her husband grunted in frustration and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have it your way, then.” He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes.

  “If you’re sure about that, ma’am,” the lieutenant said, “then I’l
l hold off for the moment on any charges we might want to make.”

  “I’m sure,” Mary Turner said.

  While An’gel couldn’t help but admire her young friend’s generosity of spirit, she had to wonder whether it was wise to let Ms. Jackson off completely. Of course, An’gel realized, having the woman remain in the house with them meant that she would be available to question. An’gel intended to do that because she wanted to know more about the so-called medium.

  “Then if there are no further questions,” Steinberg said, “I will get back to work. I will be working out of the library here for the rest of the day, if anyone wants to talk to me.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  Serenity stood and dropped the napkin she had been clutching on the table. “I’m going to my room.” She left immediately.

  “I think I’ll do the same,” Truss Wilbanks said. “If y’all will excuse me.” He nodded at An’gel and then at Mary Turner before he left.

  Marcelline got up and started clearing the table. Henry Howard, without a word to anyone, stalked out of the room, obviously still upset over Mary Turner’s insistence not to press charges against Alesha Jackson. Mary Turner gazed after his retreating back, but when he disappeared from view, she turned to face her remaining guests with a determined smile.

  “Miss An’gel, if y’all need anything, please let me or Marcelline know. I’ll be helping her in the kitchen, since we’re going to need to plan meals for everyone. If you have any special requests, we’ll do what we can to fulfill them.”

  “We’ll be fine, my dear,” An’gel said. “You let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you and Marcelline.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Dickce said. “We’ll all pitch in.”

  “Whatever you need,” Benjy added shyly.

  Mary Turner smiled and thanked them. “I’ll do that, I promise. For now, though, why don’t y’all relax and rest. We’ve had a stressful morning.”

  The sound of a throat clearing focused all their attention on the doorway, where Alesha Jackson now stood. She gazed at them for a moment before she stepped into the room.

  “I’m sorry if you feel I have deceived you, Mrs. Catlin,” she said. “The lieutenant told me you declined to press charges, and I want you to know how grateful I am.”

  Marcelline snorted. “You don’t deserve it, playing tricks on good people. Why don’t you go out and get a real job instead of trying to cheat people out of money? Running around telling people you can talk to ghosts. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  Alesha Jackson flinched briefly at the onslaught of words, then her expression hardened. She stared defiantly at the housekeeper.

  “I do have a real job,” she said heatedly. “I am a psychic.” Her eyes narrowed as she focused intently on the housekeeper. “If I wasn’t, how would I know that you’ve lied all these years about never being married?”

  CHAPTER 27

  Marcelline gasped and dropped the dishes she was carrying, to An’gel’s surprise. Alesha Jackson’s words had obviously struck home.

  “How . . . how did you know that?” Marcelline said, her voice hoarse, before she collapsed into the closest chair.

  Alesha Jackson smiled enigmatically but did not answer.

  “Marcelline, is this really true?” Mary Turner asked. “When were you ever married?” An’gel could tell she was shocked by this revelation.

  “A long time ago,” the housekeeper responded dully. “When I was a young girl, only seventeen. It just lasted a year. Then he ran off with another woman, and I never saw him again.”

  “Are you still married to him?” Mary Turner asked.

  “I don’t know,” the housekeeper said. “He never came back, and I never divorced him. The church wouldn’t approve.”

  An’gel recalled then that Marcelline was Catholic, obviously one who didn’t believe in divorce.

  “My goodness.” Mary Turner shook her head. “Did you ever tell Granny about this? Or Mother and Daddy?”

  “Your granny knew,” Marcelline said. “She knew what it was like to be married to a faithless man. Sorry, honey, but your grandfather was a bad man.”

  “I know,” Mary Turner replied. “Daddy told me all about him, and so did Granny.”

  “Your granny never told anyone about me,” Marcelline said. “I didn’t have no other family, and Miz Turner felt sorry for me and took me in, gave me a job and a home. I thought no one would ever find out, as long as he never turned up again.”

  An’gel had been watching Alesha Jackson during this conversation. The woman must have some kind of intuitive ability, she decided, or else she was a gambler who had taken a shot in the dark and watched it pay off beautifully. She didn’t appear to be gloating at her success, however.

  Mary Turner went to the housekeeper and bent to give her a hug. “Why don’t you go lie down for a little while?” she said. “You’ve had a bad shock. I’ll take care of clearing up and everything.”

  “I think I will.” Marcelline smiled uncertainly at her young mistress. “You don’t think badly of me, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Mary Turner said firmly. “Now go get some rest. You can tell me about it later if you want to.” She helped Marcelline to her feet, and the housekeeper headed from the room, her shoulders slumped and her head down.

  An’gel started to speak but Mary Turner spoke first, her words directed at Alesha Jackson.

  “That was cruel of you to expose her secret like that,” she said. “Although I suppose I understand why you did it. I wish you hadn’t done it, though.”

  “I had to prove myself,” Ms. Jackson said, her tone not in the least apologetic. “You need to understand I am who I say I am, and that I can do what I told you I could. I didn’t come here under false pretenses. I used my professional name like I always do in these situations. I keep my personal and my professional lives separate that way.”

  “Then why did you try to run away?” An’gel asked. “If you weren’t here under false pretenses, there was no need to escape, surely?”

  “A lapse in judgment,” the psychic said with a shrug. “I have a fair amount of experience with the police, and I didn’t want any further involvement in this situation.”

  The woman could still be lying. An’gel was convinced there was something else she was hiding, but what was it?

  “I’m hungry,” Ms. Jackson said. “If you have no objection, I’d like to eat.” She pointed to the uneaten meat and bread on the table.

  “Help yourself,” Mary Turner said. “I’ll find you a clean plate after I check on Marcelline.” She left the room.

  Alesha Jackson shrugged and seated herself. She pulled the two platters close to her and began to eat directly from them. She ate neatly and efficiently as An’gel watched.

  Dickce nudged her, then whispered close to her ear, “Are we going to sit here and watch her eat? Or are we going to do something productive?”

  An’gel frowned. She wanted to question the psychic but had been trying to decide whether the time was right. Would the woman even talk to her?

  An’gel whispered back to her sister. “I want to get her to talk to me. I want to ask her some questions.”

  After a moment Dickce responded. “Then tell her you want to hire her when all this is over.”

  “Hire her?” An’gel asked, incredulous. “Whatever for?”

  “To deal with the spirit at Riverhill,” Dickce said. “What else?”

  An’gel started to argue but then stopped herself. Dickce’s idea was actually a good one. Telling the woman she had a job for her gave her an excellent pretext for asking some pointed questions. “Good idea.”

  “Mrs. Jackson,” An’gel said.

  “Not Mrs., Ms.,” the woman responded.

  “Ms. Jackson, then,” An’gel said. “Perhaps sometime later today you and I could ta
lk. My sister and I may be interested in hiring you to help us with a problem back home. We live in an old house, too, you see.”

  Alesha Jackson put down the piece of roast she had been about to eat and regarded An’gel, her expression blank. After a few seconds, she spoke. “If you’re serious, I will be happy to speak with you. I’d like some time to rest and refresh myself, however.”

  “Of course,” An’gel replied. “How about four this afternoon, in the parlor?”

  The psychic nodded. “That’s fine.”

  An’gel rose. “Thank you. Dickce, Benjy, I think we ought to leave Ms. Jackson to finish her meal in peace. No, Peanut, you’re not going to get any more bites of chicken, or you either, Endora.”

  Peanut whined and thumped his tail against the floor. “Come on, boy,” Benjy said firmly. “I’ll give you both some treats in our room, okay?”

  Peanut woofed at that, and Endora perked up too. She climbed on Benjy’s shoulder and nuzzled his left ear.

  “They deserve their treats,” Dickce said. “They’ve been really good, not making a fuss.”

  “Probably because you and Benjy kept slipping them food under the table,” An’gel said. “You might have thought I didn’t see you, but I did.”

  Mary Turner returned with a plate and napkin in hand. She stopped short when she saw Alesha Jackson already eating. She approached the table and set down the plate and napkin. “I’ll be back to clear up when you’re done. I guess you’ll be going up to your room for a while afterwards.”

  The psychic nodded. “Yes, I will. I must rest before my appointment with Miss Ducote to discuss a job.”

  Mary Turner looked at An’gel, obviously shocked. “Miss An’gel, is she serious? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, my dear, I am,” An’gel said. “Dickce and I decided to consult with Ms. Jackson about a matter concerning a possible spirit at Riverhill.”

  “Oh, I see,” Mary Turner said. An’gel could tell by her tone, however, that she was only being polite. “I’ll finish clearing the table when you’re done, Mrs. Pace.”