Fixing To Die

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’ll hold off for the moment on any charges we might want to make.”

“I’m sure,” Mary Turner said.