Fixing To Die

“What is it?” An’gel and Dickce said in unison.

“Lonnie Jackson’s obituary says he was an employee of Gamble Construction Company at the time of his death,” Benjy said, his eyes focused on the screen of his laptop. He grimaced. “He apparently fell to his death on a construction site.”

CHAPTER 29

“There’s a potential motive right there,” An’gel said slowly. “If the family holds Nathan Gamble responsible for Lonnie Jackson’s death, Alesha Jackson could have killed him out of anger. A life for a life.”

“Benjy, see if you can find out anything about the accident,” Dickce said.

“Already on it,” Benjy said.

An’gel and Dickce waited in silence while Benjy searched. They knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Got it,” he said in obvious satisfaction a minute later. He scanned the article he’d found. After a moment, he raised his head to look at An’gel and Dickce.

“I can tell by your expression that it’s bad,” An’gel said.

Benjy nodded. “According to the article I found, there were complaints about safety violations on the site where it happened. Some equipment that wasn’t up to standard. Scaffolding, actually. Collapsed with Mr. Jackson, and he fell six stories and died instantly.”

“Sounds to me like Nathan Gamble’s company could be liable,” Dickce said. “There’s no excuse for putting workers’ lives in danger with shoddy equipment.”

“No, there isn’t,” An’gel said. “I wonder if Mrs. Jackson is planning to sue the company.”

“According to the article, the widow is considering a lawsuit,” Benjy said. “This is dated about two weeks after the accident. I haven’t found a follow-up to it.”

“Maybe Alesha Jackson didn’t want to wait for the outcome of a lawsuit,” Dickce said. “No telling how long it might drag out. Unless the company agreed to settle out of court.”

“Based on what we’ve heard about Nathan Gamble’s love of money,” An’gel said, “he might not have settled, unless it would be cheaper than going to court. Now that he’s out of the way, whoever will be running the company might be more amenable to a hefty settlement. Who knows?”

“There’s prime motive for murder,” Dickce said. “For someone out for revenge and for a lot of money.”

“Alesha Jackson is the most likely suspect now, isn’t she?” Benjy set his laptop aside, and Peanut immediately put his head in the young man’s lap. Benjy began to stroke the silky head.

“Probably,” An’gel said. “I’m certainly not going to discount Serenity Foster or Truss Wilbanks. Either separately or together, depending on Nathan Gamble’s will, they could stand to gain a lot more in terms of money than Alesha Jackson.”

“If I had to choose,” Benjy said, “I’d rather it was Serenity Foster. She’s not nice at all. Alesha Jackson, even though we know she’s a fraud, isn’t nasty like the other one is.”

“I agree with you,” Dickce said. “The lawyer, well, I just feel sorry for him. Sounds like he wasn’t being treated well by his so-called partner, and having to deal with Serenity . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“True.” An’gel grunted in frustration, an unladylike sound to her ears, but it expressed how she felt. “If only we knew how Nathan Gamble died. Plus how the killer got into the room to do it, if the method called for it.”

“You’re not going to get the information out of Lieutenant Steinberg,” Dickce said. “If you think you are, then you ought to give up such a foolish notion.”

“I know the man isn’t going to tell me, or any of us, anything he doesn’t want us to know. Unfortunately that includes how Gamble died.” An’gel felt her jaw clench and made herself loosen it. The last thing she needed was damaged teeth, since they were all still her own.

“What about this project you were mentioning earlier, Miss An’gel?” Benjy asked. “You were pretty anxious about it. What is it exactly?”

“I want to find out if there is another way to get into the French room besides the bedroom door and the windows that look onto the second-floor gallery on two sides,” An’gel said.

“The problem with that is there isn’t space anywhere that I can see for a secret entrance.” Dickce frowned. “Other than the wall between the bathroom and the French room.”

“Exactly.” An’gel thumped the arm of the chair with her right hand. “That bathroom wall. If there’s a way through that wall, anyone could slip into the bathroom and get into the French room. As simple as that. Nobody locks the bathroom door unless they’re using it at the moment.”

Benjy looked puzzled, An’gel noticed. “What is it?” she asked him. “Something wrong?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’m wondering why there has to be a secret door or entrance for the killer to use. Why couldn’t the killer simply use the door or one of the windows? I mean, I know they could be, probably were, all locked, but locks can be picked.”

“The Nancy Drew effect,” Dickce murmured.

An’gel sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m sorry, you lost me,” Benjy said. “What’s the Nancy Drew effect? Who is she?”

Dickce chuckled. “I’ll let Sister explain it to you.”