Fixing To Die

“Okay, then.” Benjy gently moved Peanut’s head off his lap and got to his feet. “Might as well look for him now and see if I can get him to talk.” He paused a moment. “Do you think I should take Peanut and Endora with me?”

“I think so,” An’gel said. “They’re usually better behaved with you. Dickce and I are about to head downstairs again and look for Mary Turner and Marcelline. We have enough time before we’re meeting with Alesha Jackson, don’t we?” She glanced at her watch. Almost three o’clock now. “Yes, plenty of time.”

“I’ll check in with you when I have something to report on Mr. Wilbanks.” Benjy took hold of Peanut’s leash, and Dickce stood with Endora to let the cat climb on Benjy’s shoulder. Armed with his laptop and accompanied by the animals, he left the room. An’gel and Dickce followed a couple of minutes later, after Dickce took time to remove some of the cat hair from her dress.

“Marcelline will probably be in the kitchen,” An’gel said as they walked down the stairs. “That’s where she told me she was headed when she left after we talked.”

“Good a place as any to start,” Dickce said. “Mary Turner might be there, too, helping with dinner.”

An’gel braced herself again for the sudden cold as she moved down the stairs but nothing happened. She glanced at Dickce when she reached the first floor. Dickce shook her head. No cold spot for her either.

They headed down the hall toward the kitchen. When they entered, An’gel saw Marcelline at the stove, focused on her work. Henry Howard and Mary Turner stood near the back door, obviously engaged in a heated discussion.

An’gel cleared her throat to alert them to her and Dickce’s presence. Mary Turner cast a startled glance their way, then with an expression of determination, she marched over to An’gel and Dickce.

Mary Turner pointed back toward her husband, slumped against the wall by the back door, his head down. “Y’all are not going to believe what that idiot of a husband confessed to me.” Her eyes blazed with anger, and An’gel felt briefly sorry for Henry Howard. “He told me not two minutes ago that he is the ghost that’s been moving things around in the French room.”

CHAPTER 30

An’gel and Dickce looked at each other. An’gel knew they were thinking the same thing. If Henry Howard had been playing ghost in the French room, was he also responsible for Nathan Gamble’s death? The thought made An’gel sick to her stomach. Had they misjudged Henry Howard until now? He had always impressed her as an intelligent, upright young man.

“I’m so furious with him right now,” Mary Turner continued, “I can’t even look at him. Will you talk to him? I can’t any more right now, or I might scratch his eyes out.” She didn’t wait for an answer and hurried out of the kitchen.

“We certainly will talk to him,” An’gel said under her breath. “But not in here.” Marcelline didn’t need to hear what she had to say to Henry Howard, nor what Henry Howard had to say in his own defense. “Why don’t you stay and talk to Marcelline, Sister?” An’gel said, keeping her voice low.

Dickce nodded and moved toward the housekeeper.

“Henry Howard, why don’t you come with me to the library?” An’gel said. “Let’s talk about this and give Mary Turner time to cool down a bit.”

Henry Howard wouldn’t look her in the eye but he nodded and ambled toward her. They walked to the library in silence, but once behind closed doors and seated in chairs near each other, An’gel opened the discussion.

“You were playing ghost in the French room?” An’gel asked.

Henry Howard nodded, still avoiding looking directly at her. “Yes, I did. Stupid idea, I realize that now.”

“When did you get this idea?” An’gel said.

“A few months ago,” Henry Howard replied.

An’gel waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, she realized she was going to have to keep probing to get the whole story out of him.

“Was it intended simply as a joke, or was there a reason behind it?”

“I had a reason for it,” Henry Howard said, then lapsed back into silence. He stared at the floor.

“Would you mind sharing that reason?” An’gel said tartly. She was rapidly losing patience with him. “If you think I’m going to give up and leave you alone, Henry Howard, you ought to know better. You stop acting like an adolescent, and tell me what was behind this silly idea of yours.”

Henry Howard didn’t respond at first. Then suddenly he straightened in the chair and looked her full in the face. His expression indicated both embarrassment and frustration to An’gel. She had an idea what was bothering him, based on previous conversations, but he needed to unburden himself completely.

“I’m sick and tired of this damn house,” he said, almost spitting out the words. “It runs our lives, we don’t run it. Mary Turner is the most wonderful woman in the world, but I married her. Not this house.” He slumped in the chair again, and his gaze dropped to his hands, clenched in his lap.