“What on earth is going on? Did she fall down the stairs?”
An’gel looked up to see Juanita Cameron hurrying down the staircase to join Wade beside his wife’s body. “Here, let me take over,” she said. She pushed an unprotesting Wade to one side and went to work.
Wade collapsed into a sitting position, his eyes, now streaming with tears, fixed on Marla. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it against his mouth.
An’gel glanced up again. Rosabelle stood at the top of the stairs, both hands to her mouth, staring at everyone below. An’gel couldn’t read her expression from this far away. Rosabelle made no move to descend. Instead she appeared rooted to the spot.
“Come on, Sister,” Dickce said, her tone agitated. “I don’t know about you, but I need to sit down.” An’gel tore her gaze away and allowed her sister to lead her into the parlor.
Dickce got An’gel seated on the sofa. An’gel still felt shaky, and she could see that Dickce was as white as she no doubt was. She watched as Dickce headed for the liquor cabinet, pulled out the whiskey and a couple of glasses, then poured two healthy shots. She handed one to An’gel and urged her to drink. An’gel accepted the glass, eyed it for a moment, then knocked it back while Dickce did the same.
An’gel felt the warmth spread through her body, and her head cleared. “Thank you, Sister,” she said. “I needed that.”
“Me, too,” Dickce replied as she sank down on the sofa by An’gel. “That poor woman. So awful.” She paused for a steadying breath. “What the heck have we gotten ourselves into?”
“Please, Lord, let it be an accident, and not murder,” An’gel said in response. “She simply tripped in those heels and fell.”
Dickce squeezed her hand, but An’gel took little comfort from the gesture. She had the uneasy feeling that the horror had only just begun.
From the hallway they could hear the muted sounds of conversation in short bursts. After a moment An’gel pushed herself up. “We’d better see what’s happening. The others are likely to need a restorative as well.” Dickce grimaced but followed her sister to the hall.
Juanita continued her efforts to revive Marla, but from what An’gel could see, Marla remained unresponsive. Benjy and Wade remained close by, their gazes focused on the motionless body. Maudine and Bernice still huddled together, several feet away.
Junior, cell phone still stuck to his ear, spoke in low tones to the emergency dispatcher. “No, she’s not responding. How long is it going to take that ambulance to get here?”
An’gel glanced up at the second-floor landing. Rosabelle no longer had her hands to her mouth, but her gaze appeared focused on the scene below. An’gel waved to catch her attention and then motioned for Rosabelle to come downstairs. Rosabelle stared at her hostess for a moment before she slowly began to descend, her body tightly against the right banister.
When she reached the foot of the stairs, Rosabelle stepped around the supine form of her daughter-in-law, barely glancing at her granddaughter still hard at work. She ignored her daughters, even though Maudine held out her hand toward Rosabelle.
She stopped beside An’gel and Dickce. “We need to talk. In private.”
“Come into the parlor,” An’gel said. She figured Rosabelle was in shock and would benefit from a shot of whiskey as she and Dickce had. She took Rosabelle’s arm and led her into the room. She heard the siren of the ambulance as it neared Riverhill and was glad the professionals would soon be on the scene.
An’gel seated Rosabelle on the sofa while Dickce went to the liquor cabinet to pour the whiskey.
Rosabelle didn’t speak again until she had downed the liquor. She set the glass on the coffee table and leaned back. She turned to stare at An’gel, seated beside her.
“That was supposed to be me out there, dead on the floor, not Marla.”
CHAPTER 8
“Does that mean you think Marla’s fall was no accident?” An’gel watched Rosabelle’s face intently even as her stomach began to churn from anxiety.
Rosabelle nodded.
“And that you were the intended victim of whoever caused her to fall,” Dickce said.
“Yes,” Rosabelle replied.
“How can you be sure it wasn’t simply an accident?” An’gel hoped fervently that it was and that Rosabelle was imagining things.
Rosabelle glared at her. “There’s water on a couple of stairs on the left side of the staircase near the top. Unless you have a leak in the ceiling, someone had to put it there.”
An’gel felt cold to the bone at those words. She could think of no innocent reason that there would be water at the head of the stairs. Water on marble was dangerous, as she had occasion to know, having slipped herself a few times when mopping the stairs.
“On the left side?” Dickce frowned. “Why on the left side? Most people descend on the right, don’t they? I know I always go up and down on my right side.”
“That’s because you’re right-handed,” Rosabelle said. “I’m left-handed.” She paused. “And so was Marla. It was just her bad luck she got there ahead of me; otherwise, I would be the one lying dead.” She shuddered. “Just as my murderer intended.”
So that was why Rosabelle pressed herself so tightly against the banister to her right when she came downstairs a few minutes ago, An’gel thought. She glanced at her sister and could see her horror mirrored in Dickce’s expression. It had to be murder after all, if Marla really was dead.
Rosabelle appeared not to care much that Marla was probably dead. An’gel thought that was cold, even for someone as generally self-absorbed as Rosabelle.
The doorbell rang before An’gel could question Rosabelle further. Pull it together, she scolded herself. You have to deal with this, and sitting here quivering isn’t going to do one little bit of good to anybody.
An’gel pushed herself to her feet. “I’d better go see who that is.” She shot her sister a glance and knew that Dickce would understand she was to stay with Rosabelle.
When An’gel stepped into the hall, she saw that someone had admitted the emergency personnel. Rosabelle’s family stood out of the way near the wall opposite the parlor. Wade was talking to one of the EMTs while two others examined Marla.
An’gel glanced toward the front door. It stood open, and as she watched, Kanesha Berry, the chief deputy of the Athena County Sheriff’s Department, strode into the hall, followed by another deputy. Bates, An’gel said to herself, pleased that she could recall the name when her brain felt so sluggish.
Chief Deputy Berry glanced her way after surveying the scene. She walked over. “Miss An’gel. Looks like a bad fall.”
An’gel had known Kanesha Berry since the deputy was a small child, and had watched her grow into a seasoned professional who was outstanding at her job. An’gel was thankful that a person she knew and trusted would be in charge of the investigation into this dreadful event.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry. “I’m glad you’re here.” She hesitated over her next words. “It might not have been an accident.”
Kanesha’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
Before An’gel could answer, Deputy Bates claimed Kanesha’s attention. He motioned for her to join him where he waited with one of the EMTs.
“Excuse me a moment.” Kanesha walked over to the two men.
An’gel wished she could hear what they were saying. The EMT shook his head in response to something Kanesha said. She then spoke to Bates, who stepped away and pulled out his cell phone.
Probably calling for backup, An’gel thought. The churning in her stomach grew worse. As she watched, the two EMTs who had been working on Marla stood and moved away. One of them approached Wade and the rest of the family. An’gel averted her gaze. She couldn’t bear to watch as the EMT confirmed to them that Marla was beyond help now.
Kanesha approached An’gel again, while Bates joined the EMT talking to Wade and the others.
“She’s dead.” An’gel said it flatly, and Kanesha nodded.
“What did you mean when you said it might not have been an accident?”
An’gel hesitated. “Take a look at the head of the stairs. Left side, coming down. Go up on your left.”
Kanesha frowned, then nodded.
An’gel watched the chief deputy ascend the stairs, staying close to the banister. When she reached the top, she took a couple of paces into the hall before she turned and came close to the left side of the stairs. She squatted, elbows on knees, and peered closely at the top steps. After a moment she rose and came back down to rejoin An’gel.
“Water, third and fourth steps down,” she said.
An’gel nodded. “Plus she was wearing high heels. She must have slipped and fallen down the stairs.” She shuddered.
“Miss An’gel, you look a bit shaky,” Kanesha said, obviously concerned. “Can I get you something?”
“Maybe a little more whiskey,” An’gel said with a faint smile. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll rejoin Dickce and our guest in the parlor and have a bit more.”
“You go right ahead,” Kanesha said. “I’ll be along in a few minutes to ask you two what you know about this. One thing, though, before you go. Who is the deceased?”
“Her name is Marla Stephens,” An’gel replied. “She’s married, or she was married, to the gentleman over there.” She gestured toward Wade where he leaned against the opposite wall, eyes closed, while his half sisters clucked around him. Juanita had her arms around Benjy, who rested his head on her shoulder. “That’s her son, the young blond man. She was the daughter-in-law of an old friend of mine and Dickce’s, Rosabelle Sultan. She’s in the parlor with Dickce right now.”
“Thanks,” Kanesha said.
“If you need to, use the library,” An’gel said, indicating the room across the hall.
Kanesha nodded. “You go on and get that whiskey.”
An’gel was happy to comply. Rosabelle and Dickce turned to look at her when she entered the parlor.
Dickce stood and motioned for An’gel to sit. “You look like you need another shot.” She didn’t wait for a response from her sister and went to pour more whiskey.
An’gel settled herself on the sofa beside Rosabelle. “I just spoke to the deputy, and she told me Marla is dead.” She patted her guest’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Rosabelle sniffed. “If you’re expecting to hear any weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth from me, you’ll be waiting until hell freezes over. I’m no hypocrite. I didn’t like the woman, but I am sorry for her son. For Wade, too. He loved her, and I think she loved him in her own way.”
An’gel wasn’t much surprised by these words from her self-centered friend. She accepted a glass of whiskey from Dickce and took a healthy sip. She felt the warmth spread through her and settle in her empty stomach. She decided she should eat something before she had any more alcohol. Otherwise, she could end up tipsy, and that would never do.
Dickce took a seat opposite her sister and Rosabelle. She frowned at the latter. “You almost sound like you’re glad she’s dead.”
“I am not glad she’s dead. I’m not a monster,” Rosabelle said in a firm tone. “I am glad, however, that I’m alive and that the murderer failed to kill me. It was Marla’s bad luck she died in my place.”
An’gel raised her eyebrows at her sister. “It appears that Marla wasn’t the one trying to kill you.” She glanced at Rosabelle to gauge the effect of her statement.
“True.” Rosabelle cocked her head to one side, rather like a parrot, An’gel thought. She had to suppress a laugh. The whiskey was making her slightly giddy, she realized.
“That means she might not have been the one to doctor your food,” Dickce said.
“I suppose so.” Rosabelle shrugged. “If Wade was behind it, then it’s poetic justice.”
An’gel was confused. “If Wade was behind what? The doctored food or the water on the stairs?”
“Either, or both, I suppose.” Rosabelle shifted her head to the other side. “He might have gotten Marla to doctor the food, and when that didn’t work, he put water on the stairs. His tough luck the wrong woman slipped and broke her neck.” She sniffed.
Did Rosabelle have no maternal instincts whatsoever? An’gel wondered. She exchanged an appalled glance with Dickce. Clearly Wade couldn’t expect much sympathy from his mother. Nor could poor Benjy, An’gel decided. She felt sad for the young man. What a tragedy for him to lose his mother at his age, and in such a terrible fashion.
An’gel also wondered what Kanesha would make of Rosabelle. Should she try to talk to the deputy herself, give her a little of Rosabelle’s history, before Kanesha questioned her old friend? She thought about that for a moment before she concluded it was a bad idea. Kanesha was smart. It wouldn’t take her long to figure out exactly what she was dealing with in Rosabelle Sultan.
An’gel couldn’t think of anything else to say to Rosabelle now, and evidently Dickce couldn’t either. Rosabelle didn’t speak again and instead sat staring at her hands and picking at something on her dress.
The silence lengthened, and An’gel wondered impatiently how long it would be before Kanesha came to talk to her, Dickce, and Rosabelle. The giddiness she’d experienced just moments ago had passed, and now she felt her hunger more keenly. She remembered the tray of food Dickce had been bringing to their guests, but the tray was sitting on a table in the hall. Perhaps she should retrieve it and take it to the library. She should probably ask Clementine to make coffee or hot tea to offer everyone. Something hot and sweet would be good for all of them about now.
Before she could act on these thoughts, Kanesha entered the room. She closed the door behind her and then stopped only a couple of paces into the room.
“Miss An’gel, could I speak to you for a moment?” She indicated with a nod that An’gel should join her.
“Certainly.” An’gel rose from the sofa and walked over to the deputy. Kanesha’s gloomy expression made her nervous. What else could have happened? she wondered.
“I wanted to let you know that the body has been removed,” Kanesha said. “I’ll be talking to the family in a moment, but first I wanted to ask you something.”
“Of course,” An’gel said. “What is it?”
“Is there any reason for Vaseline to be all over the banister?”