Kanesha nodded. “I’ll check with her, plus I’ll have to find out when your guests took their baths.”
“They probably spaced them out to make sure they each had enough hot water,” An’gel said. “The guest bathroom has a separate tank from the one that serves my bathroom and my sister’s. The guest bath on the third floor also has its own small tank.”
“The only ones using the second-floor bathroom, then, would be Mrs. Sultan, her daughters, and her granddaughter, correct?”
An’gel nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m going to talk to Antoinette first and find out about the towels,” Kanesha said. “Then I want to come and talk to everyone. Will you ask them all to remain in the parlor? I won’t be long.”
“Certainly,” An’gel said. “Benjy is probably also in the kitchen with Antoinette and Clementine, if you need him for anything. I asked him to keep an eye on Diesel.”
“Thanks,” Kanesha said. “I’ll be back soon.” She headed for the kitchen.
An’gel took a moment for a couple of deep, steadying breaths before she was ready to face Rosabelle and her family once again.
Bernice and Juanita occupied one sofa, with Junior between them. An’gel’s heart went out to the young man, who was obviously distraught over his mother’s death. He stared vacantly into space, but he held tightly to Juanita’s hand.
Rosabelle didn’t appear to have moved since An’gel left the room a few minutes ago. She still had her head buried in Antonio’s shoulder, and he still had his arms around her. He rocked her slowly and murmured to her. An’gel could hear the soothing tone but not the words. Wade lounged near the liquor cabinet with a large glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand.
Dickce sat several feet away from the family, her chair in the front half of the large parlor. She glanced up when An’gel entered the room, her look one of inquiry. An’gel shook her head, and Dickce frowned.
An’gel faced the family. “Deputy Berry will be along in a few minutes to talk to all of us. She asked that we all remain here until she comes.”
Wade and Juanita nodded. Junior and his grandmother did not seem to have heard. Antonio inclined his head once, but his attention otherwise appeared totally focused on his wife.
An’gel sat near Dickce and regarded Antonio thoughtfully. He was the picture of devotion, but she couldn’t forget the conversation Dickce had overheard. Was he really planning to divorce Rosabelle? Could his intention to divorce his wife or his winning back of his inheritance have anything to do with the two murders?
Perhaps there was no connection at all.
She surely didn’t envy Kanesha the task of sorting out this twisted mess. Her head ached as she tried to make sense of it all.
An’gel sensed the tension in the room like a palpable force. There was also fear. She herself was afraid, not so much for herself or Dickce, but for the lives of her guests. One of them—minus Junior, who had an alibi for the first death—had murdered two people with heartless calculation, yet the obvious target for the cold-blooded campaign remained alive. Though not untouched, An’gel thought. The death of her daughter had truly shaken Rosabelle. An’gel couldn’t imagine what it must be like to outlive one’s own child, even if the relationship was stormy at best.
Kanesha returned a few minutes later. She walked to the fireplace, then turned to face everyone.
“I’m sorry for your loss, and I assure you my deputies and I will do everything in our power to resolve this situation.” She paused for a moment to look at each person in turn. “Two women have been murdered in this house in the past twenty-four hours. One of you committed both these acts, and I’m not going to stop until I have you behind bars. I want you all to think clearly about what is going on here. I want you to think about everything you have heard and seen since you arrived yesterday. Everything you did. Even the smallest detail could help. I’m going to question each of you in turn like I did yesterday, and I want to hear about anything you think might have a bearing on these two murders.”
While Kanesha had talked, An’gel’s eyes had scanned each face in turn, over and over, in an attempt to discern any hint of emotion that could help identify the killer. Rosabelle had gently disengaged herself from her husband’s arms to listen to the deputy. Her expression revealed little, An’gel thought, other than grief. Wade simply looked bored as he sipped away at his drink. Bernice, Juanita, and Junior appeared as sorrowful as Rosabelle. Antonio’s blank expression revealed nothing to An’gel.
Rosabelle’s trembling voice broke the uneasy silence that ensued after Kanesha’s speech. “Deputy, could I say something?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kanesha said.
“I know that I am the target of all this hate,” Rosabelle said. “I was the one who was supposed to fall down those stairs. But Marla happened to get there before me, so she was the one to die. I am almost as terrified of spiders as my poor Maudine was. I was the one who was supposed to find them and be frightened into a heart attack. But instead it was my oldest child.” Her voice broke on the last three words. She took a moment to compose herself before she continued. “I don’t know which of you is doing this, but I beg of you, confess and stop these acts of wickedness. I will do whatever you want, but just stop this.” She burst into tears, and Antonio once again enfolded her in his arms.
An’gel realized she was gripping the arms of her chair tightly enough that her hands ached. She willed her body to relax, and her fingers eased their grip. She wondered whether Kanesha had deliberately tried to evoke a response like this. Rosabelle had risen to the bait, but would her impassioned plea have any effect whatsoever?
Wade moved away from the liquor cabinet and into his mother’s line of sight. “Nicely done, Mother. You really missed your calling, you know. Dad really should have used his connections to get you in front of the camera. You’d have given Bette Davis and Joan Crawford a run for their money.” He laughed, and An’gel wondered how much whiskey he’d had.
Rosabelle’s face whitened as she pulled away from Antonio. “How dare you say such things to me? Have you no decency?”
“There’s nothing decent about you,” Wade said in a sneering tone. “Or about what’s going on here. I think you’re the one who needs to confess, Mother dearest. You hated Marla, so you figured out how to get rid of her and make it look like you were the intended victim. So convenient.” He shook his head. “And poor Maudie, always asking you for money. That’s a cardinal sin where you’re concerned. You love money too much to want to share it with anyone, especially with your children, who deserve it every bit as much as you do.”
An’gel marveled that none of the others had jumped to Rosabelle’s defense, even her supposedly besotted husband.
“Deputy, I’m sure there’s something you don’t know about the terms of my mother’s first husband’s will. Did you know that, if Maudine and Bernice die before Mother does, their portions of the estate revert to Mother? They have to outlive her if they want to inherit anything to leave to their own children or a surviving spouse. My father’s will is the same. That’s why my wife and my sister had to die, and my mother killed them both.”
CHAPTER 31
Dickce had never in her life heard such a vicious attack as the one Wade launched against Rosabelle. She had been watching him steadily work his way down to the bottom of a nearly full bottle of whiskey. She was amazed he was still upright, much less able to articulate his hatred of his mother so forcefully.