“I’m worried, too,” Mireille replied. “I’ve taken steps to close the one loophole that leaves them vulnerable, but we have no proof as to what’s really going on or exactly who is responsible.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” An’gel said. She was feeling almost back to normal again and ready to tackle the problem. “First, though, I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”
Mireille gasped and squeezed her hand hard, and An’gel hastily pulled her hand free. “Sorry,” Mireille said. “Involuntary reaction. What is it?”
“Estelle died earlier today,” An’gel said. “She was poisoned.”
Mireille closed her eyes, crossed herself, and uttered a quiet prayer. Her eyes fluttered open when she finished, and An’gel saw that they were damp. Mireille brushed the tears away with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.
“Poor Estelle,” she said. “She was so unhappy. I tried my best to help her, but it was never enough.”
“You did more than enough for her, Maman,” Jacqueline said hotly. “She was sour and mean-spirited.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Mireille said. “But she was my friend.” She looked at An’gel. “Why do you think she was killed?”
“I think she was trying to blackmail someone,” An’gel said bluntly. “Now tell me, did Estelle know about this charade of yours?”
Mireille shook her head. “Goodness, no. Estelle was not in the least discreet. I could never trust her with anything like this. The whole thing would have fallen apart immediately.”
“She told me she knew the moment you died,” An’gel said. “Frankly, it was eerie. She seemed so convinced.”
“She fancied herself as a psychic,” Jacqueline said scornfully. “She was no more psychic than I am. Which is not at all.”
“Estelle was always trying to make herself seem special,” Mireille said. “She could never let go of the bitterness that stemmed from her poverty-stricken childhood.”
“That truly is sad,” An’gel said. Estelle had evidently been trapped by her own inability to let go of her unfortunate past, and An’gel felt a surge of pity for her. Time to focus on the present, however. She had more questions for her resurrected cousin and her goddaughter.
“I imagine Jacqueline has already told you this,” An’gel said, “but I discovered that your grandmother’s wedding dress was intact and in the bottom drawer of your chifforobe. I began to wonder about that whole incident, Sondra’s tantrum and tearing up the dress. Jacqueline said someone must have put Sondra up to it.”
Mireille sighed. “I put her up to it. Jacqueline told you about the destruction of possessions that had great sentimental value to me. That all upset me, and I knew that the person who did those things meant me harm. They were meant to intimidate me as well, because I refused to give Horace money to pay off bad debts.”
An’gel wanted to pursue that point, but first she wanted to hear more of an explanation about Sondra’s role in Mireille’s plan. “How did you talk Sondra into going along with your plan?”
“She wanted to be an actress,” Jacqueline said. “Going to New York after she married was mainly for her benefit, not Lance’s. With her inheritance to back her up, she was convinced she would soon be on the stage in New York. She thought she could finance the plays herself.”
“Good heavens,” An’gel said faintly.
“I know,” Jacqueline said. “It was a crazy plan, but I couldn’t talk Sondra out of it or get her to understand that she would just be throwing her money away. She could act a little, but not enough to carry a Broadway show.”
“I think she might have surprised all of us,” Mireille said. “There was more to her than people credited her with, but her great failing was her inability to step into anyone’s shoes other than her own.” She shook her head. “I told her I wanted to stage a dramatic scene for you and Dickce. Estelle was not part of the plan, however.”
“So Estelle told that awful story about the dead bride without anyone prompting her?” An’gel asked.
“Yes,” Jacqueline said. “I was furious with her myself, and she made Sondra go ballistic. It helped add to the drama for Maman’s plan, but it was unexpected.”
“It worked well, because Sondra really was livid with me for not firing Estelle,” Mireille said. “She wasn’t acting when she ripped apart the replica and threw the pieces over the railing. We had already planned that. Estelle unknowingly increased the theatrical factor.”
“If she had any acting talent,” An’gel said wrily, “she got it from you.” She pointed to Mireille. “You certainly convinced Dickce and me that you were having a heart attack.” Then she pointed at Jacqueline. “You were convincing, too.”
Jacqueline had the grace to look abashed. “I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“It was drastic,” Mireille said, slightly defensively, “but I had to get out of that house, and I had to convince my persecutor that I was beyond his reach. I wanted him to think he succeeded in bringing about my death.”
“Maman hoped it would end there,” Jacqueline said. “We thought by faking her death we could buy a little time to find the evidence to put a stop to all this. Maman didn’t want to go to the police. She wanted to handle everything this way.”
“And buy time for me to make a new will,” Mireille said with a small touch of smugness.
“We didn’t think he would target Sondra,” Jacqueline said.
Mireille grasped her daughter’s hand and held it tightly. An’gel felt sorry for them both.
“I’m assuming Sondra knew you were faking the heart attack?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mireille said. “She knew, but she didn’t know the real reason, of course.”
An’gel couldn’t keep a note of exasperation from her voice when she asked her next questions. “Weren’t you afraid she would slip and give the whole thing away? To her killer, for example?”
“I told her that if she didn’t sustain the charade,” Mireille said, “it would show that she wasn’t a good enough actress. She had too much pride to give anything away.”
An’gel was surprised that her cousin had been willing to manipulate her own grandchild to such an extent. Couldn’t she have found another way to protect herself and identify her persecutor?
An’gel decided there was no point in telling Mireille and Jacqueline that now. Instead she asked another question.
“Why were you willing to let Sondra marry Lance and go off to New York? Surely you realize how unsuitable he is.”
Mireille and Jacqueline exchanged glances, then Mireille turned back to An’gel. “Yes, we’re aware of Lance’s unsuitability. And his proclivities. We aren’t blind.”
“But Sondra was bound and determined to get married and get away from St. Ignatiusville,” Jacqueline said. “And if nothing else, Lance comes from a good family.”
“Yes,” Mireille said. “And I certainly didn’t want to see her marry Trey Mims.” She sniffed. “One Mims in the family is already one too many.”
Jacqueline glowered at her mother but didn’t say anything.
Mireille really could be a snob, An’gel reflected. Perhaps if she had let things alone, let Trey and Sondra get married, things would have turned out far differently. She doubted, however, Mireille would agree with her.
A sudden trill emanating from her handbag startled An’gel. “Excuse me,” she said to the two women. “I’d better at least check to see who it is.” She pulled the phone from the bag and glanced at the display. Benjy was calling. “I should take this,” she said. “It could be important.”
Mireille and Jacqueline nodded, and An’gel answered the call. “Hello, Benjy, is everything all right?” She listened for a moment. “I see. Yes, do tell me.” She listened for a couple of minutes this time. Finally she said, “Thank you. I’m glad you called. I’ll be back at Willowbank in half an hour probably.” She ended the call and dropped the phone back in her handbag.