“Speaking of running the business,” Dickce said, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Henry Howard isn’t all that enthusiastic about it.”
“He’s not,” An’gel said. “He talked to me briefly just now when I took him to the kitchen for breakfast.” She relayed the conversation to Dickce and told her about Marcelline’s behavior.
“She seemed really fond of him the last time we were here,” Dickce said. “Do you think she’s actually turned against him? Or was it simply the stress talking?”
“The latter, I think, is more likely.” An’gel shrugged. “But the last time we saw them was a few years ago, and they hadn’t been married all that long. The three of them spend so much time together, it’s no wonder there are sore spots, I suppose.”
“Maybe when all this is cleared up and things get back to normal, whatever that may be,” Dickce said, “they will all feel happier with one another.”
“Maybe they will, Pollyanna.” An’gel gave a brief smile. “I would like for them to be happy. We both know what a huge responsibility an old house like this can be.”
“At least we’re in a better position financially to maintain ours,” Dickce said. “We don’t have to work the way they do.”
“True,” An’gel said. “We were incredibly lucky that our father was so astute in business, and we haven’t done too badly ourselves.”
“Chips off the old block.” Dickce smiled.
“Let’s get back to the business at hand,” An’gel said. “Namely, the unexplained death of Nathan Gamble. You heard what I said to his sister. What do you think?”
“Do I think she has a much stronger motive for getting rid of him than Mary Turner?” Dickce asked. “I do. If Serenity doesn’t inherit anything from her brother’s estate, though, her motive is pretty weak.”
“I’ve thought about that,” An’gel said. “Even if she doesn’t inherit directly, she might still benefit from his death.”
“How so?” Dickce asked.
“With her brother out of the way,” An’gel replied, “she might gain more control over her trust fund.”
“We don’t know the terms of the trust,” Dickce said. “It would be odd if her brother were the only trustee, don’t you think? There are usually at least two.”
“Yes,” An’gel said. “Good point. Still worth considering, though, if her brother’s death dissolves the trust.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Dickce said.
“And there’s another thing,” An’gel said. “This time about her lawyer. Remember what I told you I witnessed yesterday between him and Nathan Gamble?”
Dickce nodded. “Do you think their relationship could be the key?”
“Truss Wilbanks wouldn’t be the first angry lover to kill his ex.”
CHAPTER 21
Benjy walked Peanut and Endora again before he took them back to their room. He wanted to let Peanut play and tire himself out so he would nap while Benjy worked at the task Miss Dickce had set him. Endora needed to play, too, and she always loved chasing the much larger dog.
Once in their room, Benjy opened his laptop and connected to the wireless network. Peanut and Endora snoozed on the bed, and Benjy figured he probably had half an hour before they got restless again and demanded attention.
Benjy entered Primrose Pace in the search engine and waited for results. The wireless connection didn’t appear to be all that strong because it took longer than Benjy was used to for the results to appear. He groaned. If the connection didn’t get any faster than this, he would need twice as long to find anything.
He examined the hits on Primrose Pace. The first one, apparently a newspaper article, looked promising, and he clicked on it. The story focused on a kidnapping and murder that had taken place in Louisiana nearly two years ago. A teenager had been abducted, and after months of no results from law enforcement, a psychic had come forward with claims to know the whereabouts of the girl. The psychic was Primrose Pace. There was a photograph accompanying the article. Several law enforcement officers and one woman stood in a small clearing in the woods. They were all staring at a spot under one large tree where the earth had been disturbed. The picture had been shot at enough distance that the faces of the officers and the woman were not clear. Even though Benjy tried enlarging the photograph, he couldn’t distinguish enough of the woman’s features to identify her.
Benjy skimmed the article. Mrs. Pace’s claims had proven helpful, he read. Though the spot pictured in the photograph included with the article had not been a grave, officials did find the remains of the teenager less than half a mile from there. Benjy wondered what had disturbed the earth in the photograph. Probably an animal digging, he thought.
The next two links yielded similar results. No photograph with which he could positively identify Primrose Pace, but otherwise the stories were much like the first one. Mrs. Pace apparently did have some knack for finding areas where human remains had been left or buried, but she never was right about the exact spot, Benjy concluded. Still, it was an impressive feat in itself. The woman either had been involved in the murders, somehow had inside knowledge, or possessed real psychic abilities.
One of the articles contained a brief description of the medium, an attractive black woman in her mid-forties. The Primrose Pace at Cliffwood matched that description, but then so would many other women. Benjy hadn’t found anything so far that could positively identify the woman at Cliffwood as the Primrose Pace of the articles.
He continued through the links until he reached the point that he found himself reading through information in which the words primrose and pace appeared somewhere in the same article. He refined his search to look for the two words together, and his results narrowed immediately to only one screen’s worth.
Benjy stopped for a moment to consider his next move. Mrs. Pace had never mentioned where she came from, but the stories he had read with her in them had all taken place in Louisiana. One of them happened not far across the Mississippi River from Natchez.
He found it odd that the woman didn’t have a website to advertise herself. Idly he searched Louisiana psychics and after about ten seconds had a result list of over 300,000 hits. He even found a directory of psychics, but there was no listing for Primrose Pace. Idly he clicked on several of the different psychics listed and read their descriptions and scanned some of their testimonials. He found it all fascinating, especially since a few of them listed missing persons as a specialty.
Maybe Primrose Pace was one of those people who didn’t like the Internet and preferred to find her clients via word of mouth instead of social media. That thought reminded him he needed to check other social media sources, and he proceeded to do so. He didn’t find an account anywhere for Primrose Pace on the most popular social media sites or even a mention of her.
Next he tried a genealogical database, but the only hits he got showed the two words in the same entry, usually with the word Primrose part of a street name and Pace as a surname.
Benjy searched every source he could access through the Athena Public Library. He had no access to the library at Athena College, though come spring he would. He was excited about enrolling for his first semester of college and couldn’t believe how lucky he was that he had been accepted. Access to a college library would open whole new worlds to him, and he couldn’t wait for that to happen.
Before he became too lost in happy thoughts about college, he made himself refocus on the search for information on Primrose Pace. He couldn’t think of anywhere further to look. He would report his findings to Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, and see whether they had any ideas about next steps. He knew they would find it as interesting as he did that there was so little to be found on the mysterious medium.