“So lovable.” Miss Dickce sighed before she kissed Diesel’s nose. “All right, Sister. I’m coming.”
Diesel and I escorted them to the front door and bade them good-bye. Instead of closing the door, however, I stood in the doorway, suddenly curious to see what kind of car they had and who did the driving.
They strolled at a sedate pace down the walk to a late-model Lexus parked at the curb. Miss Dickce got in on the driver’s side, and moments later the Lexus took off. Miss Dickce floored it, and it’s a wonder Miss An’gel’s head wasn’t in the backseat somewhere. I sent up a quick prayer for anyone who happened to cross their path, thankful that I was safe inside.
Chuckling, I went back to the living room and retrieved the plaque. Though I’d promised the sisters I would try to talk to Morty Cassity today, I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. He might not be a grieving widower, but he might have been the one who pushed Vera down the stairs. I didn’t relish the idea of confronting him on my own, with only Diesel as backup.
I grinned. Diesel could be pretty fierce on occasion, though. His size sometimes intimidated people, and when he growled he sounded scary to those who didn’t know him.
Back to the phone to call Melba. Luckily for me she was out, and I left a message. Otherwise I might have been on the phone with her for ten minutes.
Azalea still hadn’t returned from shopping, and it was now a few minutes past one. While I waited for her to return, I looked up the number of Morty Cassity’s car dealership here in Athena. Might as well try to reach him, see if I could make an appointment.
I spoke to a man who put me through to Morty’s secretary.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Cassity is not here today. His wife passed away yesterday, and he probably won’t be in for a few days. Can someone else help you?”
I thanked her but said that I would try again next week.
If Morty wasn’t at work today, then he would probably be at home. I debated whether to call him there but decided that he could easily put me off. Whereas if I showed up on his doorstep with the plaque, he would be more likely to let me in the house.
I waited another fifteen minutes for Azalea, but to no avail. I might as well go talk to Morty Cassity and get it over with.
“Come on, Diesel, we’re going for a ride.” I scooped up the plaque, and we headed for the car.
Ranelagh, the antebellum house the Cassitys had purchased some years ago, was in the same neighborhood as the Delacorte mansion. The drive there didn’t take long, and soon I pulled the car into the oak-lined driveway.
Ranelagh was smaller than River Hill, but just as lovely, with the same Greek Revival architecture. I’d never been inside, but I’d heard the Cassitys spent a fortune restoring it and filling it with period furniture. The drive wound about fifty yards into the property and curved in front of the house. A leg of the driveway veered off behind the house, and as I rounded the curve I caught a flash of bubble-gum pink from a car parked near the back of the house.
The only person in Athena I knew who had a car that color was Sissy Beauchamp.
How interesting.
TWENTY-TWO
I hesitated as I stopped the car near the front door. Perhaps I should come back another time. Things could be awkward if Sissy was really here.
Diesel chirped at me, no doubt wondering why we still sat in the car. That decided me. Forge ahead.
“Come on, boy.” I grabbed the bag with the plaque and held the door open for the cat.
I clanged the ornate door knocker three times and waited. Diesel sat at my feet and stared up at me. This was a new place, and he was curious.
No response. I knocked again, three times.
Moments later the door opened, and an unshaven, tired-looking Morty Cassity stared out at me. He wore a rumpled suit jacket with a pair of ragged gym shorts. He looked like I’d gotten him out of bed and he’d thrown on the first thing he could find.
“Good morning, Mr. Cassity. I’m Charlie Harris. We met last night,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to intrude on you at a time like this, but I have something for you.”
He glanced down at the shopping bag, then at Diesel. I expected him to reach out for the bag and slam the door in my face, but for whatever reason, he stood aside and motioned me to enter.
“I’ve heard about your cat,” he said once the door shut behind us. He held out a hand to Diesel, and the cat sniffed it, then butted his head against it. “I’ve always liked cats, but Vera didn’t. Wouldn’t have one in the house.”
Good thing I’d brought Diesel with me; otherwise he might really have slammed the door in my face.
“This is Diesel. He’s a Maine Coon.”
“He’s a big, beautiful boy,” Cassity said. His face looked less drawn as he continued petting the cat. He straightened. “No point standing around here in the hall. Come on into my study.”
He strode away to a door halfway down the hall. I glanced about as Diesel and I followed him. The hallway at Ranelagh wasn’t that different from the one at River Hill. Beautiful Oriental rugs, antique furniture, and paintings adorned the space. The effect was gracious and elegant.
The study was more of a library, I thought, as I gazed at a couple of book-lined walls. A large desk occupied one quadrant of the room, but a leather sofa and two chairs sat before a fireplace. Morty Cassity motioned for me to have a seat on the sofa while he took one of the chairs. I expected Diesel to sit with me, but he took up position beside our host’s chair instead. Morty seemed pleased with the attention. Thank goodness for a smart cat, I thought.
“Again, my apologies for intruding, Mr. Cassity,” I began.
“Morty, please. Charlie, right?” He didn’t pause in his attentions to the cat.
“Right. Well, Morty, I’m really sorry about the loss of your wife. She was, um, she did a lot for the community.” I winced inwardly at the awkwardness of that, but I couldn’t bring myself to heap fulsome praise on the dead woman.
Morty cast me a sharp glance. “Vera was a giant pain in the ass to everybody, me included. She spent a lot of money trying to get people to like her and think she was a Somebody with a capital S.” He grimaced. “I’m not saying that the money didn’t do good. Of course it did, but she didn’t do it out of the generosity of her heart.”
I wasn’t prepared for such bitterness, even though I knew he hadn’t been happy with his marriage. I couldn’t think of any way to respond to him that wouldn’t sound hypocritical or idiotic. No point in trying to defend Vera, even if I had wanted to.
My host left off his attentions to Diesel and leaned back in his chair, arms across his chest. “Sorry if I’m shocking you, but I’m too tired right now to give a horse’s patoot what anybody thinks.”
“I understand,” I said. “It was all a great shock.”
He snorted. “Only that it didn’t happen years ago. Vera made enemies the way rabbits reproduce. Somebody’d finally had enough, I guess. It wasn’t me that knocked her down the stairs, though.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, though it sounded fatuous to me.
“What have you got in the bag?”
I extracted the plaque and stood to hand it to him. “The award that the mayor presented last night. The Ducotes’ housekeeper found it this morning.”
Morty accepted the plaque and stared at it for a moment. Then he reached and stuck it on the seat of the other chair near him. “Vera was livid. You have to give it to those two old busybodies, though. They figured out a way to get Vera off their backs publicly.”
Someone else figured out how to do it permanently, I added to myself. Was it you, Morty?