He could be annoyingly like Tigger on occasion, a little too perky and awake in the mornings, but I tried not to hold that against him. “Doing fine, I guess. How about you?” I dried my hands on a towel before I faced him.
“Excellent,” he replied. He set his coffee cup down on the counter in order to rub Diesel’s head with both hands. The cat rewarded him with happy chirps, and Stewart talked nonsense to him for a moment. Then he regarded me again as Diesel rubbed against his jean-clad legs. “No Azalea today? If I’d known that, I could have made breakfast for us.”
“No, she won’t be here,” I said. “I couldn’t believe she was here yesterday, after all the stress of the night before. But I guess it finally caught up with her, and she decided she’d better take it easy today.”
Stewart grimaced as he topped up his coffee. “I still can’t believe that someone finally did Vera in. It’s amazing to me that she lasted this long, frankly, but why now? What did she do to push someone over the edge?”
I frowned at his poor choice of words, and he shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” I sighed. “You’re right, though. Whoever pushed Vera down those stairs must have reached the point of desperation. But who was it?”
“I can think of several candidates, but I can’t imagine which of them would actually hit the breaking point and kill.” Stewart set his coffee down and moved to the fridge where he extracted eggs, milk, and cheese. “How about a little more breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’ve had enough,” I said. “Time to get ready for work. What are you up to today?”
“Not much of anything,” he replied with evident satisfaction. “The semester is over, and Stewart is going to be a bum.”
Diesel and I left him to his breakfast preparations and headed up the stairs.
By the time I was ready to leave for the library, Stewart had disappeared, and no one else had come downstairs. Laura and Justin were probably sleeping in, now that the semester was officially finished. I wondered idly where Sean was, because I’d expected him to be down for breakfast. I had a sneaking suspicion his bed hadn’t been slept in. He was spending more and more time with Alexandra at her house, including a few nights.
The weather had turned colder overnight, but was still bearable. Diesel seemed unaffected by it, though I feared his feet might get too cold. Today was my last in the office, because the library would be closed the next two weeks for the holidays and the semester break. I was looking forward to the time off.
Diesel settled down happily in his window aerie, and I put away my things before firing up the computer. I’d barely sat down and begun to check e-mail, however, when I heard a knock on my open door.
I turned to see Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce standing there. I rose. “Good morning, ladies. What a pleasant surprise.” What do they want now? I wondered. Were they going to drop by every day until the case was solved? Not that I minded seeing them, of course, but they did require a high level of mental energy.
“Morning, Charlie.” Miss An’gel beamed at me as she approached the desk and took the same seat she’d sat in the previous morning. Miss Dickce smiled and sat down beside her.
Before they even had time to make themselves comfortable, Diesel stood between them, looking back and forth to see which of them would pay attention to him first.
I allowed them a few moments to adore the cat before I spoke. “What can I do for you? I should have let you know yesterday afternoon, but I’m afraid I forgot. I did return the plaque to Morty Cassity as you requested.”
“No matter,” Miss An’gel said, dismissing my apology with a wave of one elegant, beringed hand. “We knew we could rely on you.”
“How did you find the grieving widower?” Miss Dickce asked. “Not grieving too deeply, I’m sure.” She kept one hand on Diesel’s head as we talked, and Diesel purred, adding his rumbling voice to the conversation.
“No, he wasn’t, I have to say.” I gave them a brief account of my interview with Cassity. I did not mention, though, that I’d seen Sissy Beauchamp’s car parked behind the house.
The sisters shared a look, one I couldn’t interpret, then Miss An’gel turned back to me. “We have another little favor to ask you, Charlie. We know you’re busy, but if you wouldn’t mind handling one other little matter for us, we’d appreciate it.” Miss Dickce nodded as her sister spoke.
“I’d be happy to do whatever I can, Miss An’gel.” I smiled, though I could feel the start of a dull ache across my forehead.
“It’s the money for the gala, you see.” Miss Dickce leaned forward in her chair. “Usually everyone gives us their contributions before the end of the evening.”
Miss An’gel took it from there. “With the events of that night, naturally, not everyone fulfilled their promises. Dickce and I will be calling upon most of them, except in one case. We would like you to handle that one.”
“Besides,” Miss Dickce broke in, “it will give you a chance to snoop around a little.”
“Dickce.” Miss An’gel glared at her sister. “You make it sound sordid.”
“Don’t be so persnickety, Sister,” Miss Dickce said. “We asked Charlie to be a snoop, so call it what it is.”
That ache in my forehead grew stronger. “Whom would you like me to call on, ladies?”
“Sissy and Hank Beauchamp,” Miss An’gel replied.
“And good luck getting the money out of them,” Miss Dickce said.
That remark started another squabble about manners, and I let them carp at each other while I considered what they wanted me to do.
Lovely, I thought. Now I can add bill collector to my resume.
TWENTY-FIVE
If the sisters sensed my hesitation, they didn’t let on when they stopped dickering after a few minutes.
“Can you go this morning, Charlie?” Miss An’gel smiled at me while Miss Dickce sulked.
“I don’t see why not.” Might as well get it over with, then perhaps I could get back here and start looking in their family papers for information about Essie Mae Hobson. I felt a surge of guilt over that, but I quickly suppressed it. If I were going to investigate thoroughly, I couldn’t afford to overlook anything, no matter how tenuous it might seem.
“Thank you. We promise to leave you alone the rest of the day.” Miss An’gel glanced at her sister. “Though my sister phrased it poorly, we are aware that the Beauchamps are having certain financial difficulties. If they aren’t able to come up with their contribution, we can overlook it.”
“We are also aware”—Miss Dickce matched her sister’s prim tone—“of the talk about Morty Cassity and Sissy, and we certainly remember the scene she and Vera caused at the gala. We hate to think of Sissy as a common gold digger, but we understand the depth of her loyalty to her brother and to her family name.”
I could understand it, too, though I couldn’t condone going to extreme lengths to preserve the family honor.
“What is so surprising,” Miss Dickce continued, “is that Sissy has never behaved like this before. She has always been a sensible girl, the kind of Southern lady she was raised to be. Why would she turn her back on everything her parents taught her?”
“Where certain kinds of men are involved, anything is possible. Sissy is only human, after all, and Morty is an attractive, virile man.” Miss An’gel rose. “Come along, Dickce. We have more calls to make, and Charlie is a busy man. Good-bye, Diesel. Make sure Charlie brings you to visit us soon.”
Diesel followed them to the door, warbling and meowing the whole way, to the sisters’ evident delight. I called my good-byes after them.