The cat padded back while I stared blankly at the top of my desk. Might as well get it over with, I figured. “Come on, boy, we’re going home to get the car and then take a little ride.” I decided to call Melba rather than stop by her office to let her know I had to go out for a while. That way I could forestall questions more easily.
Twenty minutes later Diesel and I were in the car headed for Beauchamp House.
Built over a decade before either River Hill or Ranelagh, at around the time Mississippi became a state in 1817, the Beauchamp family home occupied a large lot on Main Street a few blocks from the town square. I had always admired the simple, graceful Federal-style architecture, but I noticed the house looked decidedly shabby as I pulled the car to a stop in front of it. I wondered how long it had been since the house was painted. The grounds seemed to be suffering from neglect as well, though the autumn weather obviously had taken a toll. Hedges were uneven, and some of the elderly oak trees had dead branches. In fact there was one whole tree that needed to be cut down. Sissy’s pink convertible provided the only color in the whole drab landscape.
Diesel trotted beside me up the walk, gazing curiously around. There was no verandah, but a small portico protected the front door. I knocked, and Sissy Beauchamp opened it moments later.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized me, then saw Diesel. She smiled. “I think this is the first time Beauchamp House has ever had a cat come calling. Morning, Charlie, y’all come on in.”
Sissy led us through a bare hallway into a parlor that also seemed short of the usual furniture. Had they been selling antiques? I’d not been inside the house before, but according to local legend the Beauchamps had a fine collection of early American and Federal-style furniture.
Dressed casually in Capri pants, flat shoes, and a snug-fitting T-shirt, Sissy appeared comfortable though I found the room chilly. She patted Diesel’s head for a moment but didn’t seem all that interested in him.
“Have a seat.” My hostess plucked a man’s rumpled suit jacket from the back of a chair and indicated I should sit there. She draped the jacket over the arm of a threadbare sofa and sat on a particularly bald spot. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you unannounced and uninvited,” I said as Diesel settled on the floor beside my chair. “It’s about the gala.”
Sissy interrupted me. “Wasn’t it wonderful? All those gorgeous costumes and the food was awesome! It was a great party.” Her face clouded. “But the way it ended was real awful. Poor Morty. Losing his wife like that.”
“Yes, that was a shock,” I said.
“And how humiliating for Vera,” Sissy said with a frown. “I mean, if she had any idea how she died, she’d be mortified. Falling down the back stairs at River Hill. The servants’ stairs, that is. Imagine that.”
I hadn’t thought of Vera’s death in that light, but I realized Sissy was right. Had the killer planned it that way? One final humiliation in death? That extra bit of viciousness was disturbing to contemplate.
“Sissy, have you seen my jacket?” Hank Beauchamp wandered into the room but pulled up short when he saw that his sister had company. “Oh, morning, Charlie. I see you brought your cat with you.” He didn’t sound pleased about it.
“Yes, he goes almost everywhere with me.” I kept my tone light and cheerful. “He’s well behaved, so you don’t have to worry about him scratching the furniture or causing any damage.”
Hank nodded, then his eyes lighted on his jacket. “There it is.” He picked it up, shook it in a vain attempt to get rid of some of the wrinkles, then slipped it on.
“That looks pretty messy,” Sissy said. “Are you sure you want to go to court dressed like that?”
“I don’t have any choice. Everything else is at the cleaner’s, remember?” There was an unpleasant edge to Hank’s voice and an odd emphasis on that last word.
Sissy stared at him blankly for a moment. “Sorry, forgot about that.” She turned to me with a bright smile. “What were we talking about? Oh, the gala.”
I nodded. “Yes, and we were saying how awful it was for Vera to die like that.” I watched Hank as I spoke, interested to see his reaction.
He winced. “The woman is dead. Why can’t everyone let it go? She was probably drunk and fell down the stairs. She was knocking back the booze the last time I saw her.”
I couldn’t believe either of them was naive enough to believe it was an accident. They had to be putting on an act for my benefit. I decided to drop a little bomb and see what happened.
“What if it wasn’t an accident?” I asked. They’d probably think I was a gossipy idiot, but that didn’t matter. “Know what I heard? I heard her husband pushed her down the stairs because she wouldn’t give him a divorce.”
“Who told you that?” Hank’s face reddened as he snapped out the words.
I shrugged. “Oh, it’s just something that’s going around.”
“That’s awful,” Sissy said, her voice cool. “Vera was a giant pain in the rear, but surely nobody would murder her.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Hank glared at me. “The whole thing is ridiculous. I told you, Vera was drunk as a skunk. She fell. Morty would never kill her, no matter how much she provoked him.”
Sissy shrugged and addressed me. “No point in arguing with him.” She opened her mouth to continue, but Hank interrupted her.
“Has the garage called about my car?”
“No, not this morning,” Sissy said.
Hank swore. “They’ve had it for almost two weeks now. It can’t be that hard to fix.” He sighed. “Then I’ll have to borrow yours again. Before court this morning I have to run over to Oxford and get a deposition.”
“You know where the keys are.” Sissy turned to me. “What was it you came about, Charlie? I don’t think you ever said.”
“No, I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” I offered them both a self-deprecating smile. “I’m here on behalf of the Friends of the Library. Miss An’gel asked me to help collect the pledges people made at the gala. With everything that happened, quite naturally some people forgot to make good on them that night.”
“I see.” Sissy shared an uncertain glance with her brother. “I thought you already took care of that, Hank.”
Hank responded in a testy voice, “I thought you took care of it. I have to get going or I won’t get to Oxford and back in time for court. You deal with it.” He whirled around and stomped out of the room.
Sissy glared at his retreating back. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s in the middle of a really difficult case right now, and he’s always tense when he has to go to court. He’d be a lot happier doing something else.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, but Sissy didn’t appear to need an answer. She excused herself, saying she’d be back with a check in a minute.
Diesel had moved under my chair during the tense moments between the Beauchamp siblings, and I almost wished I could join him. It hadn’t been pleasant. As I surveyed the room, I decided the rumors about financial problems were actual fact. The threadbare, skimpy furnishings and the chilly indoor temperature spoke loudly. Apparently they couldn’t even afford firewood.
Sissy came back, check in hand. I rose to accept it and thanked her. “We’ll be on our way now. I’m sure you have lots to do.” I tucked the check into my pocket without examining it.
She nodded and escorted us to the front door. “See you at the next board meeting.”
“’Bye until then.” I stepped off the portico and headed for the car, Diesel loping alongside.
As we drove back to the library, I replayed the whole thing in my mind. I had the odd feeling there was something I’d missed, but whatever it was, I couldn’t get it to surface. The best thing would be for me to get back to the archives and get on with my research in the Ducote papers. If it were truly important, whatever I had missed would come to me later.