“Yes, he’s always on the point of starvation. Or at least he thinks he is.” I had to smile. After all, it did take a fair amount of grub to keep a thirty-six-pound cat in decent shape.
“How about some iced tea, Dad?” Laura held up a glass, and I nodded. She put it on the table and then took her seat. “I’m sorry Azalea wasn’t feeling well today. Do you think she’s really sick? Or just worn out from all she’s been through?”
“I think she was probably exhausted,” I said. “If she was truly ill I’m sure Kanesha would have called to let us know.”
“If she’s not back tomorrow I’m going to check on her,” Laura said.
“You might be able to get away with it,” Stewart said. “But you’re the only one. She really likes you. The rest of us she only tolerates.” He grinned.
Laura smirked. “Can I help it if Azalea is such a good judge of character?”
“Where is Dante?” It finally dawned on me the little dog was nowhere in evidence. Usually he was within a foot of Stewart at all times.
“He’s at the doggy beauty parlor, getting all fabulous,” Stewart said. “He was overdue for a cut and a shampoo. I’ll go pick him up after we finish lunch. Pardon the change of subject, but to get back to the murder for a moment. Laura told me about Azalea’s ordeal in the back stairs Tuesday night. Poor woman. I think that would give me nightmares.”
“Me, too,” Laura said. “Stewart and I have been discussing the case, Dad. He’s part of the family now, so he might as well be part of the investigative team, right?”
Stewart looked at her adoringly, and I grinned. He had become part of the family, though I certainly hadn’t expected it when he moved in the previous year. I didn’t think of him in a paternal way, however. He was more like a kid brother.
“Of course it’s okay, but I’m not sure about this investigative team. That makes us sound like a family of private eyes.” I wiped my mouth and put the napkin down beside my empty plate. “I know I can count on both of you not to go talking about this to anyone outside the family, though.” I gazed sternly at each of them in turn.
Neither of them paid any attention to that attempt at humor.
“Do you think she actually saw anything other than Vera falling?” Stewart picked up my plate and took it to the stove for a second helping. I didn’t protest.
“It’s hard to say. It must have been pretty dim in there. The one lightbulb gives off very little light, and it’s at the top of the stairs.” I tucked into my second portion of stroganoff.
“Have you thought about a reenactment?” Stewart asked. “I don’t know that Azalea would go for it, but you could try it to test whether a person at the top of the stairs would have been visible enough to identify.”
“That’s a terrific idea,” Laura said. “I’ll lend a hand, Dad. It will probably be creepy, but if it will help, I can handle it.”
“It is an excellent idea,” I said. Why didn’t I think of that myself? Then I realized there could be a problem. “The stairs might still be sealed off, and if they are, we’ll have to wait.”
“Can’t you call Miss An’gel and ask?” Laura said.
“Of course. Let me look up the number.” I got up from the table and went to the drawer where we kept the local phone book. I handed it to Laura. “Find the number and call it out to me. You can read those small numbers more easily than I can.”
Laura took the book eagerly and thumbed through the pages. “Here it is.”
I punched in the number and after four rings, the housekeeper answered. I identified myself and asked Clementine whether one of the Ducote sisters was available.
“Miss Dickce here somewhere. Let me get her.” Clementine set the phone down with a slight clunk, and I waited.
It took almost two minutes, but Miss Dickce eventually came on the line. We exchanged greetings, and then I asked whether the back stairs were still sealed off.
“No, they’re not. A nice young officer from the sheriff’s department removed everything this morning, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?”
I explained Stewart’s idea, and she squealed into the phone. “Of course you must do that. How exciting. When can you come?”
“How about half an hour from now?” Laura and Stewart nodded enthusiastically when I glanced their way. “Good. We’ll see you soon.”
“Don’t you have to go pick up Dante?” Laura asked.
“It’s barely noon now,” Stewart said. “He won’t be ready until two at the very least, and they won’t mind keeping him an extra half hour or so. Besides, do you really think I’m going to miss out on this?”
We quickly finished lunch and put everything away. I drove, and on the way we discussed who would do what. I would play Azalea’s role, Laura would be Vera, and Stewart would be the killer.
Miss Dickce was waiting on the verandah when we arrived. She was fairly hopping with excitement, but she took time to coo over Diesel for a moment. Then she hurried us into the house and up the stairs to the second floor. We followed her down the hall to the back of the house, and she pointed out the entrance to the back stairs.
“You turn the light on here. There’s another switch downstairs to turn it off.” She pointed to a switch on the wall next to the door, then flipped it. “The fixture is on the wall to your right. There is another light down at the bottom, but there’s something wrong with the wiring. Since we don’t use these stairs anymore, though, we haven’t had it fixed.”
“Thank you.” I turned to my two assistants. “Give me at least two minutes before you open the door. I want my eyes to have time to adjust the way Azalea’s would have.”
Laura and Stewart nodded.
“Diesel, you stay here with Miss Dickce.” He meowed as if he understood, and Miss Dickce stroked his back. I took a deep breath before I opened the door and stepped into the stairwell.
The door shut behind me, and I peered down through the murky light to the bottom of the stairs. The light on the wall beside me did little to illuminate any farther than about a third of the way down, from what I could see. The musty odor made my nose twitch, and I hoped my sinuses wouldn’t pay me back later for this.
I started cautiously down the stairs, mindful of what I knew about the state of the wood beneath my feet. I reached out to grasp the handrail but then realized there wasn’t one. I had maybe two inches’ clearance on each side of me, and, as I discovered, not even that much space over my head. Claustrophobia began to kick in, worsening as I went further down, counting each step.
At number twenty-six I reached the bottom. These antebellum homes had higher ceilings than most houses did these days, and that accounted for the longer-than-usual staircase. I felt for the knob and grasped it. By now my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and I discovered that it was pretty dark at the bottom.
I turned to look up. Deep shadows covered the lower two-thirds of the run of stairs, and the light appeared even weaker than before from this vantage point. I turned and faced the door again, because I remembered Azalea’s telling me she was in that position when she heard someone enter at the head of the stairs.
The seconds stretched out, and I breathed in the damp air. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I sympathized with Azalea.
Finally I heard movement above me, and the floor creaked as Laura and Stewart entered the stairwell. I counted to five before I turned and looked up.
Laura was only a silhouette, and I couldn’t see Stewart at all. They were approximately the same height, so that wasn’t surprising. Laura started down the steps, and then I could see the edge of Stewart’s silhouette behind her, outlined by a faint nimbus of light. As I watched, I saw the silhouette behind Laura change shape slightly.
“I’m pretending to shove her down now,” Stewart said, and I could just see the movement of his arms behind Laura. They were dark projections of his body. Then I focused on Laura as she pretended to pitch forward, and without thinking I started up the stairs toward her to break her fall.