“Thank you,” she said. “So tell me. What was it that Mama saw that night? I thought a lot about it, but I couldn’t get it.”
As I prepared the coffeemaker, I reminded her about Sissy’s Yorkie wrist corsage, and she nodded. “Got you. It would make a weird shadow. And maybe it shed some of its hair on Vera when she pushed her. That could help prove she did it.”
I hoped she was right. Then I went on to explain the realization I had come to about the true nature of the relationship among Sissy, Hank, and Morty.
Kanesha apparently didn’t have any trouble believing it. “Makes sense to me,” she said. “The main question will be whether they were accessories.”
“I’m glad I won’t have to be the one to decide that,” I said. The coffee was ready, and I poured cups for both of us. She took hers without cream or sugar. I had to have both in mine.
“What will you do now?” I asked after she’d had a few sips of her coffee.
“I’ll have to go to Tidwell,” Kanesha said. “Not looking forward to that, but he’s in charge. I just don’t want him to harass Mama about this.”
“I don’t imagine either you or Dr. Sharp will let that happen.”
Kanesha smiled faintly. “You’re right about that.” She drained her coffee and put the cup aside. “Thank you, Charlie. For the coffee and everything.” She stood. “I can’t put this off. I’ll give you a call later, but the sheriff may be in touch with you first.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be here.”
I showed her to the door and walked tiredly back to the kitchen. I debated whether to go back to bed but decided I might as well stay up.
I poured myself more coffee and thought about Vera’s murder. A terrible tragedy all the way around.
Most of all I felt sorry for Vera, and also for her mother, Essie Mae. I thought about the Ducote sisters and wondered whether they knew the truth about Essie Mae, or if they even remembered her at all.
Should that skeleton stay in the closet? Was it my place to tell the sisters about it? Whatever I decided, I knew I would be haunted by Essie Mae for a long time.
THIRTY-FOUR
I spent a restless morning as I continued to debate with myself whether I should give the diary to the Ducote sisters, and once I had decided that I must, how I should explain my having read it in the first place. Poor Diesel watched me pace around my bedroom for an hour before he had enough and abandoned me for someone who would give him more than the occasional pat on the head.
When I came downstairs around ten I found Laura in the kitchen, Diesel in her lap as she thumbed through a magazine.
“Morning, Dad.” Laura frowned. “You look rough. Bad night?”
“And morning.” I smiled tiredly. “Too much to think about.”
“You’ve figured it out all, haven’t you?” Laura closed the magazine and shifted Diesel out of her lap. He grumbled as he stalked off in the direction of the utility room. “Sit down and let me get you a drink. How about hot tea?”
“Sounds lovely, thanks.” I subsided into a chair, feeling about a century older today than yesterday. “I talked to Kanesha this morning, and it’s all in her hands—and the sheriff’s—now.” I gave her a rundown of the case against Sissy Beauchamp while she prepared my tea.
Laura waited to comment until I finished and had a few sips of the hot drink. “Talk about sacrifice. She spent her whole adult life taking care of one member after another of her family. You almost can’t blame her for snapping and pushing that awful woman down the stairs.”
“I certainly have a lot of sympathy for her plight.” I drained my cup, and Laura poured more tea. “That doesn’t excuse murder, however.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Laura said. “But surely her lawyer will use her situation somehow in her defense. I’d hate to see her executed, despite what she did.”
“I agree with you. A competent defense attorney will do everything possible for her.”
“Finding the answer can be painful.” Laura came over and bent to wrap her arms around me, her head against mine. “The truth has to come out, though, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” I sighed as Laura gave one more squeeze before letting go. “Now I have to face causing more pain.”
“How so?” Laura resumed her seat at the table and regarded me with a frown.
Diesel returned from the utility room and padded over to me. He butted his head against my leg, and I stroked his head and back. I didn’t feel I could share the whole story of Vera and Essie Mae with Laura, and I thought for a moment about how to explain what I meant.
“As part of my nosing around,” I began, “I had to consider everyone, including the Ducote sisters. I had to figure out why Vera sent me that picture of her mother, and what connection, if any, her mother could have to the Ducotes. I found out by searching through the Ducote archives at the library, and I don’t think the sisters are aware of what I discovered. It’s something private, and I can’t share it with you. I have to tell Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, and they may be livid over what I did.”
Diesel’s rumbling purr filled the silence as I waited for my daughter’s response. Her curiosity rivaled mine, and not knowing would irk her, but she was mature enough to handle the situation.
“Did what you discovered help you reach the solution to the murder?”
“No,” I said.
“But you had no way of knowing that when you were going through their archives.”
“I didn’t.”
Laura sighed. “They are intelligent women, and they ought to understand why you did it. They wanted you to find out the truth, although they might not have thought you would consider them suspects.”
“Exactly. Plus as it turned out, I meddled in their family’s affairs for no reason.” I rubbed Diesel’s back, and the purring continued.
“Do Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce have to know whatever it was you discovered?”
“I believe so,” I said. “It’s an important piece of their family history. They should know, but it’s up to them what they do with the knowledge. I will never reveal what I found out to anyone else.”
“They have respect for you,” Laura said with a gentle smile. “You simply have to tell them and trust them to do the right thing.”
I had reached the same conclusion earlier, but hearing those words from my bright and sensitive daughter reassured me. “Then I guess I have a phone call to make.”
Three hours later Diesel and I drove out to River Hill, Cecilia Ducote’s precious journal wrapped in acid-free paper. Large butterflies cavorted in my stomach as the time for the dreaded interview loomed closer. I hated the thought of causing pain to two women I admired so deeply, but I didn’t see any other way. This was the right thing to do. Clementine opened the door to admit us, and we followed her into the front parlor where Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce waited, side by side on the sofa. Diesel scampered to them immediately and jumped onto the sofa. There was no point in my remonstrating with him because the sisters were already smothering him with attention. I took the seat proffered by Clementine and waited for one of the sisters to greet me. I held the journal in my lap.
Miss An’gel spoke first. “Afternoon, Charlie. Dickce and I are devastated by the news. Poor Sissy.”
“And Hank and Morty Cassity.” Miss Dickce’s cheeks reddened. “Why, I don’t think anyone ever suspected such a thing.”
“Still waters and so on.” Miss An’gel frowned. “One can’t blame Morty for turning elsewhere, I suppose, but dear Hank is not the most stable person he could have chosen.”
“Now, Sister,” Miss Dickce said, “Hank and Sissy both had a lot to put up with. If anyone’s to blame it’s that jackass of a father and his witch of a mother.”
“That’s true,” Miss An’gel responded. “Two more selfish, mean people never roamed the good Lord’s earth, and I hope they are both roasting in hell as they so properly deserve for the terrible things they did to those children and their mother.”