Diesel warbled loudly to regain their attention, and Miss An’gel patted him fondly on the head. “Quite right, Diesel, enough of that.” She glanced my way. “You have something you need to tell us, Charlie. I suppose it involves that package you have.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, one hand on the wrapped journal. “Before I show this to you, I need to explain how I came to find it and what it is.”
“‘Curiouser and curiouser.’” Miss Dickce grinned as she quoted Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
I doubted either one of them would be smiling by the time I finished what I had come to say. After one deep breath to steady my nerves, I launched into my explanation, starting with the photograph of Essie Mae Hobson that Vera had sent me.
Miss Dickce’s expression remained alight with curiosity while I talked, but Miss An’gel’s countenance grew stonier by the sentence. As the elder sister she might have vague memories of Essie Mae, whereas Miss Dickce would have been only an infant when their biological mother was forced to leave them.
“I never truly thought either of you killed Vera,” I said as I neared the end of my story. “But to be thorough I had to consider any possible angle to get at the truth, and that’s why I examined your family archives. What I found turned out not to have anything directly to do with Vera’s murder, though it had a lot to do with her life.” Now the only sound in the room, besides our breathing, came from my cat. His purr rumbled as I watched the sisters carefully for a hint of their reaction. Miss An’gel’s head could have been carved from granite.
When at last she spoke, Miss An’gel sounded neutral, to my great surprise. “Thank you for your honesty, Charlie. Had you not told us we would never have known what you did, and I appreciate your position. I certainly don’t relish the idea that you considered us as suspects, but I can see that you had to be thorough.”
Miss Dickce nodded. “Certainly, Charlie, you did the right thing.” She flashed a quick grin. “Unlike my iron-drawered sister here, I am frankly tickled that you might have thought for a moment that I would push Vera down those stairs.”
Miss An’gel shot her sibling what should have been a quelling look, but Miss Dickce returned it with a defiant glare instead.
I breathed a little more easily, now that I had successfully negotiated one hurdle. The most difficult one remained, however.
“Thank you both,” I said. “Now I need to share with you something I found while I was looking through your family papers.” My hands trembled a bit as I unwrapped the journal. I let the paper fall to the floor, and Diesel immediately scrambled off the sofa to investigate the paper. While he played with it, I handed the journal to Miss An’gel.
The Ducote sisters stared at the book but neither moved to open it. “What is it?” Miss An’gel asked.
“Your mother’s journal,” I said, feeling my chest tighten. I took a deep breath before I continued. “There is information in those pages that I think you both should know, and I will leave you to read it. Before I go, however, I want you to know that I will never reveal what I read.”
“Must be pretty serious, whatever it is.” Miss Dickce frowned. “Can’t you just tell us?”
“I could,” I said, “but I think you need to read the whole thing so that you can see it all through Cecilia’s eyes. It’s her story to tell, not mine.”
“Thank you, Charlie.” Miss An’gel handed the journal to her sister as she rose from the sofa. “We will read it, and naturally both Dickce and I have every confidence in you. No matter what is in Mother’s journal, we trust you to do the right thing.”
“Bless you both.” I stood and took Miss An’gel’s hand. To my consternation she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Miss Dickce didn’t move from the sofa. Her hands caressed the book in a constant motion. “Come along, Diesel.” I bent to take the paper away from him, and he glared at me. “Come on, I said, it’s time for us to go.” I placed the paper on a table, and he reluctantly followed me as Miss An’gel walked with us through the parlor and to the front door.
Neither Miss An’gel nor I spoke again, and even Diesel was subdued. He sensed the gravity of the situation, ever sensitive to mood.
On the drive home I thought about the contents of Cecilia’s journal and the stunning revelations it held for Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. Both had an impressive mental toughness, but the truth of their parentage would rock them to the core. I hoped and prayed they would be okay.
THIRTY-FIVE
A week later, on Christmas Day, I woke early with Diesel curled against my side. I savored the warmth and lay there for a while, recalling other Christmases.
When Sean and Laura were small, they would burst into our bedroom, faces aglow with excitement, eager to tell us what Santa Claus had brought them. Jackie and I would exchange secret smiles over their heads as they climbed into the bed with us, each clutching a precious new toy.
The first Christmas after Jackie’s death had been tough for all of us, but we made it through the holidays. I felt her presence near me every day during that time. I often felt it here, too, along with that of Aunt Dottie. I liked to think that those we loved best never completely left us. I knew they would always be in my heart, but somehow I believed it was more than that.
There were no excited childish voices to savor—until there were grandchildren, and I looked forward to that. I would be a doting grandfather, I knew, and I would have to try hard not to spoil my grandchildren terribly.
Diesel sat up and stretched, so I threw aside the covers and went over to the window. Dawn had arrived, and with it, the snow. I smiled. We hadn’t had a white Christmas in several years, and seeing the dusting of snow on everything added a lovely touch of magic to the day.
This would be a happy day, with my children and friends here to celebrate with me. Helen Louise would be here, as would Stewart. Justin had gone to spend the holidays with his family, and though I would miss him, I was pleased to know that he would be with his father. Alexandra Pendergrast and Frank Salisbury were coming as well. Alexandra’s father was off somewhere on a hunting trip with his cronies, and Frank couldn’t bear to be apart from Laura.
A happy day for me and my family, certainly. I thought about Sissy and Hank Beauchamp, though, and the sad holiday they would have with Sissy in jail, awaiting indictment on a murder charge.
Kanesha had an easier time than she expected, convincing the sheriff to consider the solution that I had put together. He talked to Azalea and then to me, and finally confronted Sissy Beauchamp and arrested her for the murder of Vera Cassity. Kanesha said Sissy confessed, that she seemed almost relieved, while Hank appeared devastated by the knowledge of what his sister had done.
I felt sorry for Sissy Beauchamp, despite what she had done. For decades she’d served as a caretaker for others, without any opportunity to get free and live her own life. She sacrificed herself for her family, including her beloved younger brother. She might have to make the ultimate sacrifice, depending on the outcome of the trial.
Azalea had come home from the hospital, and that was a blessing. Lily was looking after her, and I wished Lily well, because I was sure Azalea was a difficult patient. Lily helped out here as much as she could, but it was more important for her to take care of her sister. We would manage until Azalea was healthy enough to return to work. In the meantime Helen Louise and I vowed we would not rest until we found Lily a new full-time job. Perhaps Morty and Hank would need her.
I had thought about Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce a lot the past few days. I hoped to hear from them because I was concerned how they would handle such a stunning bit of news. I realized, however, that they would need time, perhaps a long time, to come to grips with Essie Mae’s story. If they wanted to talk to me about anything, they would. And if they decided never to refer to any of it, then I would respect their decision.