The Final Victim(68)

Ah, there.

The gory orb plops, oozing, onto a small china plate. Its counterpart follows after another brief struggle with the spoon.

Then the corpse is returned to its position and the plate is set in the middle of the table like a gruesome centerpiece.

'’There… I'm afraid we're all out of cookies, but here's a delicious treat just for you, Pammy Sue. Go ahead, dig in. I'm sure you won't mind if I don't stay… I've got to be going now, before somebody misses me. But I'll be back soon for another visit. I promise."

CHAPTER 11
First thing Monday morning, Charlotte finds herself facing Detectives Williamson and Dorado once again.

But this time, it's on her turf: in the second of the double parlors at Oakgate, with the doors closed.

And this time, Aimee is at her side.

When the detectives showed up unannounced, Charlotte was just about to leave for the hospital with her stepdaughter.

They initially asked to speak to Charlotte in private. She quickly spoke up and told them she would feel more comfortable with her stepdaughter there.

"Aimee should hear anything y'all have to say-Royce is her father. She flew in yesterday from New Orleans and she's as concerned as I am."

To her relief, and frankly, her surprise, even Williamson didn't oppose her request.

"Do you know who did this?" Charlotte asks the foment they're all seated-on a cluster of circle-backed nineteenth-century chairs upholstered in yellow silk; Williamson's ample girth overflowing beneath the wooden arms on either side of his.

"Not yet" He doesn't elaborate.

Frustrated, Charlotte snaps, "Well, what did you find out?"

And why are you here? Don't you realize that I have to get back to my husband's bedside?

Dorado takes over. "Mrs. Maitland-and Miss Maitland, is it?" At Aimee's nod, the detective goes on, "Have y'all been here all night?"

"Ever since we left the hospital at around seven," Charlotte tells him, bristling at the question. Surely he doesn't consider her a suspect at this point, does he?

"Can you just tell us what you did here, and who all was in the house?"

Suppressing a sigh, Charlotte recounts the evening step-by-step: she talked to her daughter, spoke to the, housekeeper about dinner, then took a shower while Aimee settled into Grandaddy's room with Nydia's assistance…

"Nydia? She's the housekeeper who let us in just now?" Williamson interrupts, jotting something on his pad. 'The one you mentioned yesterday when we asked; who was living in the house?"

"Yes." 'We'll want to talk to her."

"Fine, but I don't know what she can possibly tell; y'all."

Keeping her gaze focused on the pair of antique andirons at the far end of the room so that she won't have to look at Williamson, Charlotte goes on with her; account of last night. She fails to mention that Nydia was silently disapproving when Charlotte asked her to; put fresh sheets on the bed; clearly, she doesn't think anybody should be moving into the room so soon after Grandaddy's death.

Charlotte still isn't so certain about it herself, but she made the offer spontaneously, and Aimee is grateful for a place to stay.

Anyway, Nydia seemed to get over it pretty quickly, because she cooked them a hot meal. But they were too exhausted to touch it. They all went to bed early.

'Was anybody else here?" 'Just my great-aunt up on the third floor. She has a visiting nurse during the day, but not at night." 'What about your cousins? Were they here?"

"Not when we went to bed, no."

"Where were they?"

"I don't know. Gib's rental car wasn't here and I'm pretty sure they were both out."

"Pretty sure?" 'They keep to themselves, Detective. And they don't live here; they're houseguests."

"I realize that. I'm just trying to figure out whether they were here or out when y'all got back last night."

"Out. When I asked Nydia about them, she said she hadn't seen either of them since yesterday morning."

"What about this morning?"

"You'll have to ask her. I haven't seen them. Gib's rental car is parked out there now, though."

"All right." Dorado seems to be finished taking notes. He looks up at Williamson, who gives a slight nod, cueing his partner to say, "We've turned up a couple of interesting things in our investigation of the cemetery."

It's Charlotte and Aimee's turn to exchange a glance.

"We found footprints in the mud in a number of spots, which we think belonged to the shooter," Dorado announces.

"Men's shoes?" Charlotte asks, and holds her breath for the answer.

"Yes."

All right. So it couldn't have been Karen.

Of course it wasn't Karen!

Right. She knew that all along, really.

She just couldn't help getting paranoid earlier, thinking about the people in Royce's life who might have a vendetta against him.

But Karen isn't any more likely to have shot him than Vince is. Or so she tried to convince herself last night, when Lianna told her that he was supposed to have visited Saturday night, but didn't-and couldn't be reached.

That isn't unusual. It wasn't the first time Vince had failed their daughter. Nor should it make Charlotte wonder if he really was where he claimed to be, dining on Achoco Island.