Digging Up The Dirt

Dickce thought this over for a moment. “It seems reasonable, but we really can’t be sure when Coriander left. She might even have left before Hadley. We know she was dead by the fifteenth of June, two weeks after he says he left. She had to have a few days to get to London somehow, and she could have gone straight to Memphis with this Mr. Wachtel and boarded a plane for England.”

“True,” Benjy said. “Too bad we don’t know where Mrs. Turnipseed is, or we could ask her when Coriander left.”

“I only hope we get the chance to talk to her,” Dickce said. “For all we know she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

CHAPTER 26

An’gel had always prided herself on her reflexes, that hers were like those of a much younger woman. They served her well a split-second after she felt the impact of another car and her own vehicle began to skid on the wet road. She kept control of the car and managed to avoid going into the ditch. She didn’t try to look behind her to see the car that hit her. Instead, the second her car was mostly under control again, she floored the accelerator and aimed for the driveway to Riverhill.

If the car tried to follow her up the driveway, An’gel would have to come up with a plan to keep from getting hit again. She prayed that the other driver would think twice about following her any farther.

Seconds later An’gel reached the entrance to the driveway. She slowed just enough to enable her to turn in, then jammed the accelerator again and sped toward the house. Now she glanced into the rearview mirror. With great relief she saw that the road behind her was clear. She kept up her speed, however, until she reached the house. She slowed as she pulled around to the back and put the car into park. She sat there a moment, the motor still running, and craned her neck around to make sure the other car hadn’t followed her after all.

She didn’t see anything. She sat in the car a few seconds longer, then she opened the door, grabbed her purse, and ran to the back door, forgetting her umbrella. She jerked the door open and stumbled inside. With shaky hands she shut the door and locked it. She pushed her soggy hair back from her face.

“Lord have mercy, Miss An’gel, whatever is going on? You look like the devil himself is after you.” Clementine’s eyes fairly popped out of their sockets, or so it seemed to An’gel. “And look at you, dripping wet.”

“I’m okay,” An’gel said, her breath still ragged. “Need to sit down though.” She made her way shakily to one of the chairs around the kitchen table and dropped into it.

“You need a nip of something,” Clementine said. “I’ll get you some whisky. And a towel.”

An’gel nodded weakly. She concentrated on getting her breathing and her heart rate back to normal. As soon as she did, she was going to call Kanesha Berry and report the attack. She wondered briefly why the attacker hadn’t followed her off the highway, but she was grateful he hadn’t, whatever the reason.

Clementine quickly returned with both a large towel, which she wrapped around An’gel’s shoulders, and a healthy tot of whisky. An’gel downed the whisky in one gulp and felt the warmth begin to spread. She pulled the towel more tightly around her.

“I must look a mess,” she said with a weak smile. “Thank you, Clementine.”

“You surely do,” Clementine said. “What on earth is going on?”

An’gel gave the housekeeper a brief explanation. “Now I need to call Kanesha and tell her about this. It’s too late to find the lunatic, but she needs to know what happened.”

“Soon as you’re done with that, you need to get right on upstairs and out of those wet clothes.” Clementine shook her head. “Can’t have you coming down with a cold.”

“No, certainly not.” An’gel smiled briefly. She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and speed-dialed Kanesha’s cell. The call went to voice mail, and An’gel left a terse but coherent message about her ordeal before she went to change.

Twenty minutes later she was back downstairs, dressed in dry clothing, her hair restored to its usual state, and grateful to find that Clementine had fresh coffee waiting.

“Who do you think was trying to run you off the road?” Clementine asked.

“I’m not sure,” An’gel said. “It has to be somebody who was at Ashton Hall this afternoon, since it happened right after we all left. Barbie Gross and Lottie MacLeod were together in Lottie’s car, and Reba Dalrymple was with her son Martin. I didn’t really get a look at the car that hit me, though, so it could have been either pair.”

“Why would any of them want to run you off the road?” Clementine shook her head. “Don’t make no sense to me.”

“To me either,” An’gel said. “It has to have something to do with what happened at Ashton Hall forty years ago. That’s all I know at the moment. We’ve got to figure this out.”

Her cell phone rang, and she saw that Kanesha was returning her call.

“How are you, Miss An’gel? Were you hurt at all?” Kanesha sounded angry, An’gel thought.