Fixing To Die

“You need to learn to control your temper and your language, young woman,” An’gel said. “No one is going to move an inch to assist you when you behave like a deranged lunatic.” She turned to Nathan Gamble. “I realize this is really none of my business or my sister’s, but I will not be forced to listen to such carrying-on.” After one last glare at Serenity, she resumed her seat.

Dickce laughed. “An’gel the Terminator at your service.” She introduced herself and her sister to Nathan Gamble, and he responded with the traditional, “Nice to meet you.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Nathan,” Mary Turner said. “Why are you here? I know it’s not a social call.”

“I’m having some work done at my house, and I need a place to stay for a few nights until they’re done,” Nathan replied. “I figured here was as good as any. Do you have a family rate?”

Now that relative calm once more reigned, An’gel had a more thorough look at Nathan Gamble. Late thirties, she thought, rather short, probably no more than five foot six, and scrawny. He had thick, curly dark hair that could use a good trim, and he wore dark-framed glasses. His clothes appeared to be clean, but they were old and worn in places. Was he that poor, to go around looking like he wore charity-bin rejects? An’gel wondered. Or was he too cheap to buy newer clothing?

“If he’s going to stay here,” Serenity said, suddenly assertive again, “then I’m going to stay here too. He’s going to talk to me one way or another.”

Mary Turner closed her eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath. After releasing it, she spoke. “We already have other guests staying here, and it’s supposed to be vacation time for Henry Howard and me. Marcelline isn’t expecting to have to provide meals for a lot of extra people, only those who were invited to be here.”

That was pointed enough, An’gel thought, but would Nathan Gamble and his sister be deterred? She doubted they would.

“Marcelline doesn’t have to cook most meals for me, maybe just breakfast,” Nathan said, “as long as you knock the price down. I can go out and get my other meals.”

“We can do the same thing.” Serenity poked Wilbanks. “Can’t we?”

The lawyer did not appear pleased by this appeal. An’gel was surprised he had been quiet through the recent ruckus, not doing a thing to curb his client’s intemperate behavior. “If you say so, I guess we can.”

Mary Turner glanced at An’gel as if she were asking for advice. An’gel thought it would be better not to have these people around while they were trying to work out what was behind the odd happenings at Cliffwood, but she didn’t feel it was her place to tell Mary Turner this in front of Nathan, Serenity, and Wilbanks.

After a moment Mary Turner nodded. “Okay, then, I guess you can stay for a few days. The rooms in the annex are clean, so you can all stay there.”

“No, I want to stay in the house,” Nathan said. “I want to stay in my great-grandmother’s room. The contents belong to me by right, no matter what you say.”

“Miss An’gel has the French room,” Mary Turner said, “so you will have to stay in another room.”

An’gel foresaw a prolonged argument over the room, and she decided that, peeved as she was over Gamble’s behavior, the simplest thing to do would be to let him have the room. There was another bedroom upstairs unoccupied that she could take.

When Nathan started to object, An’gel interrupted him. “Mary Turner, it’s quite all right with me. I haven’t unpacked, so it’s easy for me to move to another room. I did, however, take a short rest in the bed, so it will need to be remade with fresh linen.”

Mary Turner looked as if she wanted to override An’gel’s offer, but a stern glance from An’gel quelled her. Instead she said, “Very well, Miss An’gel. If you’ll come up with me now, I’ll help you move your things to the room on the other side of Miss Dickce.”

An’gel rose to go with Mary Turner, and Dickce rose also. “I’m coming with you,” she said with a bright smile to the others. “I’m sure y’all will excuse us while we take care of this.”

Gamble said, “Sure thing,” and Wilbanks and Serenity nodded.

Mary Turner shut the door to the parlor behind them once An’gel and Dickce had followed her into the hallway. She leaned against the door for a moment. “I’m so sorry about this, Miss An’gel,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to give up your room this way. Nathan is always determined to get his way, and he’s got an obsession with that room. He’s convinced the will is somewhere in the room, despite the fact that it’s been gone over many times and nothing has ever turned up.”

“The problem with an obsession,” An’gel said, “is that the person obsessed tends to lose his sense of proportion and his ability to see things objectively. Nathan apparently is desperate to believe the will still exists, so therefore he is sure it will be found.”

“Sounds a bit like Heinrich Schliemann,” Dickce said.

“I’d hardly equate this with the discovery of Troy or Mycenae,” An’gel said.