Six Cats A Slayin'

Stewart caught my eye and nodded. He read my expression of mingled disgust and horror all too easily.

“That woman is truly a piece of work,” I said, “if all of this is true.”

“Nobody knows for certain,” Azalea said. “Lots of talk, but nobody’s ever proved any of it. The funeral parlor knows the truth about the cheap coffin and what that poor housekeeper looked like, but they’ve never said a word. I don’t know where all that talk got started.”

“Is there anything else?” I asked. “I mean, what you’ve told me is horrifying enough, but there could be more.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Stewart said.

I looked to Azalea. She shook her head. “Nothing else I know.”

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Stewart said. “What is all this in aid of? It must have something to do with Gerry Albritton’s murder.”

“It does,” I said.

“Was Gerry trying to blackmail Deirdre?” Stewart asked.

“Possibly,” I said. “Look, this shouldn’t go any further, and I know you will both keep it to yourselves.” I waited until they both nodded before I continued. “Helen Louise and I overheard most of a private conversation between Deirdre and Gerry at the party. It sounded like Gerry was threatening Deirdre with something she knew.”

“Something she could use to get Deirdre to ease the way for her with the high-society folk?” Stewart asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Basically,” I said. Stewart startled me by laughing. I noticed Azalea was smiling, too.

“Okay, what is it? What am I missing here?” I asked.

Stewart was still laughing, so Azalea explained.

“People like Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce don’t have much to do with Mrs. Thompson,” Azalea said. “They’re about as high in high society here as you can get, and those other society folks follow their lead.”

Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce Ducote, dear friends of mine, were indeed the true doyennes of Athena society. Given their constant generosity to many charitable causes, I could see why they wouldn’t find Deirdre Thompson at all congenial.

“If somebody told Gerry Albritton that Deirdre was her ticket to high society, they were either leading her on or didn’t have a clue,” Stewart said.

Had Jared Carter encouraged Gerry to cultivate Deirdre? As her silent partner, he was probably the likeliest candidate. He was not in that rarified atmosphere himself, so perhaps he really didn’t know the truth about Deirdre’s standing with the real aristocracy in Athena.

The question that occurred to me was what kind of proof Gerry could have had to make good on her threat to expose Deirdre. Maybe she was connected to the housekeeper somehow?

“Do you know what the housekeeper’s name was?” I asked.

Stewart shook his head. “I might have known it at one time, but at the moment I can’t dredge it up.”

“Azalea?” I asked.

“I think her name was Glory Smalls,” Azalea said.

“Any connection to the Albrittons?” I asked.

Azalea frowned. “I’ll have to think about that. I don’t believe the girl came from around here. I can ask a couple of friends who might know something.”

“Thanks.” I knew Azalea would do it discreetly. “If you come up with anything, it could help. Before I forget, is Kanesha familiar with these rumors?”

“Yes,” Azalea said.

“All right, I’m done.” I smiled at them. “I have no idea if what we’ve talked about has a bearing on the investigation, but you never know.”

Azalea stood. “Are you ready for lunch now?”

I had been so involved with my quest for information, I had forgotten about lunch.

“My goodness, yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, I hope it’s not ruined because of my questions.”

“No, it’s not.” Azalea went to the fridge and pulled out a salad bowl, one of the larger ones. She brought it to the table. “Grilled chicken salad. I know you prefer the chicken chilled.”

“It looks delicious,” I said. “Yes, definitely chilled.”

Azalea looked at Stewart. “There’s another one, if you want it.”

“Yes, please,” Stewart said. “I’m in the mood for a good salad.”

Azalea took another bowl from the fridge and set it in front of Stewart. Next, she pulled out three bottles of dressing. I almost always chose my favorite, Thousand Island. Stewart varied his choices between balsamic vinaigrette and ranch. Today he chose the former.

After Azalea gave us utensils and napkins, Stewart and I dug in. A glass of sweet tea appeared by my place, and Stewart received a large glass of filtered water before Azalea left the kitchen. Azalea never ate with us even though I would have been happy to have her join. I knew she did eat lunch, but usually when she was on her own in the kitchen.

I put my fork down. Sean. I hadn’t heard from him. I wasn’t going to wait any longer for him to call. I dug out my phone and hit Speed Dial. The call went to his voice mail after six rings. I ended the call. I decided to text instead. He might have been with a client when I called. That was me calling. Update on Alex and Rosie? I set the phone aside and resumed eating my salad.

Stewart had watched me closely. “Are you trying to reach Sean?”