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As he was about to head back, he stopped and ducked farther behind the statue. Someone had flitted out of a nearby patch of trees. This person walked quickly toward the grave, looking nervously all around. There seemed an abundance of guilt in the figure’s furtive movements. King couldn’t make out who it was or whether it was a man or a woman, since the person’s outfit consisted of pants, a coat and a cowb
oy hat pulled low.
As the person knelt in front of the grave, King crept forward for a better look. And then the hat came off as the person’s head bowed in prayer. It looked to be a woman, given the length of the piled-up hair. However, from this angle King couldn’t make out the face. Should he walk up and confront the person? But that would give him away as well. He thought some more and then ducked behind the large statue of mother and child once more, picked up a pebble, aimed and sent it sailing toward another large marker about twenty feet to his right and close to Junior’s grave. The result was as he’d hoped.
The woman looked up quickly at the sound of the rock hitting the marker, giving King a clear look at her face. She put her hat back on and ran for the cover of the trees.
King had no reason to give chase. He knew who it was.
Yet why would Sally Wainwright, the Battles’ horseperson, be praying in front of Junior Deaver’s grave?
CHAPTER
50
CASA BATTLE, THOUGH
very large, was very full. Long linen-covered tables had been set up on the main floor with food and drink. After filling their plates and glasses Harry had led King and Michelle to the second-floor study to talk things over.
He explained, “I don’t think we’ll be interrupted here. It’s far enough away from the food and, more important, the liquor. Death makes people especially thirsty, I’ve found.”
King looked at the antique writing desk against one wall. There were fancy writing instruments, heavy bond paper with the initials REB on them, a leather ink blotter and several old-fashioned inkwells.
“Even more than me, Remmy is a letter writer from the old school,” said Harry, who was watching King. “The lady doesn’t believe in e-mails or even typewriters. And she expects missives in kind.”
“I’m glad she has the time to communicate that way. I guess that comes with being really rich. I saw Remmy and Lulu go off together when we got here,” said King.
“Remmy has a private chamber near her bedroom on the third floor,” answered Harry. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall there.”
“I can’t imagine what Remmy said to Lulu to make an instant peace,” said Michelle. “Talk about miracles. I feel like I almost saw the Virgin Mary.”
King took a swallow of his wine and smiled appreciatively. “Valandraud of St-Emilion; Remmy didn’t hold back on the good stuff.” He looked at the older man. “I can fathom a guess about Remmy and Lulu. How about you, Harry?”
Harry adjusted his bow tie and smoothed down his hair before sampling the wine and a crab cake on a plate resting on his knees. “I believe we can take what Michelle said quite literally; in other words, she did make peace, across the board.”
“Meaning what exactly?” asked Michelle.
“That she told Lulu she doesn’t believe Junior committed the burglary and therefore isn’t going to sue for the return of the items. With the criminal prosecution dropped due to Junior’s death, the matter is officially closed.”
“I’m sure she added that she had nothing to do with Junior’s death and is deeply sorry Lulu has lost her husband as well,” commented King.
“And there was probably talk of Remmy’s setting up college funds for the Oxley children,” added Harry.
“And perhaps financial help for Lulu, to finish the house and all,” said King. “She’d already offered that to Junior when she thought he was behind the burglary. She probably felt guilty for all the trouble she’d caused them.”
Michelle stared at the two, bewildered. “You think she covered all that in a few minutes at the cemetery?”
Harry raised his wineglass in a salute of sorts. “Remmy isn’t the sort to let the grass grow under her feet. She might not always make the right decision, but when the woman acts, people know it! Not unlike a certain female investigator of my acquaintance.”
Michelle smiled at his remark and then quickly grew serious. “And Remmy’s change of heart is due to what?”
“As we said, she knows or at least believes Junior was innocent of the burglary,” said King. “In addition, there’s no way Junior could have killed Bobby. Even if he had the necessary medical knowledge, which he didn’t, he would have been hard to miss at the hospital. And I checked: he had an alibi for the time Bobby was killed.”
“So Remmy must be thinking that the murder of her husband and the theft of the things from the house are related,” said Michelle. “If Junior didn’t do one, he couldn’t have done the other.”
“Exactly,” said Harry. “Which proves he was framed.”
King looked around at the walls of books and then glanced out the window at the afternoon gloom. It had started to rain harder. He watched the drops splatter on top of the cars parked in the front motor court.
