“It is an excellent idea,” I said. Why didn’t I think of that myself? Then I realized there could be a problem. “The stairs might still be sealed off, and if they are, we’ll have to wait.”

“Can’t you call Miss An’gel and ask?” Laura said.

“Of course. Let me look up the number.” I got up from the table and went to the drawer where we kept the local phone book. I handed it to Laura. “Find the number and call it out to me. You can read those small numbers more easily than I can.”

Laura took the book eagerly and thumbed through the pages. “Here it is.”

I punched in the number and after four rings, the housekeeper answered. I identified myself and asked Clementine whether one of the Ducote sisters was available.

“Miss Dickce here somewhere. Let me get her.” Clementine set the phone down with a slight clunk, and I waited.

It took almost two minutes, but Miss Dickce eventually came on the line. We exchanged greetings, and then I asked whether the back stairs were still sealed off.

“No, they’re not. A nice young officer from the sheriff’s department removed everything this morning, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?”

I explained Stewart’s idea, and she squealed into the phone. “Of course you must do that. How exciting. When can you come?”

“How about half an hour from now?” Laura and Stewart nodded enthusiastically when I glanced their way. “Good. We’ll see you soon.”

“Don’t you have to go pick up Dante?” Laura asked.

“It’s barely noon now,” Stewart said. “He won’t be ready until two at the very least, and they won’t mind keeping him an extra half hour or so. Besides, do you really think I’m going to miss out on this?”

We quickly finished lunch and put everything away. I drove, and on the way we discussed who would do what. I would play Azalea’s role, Laura would be Vera, and Stewart would be the killer.

Miss Dickce was waiting on the verandah when we arrived. She was fairly hopping with excitement, but she took time to coo over Diesel for a moment. Then she hurried us into the house and up the stairs to the second floor. We followed her down the hall to the back of the house, and she pointed out the entrance to the back stairs.

“You turn the light on here. There’s another switch downstairs to turn it off.” She pointed to a switch on the wall next to the door, then flipped it. “The fixture is on the wall to your right. There is another light down at the bottom, but there’s something wrong with the wiring. Since we don’t use these stairs anymore, though, we haven’t had it fixed.”

“Thank you.” I turned to my two assistants. “Give me at least two minutes before you open the door. I want my eyes to have time to adjust the way Azalea’s would have.”