There was no point in holding out. The moment I’d agreed to do what the Ducote sisters wanted, I knew I’d have to talk to Azalea. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.”

“How about now?” Kanesha stood. “The sooner, the better. We need to find out whether Mama saw anything. That’s the thing that really puzzles me. She had to be in that stairwell when Vera fell down the stairs, so surely she must’ve seen whoever pushed Vera.”

“But why isn’t she saying anything?”

“Exactly my point.” She stared hard at me. “So when are you going to talk to her?”

“I’m at work,” I said. “I can’t just walk out and go play detective.” Actually I could probably have the time off, but I really dreaded confronting Azalea.

“You couldn’t get some time off today? Surely they’d understand, after what happened.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I’ll see if I can’t take the rest of the day off. The sooner I talk to Azalea and get it over with, the better.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this.” She handed me a card. “My private cell phone number is on the back. Call me if you turn up anything significant.”

“I will.” I stuffed the card in my shirt pocket.

Kanesha headed out the door, and I turned in my chair to regard my cat. “Well, boy, looks like we’re going home early today. Time to get your harness back on.”

Diesel meowed, then stood and stretched. He knew what home meant.

Five minutes later, we headed out the front door. I explained to Melba Gilley, the director’s secretary and an old friend, that I didn’t feel well and was going home for the day. I knew Melba was dying to quiz me over what had happened at the gala, and I promised to tell her all about it later.

On the brief walk home, I pondered where to talk to Azalea. I figured the kitchen might be best, because I tended to think of it as her domain. I was pretty sure she did, too.

The house was quiet when Diesel and I entered through the back door. I hoped everyone besides Azalea was out, because it could be awkward if someone walked in on us.

“Hello, anyone home?” I released Diesel from his harness, and off he trotted to the utility room.

When there was no response to my question, I walked into the front hall and repeated it, aiming my voice up the stairs. About ten seconds passed, and Azalea appeared at the top of the stairs, dust cloth and furniture polish in hand.

“You need something, Mr. Charlie?” She frowned. “You sick? What you doing home so early?”

“I came home early because I need to discuss something with you. Would you mind coming downstairs? It’s important,” I added when she hesitated.

Her frown deepened, but she came down the stairs and followed me into the kitchen.

“Want some coffee?” she asked as she laid the dust rag and polish on the counter. “They’s still some left from the pot Miss Laura made a while ago.”