Helen Louise shrugged. “He’s actually rather attractive, but for Sissy I imagine the main attraction is money. She’s like Morty in that respect, and maybe the two of them deserve each other.”

“Is she really that mercenary?” I didn’t know Sissy well at all, but she hadn’t come across that way to me.

“Not for her sake, no, but she’d do anything to help Hank.”

“I know you mentioned that he’s been having financial issues and could lose his law firm.” I also remembered something about Hank having a gambling problem, too.

She looked troubled as she nodded in agreement. “From what I’ve heard recently, Hank’s on the verge of bankruptcy. There are even rumors that he’s going to sell Beauchamp House. That must mean they’re both pretty desperate.”

TWENTY-FOUR

I pondered what Helen Louise told me. Holding on to the ancestral home was a powerful incentive indeed, especially for a family as proud as the Beauchamps.

“So add both Sissy and Hank to the list of potential murderers,” I said.

“I hate to think of either Sissy or Hank as a killer,” Helen Louise said. “But money—or the lack of it—makes people do terrible things.”

“I wouldn’t want to marry a murderer,” I said. “Or be the sibling of one.”

Helen Louise arched an eyebrow at me. “They may be the best suspects, but they’re not the only ones.”

“The Ducote sisters, you mean.” I sighed. “I suppose you’re right, but I can’t take them seriously as cold-blooded killers. Besides, we don’t know that they have a compelling motive. Intense dislike of Vera isn’t enough.”

“They are ruthless in their own way; cold-blooded is an apt description really.” Helen Louise stroked Diesel’s head. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have dreamed up that award business last night. That was a killing in its own way. They killed Vera’s career as a prominent public figure in one neat gesture.”

“True. They achieved their goal, though, so why would they go even further and eliminate her completely?” I shook my head. “I simply don’t see it. There’s no motive strong enough.”

“That you know of,” Helen Louise pointed out. “What about this business of that old photograph? What if Essie Mae Hobson is the key to it all?”

I had the sudden urge to yawn. The warmth of the fire, the delicious meal, and the two glasses of port all hit me at once, and I felt sleepy. I shook my head in an attempt to make myself more alert.

“I’m going to dig into the Ducote papers tomorrow,” I said. Then the yawn escaped me after all. “Sorry, it’s not the company. Too much good food, I guess.” I yawned again.

Helen Louise started to smile but then had to yawn herself. “I know what you mean. I think I’m starting to fade, too.” She glanced down. “Even Diesel is asleep, or at least looks like he is.”

“Time to wake him up and get him home,” I said, rousing Diesel gently. “Come on, boy, time to go.”