Death by the Light of the Moon by Joan Hess

Cousin Pauline was not the meek, long-suffering sort I’d assumed her to be. In truth, it seemed she’d been nursing a grudge for nearly forty years—long enough to work herself into a murderous rage. As much as I hated to even entertain the thought, she was the only one among us with a shred of opportunity. “I could just kill her,” she’d said. It was an unfortunate comment.
    It might play, I thought glumly. Miss Justicia heads off down one of her favorite trails. Pauline dashes off in pursuit, and seconds later catches up with Miss Justicia, who makes a typically brutal remark. Pauline grasps the handles of the wheelchair and gives a mighty shove. Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety…splash . She then returns to tell us she’s unable to locate Miss Justicia. Fifteen minutes later, we find the body. Pauline collapses, but out of remorse rather than grief.
    If she hadn’t had a nip or two, none of us would have suspected how deeply she hated her benefactress, who’d promised her the house and an income, and then jerked it away with a cackle. Perhaps Miss Justicia had named her heir by the bayou, and the knowledge had sent Pauline over the edge…and the wheelchair into the water.
    I blinked at the teapot. I’d filled it and poured one cup before going outside with the policemen. Unless we were into religious miracles (and we weren’t), how had the innocuous tea been transformed into noxious booze? Pauline could have emptied the teapot, gone down the hallway to the parlor, refilled it with scotch, and then returned to the dining room. It didn’t seem likely, though. No matter what had transpired beside the bayou, the woman was thoroughly stunned.
    Maxie and Phoebe certainly hadn’t done the little errand out of compassion; they were as startled as I by Pauline’s inebriation. Stanford had been outside the entire time. Neither Ellie nor Keith seemed the type to worry about an elderly cousin’s pallor.
    I bent down and looked under the table, expecting to see a bottle. For my effort, I was rewarded with a view of scattered bread crumbs and a lump of bread pudding.
    I was in this pose when I heard voices in the hall. The back of the chair must have hidden me, because there was no intake of breath or acidic comment as Ellie and Keith came to the doorway.
    â€œI saw Daddy out front with a couple of cops,” she said. “He was telling them all the details of the tragic accident, and they were bobbling their wee heads and scribbling notes.”
    Keith snickered. “Of course it’ll be written up as an accident. We saw the wheelchair and heard that gawdawful cackle. We were all with somebody until we found the body, except for the few minutes when Pauline stumbled off in the dark. Only a certifiable idiot would think for a second that Pauline’s got the balls to murder the old girl.”
    â€œWhat about the guy in the parlor?”
    â€œI don’t know what the hell his game was, showing up like that at midnight and saying someone called him. Damn crazy stunt. Hey, the kitchen’s open. Let’s find something decent to eat.”
    â€œNow if Cousin Pauline will just keep her mouth shut…” Ellie’s voice faded as they went into the kitchen and closed the door.
    The certifiable idiot stayed in the silly posture, scowling at the lump of inedibility and wondering if the blood rushing to her head might invigorate a few brain cells. Why was the taxi driver pulling a crazy stunt? What did Pauline need to keep her mouth shut about? If she hadn’t done the dirty deed, then what could she possibly know that might implicate someone else?
    The brain cells remained dormant. I was about to both give up and sit up when more travelers came down the hall. It was not the most dignified position for eavesdropping, but it did seem to work well, and by this time my sense of scrupulosity was history. To put it mildly.
    â€œThat was a close