Angel's Verdict
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Epilogue
PRAISE FOR
Avenging Angels
“Stanton’s third Beaufort & Company Mystery is a gem. It’s an original and thought-provoking concept, and Stanton’s imagination knows no bounds.”
—Romantic Times (4 ½ stars)
“An engaging tale due to a strong cast starting with the lead attorney. The storyline is fast-paced on Earth and in court ... Fans will enjoy this still unique, quirky, angelic spin on the afterlife.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“A witty and engaging mystery of life after death . . . An entertaining and fun read.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Quick paced with an unusual twist . . . A devilishly good read.”
—The Mystery Reader
“As intriguing and exciting as the first two books.”
—Fresh Fiction
Angel’s Advocate
“Stanton packs this story with murder, mystery, and suspense . . . An entertaining mystery with a dash of the unknown.”
—Darque Reviews
“Stanton has melded legal procedure, medieval philosophy, and theology into a fresh, unique, and ever-expanding world.”
—ReviewingTheEvidence.com
“A very intriguing, impossible-to-put-down mystery.”
—Romance Junkies
“A brilliantly plotted whodunit . . . I couldn’t put it down!”
—Fresh Fiction
“Highly original and plain fun!”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Great new series from Mary Stanton . . . A very unique take on a cozy legal!”
—Gumshoe Review
Defending Angels
“Engaging and charismatic . . . A breath of fresh air for fans of paranormal cozy mysteries.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Mary Stanton brings a unique mixture of charm and quirkiness . . . Bree and her unconventional employees are impossible to resist.”
—Suspense Magazine
“Don’t start reading too late at night—it’s one of those books you can’t put down until you finish.”
—The Compulsive Reader
“Packed with Southern charm and spooky foreshadowing that will delight readers!”
—Fresh Fiction
“This is not one of the cozies that make for some mundane reading, but instead it is a mix of hilarity, heart-stopping danger, and clever storytelling.”
—Roundtable Reviews
“Spooky Southern charm and a wonderfully inventive approach to the afterlife with a celestial twist makes Mary Stanton’s Defending Angels a real standout. Brava!”
—Madelyn Alt, bestselling author of A Witch in Time
“Defending Angels successfully spices the madcap zaniness of Bridget Jones with the determined goodness of a young lawyer fighting to build her first practice.”
—Mindy Klasky, author of To Wish or Not to Wish
“Mary Stanton has truly captured the spirit—or spirits—of Savannah.”
—Don Bruns, author of Stuff to Spy For
“Intriguing and wholly different and original. Defending Angels is at once charming, erudite, and chilling. This book should give Mary Stanton the same kind of cult following usually reserved for Charlaine Harris.”
—Rhys Bowen, award-winning author of the Royal Spyness Mysteries
“An elegant enchantment with a delightful heroine and a historic setting.”
—Carolyn Hart, author of Laughed ’Til He Died
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Mary Stanton
DEFENDING ANGELS
ANGEL’S ADVOCATE
AVENGING ANGELS
ANGEL’S VERDICT
Titles by Mary Stanton writing as Claudia Bishop
Hemlock Falls Mysteries
A TASTE FOR MURDER
A DASH OF DEATH
A PINCH OF POISON
MURDER WELL-DONE
DEATH DINES OUT
A TOUCH OF THE GRAPE
A STEAK IN MURDER
MARINADE FOR MURDER
JUST DESSERTS
FRIED BY JURY
A PUREE OF POISON
BURIED BY BREAKFAST
A DINNER TO DIE FOR
GROUND TO A HALT
A CAROL FOR A CORPSE
TOAST MORTEM
The Casebooks of Dr. McKenzie Mysteries
THE CASE OF THE ROASTED ONION
THE CASE OF THE TOUGH-TALKING TURKEY
THE CASE OF THE ILL-GOTTEN GOAT
Anthologies
A PLATEFUL OF MURDER
DEATH IN TWO COURSES
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
ANGEL’S VERDICT
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / February 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Mary Stanton.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN: 9781101481165
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group
(USA) Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
For S
ally, Bud, and Phoebe
Author’s Note
I have taken liberties with the geography of that most beautiful of cities, Savannah, Georgia, for the purpose of this novel. My apologies to her citizens.
Neither the characters nor situations in this novel are based on actual events.
Cast of Characters
The Winston-Beauforts
Brianna “Bree” Winston-Beaufort . . . appeals attorney for dead souls
Antonia Winston-Beaufort . . . Bree’s sister, an aspiring actress
Royal Winston-Beaufort . . . Bree’s adoptive father
Francesca Winston-Beaufort . . . Bree’s adoptive mother
Cecilia “Cissy’” Carmichael . . . Francesca’s sister, Bree and Antonia’s aunt
Franklin Winston-Beaufort . . . deceased, Royal’s uncle
The Company of Angels (Angelus Street Office)
Lavinia Mather . . . Bree’s landlady
Ronald Parchese . . .Bree’s secretary
Petru Lucheta . . . Bree’s paralegal
Armand Cianquino . . . director, retired law professor
Gabriel . . . the enforcer
Sasha . . . a guard dog
Some Citizens of Savannah (1952)
Haydee Quinn . . . a dancer at the Tropicana Tide nightclub
William “Bagger Bill” Norris . . . gangster-owner, Tropicana Tide nightclub
Alexander Bulloch II . . . son of Alexander and Consuelo Bulloch
Consuelo Bulloch . . . matriarch of the Bulloch family
Lt. Edward O’Malley . . . homicide detective
Sgt. Robert E. Lee Kowalski . . . homicide detective And others
Some Citizens of Savannah (present day)
John Stubblefield . . . law partner, Stubblefield, Marwick
Payton McAllister . . . associate lawyer, Stubblefield, Marwick
Emerald “EB” Billingsley . . . secretary, Bree’s Bay Street office
Sam Hunter . . . lieutenant, Chatham County Sheriff’s Department, homicide division
Cordelia Eastburn . . . Chatham County District Attorney
Sgt. Robert E. Lee Kowalski (ret.) . . . a resident of Sweet Briar Adult Care Facility
Samantha Rose Waterman, nee Bulloch . . . granddaughter of Consuelo Bulloch
Marian Lee Cicerone, nee Bulloch . . . granddaughter of Consuelo Bulloch
Alexandra “Dixie” Bulloch . . . granddaughter of Consuelo Bulloch
Megan Lowry, MD . . . a pathologist
Eric Causton, MD . . . an orthopedist And others
Some Members of the Celestial Courts
Goldstein . . . a recording angel
Beazley . . . attorney for the Opposition
Caldecott . . . attorney for the Opposition
Some Employees of Sundowner Productions, Inc.
On the set of the movie Bitter Tide
Vincent Victor White . . . a producer
Phillip Mercury . . . director
Tyra Steele . . . actress in the role of Haydee Quinn
George Adderly . . . actor in the role of Bagger Bill Norris
Hatch Lewis . . . actor in the role of Alex Bulloch
Justine Coville . . . actress in the role of Consuelo Bulloch
Craig Oliver . . . actor in the role of Lt. Edward O’Malley
Florida “Flurry” Smith . . . scriptwriter
William Dent . . . driver for hire
Prologue
FRONT STREET
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
July 4, 1952
Fireworks on the Savannah River: a starburst of vermillion, gold, and blue cascaded through the inky night, the colors drifting to oblivion on the breeze that came off the midnight water. The crowd gathered on the cobblestone walk along the banks sighed, and sighed again as three more rockets went off in quick succession, showering glitter with careless exuberance. Here and there along the cobblestone street, a scatter of bonfires thrust a fierce orange glow against the shadows.
One of the fires was moving.
Lt. Edward O’Malley, shoulders resting against the warehouse wall, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, pushed his hat a little further back on his head and narrowed his eyes. He was off duty, after a sleepless twenty-four-hour stretch on the Haydee Quinn murder. So what he was seeing wasn’t real. It was a fragment of nightmare, borne of fatigue. A hallucination. There was a pint of rye in the inside pocket of his suit coat; as he reached for it, the screams started: just one, at first, the startled shriek of a horrified woman; then a shout; then the confused clamor of a terrified horde of people.
The blazing fire moved on. The flames billowed up from the handcart; some part of O’Malley’s mind registered it as a baler wagon, maybe from the Cotton Exchange up on Bay Street. And he knew the man who pushed it. The cart bumped awkwardly along the cobbled street, the wheels groaning over the uneven bricks. The youngster behind it cried out a long, continuous mourning keen, a wail of grief, his head thrown back, and his mouth wide open to the dark sky above. Alexander Bulloch. Haydee’s lover. A briefly considered suspect in Haydee’s death, until Bagger Bill Norris confessed and the case was done.
The stench from the cart was overwhelming: a roasted stink of flesh corrupted by flame. The iron wheels groaned, skidded, and the cart tipped over, throwing flaming logs across the stones. A blackened human form hung halfway from the cart. The flames hadn’t yet consumed the hair, which stirred in the wind as if lifted by a loving hand. Black as a crow’s wing, black as a starless night, no longer scented with gardenias, but the scent of burning. Haydee’s hair. Haydee herself hung from the cart, the violet eyes now sockets in her grinning skull, the creamy skin now flaked into ash.
O’Malley turned and ran up the iron steps, as if pursued by the corpse itself.
One
My age is as a lusty winter, frosty, but kindly.
—As You Like It, William Shakespeare
“Alexander Bulloch was insane with grief,” Justine Coville said. “I was a mere child at the time, of course, but the murder made all the newspapers. I’d always been exceptionally sensitive to the adult world, even then. I remember the headlines as clearly as I see this law office where I’m sitting right now. Alexander snatched the body from the funeral home. Said her ghost had come to him and demanded the purification by flame. So he set her body afire.” She closed her eyes dramatically, with a faraway expression, as if looking back sixty years ago. “And all that remained of the body was her long black hair, black as a crow’s wing, black as a starless night.” She sat back in the visitor’s chair. “What do you think of that, Miss Winston-Beaufort?”
There was only one visitor’s chair. Bree and her secretary Emerald Billingsley didn’t have much of a furniture budget. Bree’s desk, a small bookshelf, and the client’s chair were set behind the rattan screen that partitioned the small office into two separate spaces. Bree had the window. EB’s desk faced the office door, which was the old-fashioned type, with frosted glass on the upper half.
“It’s a terrible story!” Bree said. She knew that on the other side of the screen, EB was listening just as hard as she was. Justine Coville’s acting career stretched back more than fifty-five years, and the old lady knew how to hold an audience. She was a . . . Bree searched her mind for a tactful adjective—remarkable-looking woman. She favored bright red lipstick and startling blue eye shadow, and patronized an overenthusiastic plastic surgeon. The effect would have been a little ghoulish if it weren’t for the intelligence in her faded blue eyes. “What happened to Alexander, then? And Haydee’s body? Was it completely burned up?”
Justine shook her head. “There was enough to bury, certainly. She’s over in Belle Glade with a tasteless memorial. A huge marble angel. Of all the beings who may be watching over Haydee Quinn, an angel is the least likely. Of course, since this is Savannah, the most haunted city in the nation, there were those who believed Alexander Bulloch about the visitations from her spirit. There was enough talk about Haydee’s witchy charms when she was
alive, so everyone was more than ready to believe she would come back from the dead and tell Alexander what to do. All those men in her life, my dear! In those days, she made quite a scandal. Folks didn’t think it was natural. So it stood to reason, so the Savannah gossip went, if anyone could come back from the dead, it would be she.”
“Which meant the powers that be didn’t come down too hard on Alexander about stealing Haydee’s body and giving it a Viking sort of funeral,” Bree guessed.
“I doubt they would have in any event,” Justine said candidly. “Alex was a Bulloch, after all. The family doesn’t mean much nowadays, of course. Alexander senior, Alex’s father, didn’t have a lick of sense about agribusiness. Switched from hogs to tobacco in 1961 just before the surgeon general’s report. It was all downhill from there. But back in the ’50s, the family had money, and money means clout. He told Judge Franklin—your great-uncle, of course, who is the man who brought you and me together after all—that she appeared to him three times, begging him to consign her bones to the fire.”