Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) (12 page)

Nettie washed a lemon bar down with coffee. “I don’t reckon Joe Harris Carlisle’s been around lately?”

“Joe Harris Carlisle …?” Melrose looked puzzled at the laughter that followed. “Don’t believe I’ve met the fellow.”

“You will,” Nettie told him. “Comes in every so often to get measured for his coffin.”

“Must weigh over three hundred pounds,” Zee explained, “and just keeps on getting bigger, so Joe Harris has Al Evans measure him now and then just to be sure he’ll fit.”

“That’s right,” Weigelia told him as she helped herself to coffee. “And there ain’t no way you be missing him when he comes in, either.”

Claudia laughed. “If I don’t stop eating, I’m afraid I’ll be in the same fix! These pies are wonderful, Lucy Nan. Where do you get all these great recipes?”

“Must be heaven sent,” Ellis said from across the room, and I could plainly see Augusta standing beside her. The two of them were obviously enjoying their little joke.

“It was a very nice party,” Augusta said after everyone left. “Everyone seemed to enjoy the caroling and the singing was lovely. Your friends are fortunate to be blessed with such lovely voices.”

“I know,” I said, putting the last plate in the dishwasher. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Augusta gave the dog a treat. Poor Clementine had been banished upstairs for the duration of the party and was now basking in the attention being showered upon her. “I’m afraid I didn’t last long enough to hear most of it,” Augusta admitted, teasing Clementine with a dog biscuit under her apron. “As you know, I’m not fond of the cold.”

I nodded. “Did you last long enough to notice if someone was following Idonia?”

“Following Idonia? Why, no, I didn’t see anyone, but then everyone had on so many wraps, it would have been difficult to tell them apart.”

Augusta rewarded Clementine with the biscuit and went to the closet for the broom. I watched in amazement as she twirled it about the floor in so many loops and whirls, before putting it back in its place. After all the guests who had passed through our kitchen that night, not a crumb or a speck of dirt remained. “I wish I could do that. Do you think you could teach me?” I joked.

But Augusta didn’t smile. “Why does Idonia believe someone was following her?”

“She has no idea, but she was truly frightened, and she isn’t the high-strung type.”

“I did notice one thing that rather bothers me,” Augusta said. “That locket Idonia was wearing—the one shaped like a flower—is exactly like the one the Tanseys’ daughter wore in that photograph on their piano.”

re you absolutely sure?” Ellis asked Augusta the next day. “Could you really tell that much about a photograph? Maybe Idonia’s locket isn’t absolutely identical to the one Dinah Tansey wore.”

“There could be several like that,” I said. “How do we know the Tansey girl had the only one of its kind?” Unlike Augusta, I hadn’t paid much attention to the locket in the photograph and held on to the hope that Melrose DuBois wasn’t a liar and that our good friend wouldn’t be hurt because of him.

Augusta continued putting away dishes from last night’s party and her silence seemed to go on forever. When she spoke, her voice was so soft I had to move closer to hear. “The seed pearls are missing in the same places,” she said, turning to face us. “I’m sorry, but it seems that something’s not right.”

Ellis had dropped by after church that Sunday to collect her chafing dish and had surprised us with a huge red poinsettia for the dining room. “I would’ve brought it in time for the party yesterday, but I don’t know where you’d have put it with all that food,” she said.

Frowning now, she traced with her finger the Z-shaped scratch
on my kitchen table where Roger had tried to build a picture frame from scrap lumber for his Boy Scout project. “So where did Melrose get the locket he gave Idonia? You don’t suppose he stole it, do you?” Her face turned almost as red as the plant she brought. “And I was beginning to like him, too!”

Augusta spoke calmly. “Let’s not accuse anyone until we know the truth. No purpose is ever served by hopping over the firearm.”

Ellis rolled her eyes at me and shrugged. “Jumping the gun,” I mouthed when Augusta wasn’t looking.

“Isn’t Claudia supposed to visit the Tanseys this afternoon to help deliver that fruitcake?” I said. “Maybe we can catch her before they leave.”

“That chicken! I knew she’d let Opal Henshaw browbeat her into going, but now I’m glad she did.” Ellis reached for the phone. “I’ll give her a call and ask her to try and get a good look at that photograph.”

“Just tell her not to mention it to Opal,” I reminded her. “The less she knows about this, the better.”

“Didn’t you say the police planned to have another look around your grandmother’s old home?” Augusta asked while Ellis made her phone call. “I wonder if they’ll discover anything.”

“Captain Hardy said he’d let me know if something turned up, but if I don’t hear from him by tomorrow, I’ll give him a call,” I said. “There was a small mention about the man falling from the balcony in the Columbia paper today, but it still didn’t identify him as Dexter Clark.”

Augusta looked thoughtful. “Perhaps the authorities aren’t ready to release the man’s identity.”

“They must have a reason for keeping it quiet,” I said.

Ellis finished her phone call and told us that Opal planned to come by for Claudia promptly at two o’clock to deliver their Christmas baskets. “Poor Claudia!” she said. “It’s probably going
to take them most of the afternoon. Can you imagine spending all afternoon with Opal Henshaw?”

“You did remind her to make a point to look at that photograph, didn’t you?” I asked her.

“I reminded, and Claudia promised. Let’s just hope she isn’t too obvious about it.”

“Well?” I asked Ellis later that day when she came over to dress for Bellawood’s candlelight tour. “Have you heard anything from

Claudia?”

Ellis nodded. She didn’t look happy. “Called a few minutes before I left. She said the locket in the picture looked like the same one to her and that Opal was curious about it, too. Said she was sure she’d seen one just like it.”

Please don’t let this be happening to Idonia!
“What are we going to do?” I said. “Should we say anything to Idonia?”

“Say anything about what?” Nettie came out of my bedroom snapping the elastic in her long skirt. “This blasted thing’s about to cut me in two. If you hear a loud pop, you’ll know what happened.”

The planners of the event had asked The Thursdays, as hostesses, to dress in period clothing and allowed me to bring several items home for Nettie, Ellis, and me. “Try that blue gingham. It might be more comfortable,” I said, and while Nettie was getting into the dress, Ellis and I told her what we suspected about Idonia’s locket.

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her,” Nettie said. “This is not good! It might be better to speak directly to that rat Melrose.” She finished buttoning her dress and tied an apron around her plump middle. “Ah, that’s better! At least I can breathe.”

We dressed in layers because, except for fireplaces in some
rooms, the areas at Bellawood weren’t heated. Ellis chose an ankle-length black skirt with a high-necked white blouse, and draped a blue knitted shawl about her shoulders. Her dark curls, now streaked with gray, looked becoming tied back with a black ribbon. “I’ll be darned if I’m going to look like that woman in the
American Gothic
painting with my hair pulled back and parted in the middle!” she informed us.

I wore a mop cap to cover my short straight hair and slipped on a purple-flowered dress large enough to have room for all the layers underneath.

“Are we supposed to bring anything?” Ellis asked as the three of us climbed into her van.

“Nettie’s punch bowl is already there and the docents are taking care of refreshments,” I said. “All we have to do is meet and greet.”

“I wonder what the others are wearing,” Nettie said, spreading her skirt about her.

“Idonia said she was going to borrow something for herself and Jo Nell from the high school drama department,” Ellis said. “Her niece teaches over there, you know, and Zee told me she was wearing a dress she had in college.”

“Not that Southern belle hoopskirt thing!” I said. “Bellawood’s a farmhouse, not Tara.”

Nettie laughed. “Didn’t she wear that in some kind of pageant one time? Remember when Stone’s Throw put on that bicentennial play? That dress was cut so low I thought surely her bosom was going to bounce right out of it!”

“Genevieve Ellison will have apoplexy,” I said, but I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. There was no way I would be able to fit into a gown I’d worn in college!

It had turned dark by the time we arrived and someone had already lit the luminaries that lined the long drive up to Bellawood. A man dressed for the cold in muffler and cap directed us with a
flashlight into the meadow across from the house where several other vehicles were already parked.

I parted reluctantly with my wrap at the door, while Ellis was whisked immediately to the building that housed the kitchen, and Nettie to the schoolhouse, where, we were told, Jo Nell waited. A quartet from the Baptist Church, scheduled to entertain guests with carols, was assigned there as well. I obediently took my place in the drafty entrance hall and watched them hurry away to spend a toasty evening in their allotted places.

The old house looked festive and welcoming from the wreath on the front door and banks of greenery on the mantel to the pungent smell of wood smoke and pine. I spoke briefly to Andy Collins, known to most of us as the Dulcimer Man, who was setting up in the parlor where candles glowed in hurricane lamps and firelight flickered on the hearth. Zee would be stationed in the upstairs hall, I learned, and Idonia in a second-floor bedroom, and every time I heard footsteps cross the porch, I braced myself for Genevieve’s outburst when she saw Zee’s revealing gown. I could hardly wait!

It served me right, I suppose, to be disappointed. The rose taffeta had faded over the years and Zee had even sewn a lace insert at her throat. Still, she managed to look trim and youthful with an antique brooch at her neck and her hair piled high on her head. Zee had chosen a dark auburn as her hair color for the season and it really was becoming.

“Zee, you look beautiful! Scarlett would be jealous,” I said, ushering her into the hallway. “But where’s the hoopskirt?”

She laughed. “I let Melanie borrow my hoop for a party one time and never saw it again.” Melanie was Zee’s daughter by her first husband—or maybe it was her second. “Anyway,” she added, “can you imagine trying to
drive
in one?” She twirled, showing off dainty slippers. “Consignment shop—aren’t they adorable? Of course, my feet are freezing! And how about this fancy brooch I
found at a flea market? They have the most fascinating things in there.”

Genevieve came along to hurry Zee upstairs before I could answer, and soon afterward a great swirl of frigid air ushered in Idonia stamping her feet and hugging her new suede coat about her.

“Good heavens, it’s cold out there! And Zee just ran off and left me as soon as she parked the car. Had to hike all the way from across the road by myself in the dark, and I’d give my right arm for something hot to drink.” Idonia pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket as she glanced upstairs. “I hope there’s going to be some heat up there.”