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

by Mignon F. Ballard

  “And who he said he is,” Jo Nell added. “He might not be kin to Al at all.”

  Zee’s once-elaborate hairdo was tumbling over one eye and she shoved it back carelessly as she buttoned her coat. “Now that we know Idonia’s going to be all right, I’m going home and sleep for a week!”

  “I’m with you,” Jo Nell said. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  “Not me.” Ellis stood and stretched, earning sleepy-eyed glances from stragglers in the waiting area. “I was so tired just a while ago I thought I’d drop, but now I’ve gotten a second wind.” She looked around. “Anybody else for coffee?”

  “Ellis Saxon! Do you realize what time it is?” Nettie pointed to the clock. “It’s time to take me home—that’s what time it is, and then you two can stay up all night if it suits you.”

  “I’ll bet I know who has a pot going,” I said to Ellis after we dropped Nettie off next door. And then I remembered: Augusta! I had meant to go back to the hospital snack room and apologize for being such a miserable creature, but Jennifer had been called to the inner sanctums of the ER and I had forgotten all about it.

  “If I were Augusta, I’d tell us to brew our own coffee after the grief we gave her tonight,” Ellis reminded me.

  And that’s what I was afraid of. A light shone from the kitchen window as we hurried up the steps and across the back porch, but I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. What if Augusta wasn’t there? The very thought of it made my insides turn to slush. I had lived for fifty-five years before Augusta Goodnight entered my life, and I could manage without her again, but it would be like saying good-bye to a part of me. A part that was sometimes direct to the point of being blunt, but was also warm and kind and endearingly funny.

  “What’s wrong with you? It’s cold out here! Move it, will you, Lucy Nan?” Ellis stomped her feet.

  The kitchen was empty except for Clementine, who looked up from her sleeping place on the rug and reluctantly came to greet us. The coffeepot stared at us with a cold eye.

  I stooped and took the dog’s big, shaggy head in my arms. I wanted to cry. “Hey, girl,” I said, stroking the soft fur on her neck. “Where’s Augusta?” But I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “In here.” She stood in the doorway of the sitting room wrapped in a ratty old throw I keep on the back of the sofa, only on Augusta it looked almost elegant. From the television behind her came familiar voices from one of those old movies she loves to watch. Augusta adores Cary Grant. She glanced at the kitchen clock and then at us with something akin to relief on her face. It was almost three A.M. “Idonia?” Augusta spoke softly.

  “She’s going to be all right,” I said. “There was something in the punch she drank that made her sleep and they had to pump her stomach … Augusta, I meant—”

  The angel nodded. “I stayed to hear what the physician said about your friend’s condition, but didn’t find it necessary to linger. Do they know how something like that happened to be in her drink?”

  Ellis, with a yearning look at the coffeepot, told her about our conversation with Kemper. “It must have been put in Idonia’s cup when she set it down for a few minutes in the parlor. I think Kemper believes it was Melrose.

  “Lucy Nan and I are sorry we were rude and obnoxious to you back at the hospital,” she added, “but does this mean you aren’t going to make us any coffee?”

  When Augusta Goodnight laughs, as she did now, it clears the air like an April breeze and makes you forget, at least for a little while, your nagging little doubts and fears. “Cinnamon or vanilla? Or how about a dash of chocolate?” she asked, adding coffee to the pot. Augusta never measures and it always tastes just right.

  We all agreed on chocolate and I got out mugs and plates for the apple cake Augusta had made earlier.

  “I hope Bennett won’t wake up and look at the time,” Ellis said, helping herself to the coffee. “I phoned from the hospital and told him I’d be late, but not this late.”

  Augusta sat at the table across from us turning her coffee mug in her hands. “Why Melrose?” she asked.

  I swallowed a forkful of apple cake. It was warm, moist, and spicy. “Why Melrose what?”

  “Why does your policeman friend suspect Melrose?”

  “I don’t know that he suspects him,” I said. “It’s just that we really don’t know much about him. Melrose was supposed to be working at the funeral home, but I guess he could’ve mixed in with the rest of the crowd. Maybe he wore a beard or something.”

  “And Idonia’s locket was missing,” Ellis added. “Looks to me like whoever drugged her punch did it so they could steal the locket.”

  “It’s beginning to look that way,” I said. “She’s worn it all over town since she got it, and last night she seemed to think somebody was following her while we were caroling.”

  “Do you think we should’ve told Kemper about the locket in that photograph at the Tanseys?” Ellis asked.

  “I thought about that, too,” I said. “But we’re not really sure it’s the same one, and Idonia would never forgive us if we got Melrose in trouble over nothing.”

  Augusta fingered the stones in her necklace. “Why not ask your friend Idonia if there might be something significant inside the locket—something the thief might consider important? I can’t imagine why Melrose DuBois would give Idonia a special piece of jewelry like that if he was going to take it back.”

  Ellis shrugged. “Beats me, but I suppose anyone could have done it. Idonia made a big fuss over that hot spiced cider, said she’d be back for another cup later. Several people came in after that because Idonia told them how good it was.”

  She stood to take her plate to the sink. “And I didn’t mention this earlier because I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but there was somebody else there tonight who might want Idonia’s locket.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ellis, just tell us who!” I demanded. It was too late and I was too tired for my friend’s theatrics.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him, Lucy Nan. He was the one who showed us where to park the car. He was all wrapped up, of course, but I’m almost sure it was Preacher Dave.”

  “Dave Tansey? How could you tell? It was dark and that man wore a hat pulled down over part of his face.” But if the locket really had belonged to his daughter, Dave Tansey would naturally want it back, I thought. Louella had said it was a family keepsake.

  “I recognized his voice,” Ellis said. “Besides, I’ve seen Preacher Dave do that kind of thing before. Remember when we went to that big wedding last summer when Claudia’s cousin married and they had the reception at somebody’s estate? He was helping to park cars then. Guess it earns him a little extra money.”

  Augusta hadn’t spoken during this time and now she seemed to be regarding her empty cup as if she expected to find an answer there.

  “So, what are you thinking, Augusta?” I asked, preparing for her quiet words of wisdom.

  “It seems to me,” she said with a whisper of a smile, “that both Melrose and this Preacher Dave have got a lot of ‘splainin’ to do.”

  Augusta has been watching entirely too many I Love Lucy reruns.

  elrose was a little out of sorts that you all didn’t call him last night,” Idonia said when I dropped by to see her the next day. “I really believe it hurt his feelings.”

  After observing her all night, the doctors had dismissed her with instructions for rest and diet, so I made my customary boiled custard run and found Jo Nell there ahead of me with the same. It must be a family thing, but as soon as somebody sneezed at our house my grandmother was already heating up milk in a double boiler.

  We hadn’t been there long before Zee popped in with some of her chicken noodle soup and a big bottle of ginger ale. “I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for spiced apple punch,” she joked. Idonia didn’t think it was funny.

  “Where is Melrose, by the way?” Jo Nell asked. “Did you tell him about the locket?”

 
; Idonia nodded. “No way I could keep it secret. Everybody in town probably knows it by now, and the police have been all over me like white on rice. They seem to think somebody drugged me to steal it.”

  “So what did he say?” I asked.

  “What did who say?” Idonia sprinkled nutmeg over some of Jo Nell’s custard and took a tentative taste.

  “Melrose. What did he say when you told him about the locket being stolen?”

  “He was most upset, of course. Wanted to hurry right over, but to tell the truth, I’m not feeling up to snuff just yet—you know, to put on makeup and all that. Besides, Nathan’s due in later this afternoon. I do wish you hadn’t called him, though. It nearly frightened the poor boy to death.”

  Idonia’s “poor boy” was close to forty years old. “Of course it frightened him, Idonia,” I said. “You’re his mother and he loves you.”

  “Well, I hope he doesn’t start in on my going back to Savannah with him for Christmas. I’ve been rehearsing with the choir since October and I’m not about to miss out on Lessons and Carols next Sunday. Besides, dress rehearsal’s tomorrow night.”

  “Do you think you’ll be strong enough for that?” Zee asked.

  Idonia smiled. “I feel stronger already. This boiled custard just hits the spot, Jo Nell. What kind of extract is that?”

  “Oh, I put in a little of this and a little of that,” my cousin said. I knew very well she used blackberry wine but what Idonia didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Idonia, can you think of any reason somebody would want that locket?” I asked.

  “The police asked that same question, and the answer is no. It isn’t especially valuable except in a sentimental way, of course, and Melrose is as much in the dark about it as I am.”

  “Maybe it will turn up yet,” Zee said. “I know they planned to retrace your steps at Bellawood. Could’ve been a faulty catch or—”

  “I don’t think so, Zee, or they would’ve found it by now.” Idonia set her empty bowl aside. “I think somebody wanted that locket for a reason. Remember when I said somebody was following me when we went caroling?” She shuddered. “Every time we passed along where those big oaks are on Heritage Avenue, I felt like somebody was waiting behind them, and I could’ve sworn I saw somebody dodge under the limbs of that magnolia in the Dorseys’ front yard.”

  “If they meant to snatch that locket it would’ve been impossible to reach it under all those wraps you had on,” I said, “unless …”

  “Unless they intended to grab me along with it,” Idonia added. “Remember how dark it was that night? And we were all bunched together and bundled so, who would’ve noticed?”

  “I’m sure Nettie would,” I told her, in an attempt to put her at ease. My neighbor had admitted she couldn’t follow the harmony unless she was standing next to Idonia.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to go home with Nathan,” Jo Nell said, with a look that had trouble written all over it.

  “Fine, if he’ll wait until after the program Sunday. Now, could I have a little more of that custard, Jo Nell?” Idonia held out her bowl.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Jo Nell said as we walked outside together. “If I were Idonia, I’d be scared to death.”

  “I guess she feels that whoever drugged her cider was after the locket and not her,” Zee said, “but it makes me furious to think what could’ve happened. I certainly hope they’ll hurry and find who did it.”

  But whose family keepsake? I wondered. In all the worry and excitement of the night before, none of us had thought to relate our suspicions about Idonia’s locket to the rest of The Thursdays. And I’d rather have a root canal than mention it to Idonia just yet.

  “Well, I hope Nathan will put his foot down about Idonia staying here through Sunday,” Jo Nell said. “I just don’t think it’s safe for her here.”

  “You know good and well Idonia’s going to do what she darn well pleases,” Zee said. “And what makes you think it will be any safer when she comes home after the holidays?”

  Augusta and Clementine were waiting for me on the back steps when I got home, and naturally Augusta wanted to know about Idonia.

  “She’s doing better than I thought she would,” I told her, surprised to see her waiting in the cold. “You haven’t been out here all this time, have you?”

  “I took another little tour of your grandmother’s old home,” she said, following me inside. “They’ve boarded up the place to discourage intruders.”

  “Good. As long as it didn’t discourage you,” I said. “Find anything interesting?”

  She smiled. “It’s what I didn’t find that seems curious.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I believe we’ve all been looking in the wrong places to discover where that music is coming from,” Augusta said. “Everyone’s been concentrating on those cabinets in one of the front bedrooms upstairs, so I did a little experimenting to find out if they’re being tampered with.”

  “What kind of experimenting?”

  “I strung a very fine hair across the area where there might have been a panel or other opening,” she explained. “It was almost invisible to the eye, and if anyone disturbed it, it’s doubtful they would have noticed it.”

  “And did they?” I asked.

  Augusta curled up on the sitting room couch and took Clementine’s head in her lap. “It hasn’t been touched,” she said.

  “But where else could it be? It has to be coming from somewhere.”

  “I don’t know,” Augusta said, “but I intend to find out. I’m not ready to toss in the dishrag yet!”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, as her meaning sank in. “And where did you learn about that clever little experiment?”

  “I have my sources,” she said, reaching for the TV remote. “If there’s nothing you want to watch right now, I really should catch up on my exercising. I’m afraid I’ve been remiss all week. Do you mind getting it started for me?”

  “Of course not,” I said, feeling a slight twinge of guilt for my own slackness in that area. Augusta had learned to insert a videotape, but she has yet to master the DVD, which she referred to as BVDs until Ellis told her that was an old-fashioned term for men’s underwear.

  I left her there, bending and swaying as gracefully as a ballet dancer to the tune of that old song, “The Continental,” and went upstairs to change. Ben was picking me up for dinner in less than an hour and I hoped I wouldn’t fall asleep at the table after getting to bed so late the night before.

  I showered quickly, smiling as I thought of Augusta’s method of detecting, learned, no doubt, from one of the many mysteries she’d read, and of her funny, upside-down expressions, and I wished I could share them with Ben.

  Later, over dinner, I did tell him what Claudia had observed of the photograph in the Tanseys’ living room. “The same pearls were missing in the locket their daughter wore as in the one Melrose gave Idonia,” I said.

  Ben hesitated with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “Surely you don’t think the man gave Idonia the jewelry then drugged her to steal it back.”

  “Zee told me she heard his alibi checked out,” I said. “Al Evans said Melrose was helping him at the funeral home until after ten o’clock. Idonia was already deep in ‘la-la land’ by then, but somebody did it, Ben. They did it deliberately.”

  His hand reached for mine across the table. “My God, it might’ve been you, Lucy Nan.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I wasn’t wearing the locket. Idonia thinks somebody was following her the night we went caroling … somebody who wanted that locket!”

  During dinner I had toyed with the pork tenderloin, a favorite of mine, and then refused an offer of dessert. The red carnation in a bud vase on the table began to blur in front of my eyes and the room seemed much too hot.

  Ben called for the check. “Time to get you home. Guess I shouldn’t have ordered that wine.”

  “And tired
as I am, I should’ve had better sense than to drink it.” Thankfully, I let him help me with my coat and practically crawled into the passenger seat of the car. Afterward, at home in bed, I remembered something else I meant to tell him. I was going to ask Ben if he thought I should mention to the police about Preacher Dave being at Bellawood the night before.

  I wasn’t surprised when Idonia showed up at dress rehearsal for Lessons and Carols the next night looking, as my granddaddy used to say, like she’d been jerked through a knothole backward. Nathan had personally escorted her into the church and promised to return for her as soon as rehearsal was over.

  “He’s going to stay with me tonight, then come back for the service on Sunday,” she told us, beaming. “And Sara and Millicent are coming, too!” Sara and Millicent are Nathan’s wife and teenaged daughter who, much to Idonia’s distress, rarely visit Stone’s Throw, so at least something positive came of our friend’s ordeal.

  Although we customarily wear black choir robes, Cissy Sullivan, our choir director, had decided white would be more fitting for the occasion and the small choir room was filled with the flurry of flapping sleeves as we tried them on.

  “I look like Moby Dick in drag,” Nettie whispered as she studied her reflection in the mirror. “I’m sure angels don’t look anything like this.”

  Ellis looked at me and grinned. “I think you can take that to the bank,” she agreed, which naturally reminded me of Augusta and what she had suggested the night before.

  “Has anyone thought to ask Idonia if she looked inside the locket her friend gave her?” I asked. “Somebody might be after what’s in the locket instead of the locket itself.”

  It hadn’t, of course, because up until the night we discovered it missing, most of us admired it for what it was—an interesting piece of jewelry and a thoughtful token of affection. After that, Idonia’s alarming experience at the hospital and our concern for her welfare took precedence over everything else.

  I had promised Augusta I would ask Idonia at the first opportunity, and that opportunity was now. I found her sitting at the back of the alto section studying her music. “I hope I can still hit that low F,” she said, looking up. “My throat’s still a little froggy.”