“Umm!” Augusta peeked inside and sniffed. “A little bit of heaven right here on earth.”
“Amen!” Lucy said, laughing. “And speaking of heaven, how was your visit with Penelope? I’ll bet she was glad to see you.”
Augusta was silent for a minute. “She was of course, and it was wonderful to spend some time with her…”
Lucy frowned. “But…?”
“But I needn’t have been concerned at all. Turns out she was doing just fine without me.”
Lucy laughed. “Welcome to the club, Augusta!”
They found a quiet place to eat on some large rocks beside a clear shallow stream rushing its way through the Blue Ridge Mountains. The rock was warm from the sun and red leaves from a large scarlet oak seesawed from the branches overhead and were carried away by the swirling water. The lulling splash of the stream almost made Lucy forget why they had come.
Augusta spooned up the last of her stew and put the empty container into the paper bag. “How was your supper last night?” she asked, tossing an acorn into the water.
Lucy smiled. “You should know. You ate some.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. How did you enjoy your evening with your guest?”
“You should know that, too,” Lucy said. “I saw you lurking on the stairs.”
“Angels don’t lurk.” Augusta rattled her necklace. “I was merely checking the thermostat. It gets a bit warm up there.”
“Uh-huh.” Lucy concentrated on her barbecue.
“Your privacy was my utmost priority.” Augusta’s tone bordered on haughty. “If you remember correctly, I made a point to retire to my room soon after you greeted your visitor.”
“I know you did, but it wasn’t necessary.” Lucy laughed. “Hang around as long as you like. It wouldn’t bother me.”
“It should.” Augusta looked at her over her tea.
“What do you mean?”
“Being a chaperone isn’t in my job description,” Augusta told her. “I don’t interfere in affairs of the heart.”
Lucy crammed a wad of paper napkins into the bag. “You’re being silly.”
Now it was the angel’s turn to smile. “Just think about it,” she said.
“Give me a break!” Lucy said. But she did think about it. She thought about what Augusta had said as they wound their way up I-26 after leaving Hendersonville. Was she using the angel’s presence as a buffer to keep from getting too intimate with Ben? She had enjoyed being with him the night before and felt relaxed in his company. In spite of what Ellis had said about Ben’s being quiet, Lucy found him to be a good conversationalist and she delighted especially in his dry sense of humor. After supper he had insisted on helping her with the dishes, and they had taken their pie into the small sitting room where they ate it by the fire. Later, Lucy was glad when he suggested a game of checkers, during which the two of them sometimes didn’t speak at all, but played in companionable silence. And when he kissed her good night on leaving, she found herself wanting him to kiss her again.
“This woman who called. Is she expecting you?” Augusta asked as they neared the outskirts of Asheville.
“I spoke with her yesterday and we’re to meet at the restaurant. She gets off today at three, so we should be just in time.”
The Pancake Palace was on the corner of a busy side street and Lucy glanced at the time as she pulled into the parking lot beside it. She had ten minutes to spare. The small restaurant had a sweet, heavy smell, but the white tile floor looked clean and the dark-stained booths lent an air of privacy. There weren’t many customers inside and she had no trouble finding an empty booth near the back. The waitress who took her order looked as if she frequently sampled the fare on the menu and she didn’t seem happy about having to move from behind the counter to wait on Lucy.
“Whadlyahav?” she mumbled, taking a pad from her pocket.
Lucy smiled. Maybe the woman’s feet hurt. “Just a piece of your apple pie and coffee,” she said, noticing the name on her uniform: Gretchen. She was relieved to see this was not the person she had spoken with on the phone. “I’m to meet Juanita Grimble here when she gets off from work,” Lucy told her. “I hope I’m not too late.”
“That’s her at the cash register,” Gretchen said, sighing. “She’ll be through in a minute. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
The pie was hot with a tender, flaky crust and tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg. As she ate it, Lucy noticed Augusta eyeing her with a longing expression on her face from the booth across from her. “I’ll have another piece to go,” she called to Gretchen and was immediately rewarded with an angelic smile.
She was sipping her coffee when the woman slipped into the seat across from her. “You must be Mrs. Pilgrim,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Juanita Grimble.” She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was small—about the same size as her Julie, Lucy thought, with dark curls framing a face that would’ve been plain if it weren’t for her large, expressive brown eyes. Juanita pulled off her apron as she spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time. I have to pick up my little boy at day care in about thirty minutes.”
Lucy introduced herself. “Would you like something to eat? Coffee?”
“No, thanks!” Juanita laughed. “I’ve already had so much, I slosh!”
“I know you’re wondering what this is all about,” Lucy began, and explained as best she could about the elderly woman who had come to her door.
Juanita’s large eyes grew even larger. “My gosh, that’s like something you’d see in the movies!” she said. She frowned as she examined the photograph Lucy had brought. “Yes, that’s the one all right. She sat across from me when I went to see my mother in Greenwood. I remember her because she sort of reminded me of my grandmama—only she kept messing with her purse—opening it and closing it all the time, and she hummed a lot.”
“Hummed?”
Juanita nodded. “Yeah. You know, that tuneless kind of humming. I don’t think she knew she was doing it.”
“Was anyone with her?”
“No. She sat by herself at first, and then this lady who got on when I did moved up into the seat beside her.”
“Do you think they knew each other?” Lucy asked, and Juanita shook her head. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t. In fact, I wondered why she did that because there were plenty of empty seats. She could’ve had a whole one to herself.” She smiled. “I remember thinking I was glad she didn’t sit next to me.”
“We’re trying to find out where she went before she arrived at my door,” Lucy told her. “Do you remember where she got off?”
“Sure do. Got off in Greenville with that woman who was sitting with her. They both must’ve had tickets to go farther because when the driver got back on the bus after we stopped there, he asked if anybody knew where they were.” Juanita leaned forward and frowned. “Oh, lordy, I have a terrible feeling something bad happened to that poor woman! Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I wish I could,” Lucy said. The young woman’s eyes filled with tears when she told her what had happened to Florence.
“Why, I read about her in the paper! There was something on television, too. And to think I sat right there across from her. Bless her heart, I feel just awful about that!”
“I doubt if you could have done anything,” Lucy said. “There’s no way you could have known.
“This woman she got off with,” she continued, “did you say she got on when you did?”
“That’s right. Got on here in Asheville. Bought her ticket the same time I did. Had a bunch of packages. I heard her tell the man at the counter her car had broken down.”
Lucy glanced at Augusta, who was practically hanging out of her seat. “Do you remember what she looked like?” she asked.
Juanita drummed her fingers on the red Formica table. “Early fifties, I’d say, and you could tell she used to be pretty. Well-dressed, and had her hair done just so.”
“Was she tall? Short?” Lucy tried
to picture the person she was describing.
“Sort of medium, I guess, and maybe a little on the plump side.”
“Did you happen to hear her name? She must’ve introduced herself.”
Juanita stared at her hands, turned her wedding ring on her finger. “Seems she did, but for the life of me, I can’t remember it.”
“Could you hear what she said? Anything at all?” Lucy asked.
“The old woman—the one you call Florence—well, she didn’t do much talking, and she spoke so low I couldn’t hear her. Seems like the other one yakked nonstop.”
“About what?”
“Questions, mostly. She was asking that old woman all kinds of questions—things like where was she from, and where was she going, and did she have any family…that kind of thing.”
“And did she get any answers?” Lucy asked.
“Some. I couldn’t hear them, though. But I could tell the poor thing was addled. I doubted if she knew the answers herself.” Juanita looked at her watch. “Sorry, but I really have to go. Eddie gets upset if I’m late. Hope I’ve helped a little.”
“You’ve been a tremendous help! I can’t thank you enough.” Lucy opened her purse to offer a few bills, but Juanita put out a hand to stop her. “Don’t you worry about that,” she said. “I just hope you find the person who did that to that poor old soul.”
“I hope so, too, and I’ll be sure to let you know,” Lucy told her. “Oh, and one more thing…Was the older woman—Florence—wearing much makeup? Do you remember if she looked like she’d just had her hair done?”
Juanita had stood to go, but now she hesitated. “Heaven’s no!” she said, shaking her head. “She might have worn a little smear of lipstick, but her hair looked like a rat’s nest. I don’t think she’d combed it since she left home.”
Lucy wrote her phone number on a paper napkin. “If you happen to remember that woman’s name, please give me a call—even if it’s in the middle of the night!”
“That was enlightening,” Augusta said when they got back in the car. “Did her description help at all?”
Lucy nibbled a fingernail as she waited to merge into traffic. “I don’t know. I’m so confused, I really don’t know what to think. I keep trying to imagine what this woman looked like, and it’s making my head spin.”
“Then I don’t think you should be driving.” Augusta darted a look at the four-o’clock traffic.
“Don’t worry. I don’t mean it literally,” Lucy told her. “It’s just that…well, I don’t like what I’m thinking, Augusta.”
“And what are you thinking?”
“I believe I know who got off the bus with Florence in Greenville,” Lucy said. “But for the life of me, I can’t imagine why.”
Lucy had phoned her roommate when she left the Pancake Palace and the two met for a brief visit at the insurance firm where Stella worked.
“So tell me about your meeting,” Stella whispered, closing the door to her office. “Did you find out anything new?”
Lucy told her about her conversation with Juanita Grimble, but she didn’t tell her old friend what she suspected. She had trouble believing it herself. “I believe we’re a little closer,” she said, “and if you hadn’t helped me out by circulating those fliers I sent, we’d still be back at square one.”
Stella wove a pencil through her fingers and smiled. “I know you, Lucy Nan Pilgrim. You’re holding something back. Come on, give!”
Lucy shrugged. “I can’t promise you’ll be the first to know, but you’re somewhere near the top of the list.”
It was well after dark when they finally reached home and the telephone was ringing as they walked into the house. Probably Roger or Ellis wondering where I am, Lucy thought, hurrying to snatch the receiver. “It’s okay, I’m home!” she said breathlessly.
“Mrs. Pilgrim, it’s me, Juanita,” the voice answered. “You wanted me to call when I thought of that woman’s name, and it just came to me all of a sudden like. I think her name was Lottie or Laurie. It sounded something like that.”
“Could it have been Lollie?” Lucy held her breath.
“Yes! She said her name was Lollie. I’m almost sure that’s what it was.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I don’t believe it,” Ellis said when Lucy called a few minutes later.
“Ellis, who else could it be? I suspected Lollie from Juanita’s description of her even before she thought of the name—but why? What did she want with Florence?”
“From what you’ve told me, it’s obvious Lollie was using her for some reason—don’t ask me what! Surely she could see the poor thing was suffering from dementia, yet she made a point to befriend her on the bus and then whisked her off before they even got to Stone’s Throw.”
“That’s the only part I do understand,” Lucy said. Naturally Lollie wouldn’t want anyone to see her get off the bus with Florence here where everybody knows her.”
“So how did they get here?”
“Rented a car, I guess. It would be easy enough to check.”
“Do you think Lollie knew who Florence really was?” Ellis asked.
“I don’t think so. I doubt if Lollie Pate had ever heard of Florence until now. She hasn’t lived here but—what? About ten or twelve years. Most people wouldn’t know about Florence’s disappearance unless their families were here when it happened.”
“Maybe she wanted to set her up to steal that pin of Calpernia’s,” Ellis suggested.
“Get real! It looks like an expensive piece of jewelry, but it’s not worth killing for…” Lucy paused. “Ellis, I just had the most horrible thought! What if Lollie bribed Florence with that pin in exchange for pushing Calpernia from the Folly?”
“Why would Lollie want her to do that?” Ellis asked.
“Beats me. I’ve had a headache all afternoon just thinking about it.” As she talked, Lucy walked through the house switching on lights, with Clementine frolicking along behind. Augusta stood at the living room window looking out at the dark street and it made her feel better just seeing her there.
She told Ellis what Juanita had said about the condition of Florence’s hair.
“Lollie must have been the one who gave her the makeover. That would be right up her alley. I’ve never seen her that she didn’t look like she just stepped out of a bandbox, and I know she styles her own hair.” Ellis let out a long breath and groaned. “Damn it, Lucy Nan; do you think she was the one who tried to run us down?”
“I don’t know what to think. What should we do, Ellis?”
“I don’t know, but I’m scared. What does Augusta say?”
“She thinks we need to talk to the police,” Lucy said, glancing at Augusta.
“She’s right. This is getting too big for us. Bennett’s at a meeting, but he should be here any minute. Let’s see what he thinks…you do have your doors locked, don’t you?”
“Of course. Do you?”
“Double-locked. I think I hear Bennett now. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“Do you remember that afternoon The Thursdays met here a few days after Florence was killed?” Lucy asked Augusta as she waited for Ellis’s call.
Augusta smiled. “Of course. I knew your friend Ellis could see me and that she was having trouble understanding why no one acknowledged my presence.”
“After everyone left that day, I discovered that somebody had searched Julie’s room, but I never could figure out who it was…”
Augusta nodded. “Lollie Pate, of course! She delivered the tarts.”
“I completely forgot about Lollie,” Lucy said. “I was busy getting ready for the meeting and I didn’t see her out. She must have slipped upstairs while I was in the shower.”
“She was looking for the pin but she didn’t have time to be thorough, so she—or someone—came back while we were at Bellawood with Teddy’s class.” Augusta stood with her back against the dark window, her upswept hair luminescent around her face. The stones on
her necklace, a deep violet now, trailed through her fingers. “It seems, though, that you or someone would have noticed her van in your driveway.”
“Not if she parked it on the street,” Lucy said. “She does that sometimes if she has to make more than one delivery.” She yawned as she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s almost ten, Augusta. I wish Ellis would hurry and call. I feel like I’ve been awake for a week!”
“I’ll put on some coffee and there’re spice cookies in the jar,” Augusta said. “I imagine the others would like some as well.”
Lucy had opened her mouth to ask her what others when Ellis phoned to tell her she and Bennett were on their way over. “Bennett thinks you should call the police,” Ellis said.
“You mean tonight?”
Bennett Saxon had obviously overheard her because he answered, “Yesterday wouldn’t have been soon enough!”
“I understand you circulated fliers with Florence Calhoun’s photograph.” Ed Tillman sat across from Lucy at the kitchen table where, as a boy, he had scarfed down many an after-school snack. Now and then he took a swallow of coffee, so far ignoring the plate of cookies.
Lucy nodded, looking from Ed to his partner, Sheila Eastwood, who sat beside him, notepad in hand. “That’s right. We were trying to find someone who might have seen her before she came here.”
“And we did.” Ellis reached for a second cookie and smiled smugly.
“This woman who phoned you”—Sheila glanced at her notes—“calls herself Juanita Grimble?”
“Because she is Juanita Grimble!” Lucy shoved a piece of paper across to them. “You can talk to her yourself. Here’s her phone number.” She told them about her meeting with the waitress in Asheville. “She remembered Florence as a passenger on a bus trip she took a few weeks ago. It was right before Florence showed up here.”
“Only, Florence got off the bus with another passenger in Greenville,” Ellis told them.
“And that passenger was Lollie Pate.” Lucy watched Ed’s face for a reaction.
Too Late for Angels Page 21