The Diva Wore Diamonds

by Mark Schweizer

  “Yeah?” he said, tossing the towel onto the counter. “What’s up, Russ?”

  “You seen Noylene?”

  “She’s off this morning,” said Pete.

  “Well, she’s not at home,” said Russ.

  Pete shrugged. “So? Have you checked over at the Beautifery?”

  Russ got to his feet and looked around impatiently. “I need to talk to her. If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her, will you?”

  “Sure,” said Pete.

  Russ walked out and banged the door behind him. Pete watched him go with a shake of his head.

  “That’s the second time he’s been in this morning,” he said as he walked up to our table. “The first time, he grilled Cynthia for about ten minutes.”

  “Must need to see Noylene,” said Dave, through a mouthful of grits.

  “Brilliant detective work, Sherlock,” said Nancy.

  “I thought you were going to be a bit less caustic,” said Dave. “You might have hurt my feelings.”

  “I tried it. Didn’t work.”

  “Glad to have you back,” I said.

  The cowbell clanged against the glass door again, and Wormy walked in and sat down at the counter where Russ had been just moments before.

  “Was Stafford looking for Noylene?” he asked.

  Pete and I looked at each other, then back at Wormy.

  “Yep,” said Pete. I took a sip of coffee.

  “He’s been up at the double-wide,” said Wormy, his eyes narrowing. “I seen him up there twice since Sunday talkin’ to Noylene. I was in the woods and seen him. He was up there last month, too. One time, Noylene even asked him inside. He’s up to something. I knows it.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to find out about the diamond mine on Quail Ridge,” said Pete.

  “That’d be my guess,” I said. “He’s a real estate developer. Maybe he’s trying to buy the ridge.”

  Wormy shook his head. “She won’t sell it. Been in the family for years. And anyway, I’ve been all over that ridge since Sunday. If there’s a cave, I can’t find it.” He stood up, walked to the front door, then turned and looked at our table. “I’m keepin’ my eye on him. That Russ Stafford’s a snake or I ain’t a capon.”

  We watched him exit and head off in the same direction as Russ.

  “I expect he is a snake,” said Cynthia, having come back in from the kitchen and hearing Wormy’s declaration. She pulled a chair up to our table and sat. “But what’s a capon?”

  “A rooster, I think,” I said.

  “Now, tell me about those diamonds.”

  “They’re real,” I said, “and worth a small fortune. The interesting thing is this.”

  Nancy and Dave stopped eating in mid-mouthful and looked at me in anticipation.

  “You all know,” I started, “that there are all kinds of gem mines up here in these mountains. The most valuable gems that come out of them are rubies and emeralds, but there’s also amethyst, citrine, topaz, garnets—a whole lot of stuff.”

  “How about diamonds?” asked Pete.

  “According to the geologists, there should be, but the only diamonds that have been found in North Carolina are now in a museum in Charlotte. Thirteen of them. No one knows exactly where they came from, but people have been trying to find out for over a century.”

  “You’re kidding? Thirteen?” said Pete.

  “Coincidence?” asked Nancy.

  “I hardly think so,” said Cynthia. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, other than under St. Barnabas, the only other place in North Carolina that might have diamonds is up on Quail Ridge.”

  “Or so says the Rev. Simon Faulks,” I said.

  •••

  At 3:30 in the afternoon, the crowd behind the church was already starting to gather. Bible Bazaar 31 A.D. was gearing up for the second day of revelry. I met Meg in front of the tent of Issachar. I hadn’t donned my centurion outfit yet, but I still had an hour or so before I needed to start terrorizing the children.

  “I talked to Pauli Girl,” said Meg. “There’s definitely something going on, but she won’t say what. All that she would say was that she wasn’t ever going back to Afterglow.”

  “You think she’s being sexually harassed?” I asked.

  “Or worse. She’s not even seventeen yet. What if it’s one of the adults?”

  “That’s what Ardine thinks.”

  Meg looked over toward the shops. “There’re only two sets of adults involved with the youth group. Russ and Brianna Stafford and Gerry and Wilma Flemming. Could be one of the older boys, I suppose.”

  “Ardine says that Pauli Girl wouldn’t have a problem with any of the boys.”

  “Well, tread lightly, my dear,” Meg said.

  “Could you talk to a few of the other girls in the group? On the sly?”

  “I can try.”

  •••

  Ardine brought Moosey to the church since she’d volunteered to work in the bead tent. Bud tagged along as well. I spotted him walking toward the animals.

  “Bud!”

  He turned to me, and a smile lit his face. “Hi, Chief. You need a wine recommendation?”

  “I can always use some advice,” I said with a grin, “but let me ask you something first.” I lowered my voice and my smile faded. “Did Pauli Girl say anything to you about the youth group?”

  Bud shook his head, then looked puzzled. “No, but she’s been awful quiet for the past week or so.”

  I scratched my chin and decided to change the subject. “Well, how about a delicious red wine for Saturday night? Meg’s fixing a pork roast with garlic and rosemary. Roast potatoes, maybe some homemade applesauce.”

  Bud closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “I know just the thing,” he said finally. “But it’ll cost you. It’s about sixteen bucks.”

  “I can just about swing that,” I said.

  “It’s called The Tillerman from Hook & Ladder, a California winery. Vintage 2003. It’s a mixture dominated by Cabernet Sauvignon, but also has Cabernet Franc and a jolt of Sangiovese. It’s a soft, easy-going wine, but the Sangiovese grape adds a spicy element that sort of enables it to fit just right with rosemary-infused pork.”

  I had pulled out my pad and jotted all this down while he was talking. It was always good to have a pad handy when Bud was giving wine advice.

  “A 2005 Jacob’s Creek Riesling would be good if you’d rather have a white,” Bud continued. “It’ll be better than a Chardonnay. It’s got some zesty acidity in the finish with just a hint of apple on the palate. With a side dish of applesauce, it would be great!”

  I kept scribbling. “Uh, huh. Zesty acidity. Apple. Got it.”

  “A third choice would be a red called Rubesco Rosso di Torgiano. Get the 2001. It’s from the Lungarotti vineyards. Rubesco’s only available as an import, though. I think that the Sangiovese-based wines pair well with pork. They have a dry, almost dusty finish, and the light body and plummy fruit flavors are almost chutney-like, and underscore the intrinsic sweetness of the meat.”

  I finished writing and snapped my pad closed. “Excellent!” I said.

  “You’ll let me know how that comes out?” asked Bud. “I’m keeping notes.”

  I had to remember that Bud, despite his encyclopedic knowledge of wine, didn’t actually drink it. Oh, he’d sip with the best of them, but then he’d spit it right back into the spittoon. He’d also spent hours helping out in the kitchen of The Ginger Cat, sampling every herb he could find and finally sniffing the aromas of each dish before it left for the tables. His nose was never wrong.

  “I’ll let you know,” I said. “Thanks!”

  •••

  An hour into the second day of Bible Bazaar, Kimberly Walnut found me shaking down an eight-year-old girl for two coins and an unleavened bagel.

  “Where are your actors?” she asked in a panic. “Your play starts in three minutes.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I took a bite of my bagel as the little
girl ran off. “We’re ready. Let me round up the cast.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” gushed Kimberly, positively ebullient. “I just love this story. Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden and the rainbow and everything.”

  “Right,” I said. “Although the rainbow doesn’t show up until Chapter 7.”

  The play, or rather, the vignette, featured my friend Will Purser, an acting teacher at Lees-McRae College, and Mr. Christopher Lloyd, the interior decorator from Boone I knew could never pass up a good role and a chance to dress up in angel wings. I’d enlisted Moosey and his crew as well. They were to stand in front and announce the days. The crowd gathered and sat on the grass in anticipation of an inerrant interpretation of the story of creation.

  “Day one!” shouted the kids, not exactly in unison.

  “This is the beginning,” roared Will in his biggest and most omnipotent voice.

  Will had explained to me that playing the part of Yahweh is always a tough gig and there are a couple of different schools of thought. One is to understate the character and portray the Almighty as an approachable, loving grandpa, sort of like George Burns. The second is to go ahead and pull out all the stops and make him more of a thundering, James Earl Jones, pillar-of-fire type of guy. Since Will had the voice for it, I’d suggested the latter.

  “No, no, wait…” said Will. “Change that. In the beginning…”

  “But, Boss, we’ve been around for some time now,” said Mr. Christopher, looking quite resplendent as Gabriel in his Victoria’s Secret angel wings.

  “They don’t know that,” replied God. “This is going in the book. In the beginning… Write that down. Got it?”

  Gabriel: Like I’m going to question the Deity. I’ve got it, I’ve got it. What are you up to, anyway?

  God: This is my divine plan. And don’t bother me right now. I’m creating a world.

  Gabriel: I hope it turns out better than Saturn.

  God: I thought the rings were a nice touch, but the helium atmosphere made all the angels sound like Mickey Mouse.

  Gabriel: Who?

  God: Never mind. Now, let’s see. We’ll start with a formless void and darkness over the face of the deep. And now … (watch closely) … LET THERE BE LIGHT!

  Gabriel: COOL! You never did that before!

  God: Heh heh…Tomorrow I’ll clean this mess up. Divide the waters from the heavens, that sort of thing. Day two is always easy. Put some names on this stuff, will you? You know—Day, Night—the usual. Write it up and leave a copy on my desk. You know… I think it’s pretty good.

  “Saturn?” said Kimberly Walnut who was standing next to Meg. “Mickey Mouse!?”

  “Day three!” announced the chorus.

  God: I think I’ll put a fig tree over there in the corner.

  Gabriel: OK. One fig tree.

  God: And some asparagus. I love asparagus.

  Gabriel: Got it. We need to hurry up. You have an appointment with Mister Fancy Pants Angel-Of-The-Morning at six.

  God: Who do you think you’re talking to here?

  Gabriel: Not that I meant to rush you or anything.

  God: Good. Now about that ragweed…

  “What?” said Kimberly Walnut. “Asparagus?”

  Meg pretended not to notice.

  “Day four!”

  God: SUN!

  Gabriel: Good choice.

  God: MOON!

  Gabriel: Nice…nice…

  God: STARS!

  Gabriel: Could use a few more in my opinion…

  God: MORE STARS! BILLIONS OF STARS! UNLIMITED GALAXIES OF STARS! AN EVER-EXPANDING, UNENDING UNIVERSE! Happy?

  Gabriel: Yeah. I really like it. By the way, how did your meeting with Lucifer go?

  God: Not great. And I’m really beat. Let’s call it a day.

  “Day five!” The remnant of the tribe of Issachar was doing itself proud.

  God: OK. Where were we? Oh, yeah. Fill the water with birds, and fill the sky with fish.”

  Gabriel: Umm, Boss? We did that over in Alpha Centauri. It didn’t work out so well.

  God: Oh, right. Let’s reverse it this time.

  Gabriel: You want me to write all this down verbatim?

  God: No. Throw some thous and haths in there somewhere. And make it sound snooty so the Episcopalians will like it. The Baptists will change it back, anyway. Here, try this. “Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creatures that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.”

  Gabriel: You’ve sure got a way with words, Boss.

  God: That’s why I’m God.

  “Day six!” shouted the kids.

  God: Hmm. What have I forgotten? Elephants, lions, cows, pigs, whales, unicorns…

  Gabriel: That really looks like fun. Could I make one?

  God: Well, OK…there’re some pieces over there by the fig tree.

  Gabriel: Let’s see, here. What have we got left over? Fur… duck bill…beaver tail…poison spikes…webbed feet. I think I’ll make it lay eggs. HAHAHAHA! This is great! I’ll call it a…a walrus. No, wait. We did that already. I know…a platypus. What’s this in the corner? A pouch! I’ll give it a pouch. And Wings!

  God: Nope. I need those wings on this flying mouse.

  Gabriel: Aw, c’mon. You’ve already got birds.

  God: NO!

  Gabriel: Oops. Hey, no problem, Boss. By the way, who’s going to take care of all this stuff?

  God: That’s the next part of my plan. Hand me some of that dirt there.

  Gabriel: This isn’t the best dirt. There’s some better dirt over under that apple tree.

  God: This dirt’s just fine—just flick that worm out of there. Now stand back and watch this! (Whooosh)

  Bud, playing the part of Adam, appeared on the stage. He only had a couple of lines.

  Gabriel: Wow. He looks like you!

  Adam: I’m hungry.

  God: How about some asparagus?

  Adam: Who can we get to cook it?

  God: Hmm. You’d better lie down for a little while.

  Gabriel: Can we get ribs with that?

  “And God saw that it was good!” chanted the chorus.

  “Amen,” said Meg.

  “What just happened?” said Kimberly Walnut.

  •••

  My sword was missing, but I was pretty sure where to find it. I found the tribe of Issachar keeping Beaver, the Armorer, busy with questions and utilizing his expertise in edged weaponry.

  “Lookee here,” Beaver was explaining to Dewey. “If you make that grip just a little bigger, you can get more force into your thrust. Then your sword will go right through the belly without dinging off the spine.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Dewey thoughtfully. “Yes, I see.”

  “Where’s my sword?” I thundered, in my gruffest centurion roar.

  The kids all jumped and giggles broke out all over the tent.

  “Hi, Chief!” said Moosey. “You here for our taxes?”

  “Not yet,” I said, placing both hands on my hips and trying out my best Victor Mature biblical epic pose. “I’ve come for my sword.”

  Bernadette giggled again. She was working on a spear about six feet long and topped with a wooden point cut out of a piece of plywood and painted gold. “It’s over there,” she said, pointing to the corner of the tent. “We just needed to see how it looked.”

  I walked over and retrieved it. Moosey was wrapping the hilt of his own sword with a leather strap. He had a wooden shield slung over his back as well. Christopher was trying on a leather breastplate with rawhide ties. His dagger was stuck in his belt. Ashley and Samantha both had scimitars, distinctly Arabian in look and more medieval than biblical, but both nicely decorated with painted unicorns and butterflies. Leaning against a table were a few more spears of the type that Bernadette was fashioning.

  “Have you girls been over to the jewelry shop?” I asked.

  “Nope,” grunted Samantha, testing her blade with
her thumb.

  “Hey!” said Ashley. “I’ve got an idea! Why don’t we put some jewels on these spears?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Bernadette. “Let’s go get some!”

  All three girls tore out of the armorer’s tent, leaving the boys to their work.

  “Where are the other kids?” I asked.

  Moosey shrugged. “They came by, but we told them that Issachar was the warrior tribe. I guess they went to make pots or something.”

  Dewey snorted and looked down, busying himself with his blade.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess that’s it.”

  •••

  Seymour had volunteered to give all the kids camel rides, and even two at a time and circling the garden just once, making sure that everyone had a turn, was a tall order. As it was, the last six children around the park might well have thought they’d skipped the Bible Bazaar and inadvertently entered the camel races at Abu Dhabi.

  As dramatic quality went, the second skit of the day, Paul and Silas in Prison, fell just a little below last month’s fourth grade presentation of Our Tribute to America, in which Moosey donned a short beard and a stovepipe hat and recited the The Gettysburg Address.

  Benny Dawkins had switched his persona from last night’s St. Peter to the narrator. Paul and Silas were being played by Russ Stafford and Gerry Flemming, respectively. There were two prisoners, judging from their shackles and orange jumpsuits, but I didn’t know them. I was pretty sure they were real prisoners because Nancy was standing behind them, her hand resting on the butt of her gun. She saw me and made her way over, skirting the crowd. There was a Roman guard as well, intrinsic to the story, being portrayed by Bud.

  “Those your prisoners?” I asked, as Nancy sidled up.

  “I just borrowed them for a couple hours. They were on a road crew on Old Chambers, picking up litter.”

  “They know their lines?”

  “They’d better. Otherwise, it’s porta-potty cleaning duty for both of them at ASU tomorrow. Hey, did you hear Skeeter got picked up? Drunk and disorderly. He’s in lockup in Boone.” Nancy shook her head. “Stupid.”