“Then I’ll just put this bottle up on the mantle too,” she said and stepped onto the set with the wine bottle in hand.
“Noooooo,” Felicia screamed and grabbed the bottle and smashed it on the floor.
The cast froze. All eyes were on the little English tart. Even Murray was glued to what was happening on stage.
“Now where were we?” Felicia said as she struggled to regain composure. She placed an arm around Rosemary who flinched at her touch. Felicia saw that she was caught and gave me a look that would melt an iceberg.
Kenny pulled out his handcuffs and approached Felicia.
“Ma’am. I’m going to have to take you down to the station for questioning,” he said as he clasped the bracelets on Felicia’s wrists. “Would someone please sweep up the pieces of the wine bottle so we can submit them to evidence?”
“Murray, do something,” Felicia whined.
Murray looked at Debra then at me. Both of us turned from his glance and let Kenny do his job.
“What’s all this about?” Felicia demanded.
“You are under arrest as a person of interest in the murder of Cyrus Vanderfield,” Kenny continued. “You have the right to remain silent. . .. . the right to an attorney. . . . “
While Kenny recited the Miranda law, Murray continued to stare in disbelief and trotted behind Felicia when Kenny led her away.
“How’d I do?” Miss Merle asked as she fluffed her curls.
“You were wonderful. That was an academy award performance,” I said.
“How did you know?” Debra asked me.
“It’s a long story. But for now, who’s going to play Abby? It seems like that role has been hard to cast,” I observed.
“What about you?” Debra said. “You already know all the lines. It’s settled then. Rehearsal break until 7 p.m. tonight. Be prepared for a long dress rehearsal. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
Then Debra turned to me, “We’ve plenty of time for you to tell me that long story over lunch.”
“Only if we invite the Thursday Club and go to Paulines’ Café. Pauline has become sort of an unofficial member of the club. Not much goes on in town that Pauline doesn’t know about. And while we’re at it, you need to be added to the unofficial roster of the Thursday Club as well. Come on let’s rally the troops.”
19
Is there anything more nerve jangling that opening night? The butterflies in my stomach have morphed into giant moths that endlessly chase their prey inside my anatomy. Why? Oh why? Did I ever consent to play Abby? It seems this role is cursed since it was first cast. I do hope the prompters stay alert and the cue cards are readable. That reminds me, I need to slip my glasses into my pocket just in case.
When Debra agreed to direct this magnum opus, I made a unilateral promise to do anything she wanted for the rest of my life. I didn’t know at the time that tonight’s performance would be one of those promises fulfilled.
Tom reserved seating in the front row armed with smelling salts, Valium, and a Starbucks’ Frappuccino. In case of panic attack, I couldn’t tell what I might require.
Debra appeared as calm as the proverbial cucumber wearing a lime chiffon with lace edging. The color made her green eyes sparkle. Hattie had given her the family heirloom pearls which she proudly wore.
Amy and Suzy were once more dressed in their designer suits with every hair in place and no stray black hairs in sight. George’s keeper has recuperated and retrieved him before any more damage could be done to Amy’s house or Suzy’s psyche. Miss Merle was backstage armed with all the materials she would need for any costume malfunction. Mr. Tremaine was seated with Elvira and the rest of the Golden Palms gang.
First act went off without a hitch as the second or third Mr. Hoskins drank the elderberry wine and died for the umpteenth time. We used Fanta orange drink instead of Kool-Aid because everyone was skittish about the bottles getting mixed up.
Howard was dazzling as Teddy and stole the show with his proclamations of “Bully.” Teddy bounded up and down the stairs with such gusto I was in fear of his loosening the bannister railings. Hattie beamed every time Howard made an appearance.
As for me, I did my best to hold my own in the scenes with Mortimer. Derek had memorized his lines to perfection along with accompanying facial expressions that Cary Grant would be proud of.
Clara played her role as adoring Elain and gave puppy eyes to Derek/Mortimer whenever she was on stage. With the leading cast members doing so well, the supporting cast followed their lead brilliantly.
Murray volunteered to be a cue prompter. It seemed to help him to have something to do and take the edge off his brooding about Felicia.
With the last scene wrapped, the audience of our one night performance stood and cheered. With my last bit of adrenaline, I took my bow with the others. Thank God this is over. Now for the celebration .
20
Tom and I were in the private dining room of the Somewhere Bar. Howard agreed to host the cast party of Arsenic & Old Lace with Paulines’ Café doing the catering. I didn’t think this evening would ever come. Half the town was there celebrating the success of our community play.
Clara and Derek were at another table. They clearly did not want to be disturbed. Tony & Suzy were on the dance floor. I wonder if she ever told him about George. Another time perhaps. Tonight I just wanted to kick off my heels, relax, and sip the free champagne.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, William walked through the door and made a beeline to Amy. She started weeping and he gave her a big hug. They were whispering and smiling. I guess he’s got a lot of ‘splaining to do.
I did make it to the buffet table for some shrimp and grits along with a few hors d’oeurves. I was on my way back to the table when Tom replaced my plate on the buffet table and steered me to the door.
“Wait. I’m hungry,” I protested.
“Too bad,” he replied. “You have a lot to explain about what has happened in the last few days. I’ve been in the dark too long.”
“Let me eat something and I can think better,” I reasoned.
“No we have to take a few days and go somewhere and make sure I’ve got the family issues straight. We can’t go the Las Vegas. You and the girls are probably on wanted posters. We can’t go to the Monastery of Good Hope because you’re on a watch list. Cruise lines are out too. You and the others are notoriously well known,” he chuckled as he closed the door and came around to the driver’s side.
“You are exaggerating,” I replied. “There are plenty of places we can go if they don’t include Scheibley winery, a Korean spa, or Sullivan taxidermy. I’m not sure I told you about all of these. Anyway tonight fulfills my commitment to Debra. I don’t have to direct any more plays for two years. By then I will have figured out a way out,” I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not for two years, the plays were voted to be biannual not biennial. I thought you knew the difference,” he pointed out.
“I feel ill maybe a very long migraine that last for months. How could you let me get embroiled in this mess. I’ve already sworn to do a lot of stuff for Debra, I don’t have anything else to bribe her with.”
“Doesn’t matter. I have it on good authority that she’s moving to England,” Tom announced.
“What? How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because Kenny assured me that if Murray is found to be Felicia’s accessory he will be in a lot of trouble. It would be easier for him to resume his residence in Westminster till her case is decided,” Tom looked rather smug delivering his tidbit of news.
“Besides,” he continued. “I’ve decided that the next trip for the Thursday Club should be in New Orleans right around the Christmas season. I’ve always wanted to visit there and see Papa Noelle, Father Christmas, or whatever they call him and the French Quarter decorated in colored lights.”
“Then I suggest we go to Scheibley & Sons for something sparkling not made with grapes,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Private joke,” I said.
Murder under the Christmas Tree
A Thursday Club Mystery, Book 6
By: Sheila Hudson
Copyright 2016 Take Me Away Books, a division of Winged Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the authors.
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
~1~
What I needed was a good dose of Christmas Cheer. What I had was a soggy bagel and a guilty conscience.
It was Christmas, my favorite holiday of the year. I was in New Orleans, the ultimate place for celebration. And if that wasn’t enough to make me smile, I was with the love of my life and we were alone for a change. Still my conscience plagued me for not being with the Thursday Club during the holidays.
It wasn’t like they wanted a joint get-together. When Athena’s version of Arsenic and Old Lace wrapped, Tom and I desperately needed a break. We’d had rehearsals every night, performances for a week, plus the preparation time, and the clean-up. Tom’s schedule had been demanding. Not only did he have sermon and lesson preparation, but we had special events including the annual Christmas drop in at the parsonage. By December 22, we were ready for a vacation – alone. Alone being the operative word.
During our community play rehearsals, Tom dropped hints to my sister, Debra, that he had never been New Orleans. Later, fleur-de-lis confetti appeared on the coffee table along with brochures touting the NOLA Christmas Fest, Reveillon dinners, and even a picture of Papa Noel and his alligator drawn sleigh. Not too subtle, but it got the job done.
I took the hint and contacted a friend at the Travel Advisor. I occasionally do reviews for them so the Marriott gave us a sweet deal in the heart of the French Quarter. The concierge threw in discount tickets for The Commander’s Palace, Brennan’s, and Pat O’Brien’s.
When I checked into Total Image for a makeover and mani-pedi ‒ Hattie’s gift to the Thursday Club ‒ I caught the gist that everyone had already made plans for the holidays.
Suzy was the first to announce that she and Tony would be spending a few days with the family in South Carolina. I nodded my approval.
Not long after Amy said that she was to meet Winston’s family at Christmas. Winston was George the chimp’s trainer. Amy had chimp sat when Winston was ill. That bonded them in a weird but sweet relationship. Who knew a monkey could be a matchmaker?
As for Hattie and Howard, no announcement had been forthcoming, but it was not for lack of trying on Howard’s part. He would elope tomorrow, but Hattie was reluctant.
Clara was still dating Derek, who was up for promotion at the college. His dossier for promotion and tenure consumed most of his time leaving Clara either alone or by his side bored to the max.
Now that I think about it, we were all recuperating from the play, Cyrus’ untimely death, Hattie’s revelation that Debra was her daughter, and the hubbub of planning for the holidays.
Tom announced to the congregation at First Church that after the Christmas drop in, the two of us would be away for a few days. He was purposely vague.
Everyone had their own lives to live. They had families in other locations. I knew Tom was right; we probably needed a break from each other. Yet without my sidekicks, I’d never have lasted that first year in Athena.
It’s hard enough to be the new kid on the block, but also being the minister’s wife is like wearing an albatross around your neck. My experience is that there are two kinds of people in small towns – those who welcome you and those who avoid you. When I shared this with Miss Merle, she told me about the time she encountered the Baptist preacher’s wife at the liquor store.
“When she saw me, she beat a quick retreat. As if I cared,” she chuckled. “Probably buying rum for her fruitcake.”
I told the Thursday Club what Miss Merle said and we had a good laugh. Reputations are to be guarded at all costs especially in small towns in the Bible Belt where impressions are made quickly and last a lifetime.
In the time we’d been together, Hattie had become my surrogate mom, and even more so when she revealed that she was Debra, my adopted sister’s biological mom. Hattie was one brave woman who had survived cancer and given up her only child for adoption. I could never be that courageous.
As I packed for the journey, I was excited. Tom and I had never done anything like this before. I even splurged on a blue velvet dress for the trip and tucked in my sapphires, a past anniversary gift from Tom. Our itinerary included Jackson Square, the French Market, the Jackson Brewery, lots of museums, and the St. Louis Cathedral. I knew we would try our hand at the Harrah’s’ Casino, soak up some jazz, troll Bourbon Street, and take in the special Christmas happenings. So here I sat at the coffee shop in the Marriott wallowing in guilt and trying my best to smile and appear upbeat. I hope the ruse would fool him. No sense in both of us being forlorn.
Tom was happily perusing all the wonderful dining options available to us. It was impossible to choose. By my calculations, we would have to stay until Valentine’s Day to work it all in. But I had faith Tom would accomplish the impossible. He was in great spirits.
I remember when Hattie gave us the option of Total Image or the Korean spa. Amy said she would take Total Image and remarked, “If I wanted a singed hiney, I’ll just sit on the grill.” We laughed until tear rolls down our cheeks as we recalled our experience at the Korean Spa and the V-steam experience which cooked our proverbial goose.
The conversation that followed was a little survey of each of our plans.
Clara sighed and examined her paint the town red lacquer polish with a gloomy outlook. “I think I might take a course in water colors. Of course they won’t have class Christmas week, but it will be something to fill my time.”
Suzy nodded, “It will be a short trip for us as Tony plans to open Anthony’s Taxidermy after the New Year.”
When it came my time to say our holiday plans, I lied to my best friends.
“Us? Tom and I are going away for a few days for a little R & R. Nothing special.” I changed the subject.
“What do you think about this color? It’s called written in scarlet.” Appropriate. Don’t you think?
I came home, poured a glass of Chardonnay, and shook off my guilt. Nothing is going to interfere with Tom’s holiday –nothing. Note to self: spa visits are more fun without a guilty conscience. And that’s the last I saw of my friends before we left for NOLA.
~2~
The Christmas drop in was more hectic than usual so I didn’t get a chance to say a final good-bye to any of my besties. I told myself I’d call before we left town. I faked a migraine and skipped the annual Christmas Pageant. It wasn’t like I didn’t spend the day before preparing baskets for the needy in the community and making sure that Golden Palms had sufficient treats for the holidays. I knew the girls were all engaged elsewhere so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t see any of them. Maybe that was for the best.
Tom and I packed the car early on the 22nd of December for our dream vacation. He hummed Christmas carols as he loaded the car. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so excited over a trip.
The drive from Athena to New Orleans is a long stretch, with parts of it being nothing but landscape. Translation: eat, get gas, and go to the restroom before you attempt to drive it because there is nothing – and I mean nothing there. Still a road trip is a good time to catch up on our lives, share our feelings, and get to know our significant other better.
Once we checked into the Marriott, I needed a ser
ious nap. We were given a wonderful king bedroom suite with a window from floor to ceiling facing the Mississippi River. I knew how Scarlett must have felt when she and Rhett honeymooned there.
After a bit of refreshment, we headed for New Orleans’ famous levees which protected against the mighty Mississippi River. I read up on the traditional Christmas Bonfires and we were anxious to view them firsthand.
“So you’re the historian here. Why the bonfires?” Tom asked.
“Most versions agree that when the colonists first came here, the children were concerned that Papa Noel, their name for Santa Claus, would be able to find them in the new land. So the solution was to erect bonfires up and down the river. St. James Parish is the highest concentration of bonfires. This project to guide Papa Noelle resulted in gatherings, parties, and paddle wheelers cruising up the river to listen to the music, take part in the storytelling, and enjoy the Cajun and Creole Christmas fare.”
“Wow. I knew that New Orleans is always up for a party, but I didn’t know that it started that early,” Tom remarked.
“I checked out The Legend of Papa Noel: A Cajun Christmas Story by Terri Hoover Dunham. She is a great storyteller. It was a fascinating read since I knew nothing of the Cajun Christmas traditions. According to legend, Papa Noel lives deep in the Louisiana bayou with nine pet alligators. All year, he makes toys for children and on Christmas Eve he hitches up his alligators to his pirogue, which is sort of like a canoe, and delivers the toys to all the good Cajun children. One year the fog gave Papa Noel a hard time so he put his magic gator, Nicollette, at the front of the others so that her green eyes could see through the fog. Does any of this sound familiar?”
“Yes it sure does, but what a great story for the children of this region,” Tom agreed.
Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories Page 27