Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) (21 page)

“You were telling me about Dinah Tansey’s husband,” I began.

“What happened? Why did she die?”

“I’ll tell you why she died.”

I turned to find Martin Shackelford standing behind me. “She died because that worthless man she married didn’t get her to a doctor in time,” he said.

“Tubal pregnancy,” Mae Edna whispered. “Tube ruptured and the poor thing died from internal bleeding. I’ve heard it near about destroyed her husband. They say he hadn’t been the same since.”

“Huh! Crocodile tears if you ask me! All that caring came a little too late for that poor little gal,” Martin continued. “And
what’s more, he didn’t even have the decency to tell her folks what had happened until she was dead and in the ground.

“Dexter Clark!” Martin spat out the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, and looked at me sharply. “Not worth killin’, if you ask me. You’re not kin to him or nothin’, are you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he began lining up empty containers on the table. “Mary Lynne, this one’s yours! Got your name on it. And, Elaine, I know this pan belongs to you. I seen you when you come in with it.”

“Did you say, Dexter
Clark?”
I asked, dogging the man’s heels. “The man Dinah married was Dexter Clark?”

He nodded. “She married him, all right, but he wasn’t much of a man.”

I looked around for Augusta and saw her standing close by. It was obvious from the expression on her face the angel had heard every word.

Dexter Clark was the name of the man who had died at Willowbrook.

y the time we started back to Soso, the temperature had dropped and an icy wind blew in gusts that chilled me to the bone. We didn’t waste any time crowding into the family van, and Ed Shackelford drove slowly to avoid sliding on black ice in the road.

“There is no way I’m gonna let you drive in this mess tonight to any hotel,” Aunt Eula informed me when I brought up the subject of a place to stay.

“You’ve already been so kind, I don’t want to crowd you,” I said—although I really didn’t relish the idea of driving on slick, wet roads, especially since I didn’t know where I was going.

“Honey, one more is nothing to me. I won’t even know you’re there. You can have Arabella’s room. She’s not due in until the weekend.” Arabella, I learned was the Shackelfords’ oldest daughter, who taught at an elementary school in Covington.

“Hope you don’t mind sharing with Cousin Fannie Sue,” Eula continued. “She just drove down from Atlanta to see Harry in the pageant tonight. She’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Fannie Sue and I had worked together clearing tables earlier that evening, and although she seemed pleasant enough, the
woman must have weighed over two hundred pounds. I hoped we didn’t have to share a bed, but I was so tired, I felt I could probably sleep anywhere.

But that seemed out of the question just then because the Shackelfords wanted to discuss the events of the evening and all of them began to talk at once. Naturally everyone thought Harry was the star of the show. We congregated in the kitchen, where Aunt Eula heated a big pot of spiced apple cider and passed around a tray of fruitcake and sugar cookies. I didn’t see how anybody could possibly eat another thing after what we had put away at the covered dish supper, but the refreshments soon disappeared. I sipped the cider slowly, grateful for its warmth, and wondered if I should bring up the subject of the Tanseys again, but decided it would be best to wait until the next day when I could speak with Martin Shackelford alone.

Just as I finished my drink one of the cousins suggested a game of charades. This was met with boisterous approval and the whole family filed into the living room where they gathered in front of a huge Christmas tree and began to choose sides. I hung back in the kitchen, hoping I wouldn’t be noticed.

“I hate to be a party pooper,” I told Aunt Eula, “but I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow so I’d better get some sleep.”

“I guess I should’ve warned you about these folks,” she said. “They’ll stay up all night sometimes, and be no worse for the wear for it the next day.” She patted my arm. “I expect you’re tired, as well. Come on upstairs and I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

“Count me in, too. I have an early day tomorrow.” Overnight bag in hand, Cousin Fannie Sue followed along behind us.

To my relief, Aunt Eula opened the door to a pleasant, inviting room with crisp white organdy curtains, colorful hooked rug, and
twin beds
. I thanked her and said my good nights, then washed my face, and slipped into the soft flannel gown she left out for me. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I didn’t even think about Augusta until I woke the next morning at a little after eight, but she usually takes care of herself in situations like this, so I wasn’t worried. The house was quiet when I came downstairs, Fannie Sue having risen earlier, and the charade-players still asleep. And although I had thought I couldn’t possibly be hungry again this soon, I found myself devouring crisp bacon with coffee and orange juice and the best waffles I’ve ever put in my mouth.

Because I hadn’t planned to stay overnight, I had nothing to leave with Aunt Eula as a hostess gift to thank her for her hospitality. I would stop at the outlet in Commerce on my way home and have something sent from there, I decided. I was rinsing my dishes at the sink when Aunt Eula came into the kitchen and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Guess what I just found on the hall table—and with my name on it, too? Lucy, are you sure you want to part with this? Please tell me you are, because I can’t bear to give it back!”

I tried not to act surprised when she held out Augusta’s beautiful hand-stitched needlework of a small country church in the snow. It looked amazingly like one we had passed during our drive over the day before.

“Of course I want you to keep it,” I said. “I can’t think of another person I’d rather have it than you.”

“Well, I’m going to take it over to Milledgeville this very morning and have it framed. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like this—it’s absolutely perfect!”

Of course it was
. “Why, thank you, Aunt Eula,” I said, and smiled.

I found Augusta waiting in the car when I left a few minutes later. “Thanks for leaving the needlework, Augusta. It was a thoughtful thing to do and a perfect gift for Aunt Eula. She loved it! … And by the way, where were you all last night?”

“I found the sofa most comfortable after the Shackelfords
finally tired of their game. Have you ever played charades, Lucy Nan? All those signals—it was most enlightening.”

I laughed and assured her that I had as I drove across the street to the lumberyard. This morning the gate was open and the unfriendly dog was nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if I might find a cup of coffee in there,” Augusta said.

“I’ll bring you some if they have any, but on second thought, maybe you’d better come with me, just in case our friend Skeeter is anywhere about,” I said as I got out of the car. A man who looked vaguely familiar—probably one of the cousins—pointed the way to Martin Shackelford’s office and I found him at a makeshift desk covered with blueprints and a disarray of papers.

He didn’t seem to recognize me at first glance so I introduced myself again, reminding him we had met briefly the night before.

“Right. You were asking about Dave Tansey. Might I ask why?”

“My cousin hired him to take care of the family property just outside of Stone’s Throw, and he’s also filling in for our church sexton for a while. I understand you wrote a recommendation for him, and I wanted to find out a little more about his background.” Taking the chair he offered, I told him there had been several puzzling incidents since the family’s arrival.

He frowned. “Like what?”

I told him about finding Dexter Clark’s body at Willowbrook and what had happened to Opal Henshaw at our church. I really wanted to learn more about the Tanseys’ daughter Dinah but couldn’t think of a way to approach the subject tactfully.

“Dexter Clark? So he’s dead, huh? Well, I hate to say it but that ain’t no great loss!” Martin Shackelford threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t think Preacher Dave had anything to do with all that, do you?” He shook his head. “Ugh-uh. That dog won’t hunt! I wouldn’t be surprised if Dexter was mixed up in selling drugs or something. Ran around with a bad bunch. Now,
Dave Tansey—he’s a good man and a hard worker. I hated to see him go.”

“Then why
did
he leave?” Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as Mimmer used to say.

Martin Shackelford stood and poured coffee for himself in a thick white mug and some in a Styrofoam cup for me. I took a sip before I remembered to save the rest for Augusta, who was sending frantic signals from across the room.

“He never came out and said so, but I think he just wanted to get away from bad memories … The Tansey boy got into some trouble in school here, and then the girl married that sorry son-of-a—Sorry, ma’am—and then her dying like that. It like to broke her mama’s heart. Poor woman! Louella Tansey was always quiet, shy, you know. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and this girl’s death like to done her in.”

“When Dinah married, did they live around here?” I asked.

“No, he took Dinah to live somewhere in North Carolina if I remember right. Far as I know, they never came back here, and I was glad to see the back of him. Some say he changed, tried to turn his life around, but he sure as hell had a long way to go.”

The telephone on his desk rang just then and I took the opportunity to thank him for his time and excused myself. He stood and shook my hand before picking up the receiver. It was good to know some men still had manners.

I waited until we got back in the car to give Augusta the coffee. “I guess that settles it,” I said. “The man who died at Willowbrook was the Tanseys’ son-in-law Dexter Clark. But the Tanseys claimed they didn’t know him, and if the family disliked him so, what was he doing out there?”

Augusta drank her coffee before answering. “It does seem suspicious, but it could have been a coincidence, I suppose. Perhaps the Tanseys didn’t know he was there.”

I drove slowly through the town of Soso and turned right toward
Eatonton. “Martin Shackelford said Dexter wasn’t worth killing,” I said. “Obviously, somebody thought otherwise.”

Augusta was quiet for a while and I knew she was thinking. “Did Mr. Shackelford plan to go hunting this morning?” she asked finally.

“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“He said the dog wouldn’t hunt.”

I laughed. “Oh, Augusta! That’s just an expression. It means the same thing as barking up the wrong tree.”

Augusta shook her head and turned up the heater. “Never mind,” she said.

Just before getting back on the interstate, we stopped at the outlet mall in Commerce. Weigelia needed some decent gloves and Julie had been asking for pajamas. For her main present I was giving my daughter a check to buy clothes. She works for a small newspaper in north Georgia, and although she loves her job, I know she has a hard time making ends meet on her small salary.

I made my purchases and was taking my time browsing in the boys’ department considering just one more thing for Teddy when Augusta caught my attention. I looked up to see her standing by the window waving both arms. Her honey-gold hair had slipped over one eye and her long necklace danced and bounced in the sunlight.

“What is it?” I asked, hurrying over. Did angels ever have fits?

Augusta pointed out the window. “It’s him! At least I think it is. See … he’s going into that store over there.”

I looked over her shoulder. “Who? Where?”

“Idonia’s gentleman friend. What’s his name? Melrose! Isn’t that him just down the street?”

I shoved aside a display of toddler-size holiday dresses and pressed my face against the glass to see where she was pointing, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of a man’s back as the door of a shop closed behind him. The man was of similar shape
as Melrose: sturdy and round and a little less than medium height, and the coat looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t be certain. “Are you sure?” I asked Augusta. “What would Melrose be doing here?”