Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) (22 page)

She gave me a not-so-angelic push toward the doorway. “That’s what we want to find out, but you’ll have to move faster than that or we’ll lose him.”

Clutching my shopping bags in one hand and my purse in the other, I careened out the door and skidded wildly into a stunned group of elderly women who were trying to decide where to meet for lunch.

“So sorry. P-please excuse me!” I stammered, giving Augusta the look I usually reserve for people who talk on cell phones during a movie.

Racing down the sidewalk, I followed my impatient angel into a store that sells cookware and kitchen gadgets to find her waiting for me behind a display of spatulas. “Well?” I demanded. “Where is he?”

She nodded toward the back of the room. “He was looking at those aprons back there. He can’t have gone far.”

“Aprons!
How can the man possibly be interested in aprons at a time like this?” I said. “Weigelia says the police want to talk with him about what he might have seen at the church the other night, but if he’s made Idonia unhappy, they’ll have to get in line after me!” I hurried to the area Augusta had pointed out, but Melrose DuBois wasn’t there.

Parting an array of dish towels, I glimpsed the back of a Melrose-like head hotfooting it up the coffeemaker aisle. “I’ll head him off at the pass,” I whispered to Augusta. “You keep watch at the door.”

She smiled and nodded, moving quickly into position. I knew Augusta had watched enough cowboy movies to understand the vernacular. Unfortunately, a very large woman who was obviously
shopping to equip several kitchens for a school of the culinary arts picked that moment to wheel her loaded cart in front of me, blocking both my view of Melrose and the aisle.

I was getting out of breath by the time I reached the checkout counter and Augusta, who simply shook her head and shrugged. Melrose, or the man who looked like Melrose, was nowhere to be seen.

To tell the truth, at that point I was just about ready to give up. After all, we really weren’t sure we were on the trail of the right person, and I had spied a couple of fascinating kitchen aids I was certain would turn me into a gourmet cook and wouldn’t have minded spending a little more time in the shop.

But that was not to be. “There he is in the parking lot!” Augusta said, grabbing my arm. “Oh, do please hurry, Lucy Nan!”

I gave the bewildered cashier an apologetic smile and rushed out the door behind her.

Weaving in and out among parked vehicles, I followed Augusta, who followed Melrose. Now and again she paused to wave me on with a swirl of her cape until we ended up on the other side of the mall. Cheeks flushed with excitement, and possibly from the cold as well, Augusta posted herself in front of a bookstore. For once, I noticed, the cold, damp December wind didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

It bothered me. “It’s freezing out here, Augusta! I don’t see anybody out here that faintly resembles Melrose DuBois.”

“That’s because he’s in the bookstore,” she said, calmly folding her arms. “All we have to do is wait.”

“Well, I’m waiting inside where it’s warm,” I told her. “And I suggest you do the same.”

“But what if he sees you? We don’t want him to slip away again.”

“I know he can’t see
you,”
I said, “but do you think he’s aware that
I’m
following him?”

“I wouldn’t want to take a chance.” Augusta shaded her eyes against the glare of the window and looked inside. “He seems to be taking his time browsing among the books. Let’s give him a little time, Lucy Nan. He’ll have to come out again soon.”

“If I have to stand out here in the cold, at least I’m going to be sure it’s worth the wait,” I said, looking in my purse for dark glasses.

Augusta shivered the slightest bit and tried to pretend she hadn’t. “What do you mean?” she asked.

I put on the glasses, pulled my hat over my ears and wrapped a muffler around the bottom of my face. “I just want to be sure it’s Melrose DuBois in there,” I said, trying to peer through the window without being obvious.

“But, Lucy Nan, I told you it was.”

How could I put this gently? Augusta looked so crestfallen I hesitated to mention that she had been becoming more and more nearsighted in the past few months. Why just last week she’d mistaken our neighbor for a mailbox. Nettie had been standing at the corner in her long blue winter coat waiting for the traffic light to change when Augusta, who was watching out the window, drew in her breath.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “It’s just that for a moment, I thought I saw the mailbox move.”

But as it turned out, I didn’t have to remind her, because Augusta Goodnight was right. One quick glance was all I needed to assure me that the man in the bookstore was indeed Idonia’s slippery “gentleman friend,” Melrose DuBois.

on’t let him see you looking,” Augusta warned. “Perhaps we should step over there and wait. It’s out of the wind and we’ll still be able to keep an eye on the door.”

I followed her to a sheltered spot in front of a nearby shop where we huddled miserably, eyes on the bookstore next door. Augusta wrapped herself mummy-style from head to toe in her limitless velvety cape and I stuck my gloved hands under my arms and stamped my feet to keep them warm, ignoring the curious looks of passersby.

“How many books is the man going to buy?” I complained at last. “Seems he’s been in there for an eternity!”

Augusta laughed. “Not quite, but maybe we’d better take another look.” She gave my arm a comforting pat. “If you’re up to waiting a few more minutes I’ll go in there and see what’s holding him up.”

It didn’t take her long. When Augusta emerged from the store, I knew with one look our quarry had given us the slip again. The angel looked so disappointed I almost forgave her for making me stand outside in the cold. “He must have left by another door,” she said. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“Then he knows I was following him,” I said as we hurried back to the car and blessed warmth. “But what in the world is he doing here? Do you think Melrose might be following us?”

Augusta waited until the heater warmed up before answering. “I think it’s possible he was there ahead of us,” she said.

“Where?”

“In that little town—Soso. When we first arrived yesterday I thought I saw him coming out of a building there.”

“What building?” I asked.

“The post office, I think, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”

Taking my life in my hands, I merged into the traffic on the interstate heading north and home. “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked when I was able to breathe again.

“I only got a glimpse and I wasn’t sure it was the same man I saw at the caroling party.” Augusta fingered her necklace as she watched the landscape rush past. “It puzzles me, Lucy Nan. What was he doing in that town? And if he means well, why did he avoid you back at the shops?”

I thought about that for a minute. “He must be aware that the police in Stone’s Throw want to talk with him, and that doesn’t stack up too well in his favor. It’s all beginning to seem suspicious to me.” I gripped the wheel as if it were Melrose DuBois’s neck. “What I wouldn’t give to have just five minutes with that little snake!”

“Let’s wait and cross that stream when we come upon it,” Augusta said primly. “After all, we don’t have enough evidence yet.”

“How much evidence do you need?” I asked.

“Right now what I
need
is another cup of coffee. Perhaps I’ll be able to think more clearly then.” Augusta loosened her wrap and tucked a stray strand of reddish-gold hair into place. “The cup I had earlier seems to have left me wanting.”

I laughed. “My sentiments exactly. There’s a place this side of Spartanburg where we can stop for coffee and pick up a couple of hamburgers, too. I’ll be ready for a break by then.”

I tuned in Christmas music on the radio and both of us were quiet for the next hour or so, Augusta with her thoughts, I suppose, while I concentrated on the traffic and wondered how The Thursdays were dealing with the situation back in Stone’s Throw.

Later, we ate our burgers in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and shared an order of fries, while reviving on steaming coffee.

“About Melrose DuBois,” Augusta began after I returned from disposing of the wrappers. “He and the people who live on your family’s property—the Tanseys—seem to be key figures in this series of unfortunate events in Stone’s Throw.”

“Right,” I said. “We just need to find the connection.”

Augusta finished her coffee before speaking. “It’s beginning to be plain that the connection is the locket.”

I nodded. “I think you’re right on the money there, Augusta. The locket belonged to the Tanseys’ daughter, then Melrose came in possession of it somehow and gave it to Idonia.
Somebody
wanted it badly enough to drug Idonia and steal it that night at Bellawood. Dexter Clark, who had been married to the Tanseys’ daughter, ended up under the balcony at Willowbrook with his neck broken, and Opal Henshaw, who rented a room to Melrose at the Spring Lamb, died in a suspicious fall from the church balcony. Melrose DuBois seems to be in the middle of all of this.” I started the car and eased back onto the highway. “What is it that’s so important about that locket? I wonder if Melrose knows?”

“If he doesn’t, he must have guessed by now,” Augusta said. She turned to me solemn-eyed. “And didn’t your friend Claudia say that Opal Henshaw seemed unusually interested in it? Lucy Nan, I believe it’s imperative that we find that locket—and soon.”

But how will we do that if we don’t even know who has it?
I wondered.
Why would Melrose give Idonia the locket only to steal it back and risk her life in doing it?

Augusta must have come to the same conclusion. “I think we
should begin with the Tanseys,” she said, almost as if she were thinking aloud. “Didn’t you say Dave Tansey was helping to park vehicles at Bellawood that night?”

“Yes, but one of us would have noticed if he came upstairs—unless it was while we were taking a break in the kitchen.”

“If he were in costume, however, he’d be less conspicuous,” Augusta said.

Somehow the idea of Preacher Dave dressing up in period clothing made me laugh. Tall and lanky with a timeworn face, he would certainly suit the concept of a hardworking farmer of the 1800s, but I couldn’t imagine him going to the extent of securing the proper costume, then scurrying to change into it after a night of directing parking.

“What about Louella?” I said. “Some of the women wore bonnets that night. It would’ve been easier for her to go unnoticed than either of the men. But how are we going to find out where she was during that time?”

Augusta smiled. “Where there’s a will, there’s a … well … a course of action,” she said.

A perfect challenge for The Thursdays.

I found several of them keeping Idonia company at her place when we arrived in Stone’s Throw later that afternoon. While others in the group watched
A Wonderful Life
on television, I snatched Ellis away for a whispered conference in the kitchen.

“Where in the world have you been?” she asked. “We were getting worried.”