Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) (27 page)

Ellis nodded toward the area where Opal would have been standing, bending over the railing to reach the lopsided swag. “Can you imagine being shoved from behind like that?” she said under her breath. “Poor unsuspecting Opal!”

A shiver came over me as I looked involuntarily over my shoulder for some wicked unseen hand. Thank goodness Cissy, our organist, began playing softly, and since the hymn was “Nearer My God to Thee,” I thought,
Maybe being in the balcony might have an advantage. Of course, I didn’t want to be quite as near to God as Opal was, just yet
.

I was reading the memorial program when the family was ushered down the aisle to sit in the first pew so I didn’t pay much
attention to them until Ellis nudged me. “There’s seven,” she whispered.

I frowned. “Seven what?” All I could think of was that old tale, “Seven in One Blow,” about a man killing flies, and I didn’t see what that could possibly have to do with Opal’s funeral.

“Seven
people,”
she said. “There were only six for lunch.”

I shifted to get a better look, and sure enough there was an extra man down there.
Oh, please, let him be Terrance
, I thought. He looked to be about the right age with graying hair and a slight balding spot in the back. A brief graveside service was scheduled for immediately after this one and in spite of the rising winds and falling temperature, I was determined to see Opal Henshaw all the way to the end.

“Let’s sneak out the side door,” Ellis suggested as the service ended, and I nodded in agreement. If we could get to the cemetery ahead of the others maybe we could station ourselves to head off Terrance when it was over before he could get away.

“Listen,” I said as we stood for the family to recess. “Cissy’s playing ‘Oh, Come All Ye Faithful,’” and I felt tears welling in my eyes in spite of myself. Opal might have been aggravating at times, but nobody could ever say she wasn’t faithful.

uddled together in the sparse protection of a large sycamore in the corner of the Henshaws’ plot, Ellis and I waited for the family to be seated under the green canopy with Evans and Son in white lettering on the side. Al Evans, who didn’t have a son, or at least any he was claiming, had been using the same awnings since his father died at least ten years ago and they were beginning to show the effects of the elements.

Al himself escorted the family of Virgil Henshaw’s brother, carefully holding the arm of his wife as she made her way down the graveled path from the sleek black limousine, and I wondered if he had heard any more from his cousin, Melrose. As the town’s decorous undertaker, Al Evans would hardly take to the idea of having criminal kin, and if Melrose
had
been responsible for what happened to Idonia or Opal, he might be inclined to cover it up, I thought. After all, isn’t covering things up what undertakers do best? The more I pondered the idea, the more I suspected that Al might even have been the reason his cousin left town. But if so, why had they involved Idonia?

“What are you frowning so about, Lucy Nan?” Jo Nell said as she joined us. “I noticed your scowl two plots away.”

“Tell you later,” I said, keeping a watchful eye on Al, who seemed to be looking back at me, or I thought he was looking at me. It was hard to tell.

“We’re going to try and have a word with Opal’s brother when this is over,” Ellis told her. “He’s the one in the gray overcoat sitting on the end. It’s important, so don’t let him get away.”

“Good grief, you talk like he’s going to make a run for it or something.” Jo Nell drew a fluffy white beret from her coat pocket and pulled it over her ears. “What’s so important that you need to speak with him?”

We didn’t have a chance to answer as everyone grew quiet when the minister began reading a passage from
Psalms
.

I looked at the people gathered around the grave site to see if Nathan Culpepper was among them but he wasn’t there. I hoped he had taken our advice and gone home instead of tearing off on the warpath as he seemed inclined to do.

Beside me Jo Nell was standing first on one foot and then the other and I supposed she was either trying to keep warm or she had to go to the bathroom. Mercifully, the service was brief and those attending paid hurried respects to the family before rushing to the warmth of their nearby vehicles.

The cemetery emptied quickly but the three of us stayed behind while Opal’s brother held a quiet conversation with Al Evans.

“I wish I knew where Al was going when he leaves here,” I whispered. “He looks like he’s hiding something, don’t you think? Kind of like he has a guilty secret.”

“I guess he’ll be going home to get warm like everyone else. The poor man can’t help it if he has a glass eye,” Jo Nell reminded me.

Just then the two men turned and noticed us there, pausing as if they expected us to join them, so we did.

“I wonder if we might have a few minutes of your time,” I said
to Terrance Banks after the three of us introduced ourselves. I looked pointedly at Al but he stood there as if he had no immediate plans to leave until Terrance offered him his hand.

“I’ll drop by before I leave,” Terrance said. “And thank you again for taking care of things.”

“It’s freezing out here,” I said after Al finally left us. “Why don’t we go inside where we can be more comfortable?”

Terrance nodded, looking puzzled. “You knew my sister Opal, then?” he said, walking along beside us. The wind lifted his scarf as he glanced back at the open grave. His face looked lined and sad.

“Oh, my, yes!” Jo Nell said. “And Virgil, too. It’s not going to seem the same without them.”

“I’m a good five years older than Opal,” Terrance said, “so we weren’t very close growing up, and I regret that. My sister was probably around fourteen when I left home, and frankly, we didn’t have a lot in common.” He sighed. “I wish I had made more of an effort to stay in touch.”

I thought about my own brother, Joel, whom I adored but hadn’t seen in months and promised myself I would phone him in Oregon as soon as I got home.

We found the church parlor empty and quickly shed our coats in the warm confines of the room after coming in from the cold. Terrance settled on one end of the mauve-striped love seat and leaned forward, hands on his knees. “If any of you have any idea about the circumstances of my sister’s death, I’d like to hear it,” he said. “The police seem to think it might not have been an accident, but they haven’t been able to pinpoint a motive or give me any kind of explanation.” He drew in his breath. “I’d like to get to the bottom if this.”

“And so would we,” Ellis said. She told him how we had found Opal the night of our Christmas choir rehearsal and how Margaret had tried to revive her.

His voice was bleak. “But it was too late. She was already dead. What in God’s name was she doing up in the balcony?”

“Straightening an evergreen swag,” Jo Nell said. “It was crooked, you know.”

“I see.” A smile played on Terrance Banks’s lips. “She would, of course. I realize my sister could be a bit—uh—overbearing at times, but I don’t understand why someone would want to kill her.”

“Neither do we,” I said, “but there seems to be some kind of connection to a family here, the Tanseys, and a locket that belonged to their daughter.”

Disbelief was obvious in his face. “What does a locket have to do with it?”

“That’s why we wanted to talk with you,” Ellis said. “Opal told the girl’s mother that a locket identical to the one belonging to her daughter had been in her family for years. We thought you might remember it.”

He frowned. “Do you know what it was like?”

“Gold with a raised design of a dogwood blossom—” I began.

Terrance nodded. “Set with six small pearls. It belonged to my grandmother, but Mother passed it along to the older of the two girls, my sister Maisie. I remember Maisie wearing it when she married, but I don’t know what happened to it after that.”

“I think I do,” I told him. I hesitated to bring up the subject of Terrance’s nephew, Dexter Clark, especially since I would have to be the bearer of bad news, but it couldn’t be avoided.

Noticing my hesitancy, Ellis jumped in. “Your sister Maisie’s son, Dexter, was married to the Tanseys’ daughter, Dinah. Dexter must’ve given her the locket as a wedding gift.”

Terrance nodded. “Or his mother did—probably as an engagement gift. That sounds like something our Maisie would do. She died several months before the two married.” He frowned. “My sister spent the last years of her life worrying about Dexter, and I
don’t doubt for one minute that his behavior hastened her death.” Terrance paused as if weighing his words before continuing. “It’s a terrible thing to say about my own kin, but Dexter always was a sorry sort, reckless and rebellious—didn’t give a damn about anybody but himself. What happened to his young wife was a senseless tragedy! I didn’t even know it had happened until months later when I learned about it from a friend, and well … I just couldn’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” I said. “He didn’t even bother to tell her own parents until she was dead and buried.”

“God only knows what Dexter’s up to now,” Terrance said. “I heard he got religion after that happened to his wife, and I hope it’s true—we’ll see. Called me not too long ago, left a message he wanted to get together, but I hadn’t had a chance to get back to him. I reckon he just wants money. Far as I’m concerned, it’s just as well Maisie’s not around to worry about it.”

Ellis and I exchanged glances, hoping Jo Nell would volunteer to deliver the grim news, but she was preoccupied with folding her scarf in neat accordion pleats and wouldn’t even look up.

“I don’t think you’re going to have to deal with Dexter anymore,” I said, and told him what had happened at Willowbrook.

Terrance Banks didn’t speak but sat for a minute with his hand supporting his forehead. Despite his harsh words about his nephew, he seemed to be genuinely upset. Maybe he was thinking of happier times when Dexter was small. Had he read to him from
Winnie the Pooh?
Given him a tricycle for Christmas? Probably not, I thought. The man hardly seemed the cuddly uncle type.

“And you think this locket might have had something to do with my sister’s death?” he said finally. “Why?”

“I’m sure you knew about Opal’s bed-and-breakfast?” Ellis said, and Terrance nodded, wondering, I’m sure, what connection that might have with Opal’s quick descent from the church balcony. “One of her guests,” she continued, “a fellow named Melrose
DuBois, somehow came by that locket and gave it to a friend of ours for Christmas … “

“We can’t be sure,” I said, “but there’s a possibility that he showed the locket to Opal before making a gift of it to—”

“And don’t forget to tell him about Opal’s fruitcake run,” Jo Nell offered.

I frowned at her. “I was getting to that,” I said. “A few days before Opal was killed, she and another member of our church circle took fruitcake and cookies to Dinah Tansey’s family. You see, Dinah’s father, Dave Tansey, is the sexton at our church. During the visit Opal noticed a studio photograph of Dinah on the piano, and she was wearing that locket in the picture.”

“Did Opal ask the woman about it?” Terrance said.

“Yes, of course,” I said, “but she was told that the locket in the photograph had been in the Tansey family for years and that it was probably one of several.”

“Not so!” Terrance rose abruptly and walked to the window where he stood looking out at the playground where empty swings swayed eerily in the wind. “We were told our grandfather had that locket made especially for our grandmother for their wedding day with the date of their marriage inscribed on the inside.” He turned and looked at us. “The woman was obviously lying, but why? Her daughter came by the locket honestly. It’s not as if she stole it.”

I didn’t have an answer for that because it puzzled me as much as it did him.

“But that same night somebody did steal the locket from Idonia,” Ellis said, and told him how our friend’s punch had been doctored during the open house at Bellawood.

When Terrance spoke it came as a growl deep in his throat. “And a few days later my sister
accidentally fell
from the church balcony. And what, may I ask, are the police doing about this? I assume they’ve questioned these people—these Tanseys.”