The Angel and the Jabberwocky Murders (26 page)

I shifted in my chair, waking the cat. The contours of the rocker had been molded to somebody with a much bigger bottom than Miss Corrie's skinny little fanny, and the cushion underneath me did little to fill the hollow. I was on the edge of sleep when a car pulled up outside and a low exchange of male voices came from the kitchen. A few minutes later I heard the groaning of footsteps in the small back room and a light shone under the door. Henry must be home. Had he found Miss Corrie and Leslie? I threw off my lap robe to ask James, but he must have anticipated my question because he came to the door and whispered, “Go on back to sleep. I'll wake you if we hear anything, but there's not much we can do until morning.”

The next thing I knew I was looking up at Santa Claus in earflaps, and Augusta was nowhere around.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore,
I thought as I squinted past the not-so-little round belly and into his broad bearded face. He wore an ancient leather jacket over bib overalls and smelled of fresh sawdust. “It's time,” Henry Walraven said.

I yawned and pulled the coverlet up to my chin. “Time for what?”

“If you want to see Corrie and the girl, we'd best be leavin' now.”

I heard a noise behind me and saw that Nettie was already dressed for the outdoors and had even found a pair of Leslie's socks and walking shoes for me. I dug my gloves out of my jacket pocket, pulled the warm hood over my head, and started after them. The three of us left quietly out the front way because James was asleep with his head on the kitchen table and his feet sprawled on either side of his chair. The old Seth Thomas clock on Miss Corrie's mantel that probably had ticked away at least a century said twelve minutes past six, and it was still dark outside.

A current of warm air had descended on the mountain during the night and thick fog clung to the landscape. I could hardly see two feet in front of me, but Henry seemed to know where he was going, so Nettie and I followed along behind him, wading through tall wet grass and shoving aside branches. At one point the old man held apart rusty strands of barbed wire so that we could step through into what once must have been a pasture. On the other side he helped us over a clear stream that gurgled past smooth brown rocks.

Still we climbed. Twigs snapped underfoot and we fought our way through loops of snakelike kudzu vines, dormant and brown for the winter. I smelled wood smoke from somebody's fire, and a couple of squirrels scampered past, but other than our noisy passage they were the only signs of activity. I glanced at Nettie, puffing as she walked, but with a determined look on her round face. That treadmill she'd invested in last year must be paying off, as she didn't seem as out of breath as I was.

Henry had not spoken since we left the house and I had no idea what had happened to Augusta. Were we crazy to trust this strange old man without waking the sleeping policeman? Nettie pointed out that he had even pinned up the two dogs to keep them from following us. Now we seemed to be wandering aimlessly, following no path that I could see, and I had no idea where we were going.

Finally we stopped, and through filmy patches of fog I saw the tops of trees below. It seemed we had been walking for at least an hour, but when I looked at my watch I saw that it had only been about thirty-five minutes.

“Do-law, these old bones are about to give out on me!” Nettie said, taking advantage of a convenient rock to sit and rest. I was glad to join her.

Henry shoved his cap in his pocket and smiled at us. “Oughtta be there right soon now.”

“Where?” I asked. “Where are we going?”

“Goin' to Mama Doc's up on the ridge a piece.”

Nettie wiped moisture from her face with what she once jokingly called her “dew rag.” “Mama Doc's. Is that where they are? Leslie and Miss Corrie?” Her tone said,
You'd better not mess with me, man!

Henry nodded. “Used to be the ‘yarb' woman, Mama Doc did. Still does a little doctorin', I reckon, but she's gettin' on close to ninety. Ain't nobody knows whar she lives 'cept we'uns that growed up here. Nobody goin' find her there.”

After Henry started talking, seems like he didn't want to stop. He told us how Blythe had called the day before and Leslie recognized her voice when she answered the phone. “Scared that young'un plumb to death, and Corrie knew she had to get her away from there afore dark.” He had driven his pickup all over the county the night before, he said, to see if he could catch a glimpse of Blythe's car. “Got good eyesight,” he bragged. “Just as good as when I was a young'un, but I never seen it.”

It wasn't long afterward that I began to feel uneasy. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and longed for a nice safe hole to hide in. I could tell Henry sensed it, too. The two of us walked in silence, with me looking over my shoulder now and then to be sure no one was behind us, but Nettie kept up a constant chatter. Now that she knew Leslie was safe, she expressed her admiration for just about everything in sight: the size of the trees, the view from the hillside, the trickle of water over mossy stones.

Finally, with a shake of his head, Henry laid a finger aside of his nose, making him look even more like an old Coca-Cola ad. Nettie looked at me and shrugged, but plodded on in silence. The land had leveled off some, so the climb wasn't as steep now, but fog had settled even closer in the higher regions, almost obscuring the ground.

“Now, right hyare's where the way branches off,” Henry said in a louder-than-usual voice. “The left leads back down toward the main road, but we want to keep straight. Mama Doc's is jest a little ways ahead.” And he shot out his stout arms like a crossing guard, forcing Nettie and me behind him onto the path to the left, then signaled us to continue quietly up the hillside.

One look at Nettie McGinnis told me she suspected the same thing I did.
Someone—possibly Blythe Cornelius—was following us up the mountain,
and yet I wasn't afraid. Augusta was near. I could sense her reassuring presence, and I silently took my neighbor's hand, hoping to pass along my new-found confidence. At this point it was essential that we remain calm—or “think blue,” as Augusta says. And Nettie must have gotten the message because she gave me a stiff little smile and squeezed my fingers.

Draped in fog and with Henry in the lead, we inched a few steps farther until he directed us to crouch behind a large out-cropping of rock. Nettie's knees popped as she stooped and I held my breath as I heard the crunch of footsteps coming closer. Leaning against the rock, Nettie stiffened and held a hand to her mouth as though to silence her breathing. We knew who it would be.

I heard her breathing before the mist parted briefly and we saw her pass below us. A green plaid shawl covered her short graying curls and she wore the collar of her navy jacket turned up against the weather, but I recognized Blythe Cornelius. And she was carrying a gun. She must have hidden close by in her car all night waiting for us to lead her to Leslie, and if any of us made the slightest noise she wouldn't have to be a crack shot to bring one of us down.

I was getting a cramp in my foot when Henry silently prodded us onward. What if Blythe heard us here? What if she hadn't fallen for Henry's deception and was quietly stalking our footsteps? Then suddenly there was the cabin: Mama Doc's cabin, snug against the mountain with the clouds for a coverlet and the hillside for a lap. And there on the stoop stood Miss Corrie with a big smile on her face, and Leslie, waving, was running to meet us.

I wanted to call out to her, to warn her not to shout, but Henry shook his head and smiled. “Ain't no need to worry now,” he said, plopping down on Mama Doc's big rock doorstep. “The way she was agoin', and with this fog thick as it is, won't be long afore that woman takes to flyin'.”

“Flying?” I felt all weepy watching Leslie and her aunt hugging each other.

“Yep. Nothing out there but a sheer drop-off. Straight down for at least three hundred feet.”

And that was when I heard Blythe Cornelius scream.

“I heard some of the students who left Sarah Bedford have already returned,” Zee announced as The Thursdays gathered in my sitting room to work on our annual project for children who would be spending the holidays at the local hospital. This year, instead of the customary sock dolls, we were making rag dolls from a pattern Claudia had found in a craft magazine. It was too soon to be sure, but the idea seemed like an improvement of sorts.

“Blythe Cornelius always seemed like such a nice person,” Jo Nell declared. “For the life of me, I just can't imagine her being behind a cold-blooded plan like that. Did the woman have no conscience at all?”

“Crazy,” Ellis said. “Pure-T crazy! When people get like that they lose all ability to reason.”

“Blythe was wonderfully patient with Dean Holland, though,” I pointed out. “I think she was genuinely fond of him. You're going to have your work cut out for you, Claudia.”

Our friend would soon be taking over as the dean's assistant as well as various other duties and could hardly wait to begin.

Ellis smiled. “Oh, he's such a teddy bear! You'll get along just fine.” She glanced at my efforts at stuffing. “Lucy Nan, I don't want to start a rumor here, but you might want to keep a closer eye on your little Daisy Marguerite. She looks a little bit pregnant to me.”

“There's no such thing as a little bit pregnant,” I said, examining the lumpy creation I had named Daisy Marguerite because the doll resembled a girl I disliked back in the second grade.

Idonia reached for the fiberfill. “I'm just relieved to know Blythe Cornelius won't ever hurt anybody again. Must've bounced off every rock going down—”

“It was kind of Willene to take in her cats,” Nettie said quickly.

“They should be good company for her,” Zee added, “but if I had an ex like Willene's, I'd rather have a great big guard dog.”

“I think that judge shook him up pretty good,” I said. “And besides, Willene's a lot tougher than we gave her credit for.”

“Sure is. I heard she was toting a piece,” Zee said.

“And even wears white after Labor Day,” Idonia added.

Ellis giggled. “Chews gum in church, too—bless her heart.”

Jo Nell tossed a sofa pillow in her direction. “Oh, hush! You're bad—all of you! Nettie, you and Lucy Nan must have been terrified up on that mountain, knowing that woman was lurking somewhere close by.”

My cousin has become fond of the verb
lurk,
I've noticed, and uses it as often as possible. “What's done is done,” Nettie said, biting off a thread. “I just hope Leslie can put it behind her. Under the circumstances her parents have persuaded her to transfer to another school when she finishes with her treatment.

“I'll never forget Corrie's brother, Henry, though. What a peculiar little fellow he was! I asked him how he knew what to do when Blythe was so close to finding us, and do you know what he said? Told me an angel warned him—said he saw her plain as day! Can you believe that—
an angel?
”

Ellis concentrated on her sewing. “Yes, I can believe it,” she said.

“Well, frankly, I've slept sound as a baby ever since,” Nettie vowed. “What about you, Lucy Nan…Lucy Nan?”

“Earth to Lucy Nan Pilgrim, come in, come in!” Ellis said, and I realized I had let bits of the conversation sail right past.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what to serve Jessica for Thanksgiving dinner since she won't eat turkey,” I explained, although, to be honest, I was a little miffed at my friends' recent secretive activities and wasn't in much of a mood to chat. They had tried to gloss over their little get-togethers, explaining them away with flimsy excuses, such as,
Nettie wanted to show me that old photo of my mother when they were in school together…Zee needed a fourth for bridge…Idonia asked for help refinishing a table…Jo Nell promised she'd teach me how to make ambrosia
…I was beginning to get that “cold left-out feeling,” and frankly, I was sick of it. It was on the tip of my tongue to say just that when Ellis stepped up with a smile.

“Shall we let her in on it, ladies?”

“Let me in on what?” I asked, immediately suspicious.

“We know your birthday isn't until January, but since Julie will be here for the holidays, we thought you might like your present early,” Jo Nell said, producing a large brown bundle she'd stuffed into the hall closet.

“What present?” We usually didn't give birthday gifts, but the year I turned fifty they had all chipped in for a box of denture cleaner and a membership to the AARP, so I was understandably leery.

“It's something you've always wanted,” Nettie said.

Claudia took the misshapen doll from my hands. “Why don't you just open it and find out?”

I glanced up to see Augusta standing by the fireplace with what can only be described as an impish smile on her face, and tugged at the yarn bow. Folded inside the paper was a quilted coverlet of multiple colors and designs. “You've made me a quilt!” I couldn't say another word because the tears were on the spillway and I hate it when people cry over things like that.

“Well, not a quilt, exactly,” Zee said. “We didn't have time for a quilt, so it's more of a throw, but if you feed it vitamins, maybe it'll grow into one.”

“Why, this is from that dress you made to wear to Roger's wedding,” I said to Nettie, recognizing a square of turquoise silk. “And you've embroidered your name on it, too!”

“We all did,” Claudia told me. “That's why it took us so long. I hope you can read mine.”

“It's wonderful! Beautiful!” I held the coverlet to the window light to better see a square of tiny red and white stripes. “Mama made me a dress like that when I was in the fifth grade, remember?” I looked at Ellis. “Where did you find the scraps?”

She shrugged, exchanging smiles with Augusta. “I just had to know where to look.”

Idonia fingered the throw, lingering over a lavender iridescent square in the center. “How lovely! Why, it seems to change colors. Where on earth did this one come from?”

But nobody answered, because nobody knew that most likely it didn't come from earth at all. Except for Ellis and me. And Augusta, of course.