The Diva Wore Diamonds (25 page)

“
When can you pick them up?” asked Bucky.

“
Is Friday okay?” I said.

“
That should be fine,” said Bucky. “I need them back on Monday. Queen Margrethe II of Denmark is coming over to Dollywood, and the mayor wants to have the bears walking around all day in case she heads over this way for some miniature golf or something.”

“
I’ll get them back to you Sunday night.”

I borrowed a harpsichord from Ian Burch and moved the altar toward the front wall to give ourselves a bit more playing area. Meg and Cynthia finished the costumes, and our last dress rehearsal was scheduled for Saturday morning.

Chapter 20

Pedro met me at the Noring mansion just a little before two.

“
I talked to Hammer,” he said. “Twelve-Fingered Teddy had a platypus, sure enough. How did you know?”

“
I figured it out. Let’s get Constance and get out of here before it all shakes loose. I’ll fill you in later.”

The door was open and we walked into the hallway. I called her name. No answer. It was as though she’d gone on a European vacation—without taking any luggage, leaving the front door open, forgetting to notify the mailman, and not canceling her newspaper—so not really.

We found her in the library, reclining on the davenport and draped in diamonds: a diamond tiara on her head, a diamond choker around her goose-like neck, diamond bracelets on both wrists and six diamond rings the size of golf-balls. She was cold, cold as the ice she was wearing.

“
Poison,” I said, pointing to the wriggling mass beneath her frock. I reached under the clothes, pulled out a platypus by its tail, and held it up for inspection.

“
Nature’s anomaly,” I said. “The Creator’s little joke. Webbed feet, fur, a beaver tail, a duck-bill, a pouch, and, to add to the fun, these little rascals lay eggs.”

“
So how was she poisoned?” asked Pedro, glaring at the squirming creature the way a librarian looks at that guy who just comes in to read the newspapers.

“
Did I forget to mention? These guys also have poison spikes,” I said, pointing to the rear feet of the squirming varmint. “They’re so darn cute, I guess she forgot about the poison spikes. Rookie mistake. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times.”

“
So, she and Wiggy…”

“
Yep,” I said. “Twelve-Fingered Teddy was in on it, too.”

I reached into the pouch of the little duck-mole and pulled out a handful of diamonds and a thumb-drive. “They were smuggling the diamonds in the pouches of the platypodes. Aussi diamonds, to pay for the construction of the Creation Museum. Then they were giving these snappers away as pets to upscale Episcopalian dayschools to teach them the folly of Darwinian evolution.”

“
Ingenious,” said Pedro. “And the thumb-drive?”

“
Wiggy’s files. I’ll make a copy just in case, then turn it over to the Bishop and collect our fee.”

“
But who killed them?”

“
Accidents,” I shrugged. “You can’t keep a platypus in your pants without consequences. Just ask Bill Clinton.”

•••

The bear costumes were superb. Teeth and claws, realistic enough to make Queen Margrethe II reach for her scatter-gun. The face of the person inside was right at the base of the bear’s neck, hiding behind a piece of black netting that would conceal his features, while the neck and head of the fierce beast soared upward to reach seven and a half feet in height. The fur was black and thick and actually smelled as if it came off a bear. I suspected that these costumes hadn’t been cleaned for a while.

I had hired two basses for the roles of the bears. One was a voice teacher at Appalachian State by the name of Zeb Martin. He had a huge, dark voice and had sung opera in Germany for a number of years before coming back to the States to teach. The other was a Presbyterian church choir director from Greenville. Darius Reeves had a fine voice as well and had welcomed the opportunity to skip out during his church’s Youth Mission Sunday. I’d heard both of them at a performance of Handel’s
Israel in Egypt
in the fall where the only singing for the bass soloists is a duet that brings down the house. Almost literally. No delicate singing here. It’s a contest to see which bass will remain standing at the end. By the time
The Lord Is A Man of War
has finished, if there isn’t plaster loose on the ceiling, someone hasn’t been doing his job. I expected no less from my bears.

The tenor was Dr. Cleamon “Codfish” Downs, a retired voice teacher who, in his 60s, still had a pretty good high ‘G.’ Codfish supplemented his retirement income by selling fish, stolen from a local fish farm, out of his trunk. It wasn’t uncommon to hear
Nessun dorma
while buying a brace of purloined rainbow trout. I’d cornered him on Old Chambers, bought some freshwater shrimp, and talked him into playing the part of Elisha.

The kids were dressed in their Bible Bazaar 31 A.D. tunics, although gussied up just a mite with leather lacings and actual sandals in place of flip-flops. There were props as well—a few of Kimberly Walnut’s styrofoam rocks for tossing, plenty of red ribbon to represent blood, and some goatskin flasks that the boys simply could not do without.

I’d tuned the harpsichord, Cynthia was on hand to supervise her choreography for the
Munching Dance
, Meg was standing by in case of a costume emergency, and we were good to go.

•••

“
It’s not that difficult to sing in this bear suit,” said Zeb. “But I can’t really hear anything. There’s fur in my ears.”

“
It’s going to be a problem,” agreed Darius.

“
Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t think of that.”

“
Hey,” said Dave, who had wandered into St. Barnabas to watch. “I can fit you both with a Bluetooth, sync them to my Blackberry and set it on the harpsichord. You’ll be able to hear the accompaniment as well as the other voices.”

“
Will that work?” I asked.

“
Sure,” said Dave with a shrug. “Why not? I’m going to run down to the Radio Shack. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“
There’s a phone call for you,” called Meg from the back. “On the church phone.”

“
I’ll be right back,” I said. “You kids go over your dance.”

•••

“
Mr. Konig?” said the voice. “My name is Dr. Hiram Milligan. I’m the president of the North American Purcell Society.”

“
Ah, yes. Dr. Milligan.”

“
Call me Hiram.”

“
Certainly, Hiram.”

“
I read in the
Boston Globe
that your early music ensemble was performing a newly discovered work.”

“
The
Boston Globe
?”

I heard the rustling of a newspaper. “Well, it’s an AP article. St. Germaine, North Carolina. Is that correct?”

“
Well, yes,” I said.

“
A Ms. Kimberly Walnut is quoted as saying that this newly-discovered work is the find of the century.”

I gritted my teeth as I remembered saying those exact words to Kimberly Walnut not three weeks ago.

“
Could you tell me something more about it? The story is from Second Kings? It says here that it may be a companion piece to
Saul and the Witch at Endor.
”

“
Well, possibly,” I said. “It’s about the same length, although there’s a children’s chorus in addition to the three principal voices. It was discovered at Cambridge.”

“
Yes, it says that here as well. At St. Catharine’s College, among Henry Purcell’s grandson’s papers. I’m amazed that no one ever thought to look there. Well, we’re all very excited here at the Purcell Society. And we can’t wait to hear it.”

“
Hear it?” I said.

“
Oh, yes! We’re flying in to Greensboro tonight. Then driving up for the performance tomorrow morning. It’s not every day we get to hear an unknown Purcell masterpiece.”

•••

“
That was the Purcell Society,” I whispered to Meg. “They’re coming from Boston to hear the performance tomorrow.”

Meg smiled. “Well, I guess that puts you in a bit of a pickle, doesn’t it?”

“
What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“
Well, how are you going to explain away the fact that
you’re
the one who wrote it?”

“
Huh?”

Meg laughed. “It just serves you right.
Elisha and the Two Bears,
indeed!”

“
You mean, you knew?”

“
The
Munching Dance
?” She laughed again. “With broken limbs and faces faire? It has Hayden Konig stamped all over it.”

“
Well, in my defense, I didn’t write all of it. Most of the music was by Geoffrey.”

“
Well,
that
should go over well with the Purcell Society.”

•••

Meg and I rendezvoused with our group at the Hair o’ the Dog Bar and Grill just before eight o’clock. Nancy had shown up, having received a personal invitation from Varmit. She’d brought Dave along as her designated driver. Many of the choir had shown up in support of Muffy and her vocal stylings. Marjorie had arrived early, sequestered a couple of tables in the back, and was sipping a chocolate martini. We paid our cover charge, found our seats and ordered the Hair o’ the Dog appetizer—baked potato skins with a sour cream and some kind of salsa—and drinks. I decided to try the Rogue Shakespeare Stout. Meg ordered a glass of white wine.

“
The Battle of the Country Bands” was a nice way of saying “Welcome to our talent show.” The first group up was introduced as “The Kidney Stones.” They weren’t country in the way that Johnny Cash was country, but more of a rockabilly band. The first song, titled
Heaven’s Just a Sin Away,
brought the crowd to its feet. Most of it anyway. I suspected that The Kidney Stones had quite a claque in place. Their second number was a more raucous selection—
I Wanna Whip Your Cow.
Again, the crowd showed its appreciation.

The second band on the schedule was billed as “The Bluegrass Tommys.” It was a swell hook—a few guys, all named Tommy, playing bluegrass. If they were any good at all, they couldn’t miss. Unfortunately, The Bluegrass Tommys didn’t show up. So much for the hook.

It took a couple of minutes for Muffy and the Goat Wranglers to get their equipment set up. John Perdue was playing fiddle and guitar. The rest were college-aged guys on electric bass, drums, the pedal steel, and piano. Five of them in all, plus Muffy. The pedal steel guy also had a guitar. He and John would be switching off. Varmit was running the sound.

Muffy was wearing her signature light-green angora sweater and white capri pants. The rest of the band were in beat-up cowboy hats; embroidered western shirts, worn untucked for casual effect; and faded jeans. Their first song was
I’m the Only Hell My Mama Ever Raised,
and it was a good one. There was a fiddle break in the middle that John positively tore into. He and the bass player were also singers and good ones. Meg looked over at me in surprise.