The Mezzo Wore Mink (38 page)

“
We had to wait until Thanksgiving holiday break,” said the pimply young man. “We’re still in seminary. All except Carmel.”

“
Well, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing around. “Demons? Yes or no?”

“
Yes,” said Carmel. “Demons. I sense at least five of them. I would name them for you, but that would give them more power.”

“
Absolutely,” said the others. “It certainly would. No question.”

“
Then do what you have to do,” I said. “Do you have your… umm…equipment? Bells? Books?”

“
We have our wands,” said one of the middle-aged women.

“
And candles,” added another.

“
This may take some time,” said the third. “Our last exorcism took two weeks.”

“
Take as much time as you need,” I said. “But could you start downstairs? I’ve got to practice a bit more.”

•••

“
Hey, Nancy, you watching the game?” I flipped through the channels looking for the football game.

“
Of course. Like Denver’s going to play and I’m
not
going to watch.”

“
What channel?”

“
Forty-two.”

I clicked over and settled back onto the leather-covered down cushions of the sofa. I had a big bag of Pete’s Barabba-que flavored Communion Fish, a bottle of ice-cold Imperial stout called Surly Darkness, and a willingness to finish them both before halftime.

“
Let me ask you something,” I said into the phone. “You remember that day we were in the bookstore with Davis Boothe?”

“
Yep.”

“
And he was looking through the
Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon
?”

“
Yep.”

“
I keep trying to replay that conversation. Maybe he said something that we’re missing. I just can’t remember.”

“
I was over looking at the books in the best-seller section.”

“
But you were listening, right?”

“
Well, sure, but….oh, no! Tennessee just scored!” Nancy screamed at the television. “You idiots! A 3-4 defense on fourth and one? What are you thinking?”

I leaned back, listened to Nancy’s tirade, and gobbled down a handful of Communion Fish.

“
Sorry,” said Nancy, when she’d calmed down. “What was the question?”

“
I was asking whether you remember the conversation in the bookstore right before Davis left.”

“
Hmm. You guys were talking about that book. Meg said that she liked
Rip Van Winkle
. You said that you liked
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
and that you had a dog named Iggy.”

“
Not Iggy. Icky. After Ichabod Crane.”

“
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Catch the stupid ball!” Nancy hollered. “Don’t let those Oilers score again!”

“
Oilers?”

“
What? Oh, yeah. I meant the Titans. Tennessee used to be the Oilers. Now they’re the Titans. I hate it when they change mascots.”

“
Huh,” I said, feeling something small and mousy nibbling at the edges of my brain-pan. “Hey, Nancy, can you check something on the internet for me?”

“
Sure.”

“
Google ‘Ichabod’ and ‘mascot’ and see if anything comes up.”

“
Hang on.”

I had a sip of my Surly Darkness and waited for a moment.

Nancy came back on the line. “Well, blow me down a rathole. Washburn University.”

I laughed. “Now I know why Davis Boothe’s head never got turned in for the reward.”

“
You going to tell me?”

“
Yep.”

And I did.

Chapter 27

Dave brought the donuts into the police station promptly at nine, being exactly one hour late for work. It didn’t really matter to Nancy and me. We’d arrived at the station at seven to meet with Judge Adams and Todd McCay, the new Watauga County Sheriff. Judge Adams signed the warrant and the three of us made short work of the search and subsequent arrest. Meg came through the door two minutes after Dave carrying a box with five steaming pumpkin spice lattes from the Holy Grounds Coffee Shop.

“
I thought you could use a treat,” said Meg. “You solved the case! Why didn’t you call me?”

“
I did call you,” I said. “That’s why you came by, right? Anyway, we had to get a warrant, then go over and find Davis’ head and finally make the arrest. First things first.”

“
Hey,” said Dave. “Why didn’t you call
me
?”

“
You didn’t have your phone on, Dave,” said Nancy quietly.

“
Oh. Sorry. I must have forgot.”

“
We went by your house to pick you up.”

“
Uh…I wasn’t home.”

“
You were at Collette’s?”

Dave hung his head. “Yeah.”

“
She’s crazy, Dave,” said Nancy. “I like you a lot, so as your friend, I’m telling you. She’s certifiable.”

“
Who’s certifiable?” asked Pete, coming through the door. “Collette? Hey! I heard you solved the case!”

“
We did,” said Dave. “All thanks to me.” Nancy snorted.

“
So where was Davis Boothe’s head?” asked Meg.

“
It was in Hyacinth Turnipseed’s freezer,” I answered. Meg blinked and looked shocked.

“
Not the Upper Womb?”

“
Nope. I finally remembered what I couldn’t remember…”

“
With a little help,” added Nancy.

“
With a
lot
of help,” I added. “Think back to when we were in Eden Books the day before Davis killed himself. We were talking about
The Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon
and Davis was thumbing through the book. I said I liked
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
.”

“
And I said I liked
Rip Van Winkle
,” said Meg. “I remember.”

“
And I mentioned that I had a dog named Icky for Ichabod Crane.”

Everyone nodded.

“
And then Hyacinth said ‘Where I’m from, the college mascot is the Ichabods.’”

Everyone nodded again.

“
That’s it,” I said.

“
That’s what?” said Pete.

“
That’s the part I couldn’t remember—the part about the college mascot. Nancy looked it up. The only college in the country that has a mascot called the Ichabods is Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas. Davis Boothe, or rather, Josh Kenisaw, was a freshman at Washburn when he was convicted of killing Senator DeMille’s daughter in a drunk driving accident.”

“
And when he heard Hyacinth Turnipseed mention the Ichabods, he knew she’d found him,” added Nancy. “And that she now had his fingerprints on the book.”

“
And he killed himself rather than go to prison,” said Meg. “How sad. What did Hyacinth say?”

“
What could she say?” I said. “Davis’ head was underneath some frozen pizzas in the freezer in her basement. She did claim she’d broken no laws.”

“
Has she?” Pete said.

“
Oh, yeah,” said Nancy. “When we searched Hyacinth’s house, we found Thelma’s purse and keys. They were in the basement as well. We know that she was in the garden when Thelma died. At the very least we can get her on depraved indifference murder and theft.”

I nodded. “Hyacinth met Thelma there and offered her money for Davis’ head. She was probably amazed when Thelma refused. But then Thelma had an OCD attack in the maze and all Hyacinth had to do was wait. She didn’t know that Dale Patterson was waiting on the other side of the hedge.”

“
And when the krummhorn didn’t work, Thelma tried to get his attention by throwing it over the hedge,” added Nancy.

“
But why didn’t she collect the reward?” asked Pete. “After she had Davis’ head?”

“
I’m sure she was planning on it,” I said. “But she fell and broke her leg. She was in the hospital for a few days, and then she was in a wheelchair with a full-time nurse. She couldn’t get back down into the basement, so she called us over to give us a fake reading to throw suspicion on Lacie Ravencroft.”

“
And the life insurance policy in the safety deposit box? The numbers she saw during her reading?” asked Meg.

“
Made up to throw us off the track and keep us busy.”

Nancy nodded in agreement. “By the way, Senator DeMille’s office is denying all knowledge of any Hyacinth Turnipseed.”

“
There’s a surprise,” said Pete.

“
Where’s Hyacinth now?” asked Meg.

“
Todd McCay took her over to Boone for booking.”

“
What about Chad Parker and Lacie Ravencroft? Surely they’re not innocent in all of this?” said Dave.

“
We don’t have any real evidence except Lacie’s so-called confession, and I’m afraid that won’t hold up in any court,” I said. “I was just fishing for information. She wouldn’t have said anything if I’d Mirandized her. I expect we’ll be asking them to leave town though.”

•••

“
Oh, my GOD!” screeched Bev, as she was hoisted out of the Dip ’n Tan. “Just look at us!”

Crayonella Washington gave a tremendous whoop. “Y’all look great! Couldn’t be better!”

“
What’s the matter?” said Noylene, “I put in a triple dose, no extra charge. Y’all want to match, don’t you?”

“
Noylene!” wailed Elaine, looking down at her chocolaty skin. “Crayonella is
black!
Of course we don’t want to match!”

“
Well,” said Cynthia, “I guess I can be an Arabian belly dancer.”

“
Nubian is more like it,” said Bev, with a sob. “How long till this stuff wears off?”

“
Well, you’ll get darker for a day or two, then start to fade in a couple of weeks,” said Noylene.

“
Darker?” gasped Elaine in horror. “
Darker
?
How much darker
?”