As the furor subsided, the remaining congregation was instructed by Father Barna to open their bulletins and to join in singing the opening hymn – the hymn that a few unnamed choral co-conspirators had slipped into the bulletins during the rehearsal. It was a familiar tune, the original words "Crown Him with Many Crowns" having been replaced, and the choir sang out with great delight.
Crown Him you many clowns,
And laugh with holy glee;
We honk our rubber nose and find
A circus all for thee.
The greasepaint we would wear;
The costume so complete;
The flower squirting water fair
Upon our giant feet.
Crown Him your Inner clown
The Clown above the sky
And worship Him as you do best
Throwing a custard pie.
We drive our little cars,
And tell our jokes with flair,
Then hit ourselves with two-by-fours
To show thy mercy there.
Crown Him you many clowns,
And worship Him above
For in this circus we call life
He is the Clown of Love.
The ringmaster will crack
His whip to end the play;
Then punch your final ticket for
That clowny judgment day.
We finished with a rousing descant and full organ on the final stanza. It had already been decided that, after the first hymn, my work for the morning was finished until the postlude. The Princess and the Priest were using recorded music for the remainder of the service – a practice expressly forbidden by previous rectors of St. Barnabas. Our sound system in the church was minimal – just a little amplification for the readers and the priest. Trying to send music through it was akin to listening to a symphony over a CB radio. Yet, as bad as the sound was, it didn't compare to the hopeless bungling of amateur clowns miming the creation story. One of the clowns read the passage from Genesis to the congregation as the other members of the troupe were readying themselves and their props for the play.
I'm the first to admit that I'm not a fan of the art of mime. However, unlike many of my friends, I do not hold with the notion that mimes should be shot on sight – at least not on a Sunday. They're certainly less irritating than telemarketers, and since there hasn't been a national "do not mime" list published, we have no legal recourse but to endure the mime as best we can. That being said, I do appreciate the talent it takes to manage to escape from an invisible box.
The song chosen by Princess Foo-Foo and the one playing on the sound system during the portrayal of creation was "The Rainbow Connection" sung by Muppet favorite, Kermit the Frog. One of the clowns, a Kermit puppet on his hand, came to the front of the steps and moved Kermit's mouth in time to the words. Most of the clowns danced around with giant beach balls held over their heads in some sort of manic cosmic interpretation of the beginning of the galaxy. One of them was gyrating wildly, trying to keep a hula-hoop rotating around her generous waist and portraying what most of us assumed to be Saturn. She was having a difficult time of it, her championship hula-hoop days obviously further behind her than her ample derriere.
"I didn't know that the creation story included the 'Big Bang Theory,' Meg said quietly to Bev who was sitting beside her on the front row.
"It doesn't."
"Then why do the planets keep bumping into each other?"
"They haven't had enough practice."
"I kind of like that striped planet," whispered Elaine Hixon to no one in particular. "It looks like Uranus."
At that, the entire choir burst into barely stifled laughter. Elaine immediately turned bright red.
"No, wait…I didn't mean…that just came out wrong…I meant Neptune. Oh, great. Now I'm going to hell."
"Someday, we'll find it, the rainbow connection," sang Kermit, "the lovers, the dreamers and meeeee."
The mimes put down their beach balls to polite applause and Foo-Foo the Horror Clown moved to the lectern.
"If the children will please come to the front at this time and sit with the clowns, we have a special treat for you this morning."
No one moved.
"Children, please come to the front."
Most of the small children had left in terror at the beginning of the service. The remaining few were understandably apprehensive. Still no one moved.
"We have a special treat. Peppermint will be making balloon animals for you all." She had spoiled the surprise, but she was getting desperate. Peppermint started blowing up long, thin balloons and motioning to the kids. He was less threatening than Foo-Foo, but the children still weren't convinced.
If a sad clown's face can fall any further, Father Barna's did a swan-dive as soon as he saw Moosey and Bernadette coming down the aisle.
They almost made it to the front when Moosey spotted the first snake.
•••
"You're in trouble, gumshoe."
It was the biggest understatement since Saint Lucy said, "Come up anytime--I'll keep an eye out for you." I stood at the edge of the center ring feeling as useless as a Republican in a steroid-free California gubernatorial race. Lilith motioned me toward the middle of the ring with her gun. The air hung heavy with the perfume of the circus--elephants, greasepaint and hot-buttered chimps.
"What's the game, Lilith? Who killed Canon Shannon Cannon?"
She didn't answer. She smiled. It was cruel, one-lipped smile that was somehow alluring and unnerving at the same time. I lit a cigar.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by them. Clowns. And it wasn't a bit funny.
•••
Moosey pointed out the snake, curled up underneath the Gospel lectern, to Bernadette who let out a yell and ran back down the aisle into the arms of her mother. Moosey, on the other hand, enamored of any kind of snake, leaped on it and raised it aloft, holding it behind its head.
"I got it!" he crowed. "But there's another one." He pointed with his free hand toward a radiator against the wall by the Mary altar. He spotted it easily because it was moving and moving quickly.
"I thought the pest control people had found them all," Meg said, with an edge to her voice.
"Well, I didn't want to alarm you," I said. "They didn't find them all."
"And by that you mean…?"
"They didn't find any of them," I admitted.
Clowns scattered like duck-pins as the snake slithered across the floor directly toward Peppermint. There were several shrieks and what seemed, to the congregation, to be spontaneous dancing. Moosey was in the middle of the fray.
"I'll get him," he yelled. "Here," he said to Father Barna, "hold this one." He handed his snake to the priest who took it before he knew what was happening.
"Ahhhh! Yahhh gahhh wahhhhgaaa!" said the priest, holding the wiggling snake by the tail. To his credit, he didn't drop it, but in the commotion, his hairpiece had slipped badly and was now resting over one eye.
"Listen," said Georgia. "He's speaking in tongues. And his hair is loose."
One of the ushers, dressed as a clown as well, had made his way down to the front of the church. He took the snake from Father Barna, carefully holding it behind its head, and walked it down the center aisle, taking the time to show it to any interested parishioners of whom there were more than a few.
Meanwhile, Moosey had cornered the other snake against the modesty rail in front of the first pew. He raised it victoriously above his head.
"I've got 'im!" He looked around in triumph. "Hey. Where's the other one?"
One of the clowns pointed down the aisle at the departing usher.
"Wait up," hollered Moosey, holding his prize in both hands and running after the usher. "Them's MY snakes!"
Father Barna was still a bit shaky as he adjusted his toupee, sliding it back into its approximate position. "Now," he said, "we'll continue with the sermon." He looked around. "Where's Peppermint?"
Peppermint had disappeared.
>
•••
"These are my friends," said Lilith in a voice so husky that it could have pulled a dogsled. "Let me introduce you."
Their giant rubber shoes were tapping in anticipation, slapping against the floor with that sound that a goldfish makes after leaping out of its bowl but before your mother finds it stuck to the linoleum, and as I gazed around the center ring at Mr. Pickles, Tonk-Tonk, Grabby, Cheezo, Honker and Uncle Winky, I remembered skipping the chapter in my Beginning Detective's Handbook entitled "How To Subdue Six Homicidal Clowns" and realized I had made a terrible mistake. Quickly, I came up with a plan: a plan so simple, it reminded me of my brother-in-law Tim, but unlike Tim, this plan just might work.
"Let's talk," I said to Uncle Winky. "Maybe we can make a deal. The merger should leave cash enough for everyone. No need to get greedy."
"No deals today, flatfoot," growled Uncle Winky. "We don't care about the merger. This isn't what you think. The bishop is spearheading a petition to do away with the Ministry of Clowns and taking it to General Convention. If you're dead, you can't protect him."
"Gee, Uncle Winky. I thought clowns were jolly."
"Nah. You're thinking of the Fat Man. He's one tent over."
•••
The sermon might have been better if Peppermint had been there. It seemed to be a re-telling of the Noah story with a roll call of some animals – giraffes, dogs, birds, horses and mice – we presumed would have been created from balloons and handed out to the children. As it was, it fell flat. Jelly Barna tried in desperation to make some sort of animal, but she couldn't get the second balloon inflated, so it ended up as a snake; the one animal we'd already seen.
Although we usually sang the communion settings, this morning it was all spoken, so I sat back and waited for the end of the service. I had decided that I didn't care to take communion on this particular Sunday. This decision was borne out as Shea Maxwell began her Karaoke rendition of Send In The Clowns.
Jesus loves you, Jesus loves me,
Jesus is up in the air, where I want to be;
Send in the clowns.
I couldn't listen to anymore so I snuck down the choir steps and out the front door for a breath of air. Moosey was sitting on the front steps holding a snake in each hand.
"This one's name is Piggy," he said, holding a snake aloft. "This one's Joe. Momma's comin' to get me. She'll be here in a bit."
"Maybe you'd better take those snakes over by the bushes. People will be coming out soon," I said.
"Aw, they're just hognoses. They wouldn't hurt nobody."
"Some folks don't like snakes, Moosey. If you want to keep them, go on and wait over by the bushes."
"OK."
I went back into the church and up the stairs to the loft just as Shea was finishing up.
Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns;
Thank heavens! They're here.
Mercifully, there was no closing hymn and everyone filed out to the postlude, leaving me alone in the choir loft. As I finished up, I heard, from the front of the church, my name being called.
"Hayden!" It was Brenda and she was frantic.
"Yes?" I called back.
"You need to get down here right now. I think there's been an accident."
"I'm coming."
By the time I got to the sacristy, all the clowns were huddled together next to the bathroom.
"OK," I said. "Back up and let me have a look."
The sea of fright wigs and baggy pants parted to reveal a lone clown lying motionless, face up on the carpet. It was Peppermint.
"Did anyone touch anything?"
"Nothing," said Jelly Barna. "No one touched anything."
"Call 911 and get Nancy up here," I directed. Tell her to call an ambulance and get hold of the crime scene guys from Boone. Everyone, please go and wait in the parish hall. I need to talk to you all. Don't change your clothes and don't talk among yourselves." It was a charge that I knew would be ignored.
They filed out the back door of the sacristy, through the alley and into the parish hall building where the congregation was meeting for coffee. I knew it would be just a few moments before people found out what had happened and started coming back in. I locked the door to the sacristy and the back door to the church, hoping folks would take the hint, but there were other ways in and I couldn't cover them all.
I pulled out my cell phone and called directory assistance. A moment later I was, as I was informed, connected with my party at no additional cost.
"Hello?"
"Hi, there. It's Hayden."
"Hayden! To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?"
"I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."
"How sweet. The trip was just fine."
"How's the weather over there in Durham."
"Chilly, but sunny. Just the way I like it."
"That's great. Can you hang on a second?" I put my hand over the phone, then came back on a moment later. "Listen, something just came up here. Can I call you back a bit later?"
"Sure. Bye now."
"Bye, Lindsey."
I looked at Peppermint. He lay on his back, his wig half off, and his eyes wide open. Stuffed in his mouth was the front half of a balloon animal. This clown had choked to death on a balloon wiener-dog. I looked closer. Curled around one giant rubber shoe was another of Harley Ray's snakes.
An accident? Maybe. But I didn't think so.
Chapter 10
"This is just great!" Pete Moss said sarcastically as he poured my coffee. "No crime in St. Germaine for fifty years. Then I'm elected mayor and we have two murders inside eight months." Pete was referring to the demise of Willie Boyd, a case that I had solved just after Christmas.
"That's the way it happens sometimes," said Nancy.
"Yeah. But both of them in the church? That's just creepy," said Noyleen, putting some family-style bowls of breakfast goodies in the middle of the table where Dave, Nancy and I could all partake of the bounty. "That would never happen at First Baptist. We love everybody."
"You're right about that, Noyleen," I said, taking a big helping of grits. "That's the beauty of the Southern Baptists. They know how to avoid a scandal."
"Heard about the autopsy yet?" Dave said, eager to change the subject before Catholicism came up.
I nodded. "I called earlier and talked to Kent Murphee down in Boone."
"And how're things at the coroner's office?" asked Nancy.
"Slow. Anyway, he said that the preliminary cause of death is asphyxiation. But there's a contusion on the back of Peppermint's head, so either he hit it on the counter when he fell, or he was knocked unconscious before the balloon was stuffed in his mouth. I didn't see any blood on the counter, but that doesn't mean anything. The lab guys will find it if it's there."
"The only things heavy enough to do any damage, at least within grabbing distance, were a couple of brass flower urns next to the sink. No prints though. The Altar Guild keeps those urns polished and if one of them was used, I doubt that the murderer had time to wipe it off. He might have been wearing the gloves lying on the sink. There are a few pair of white cotton gloves in the sacristy that the ladies wear whenever they handle the brass to prevent tarnishing and preserve the finish. I don't think we'll get anything from the gloves, but I sent them down to the lab anyway."
Nancy, presuming correctly that our meeting had started, put down her fork, pulled out a yellow legal pad and began writing furiously.
"Name?" she asked.
"Peppermint's real name was Joseph Meyer. He lived in Chapel Hill although he'd moved there within the last two years. Before that, he listed a residence in Florida. He was a professional clown. I got his resumé from Brenda."
I pulled a sheet out of my pocket, unfolded it and laid it on the table between the platter of country ham and the bowl of fried apples.
"He actually taught courses at the Ringling Brothers Clown College in Venice."
"Italy?" asked Dave.
"Florida. He was forty-one years old, unmarried, and apparently made his living doing birthday parties and church services. I put a request in for his tax returns, so we'll know more about that later. I called the phone number he listed and got an answering machine. I couldn't find any next-of-kin. The Chapel Hill police are trying to find a relation."
I paused in my recitation. "That's all I have," I concluded. "Questions?"
"Any suspects?" asked Pete, wandering up.
"None."
"How 'bout your new girl-friend?" mumbled Nancy under her breath, not daring to look up.
"Careful," I said, in my most menacing, mind-your-own-business tone. "She's accounted for. She was back home in Durham."
"And you know this because…?"
" I checked."
"Well, it is a little odd. Her showing up and then this clown getting killed."
"I agree. That's why I checked."
"How about your dwarf?" said Dave.
"He's not my dwarf," I sighed. "I think he's been out of the country, but it wouldn't hurt to find out when he's getting back. I know he wasn't at church yesterday."
Nancy wrote it down, and I knew she'd follow up on it.
"That it?" I asked, looking around the table. "Let's finish this food then."
"By the way," said Dave. "Other than the obvious, how was the Clown Eucharist."
"It was the best one I've ever attended," I said. "Next time I'm making Nancy the Chief Clown. Apparently, it's a dangerous job."
"Be glad to," said Nancy, taking the last biscuit and patting the gun at her side. "Top billing, God willing."
•••
It was a bad time to fly back to England, but I already had my tickets. I was tying up loose ends at the house when Nancy called in.
Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon Page 8
