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

by Mignon F. Ballard

  Zee and I stayed to help Glen Smiley move Idonia to the bed, and I must say she didn’t cooperate one bit.

  “Like picking up a big sack of chicken feed,” Zee said.

  I couldn’t imagine where that analogy came from because as far as I know Zee St. Clair has never lifted a sack of chicken feed in her life.

  “You better hope and pray Idonia didn’t hear you say that,” I told her.

  The doctor frowned as he took her pulse. “Does anybody know how to get in touch with Nathan?”

  Idonia’s only son lives somewhere in Georgia but I couldn’t remember the city. “Is it that serious?” I asked him. “What’s the matter with her, Glen?”

  “I’ll know more about that when we get her to the hospital and have whatever’s in that punch analyzed. Are you sure Idonia’s not on any medication? Has she been having trouble sleeping lately? Look in her purse—see if you can find anything in there.”

  “She came with me. I don’t even know if she brought a purse,” Zee said.

  “Yes, she did! I saw her take it upstairs,” I said, “so it should be somewhere in here.”

  Zee found Idonia’s gray leather handbag in one of the bureau drawers but there was no medication in there, only a comb, a package of tissues, and a tube of her favorite shade of lipstick, tawny rose.

  “Is there anything you can do to help her?” Zee asked, kneeling by the bed.

  “To be on the safe side, they’ll probably have to do a gastric lavage,” the doctor said.

  I’ve watched enough medical shows on television to know that meant washing out the stomach and that Idonia wasn’t going to like it one bit. Now she sighed as she shifted her position on the bed and made a face as if she smelled or tasted something bad.

  “What’s the matter with Idonia?” Ellis’s breathless question accompanied her frantic footsteps on the stairs. “It’s not her heart, is it?” she asked, grabbing Glen Smiley by the arm.

  “I’m inclined to believe it’s possibly something she ingested,” he said, freeing himself from her grasp. “You were in the kitchen, weren’t you? Do you know if anyone else suffered an adverse reaction to something they may have consumed tonight?”

  Ellis looked at him as if he’d asked her if she’d served up rat poison. “Well, of course not! It was only spiced apple punch and ginger cookies. Idonia did drink a lot of it, though. Said she hadn’t had time for supper.”

  “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

  “Glen thinks we should get in touch with Nathan,” I said before he could answer. “Do you know where he’s living?”

  “No, but Jennifer should,” Ellis said. Jennifer Cole is Idonia’s niece, who teaches at the high school.

  “Then I think you’d better call her.” Glen moved to the doorway at the sound of a siren in the distance. “That must be the ambulance, so let’s clear out and give them some room. You can follow us to the hospital if you like, but the sooner we get there, the better.”

  Taking his advice, I hurried into the hallway, but Ellis still stood in the middle of the room looking like she just remembered she’d forgotten to put on underwear. “Wait a minute!” she said.

  “Wait for what?” Zee asked. “Hurry up, Ellis, we have to get out of here.”

  Ellis turned and walked resolutely to stand over Idonia’s inert body. “It’s gone,” she said, turning to look at us.

  “What’s gone?” I said.

  “The locket. Her locket’s not here.” Ellis’s searching fingers traced Idonia’s neckline, felt beneath her head and shoulders. “Did one of you take it off?”

  “Of course not,” Zee said. “That locket was the last thing on my mind.”

  “But not Idonia’s,” I said. “If that locket doesn’t turn up, we’ll have another emergency on our hands.”

  “She didn’t appear to be wearing anything like that when I examined her,” Glen said, “but if she is wearing jewelry, they’ll remove it at the hospital for safekeeping.”

  “Well, it wasn’t anywhere on the floor,” Ellis said as we followed the ambulance to the hospital. “I searched that room on my hands and knees.”

  “Genevieve promised they’d comb that whole area tomorrow,” I said. “It might have fallen off somewhere between the house and the kitchen, so it would be almost impossible to see it in the dark.”

  “Right now that’s the least of our worries,” Nettie said. “I phoned Jennifer and she’s going to meet us at the hospital.”

  “What about Nathan?” I asked. “Did she know where to find him?”

  “She said she’d try, but he travels a lot in his work, and it’s not always easy to catch up with him.” Nettie whistled through her false teeth as she sighed. “Do-law! Won’t we be a sight parading into the hospital in these long-tailed outfits? It must be close to midnight already.”

  “The drunks in the emergency room will think they’re hallucinating,” Ellis said in an attempt at humor.

  But the three of us were quiet for the rest of the ride. I’m sure the others were hoping and praying, as I was, that our friend was going to be all right. We Thursdays made up a strange motorcade, I thought, noticing Zee’s headlights following closely behind us, and Jo Nell’s behind her. Because of the late hour, we decided not to call Claudia unless Idonia’s condition worsened. After all, what could she do? What could any of us do?

  Ellis’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror as we finally turned into the hospital parking lot, and I knew we must be thinking the same thing. Where was Augusta when we needed her?

  There was a time when I considered anyone in their forties to be ancient. Not anymore! If I remembered correctly, Idonia’s niece Jennifer was at least forty-three, and she still looked young to me in spite of her lack of makeup and red-rimmed eyes. She greeted us all with hugs as we filed into the waiting room and led us to an area that was comparatively unoccupied.

  “They won’t let me back there yet, but they sent a sample of whatever she drank to the lab for analysis,” she told us, shoving a strand of brown hair from her face. “I guess all we can do now is wait. I’m so glad you’re all here! It would be awful to have to go through this alone.” She had left a telephone message at Nathan’s home in Savannah, Jennifer told us, but he hadn’t returned her call. “I left my cell phone number and asked him to get back to me as soon as possible, so he must be out of town,” she said.

  “He’ll probably check his phone messages in the morning,” I said, seeing her downcast face.

  We had received curious stares from most of the people in the waiting area—at least those who weren’t asleep—but it wasn’t until Ellis rose to get coffee that Jennifer seemed to realize we were dressed a bit out of the ordinary. “Have you all been to a costume party or something?” she asked.

  We laughed when Zee explained about the candlelight tour, and that seemed to help everyone relax at least for a little while.

  Several of us wanted coffee so I volunteered to help Ellis with the errand, glad of a chance to do something other than sit and wait. The receptionist pointed out a small snack room at the end of a hallway and I saw Ellis, who walked ahead of me, hesitate in the doorway. “I should’ve known you’d be in here,” she said to someone inside.

  The room seemed empty at first until I noticed a lone figure drinking coffee at a small table in the corner. Augusta.

  “Where in the world have you been?” I asked, taking the vacant chair across from her. “Idonia’s really sick, Augusta. We don’t know what’s the matter with her.”

  “I know.” She reached across the small table and took my hand. Her hand on mine was light and calming, and although it didn’t relieve my anxiety about Idonia, I drew a sense of serenity from her touch.

  “I became a bit chilled at Bellawood,” she said, “and so I came on home. When you didn’t arrive by midnight, I sensed something was terribly wrong.”

  “But how did you know where I was?” I asked.

  “I saw all your friends’ cars h
ere in the parking lot.” Augusta took a swallow of coffee and wrinkled her dainty nose. “This coffee is really quite dreadful!” she said.

  “The menu is limited, so I’m afraid we don’t have any choice,” Ellis said. Inserting money in the machine, she waited for the cup to fill. “Augusta, can’t you do something—anything—to help her?”

  “I’m sure you’re aware, Ellis, that I can’t interfere in matters—” Augusta began.

  Ellis filled another cup and set it down with a slosh. “Why not?”

  “It’s not in her contract,” I muttered. I was fed up with platitudes. I wanted action.

  “It has nothing to do with a contract, Lucy Nan. Your friend is under the care of excellent doctors who are doing their best for her. I am here for both of you, and will continue to be if you need me. And I will pray.” Augusta’s sea green eyes looked almost gray and she fingered her necklace as she spoke. The stones were a clear blue like a rain-swept sky.

  “Well, if you see Idonia’s guardian angel, I wish you’d tell her to get cracking,” I said.

  The angel spoke softly, slowly lifting her eyes to mine. “She already has,” she said.

  “I think we hurt Augusta’s feelings,” Ellis said as we started back to the waiting area. “Lucy Nan, you’re crying! And I feel awful, too. I think we should go right back in there and tell Augusta we’re sorry.”

  “The coffee spilled over and burned my fingers,” I told her. “It hurts—that’s all.” That wasn’t true, of course, and Ellis knew it as well as she knew me. I hurt. I hurt all over from the inside out. My friend might be dying and I had been rotten and mean to my own guardian angel, who was as close as a sister to me. What was the matter with me?

  I swallowed the knot in my throat, sniffed back the tears and put on a cheerful false face for the others. As soon as Ellis and I distributed the coffee I would go back and admit to Augusta that I was a royal pain.

  But an intern chose that moment to summon Jennifer into the emergency room.

  t was some kind of sedative,” Jennifer explained later. “Starts with an e and sounds like a prehistoric animal, and it was in her punch.”

  We’d waited over twenty minutes wondering if Idonia was going to make it, and Jo Nell had already started making a list of the people we’d have to call if she didn’t when Nettie marched up to the desk and demanded to know what was going on. Intimidated, no doubt, by a bunch of nutty women in long dresses, the clerk phoned back to the ER to explain the situation, and a few minutes later Glen came out to tell us they had pumped Idonia’s stomach but she was going to be all right.

  “But how did … whatever that drug is get in her punch?” Zee wanted to know.

  “That’s something we need to find out,” Glen said. “The dosage was more than the amount needed to make her sleep. I doubt if it would’ve killed her, but at her age, it’s best not to take any chances.”

  Beside me, Jo Nell drew in her lips and grunted. She always gets her hackles up at the mention of age.

  Glen sat on the edge of a chair looking every one of his fifty-seven years with tired eyes and rumpled clothes. “I’ve phoned the police and they’re sending someone right over to talk with all of you, so please don’t leave until they get here.”

  “Surely they don’t think one of us might’ve done it!” Jo Nell, who had been nodding off herself a few minutes before, grew wide-eyed and bushy-tailed at the thought.

  Glen managed a feeble attempt at a smile. “Jo Nell, I’m sure no one would ever think that of you, although I’m not too sure about the rest of this motley crowd. The point is, however, somebody did drug Idonia’s drink and one or more of you might have noticed something that would help us find out who it was.” He looked at his watch. “Now, after I fill out this report, I’m going home to bed. As soon as you give the police the information they need, I suggest you do the same.”

  “You won’t have to twist my arm,” Nettie said, covering a yawn. “But why in the world would anybody want to hurt Idonia?”

  That’s what Kemper Mungo wanted to know when he arrived a few minutes later. Idonia had been taken to a private room where Jennifer planned to stay with her overnight. If her condition improved as expected, we were told, she might even be released the next day.

  One of the residents at the hospital herded us into a small meeting room on the first floor for our session with Kemper, who kindly apologized for keeping us up so late. “It’s imperative,” he explained, “that we try to find the reason behind this before too much time passes.”

  “You mean before we all forget,” Zee said.

  “The medication must have been in the third cup of punch,” Ellis told him. “She drank two in the kitchen right there in front of me. I would’ve noticed if somebody slipped something into her drink.”

  “It could’ve happened in the main house where the Dulcimer Man was playing,” Nettie said. “I saw Idonia talking with somebody in there while I was taking a break from the schoolhouse and I’m almost sure she had a cup of punch with her then.”

  “Good. Good.” Kemper was silent for a minute. “Now, try to remember if she set the cup down. Was there a table nearby? And do you know who she was talking to?”

  “It was a woman—one of the docents—can’t think of her name, but I’ve seen her there before …” Nettie smiled. “Now, I remember! The docent offered Idonia some refreshments, shortbread cookies, I think, and Idonia put her cup aside to serve herself from the table.”

  Kemper frowned. “And the docent? What did she do then?”

  “Several people came into the room just then and she went over to speak to them.” Nettie shook her head. “Oh, I wish I’d stayed around longer, but I had to go and give Jo Nell a break!”

  Zee patted her arm. “How could you have known?” She turned to Kemper. “What’s in this stuff that was in the punch? Where did it come from?”

  “From what I understand it was a prescription drug for insomnia,” Kemper said. “Dr. Smiley thinks it was probably dissolved in some kind of harmless liquid before being added to the punch.”

  “And the punch was hot, so that would probably make it even less noticeable,” Nettie pointed out.

  “But why Idonia?” I said. “And why would somebody want her to sleep?”

  Ellis spoke out with the voice of reason. “So they could steal her locket.”

  “Her locket! Of course. I’d almost forgotten about that,” Jo Nell said, shaking her head. “Why would anybody want Idonia’s locket?”

  “It might be a good idea if somebody would tell me about this locket,” Kemper said.

  “It was an early Christmas gift from Melrose,” Jo Nell said. “It belonged to his grandmother, and Idonia’s going to hit the ceiling when she finds out it’s gone.”

  “Melrose is Idonia’s gentleman friend,” Zee explained, seeing the expression on Kemper’s face.

  We took time about describing the locket, and then, of course, Kemper wanted to know when we first discovered it missing.

  “When was the last time any of you saw Idonia before the drug took effect?” he asked.

  “I guess I saw her last,” Zee said, “since I was hostess in the upstairs hall and she had that room up there in the back. She spoke to me as she came upstairs that last time.”

  “Can you remember what she said?” Kemper asked.

  “She said I should go downstairs and listen to Andy Collins—he plays the dulcimer, you know—and … “

  Kemper frowned. “And what? Anything else?”

  Zee flushed. “Just that whoever made the shortbread cookies stinted on the shortening. Idonia’s shortbread is always a bestseller at bake sales, you know. It’s her grandmother’s recipe.”

  Kemper tried to cover a smile. “Did you see anybody upstairs who might have had an opportunity to put the drug in Idonia’s punch?”

  “I went down a little while after that to listen to the dulcimer music,” Zee said, “and I guess two—maybe three—people passed me on the stai
rs. Later, when it was time to leave, I couldn’t wake her up.”

  “Can you remember who these people were?” he asked.

  “Two of them were our minister and his wife, Pete and Ann Whittaker, and the other person was one of the docents, I think. She was wearing a sunbonnet and a long dress.”

  “Sunbonnet? Is that the usual dress for a thing like this?” Kemper scribbled something on a notepad.

  “There were a few of them around,” I told him. “They left it up to us about what we wore as long as it suited the period.”

  Kemper sighed and sneaked a look at his watch. “Tell me about this … what’s his name … Melrose? Has Idonia known him long? Does anybody know where he came from?”

  Nettie explained that Melrose was staying at the Spring Lamb and worked part time for Al Evans. “He seems harmless enough,” she added. “Idonia brought him to our caroling party last night and he sings a pretty good tenor.”

  “And by the way,” I added, “Idonia seemed to think someone was following her last night.”

  Zee frowned. “You mean while we were caroling? Wouldn’t we have seen them?”

  “Has anyone else mentioned this?” Kemper asked.

  I shook my head. “Not to me. Of course we were all bundled to the nines and it was dark as pitch out there.”

  Kemper made a note of this, shaking his head. “Any of the rest of you notice an extra person?”

  Nobody answered.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he said, covering a yawn.

  “You don’t think Melrose had anything to do with what happened to Idonia tonight, do you?” I said. “If he was working over at Evans and Son like Idonia said, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity.”

  “If can be a big word,” Kemper said.

  “If Melrose DuBois was at Bellawood tonight, one of us would’ve seen him,” I said after Kemper left.

  “I’m sure Kemper will check with Al over at the funeral home to make sure he was where he said he’d be,” Nettie said.