Too Late for Angels

by Mignon F. Ballard

  This was more or less directed at her cousin, Jo Nell Touchstone, who, in Lucy’s opinion, had developed the habit of worrying into a fine art.

  Idonia Mae Culpepper drained her teacup and set her plate aside. “Is Lollie back in town? I thought she was away on a buying trip?”

  “Got back a couple of days ago—showed me a sample of some of the things she’s getting in for Christmas,” Lucy told her. “And in case any of you are interested,” she added pointedly, “I’d be happy with most of her selections.”

  Lollie Pate’s small gift shop and bakery was one of her favorite places to shop or just to browse, and everyone agreed that Stone’s Throw was lucky to have a store where you could buy a wedding gift and tonight’s dessert all in one stop.

  “Isn’t Ellis coming?” Claudia Pharr asked Lucy as she helped to collect the dishes. As the youngest and most recent member of The Thursdays, she seemed to think it was her duty. “When I saw her in the grocery store this morning, she told me she planned to be here.”

  “Had some errands to take care of,” Lucy said. “I expect she’s just running a little late.” Although she wasn’t yet worried about her friend’s absence, she was a little concerned. Ellis was usually punctual and it wasn’t at all like her to miss out on dessert.

  “Do you think that woman—that Shirley—could possibly be Ellis’s cousin?” Idonia asked when Lucy returned to the group. “Why, everyone thought she was dead all these years!”

  “Well, whoever she is—or was—she’s dead now,” Jo Nell reminded them. “But why would anybody want to kill a poor, harmless soul like that? And right here in Stone’s Throw, too! I’ll be locking my doors from now on.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of punks to me.” Zee glanced out the living room window as if she expected to see a horde of thugs approaching. “You’ve seen that group that hangs around the Red Horse Café! Up to no good, the lot of them! They oughta close that place down.”

  “But what was she doing behind the Methodist Church at that hour?” Claudia asked. “Remember how cold it was that night? And it must’ve been pitch-dark by then.” She shivered. “Gives me the creeps!”

  Cousin Jo Nell reached across Claudia’s lap to squeeze Lucy’s hand. “I hope you’re remembering to lock up tight, Lucy Nan. I don’t even like to think of your being in this big old house alone. Why, anybody could break in!”

  Thanks for the comforting thought! “I’m not exactly alone,” Lucy said with an eye on Augusta. “I’ve taken in a roomer.”

  “I saw your ad in the Weekly Wipe,” Nettie said, referring to the local newspaper, “but you didn’t tell me the room was rented. Who is it? Anybody we know? How come I haven’t seen them?”

  “She travels a lot.” Lucy made an effort not to look at Augusta.

  Nettie frowned. “I haven’t seen a car. Doesn’t she drive?”

  “Flies, mostly,” Lucy said, biting back a smile. “Why don’t we get started on the discussion? I was up late last night reviewing Taking Lottie Home. It’s been a while since I first read it.”

  “I love everything Terry Kay writes,” Claudia said, but I think To Dance with the White Dog is my favorite.”

  “But isn’t Ellis supposed to lead the discussion this time?” Cousin Jo Nell drew in her breath with a loud sucking sound. “You don’t suppose anything’s happened to Ellis, do you? With a murderer running around loose, there’s no telling what—”

  “Bosh! Could’ve been somebody she knew who killed that woman,” Nettie said. “After all, we don’t know where she came from or where she’s been. Wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t have some sort of criminal record herself!”

  “Why, Nettie McGinnis!” Lucy said. “You saw that poor, addled woman yourself. She was perfectly harmless—wouldn’t hurt a soul. I don’t know how you can say such a thing.”

  “For all we know, she might very well have been Florence Calhoun trying to find her way home after all these years.” Zee sniffed. “Bless her heart!”

  “Didn’t look a bit like Florence to me,” Nettie said. “She did remind me of somebody, though, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She patted Lucy’s arm. “You did tell the police about the scar, didn’t you, Lucy Nan?”

  “Several times, but they haven’t told me a blessed thing—except that she was wearing my coat.”

  “What scar?” the others chimed in, so of course Nettie had to explain. When she was about to come to the part about old Doc Loudermilk hitting the bottle, Lucy gave her a sharp jab with her elbow.

  “What are you poking me for?” Nettie asked, before realizing belatedly that Idonia Mae was the late doctor’s great-niece.

  If Idonia Mae was aware of the situation, she graciously chose to ignore it. The rose brocade of the upholstered rocking chair where she sat clashed dreadfully with her flaming red hair, Lucy observed, but Idonia Mae always chose it because it was close to the fireplace and she seemed to be perpetually chilly. Actually, Lucy thought, the rocking chair didn’t really go with anything else in the room, which was decorated more or less in shades of blue and yellow, but her mother had chosen the fabric shortly before she died and Lucy couldn’t bring herself to change it.

  Now Idonia Mae hitched her chair a little closer to the blaze. “Suppose it was little Florence,” she began, “and somebody deliberately enticed her away from the house?”

  “But why?” Lucy said. “Besides, I would’ve seen them or at least heard them. I was here the whole time.”

  “Not exactly,” Nettie reminded her. “It took us almost an hour to clean up the mess out front when that idiot ran into your trash cans.”

  “Of course.” Lucy darted a look at Augusta and saw a question in her eyes. “Somebody could have telephoned her, or even—God forbid—walked in and taken her while we were both outside!”

  “If this is true, whoever it was must’ve been watching the house, and they knew you lived alone,” Zee said. Then, apparently seeing Lucy’s stricken expression, added, “But this is all hypothetical, of course. I’m still betting on the local riffraff.”

  “What’s this about local riffraff? I’ll swear, I can’t be gone an hour without you-all talking about me behind my back!”

  Ellis had entered from the back porch as usual, but Lucy didn’t hear her until she announced her arrival from the hallway, and even with her friend’s smiling and joking, she could tell by Ellis Saxon’s expression that something was wrong.

  Putting her novel aside, Jo Nell went to greet her. “Ellis! Am I glad to see you! I’ll have to confess we were getting a little worried. I hope everything’s all right.”

  “Just a minor delay, that’s all,” Ellis said, but Lucy noticed she didn’t protest when Jo Nell led her to a seat. “To give Mr. Kay his due, I think we ought to hold off on the book discussion until next time,” she added, sinking into the depths of the armchair by the window. “I don’t mind telling you, it’s been a most peculiar afternoon!”

  Now Lucy was concerned. Ellis looked pale even beneath her gardening tan. “I saved you a plate,” she said, rising. “Won’t take a minute.”

  “Thanks, but I’m really not hungry. I’d love some tea, though, if it’s still hot.”

  Lucy touched her shoulder. It took a lot to shake up Ellis Saxon, but something obviously had. “Be right back,” she promised.

  Everyone was quiet as Ellis spooned sugar into her cup. “Well, Lucy Nan…” she said, after taking a sip, “it looks like your Shirley was little Florence after all.”

  “Are they sure? How do you know?” Idonia adjusted her spectacles as if that would bring the subject into clearer focus.

  “What happened?” Lucy asked. Thinking of the sad, childlike woman, she suddenly wanted to cry. “Ellis, where have you been?”

  “To the police station—by request.” Ellis smiled as she sipped her tea. “They offered to send a car for me, but I preferred to drive myself.”

  “What did they want? Was this just so they could tell you they’ve ident
ified the…woman who was killed?” Lucy couldn’t bring herself to call the victim a body. It sounded so cold and impersonal.

  “It seemed they wanted to ask me some questions…” Ellis began.

  “What kind of questions, for heaven’s sake?” Jo Nell’s voice rose. “Oh, Ellis! They weren’t holding you against your will?”

  Ellis laughed. “No, no! They were perfectly polite—didn’t shine any bright lights in my face or anything like that. They just wanted to hear my account of the night it happened. I was over here soon after she left the house, you know. Lucy Nan and I looked all over the place for her. Remember, Nettie? We even phoned you. And they wanted to know about my kinship with Florence—things like that. Florence’s daddy and mine were brothers, so I’m the closest relative she had left. She and I are—were—first cousins, but of course she disappeared way before I was born.”

  Nettie clicked her teeth. “I thought everybody knew that.” She leaned forward. “I still can’t believe that woman was the Florence I knew. Did they find the scar?”

  Ellis nodded. “Right where you said it was, on the upper left leg.”

  “You didn’t have to look at her, did you?” Claudia asked.

  “Thank goodness that wasn’t necessary,” Ellis said, “but soon after they learned who she might be, they did ask me to swab for DNA. They don’t have the results back on that yet, though.” She held out her cup for more tea. “Actually, they don’t need it. I gave them a sample of poor little Florence’s baby hair.”

  “Her what?” Zee’s eyes widened. “How on earth did you come by that?”

  “It was in her baby book. I’ve had it for years,” Ellis said. “I mean, who else would it come to? I never could bring myself to throw it away.”

  Ellis grinned. “Oh, don’t look so distressed, y’all. If I’m arrested, maybe they’ll let us hold our meetings in the city jail!”

  “Why would they want to arrest you?” Jo Nell looked threatening. “Why, that’s just ridiculous!”

  Nettie looked at her old friend before she spoke. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, Jo Nell, that Ellis inherited the estate that would’ve gone to Florence—but you’re right, it is ridiculous. I think you’re imagining things, Ellis. This is Stone’s Throw! Those people at the police department know you better than that!”

  Ellis only shrugged. “Speaking of the police department, guess who else I saw there? Jay Warren-Winslow!”

  “J who?” Idonia asked.

  “Jay Warren-Winslow,” Ellis said. “Don’t you remember? He was written up in The Messenger not too long ago. It was all over the front page. He’s the man Calpernia Hemphill hired to direct that theater workshop she was planning out at the Folly.”

  Claudia Pharr nodded. “The one who discovered her body! Ohmygosh! Do they think he might have pushed her?”

  “Surely not,” Lucy said. “It was an accident, wasn’t it? I heard the mortar was loose and part of the wall gave way, although I can’t imagine why she went up there.”

  “Probably had a wake-me-up toddy—or two,” Nettie mumbled. “Calpernia was…well, Calpernia, but I can’t think why anybody would want to kill her.”

  Zee looked from one to the other and her expression didn’t change. “Oh, I think they’d have to get in line,” she said, drawing herself up ruler-straight.

  “Zee, for heaven’s sake, the poor woman’s dead—” Claudia began.

  “Dead or not, she was a nasty piece of work!” Zee’s usually strong voice broke. “I hold that woman fully responsible for Melanie’s eating disorder. We almost lost her, you know.”

  Lucy remembered the incident several years ago, when Zee’s daughter Melanie had been a drama major studying under Calpernia Hemphill at Sarah Bedford College. Melanie had been turned down for a leading role in a college production because Calpernia told her she was too fat. According to Zee, this led to her daughter’s battle with bulimia and resulting ill health, and Lucy had always agreed that it was probably a contributing factor.

  A long silence fell over the room until Idonia finally said, “I can understand why you feel that way, Zee, but—my goodness—Melanie looked fantastic the last time I saw her, and you told me yourself she was happy in her new position with that arts council in—where is it? North Carolina?” She gave Zee’s hand a friendly squeeze.

  Zee pulled her hand away as if it had been burned. “Sure, after all the worrying, the misery, the therapy—not to mention the expense!” Fumbling in her purse, she took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help it,” she said, turning away.

  After a series of soothing noises, Claudia announced that Calpernia had introduced her to Jay Warren-Winslow in the Scuppernong Tea Room just the week before and that he seemed just-as-nice-as-you-please to her.

  “Oh, I’m sure there’s probably nothing to it,” Ellis said, “but Paulette Morgan, the dispatcher over there, told me she’d heard they’d asked him to stick around town for a while.”

  “That Paulette’s the biggest gossip in the world!” Idonia said. “Always has been—even as a teenager. I had her in my language-arts class in high school and I could always guess who started the rumors. Don’t know how she keeps that job!”

  Nettie frowned. “I wonder where he’s staying. If Calpernia’s director’s not supposed to leave town, he has to live somewhere, and let’s face it, there’s not that much to choose from here in Stone’s Throw.”

  “There’s the Spring Lamb,” Jo Nell said, referring to Opal and Virgil Henshaw’s bed-and-breakfast, so named because of the large cement planters in the shape of a lamb crammed with plastic flowers on either side of the front door. “Oughta call it the Old Goat! I declare it’s a shame the way that Virgil carries on with every woman who’s still breathing who comes into his butcher shop. It’s almost enough to make me become a vegetarian!”

  “Poor fellow won’t get much to eat at Opal’s,” Idonia chimed in. “That woman can cook a pancake so thin it’s got only one side to it! Tight as Dick’s hatband—she and Virgil both!”

  Zee had gathered her things together as everyone prepared to leave and now she turned at the door. “Well, he’ll be welcome to stay with me,” she announced.

  “Do you think Zee really meant what she said about that director staying with her?” Lucy asked Ellis after the others had left. The two were washing the dishes by hand, as Lucy had used her grandmother’s fragile china and didn’t dare put it in the dishwasher. For a while, Augusta had stood restlessly watching the two from the kitchen doorway, and Lucy knew she was itching to help but reluctant to show herself to Ellis. The next time she looked she was gone.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Ellis said. “She has that guest house they built for Zee’s widowed mother at the back of her property. As far as I know, nobody’s lived in it since she died.” She wiped a dessert plate with the dish towel, repeating circles on its blossom-painted surface.

  Lucy gently took the plate from her. “You’ve dried that plate three times, Ellis. I know something’s on your mind. What is it? You don’t really think the police are seriously considering you as a suspect, do you?”

  Ellis picked up another dripping plate and began to repeat her ritual. “I wish I didn’t,” she said, “but Lucy Nan, I’ll swear to God I think they are!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you believe they asked me not to leave town?”

  If Ellis had kicked her in the stomach it couldn’t have jolted her more, but Lucy tried to hide her reaction. “Have you talked with Bennett about it?” she asked.

  “Not yet. He’s out of town on some sort of dental convention and I hate to worry him unnecessarily.” Ellis shrugged. “I’m probably making too much of this.”

  Lucy wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be fine, but the words stuck in her throat. She had an awful feeling there were going to be troubled times ahead.

  Lucy rinsed the last cup and drained the water from the sink. “What about this Jay What’s-his-name? Did they r
eally tell him not to leave town or was that just one of Paulette’s wild tales?”

  Ellis shook her head. “Don’t know, but he was there when I got there and still there when I left. Poor Poag! He’s taking this pretty hard, I hear—and now to learn his wife might have been murdered! They’ve always been so close. I honestly don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “Calpernia was in our church circle, you know, even though she rarely came,” Lucy said. “I told them I’d help serve at the funeral whenever they release the body.”

  “I’ll help, too, of course. I’ll bring my funeral cake.” Ellis always brought the same thing when there was a death in town: a chocolate sheet cake slathered in fudge-nut icing. It was a shame, Lucy thought, that somebody had to die to get one.

  Ellis hung up the damp dish towel and leaned against the sink, arms folded, then stood looking at Lucy.

  “What?” Lucy asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Ellis smiled. “I’m just waiting,” she said.

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Waiting for you to tell me about that strange woman with the out-of-this-world hair who was at The Thursdays this afternoon. Everybody just seemed to ignore her. I’ll swear, Lucy Nan, she looked just like an angel!”

  Chapter Five

  “You saw her? I mean…well…I guess I didn’t notice she was there.” Lucy Nan groped for words. How could she explain this? What was she supposed to do?

  “What do you mean, you didn’t notice she was there? How could you miss her? And I must say, I thought it rather odd—not to mention rude—how everyone ignored her,” Ellis said. “Who is she, Lucy Nan?”

  Lucy sighed aloud. “If you must know, she’s the woman who rented my room. She’s—”

  “Augusta Goodnight. I’m Lucy Nan’s guardian angel, Ellis, but I believe you might benefit from my services as well.”

  Augusta crossed the room smiling and extended her hand. At first, Ellis didn’t seem to know whether she should take it or not, but after a glance at Lucy, she accepted the hand that was offered with what appeared to be a placating smile. “I expect I could use an angel—borrowed or not,” Ellis said with a laugh. “What happened to mine?”