The Mezzo Wore Mink (37 page)

“
Or someone that sounds like one.”

•••

“
We’re sold out!” announced Father Lemming during rehearsal. “Both the Saturday and the Sunday performances!” A cheer went up from the cast.

Chapter 25

Nancy and I weren’t the first to the Slab Café on this frosty morning. There were at least two tables of early risers already enjoying plates of eggs, ham and grits when we showed up, straight from our visit to the crematorium. We spotted the new mayor and the mayor pro tem sitting at a table with two empty chairs and a platter of French toast—a veritable engraved invitation to law enforcement officers. We made a beeline for the table and sat down without comment.

“
I’m not even the mayor yet,” said Cynthia, “and they’re after me.”

“
Welcome to my world,” said Pete. “Well, my ex-world.”

“
You’re still the mayor for another two months. They should be bothering you with this.”

“
I guess they should,” said Pete, “but I told them I didn’t care.”

“
Good morning,” I said. “Pass the French toast, please.”

“
Morning,” said Cynthia, passing the platter across the table. Nancy managed to skewer a couple of pieces on the way by.

“
Did you know,” said Cynthia, “that there is a new organization in town headed up by Shea Maxwell? The Society of Decency. They want the city council to stop the sale of Camp Possumtickle to the DANGLs. They’re threatening a lawsuit and a court order to halt the proceedings.”

“
I don’t think they could stop it, even if they wanted to,” I said. “Camp Possumtickle is outside the city limits.”

“
Actually,” said Pete, sipping on his coffee, “it is and it isn’t. We annexed that parcel last year. The camp was all for it because it gave them some fire protection, but the other neighbors are still fighting it in court. It hasn’t been decided.”

“
You mean the city council
could
stop the sale?”

“
I don’t know,” said Pete. “The parcel isn’t legally in the city limits, but we’ve been taxing the residents, letting them vote, and affording them fire protection until the courts decide whether the city annexed the parcel legally. Either way, I’m not going to any more council meetings. Cynthia can go if she wants. As future mayor, she’s encouraged to attend.”

“
I don’t like meetings,” said Cynthia.

“
You’re in the wrong biz, now, Sweetheart,” said Pete. “Oh, by the way…” He gave a sly grin. “I gave Wormy permission to put his Ferris wheel in Sterling Park on Thanksgiving weekend. He’s going to bring it in and set it up on Saturday morning.”

“
Is it a big one?” asked Nancy.

“
Big enough,” said Pete. “It’s a twelve-seater, thirty feet tall.”

“
Is there room in the park?” I asked.

“
Sure,” said Pete. “We stepped it off, although the only place it can go is right in front of St. Barnabas. You know, where the Kiwanis Club sets up the Christmas Crèche. The rest of the park has too many trees.”

“
You won’t get to ride it, you know,” I said. “You’re my best man. And someone has to dress as the turkey.”

•••

“
I talked to them,” said Nancy, coming in to the police station just after lunch. “I went out to Camp Possumtickle. Luckily, they all had their clothes on when I showed up. Every last one of them said that Chad and Lacie were at the DANGL meeting in Galax from Sunday night until Tuesday morning when they all left. There was even a video of their “Christian Karaoke Night” they showed me—dated-stamped Monday night. Lacie and Chad do a mean duet rendition of
The Prayer
. I watched a bit of it.”

“
They could have changed the date on the camera,” I pointed out.

“
Except it wasn’t their camera. I don’t get the feeling that these people would lie to protect a murderer.”

“
Were they naked?” asked Dave. “On the tape, I mean.”

“
Naked as jaybirds,” said Nancy. “Except for their microphones.”

“
Can we get a copy?” asked Dave hopefully, as a fleeting vision of Lacie Ravencroft leapt into his frontal lobe. “Just for archival purposes?”

“
No, you may not,” said Nancy. “Oh, one more thing. Those DANGLs are pretty mad about the people in town trying to stop the sale of the camp. They told me that if the ‘so-called Society of Decency’ keeps up this policy of discrimination, they’ll be forced to come into town to hold a demonstration.”

“
Lacie, too?” asked Dave.

Nancy glared at him.

“
I’ve been busy, as well,” I said. “I called Jack DeMille’s office in Topeka. He’s out of the country, so they transferred me to his lawyer. I asked if the reward on Josh Kenisaw had been collected. He told me that it hadn’t.”

“
That’s interesting,” said Nancy. “If I were that bounty hunter, I would have turned in Davis’ head by now.”

•••

That afternoon Nancy arrested Collette for shooting at a Minque that she had cornered under the gazebo in the middle of Sterling Park.

“
You can’t arrest me, you Jezebel! You Athaliah! You dirty Rahab!” screamed Collette, face down on the ground, her hands cuffed behind her back. “I have a hunting license!”

“
Call me one more name,” said Nancy calmly, “and I’ll lock you up in the old outhouse. You can’t shoot in town. Where did you get a pistol, anyway?”

“
Dr. Ken’s Gun Emporium,” Collette grumbled. “He’s having a Minque sale.”

Chapter 26

Noylene had called a wedding powwow at the Beautifery and invited, or rather required, all parties involved to be present. Meg, thinking that I’d be very interested in the proceedings, had “invited” me to come along also. Meg was mistaken. I wasn’t interested. But Noylene had promised that pie would be served, so I was in. Pete, too.

“
Now,” said Noylene, “are all eight bridesmaids here?”

“
Four,” said Meg. “Four bridesmaids. That’s what we agreed on.”

Noylene sighed. “Okay. Four. Are they all here?”

“
I have three,” said Meg. “Bev, Elaine, and Cynthia.”

“
You can’t have just three,” Noylene explained patiently. “It’ll be unbalanced. The chop suey will be all wrong.”

“
Feng shui,” I corrected.

“
Whatever,” said Noylene.

“
I asked Georgia, but she’s serving communion,” said Meg. “Nancy’s going to be on duty, so she can’t do it, either.”

“
Collette said she’d do it,” I said.

“
Collette’s crazy,” said Noylene. “How about Crayonella? She was in here yesterday for a manicure.”

“
That would add a little local color,” I said, garnering an amused look from Bev and Elaine.

“
Crayonella will be just fine, if she’ll do it,” said Meg.

“
I’m sure she will,” said Cynthia. “I’ll give her a call right now.” Cynthia pulled out her cell phone and excused herself.

“
Now,” said Noylene, “the actual wedding ceremony is at the end of the performance. That should give everyone time to change into their bridesmaid outfits.”

“
What bridesmaid outfits?” asked Bev. “I thought we were wearing our Indian costumes.”

“
That’s the plan,” said Meg. “My wedding dress was made by Jim Thundercloud. It’s quite lovely. White fringed and beaded doeskin with matching moccasins.”

“
You mean y’all aren’t wearing matching bridesmaid outfits?” Noylene was appalled. “You’re at least getting your hair and nails done, aren’t you?”

Noylene was spared her latest disappointment by Cynthia’s interruption.

“
Good news,” Cynthia announced. “Crayonella says she’ll be happy to do it. She’s honored to be asked.”

“
Are you wearing an Indian outfit as well?” Noylene asked.

“
Nope. I’ll be a belly dancer. I have my own costume.”

“
Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Noylene in disgust. “We’re getting you three in the Dip ’n Tan. Y’all look like a trio of Pillsbury Dough Girls.”

•••

I was practicing on Friday morning—a voluntary by John Stanley, the hymns for Sunday, and the accompaniment for the communion anthem—and was almost finished when I was interrupted by a half dozen children scampering loudly into the choir loft, followed doggedly up the narrow stairs by a huffing and puffing Mrs. Tidball-Lemming.

“
You kids get back here,” she wheezed, without much vigor. She’d gotten to the top of the stairs and three steps into the loft when the children, screeching like howler monkeys, dodged her clumsy attempts to corral them and shot back down the stairs. I watched from my perch at the organ console as they tore through the nave and banged open the door to the sacristy, finally disappearing to wreak whatever havoc they could find. Fiona looked at me, defeat etching her face.

“
They’re Adrian’s from his first marriage,” she said. “Seven of those little brats. His first wife thinks it’s funny to tell them to do anything they want when they get here. She’s knows Adrian won’t discipline them. He’s got too much paternal abandonment guilt.”

“
Hmm,” I managed. “And how long will the little Lemmings be with us?”

“
We were supposed to have them for Christmas this year, but the ex found true love and decided to go to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving. Adrian told her we’d be
happy
to take them.”

“
So they’ll be here for
The Living Gobbler
?”

“
I guess I’ll have to write them a part,” said Fiona, her shoulders slumping. “I wonder what they’re doing now?”

In response, a huge crash came from the sacristy followed by the sound of breaking glass. A lot of glass.

•••

I didn’t go down to the sacristy, preferring to let the Lemmings clean up after themselves. I did hear quite a lot of screaming going on behind the closed door, but eventually the furor died down and I resolved to play through the voluntary at least once more before heading back to the office.

“
Hayden?” said a low voice from the back of the loft. I recognized the voice immediately.

“
Hi, Carmel. Come on up.”

“
I’ve got some friends with me. May I introduce them?”

“
Of course.”

The Reverend Carmel Bottoms came into the loft followed by four others, three middle-aged women and a young man, all wearing open academic gowns with an embroidered red cross on the left breast.

“
We are the Exorkizein. It’s the name we’ve given ourselves. From the Greek.”

I nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Exorkizein. I’m Hayden Konig the organist. I thought you guys were coming weeks ago.”