An Angel to Die For (19 page)

Upstairs in the silent house, I took my half of the china girl from the lunch box on my closet shelf and fit the pieces together. Someday I would have the keepsake professionally repaired for Mom. As for myself, the mending had already begun.

The house felt empty, oddly vacant. Except for Noodles, who was just beginning to tolerate me, I was alone. Really alone because Augusta had gone to Ellynwood with the others, only they didn’t know it, of course.

Unable to sleep late, I had come down early planning to prepare an edible, if not substantial breakfast to start them on their way. I couldn’t cook as well as
Augusta, but I could scramble a few eggs, and have been known to stir up a batch of pancakes now and then if there’s a box of mix handy.

But Augusta beat me to it. The warm homey smell of just-baked bread wrapped itself around me and drew me into the kitchen where Augusta, enveloped in a posy-sprigged pinafore, lifted a crusty loaf from the oven. “A little something to start the day,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I mind terribly,” I said. “I hate your cooking, Augusta. Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

“With just a whiff of cinnamon.” She poured me a cup, then quickly whisked eggs and cheese together and paused to listen for footsteps upstairs. “I expect they’ll be down in a minute. I see you’ve decided to stay.”

I nodded between sips of chocolate. “For a day or two, but I’m worried about the others. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“I wish I could assure you, Prentice. I can’t. We just have to make our choices and do the best we can.”

“What do you mean,
we
? This is my mother we’re talking about! My nephew. What if something happens to them?”

The angel heated butter in a pan. “I believe your mother wants you to wait for your friend Rob. She seems to feel responsible for your turning him down before.”

“I know . . . well, she was in a way. But I couldn’t go running off to England and leave her here alone after Dad died.”

I took blue-rimmed plates from the cabinet and set three places, put out Joey’s small bowl with the kittens on it. “This place—this Ellynwood—I don’t know anything about it. It could be in the middle of nowhere! I just hope they’ll be all right.”

Augusta spoke softly. “Would you like me to go along?”

“Would you? That would be great!”

“As you know, I’m limited as to what I can do, but perhaps I can be of some help.

“I believe your pan’s ready,” she said, putting the bowl of eggs into my hands. “Stir it quickly or it’ll burn.”

“What’s that heavenly smell?” My mother stood in the doorway. “Prentice, did you do this? You must’ve been up all night.”

I looked behind me, but of course Augusta was no longer there. “Pull up a chair and dig in,” I said.

Now I took my time rinsing the dishes, wiping off the table, sticky with honey. Noodles curled about my feet and I treated her to a saucer of milk. Soon Rob would call from London to let me know when to expect his flight.

But it was well past noon before I heard from Rob. His flight had been canceled because of mechanical problems and he couldn’t get another for several hours.
It would be sometime tomorrow before he’d arrive in Atlanta.

I was upstairs picking out tunes on the violin that afternoon when I heard somebody drive up behind the house. From my position at the window I couldn’t tell who was driving, but the car looked like the one that had followed Augusta and me when we left Ruby, Tennessee.

Give us a call if you see or hear anyone drive up. We’ll be there in five minutes
, the deputy had said. But how could I be sure this wasn’t someone on a harmless errand? If I didn’t answer the door, maybe they would go away. I sidled up to one side of the window and watched a man get out from the driver’s side. It was difficult to get a good look at his face from where I stood, but he moved like a much younger man than I imagined Sonny’s father to be, and as he approached the house I saw that he had a beard. Not the long, bushy, trailing whiskers I’d imagined, but what appeared to be a neat, well-trimmed beard.

I heard his footsteps cross the porch and waited until he knocked on the door before I slipped off my shoes and crept as quietly as I could to the phone in the hallway. The sheriff’s line was busy.

The knocking came again, this time louder, and after a few minutes I heard him move off the porch. Good. He was leaving! I listened for his car to start. It didn’t. Instead the doorbell rang. The persistent man had walked around to the front. I could hear his feet shuffle impatiently as he waited. The sheriff’s line was
still tied up—and so was my stomach! What if he came through a window? Battered down the door? Was this the same person who had asked about me in the library? He didn’t seem particularly threatening, but you can’t always go by appearances. He seemed much too young to be married to the deceiving woman in yellow who had tracked me to the mall near Chattanooga. Of course he could be her son or a younger brother. Or maybe this was the nephew she mentioned.

Whoever he was, I was sure he was somehow connected to the Gaineses and that no good could come of that. I had my finger poised to call 911 when I heard him drive away.

“Why didn’t you call like I asked you to?” the deputy demanded when I finally got through almost fifteen minutes later.

“I tried. Your line was busy.” I attempted not to sound as exasperated as I really was. We needed these people on our side.

“You called 911?”

“Well . . . no. It wasn’t exactly an emergency,” I said. “But if he hadn’t left, I was going to in another minute.”

“If that man had really wanted to get inside your house, you might not have had another minute,” he told me. “He could be miles away by now, but if he tries watching your house again from across the road, we’ll find out what’s going on. We can’t arrest the man for knocking on your door.” I could tell by Don’s tone he’d probably like to put me away instead.

When Mom called a few minutes later to let me know they were safely at Ellynwood, I didn’t mention my would-be visitor. At least our crafty little back road ploy had seemed to work, as Mom said that as far as she could tell, they hadn’t been followed there.

“What time are you meeting Rob’s plane?” my mother asked.

“There’s been a delay. He won’t be getting in until tomorrow.”

“You aren’t staying at Smokerise alone tonight?”

“Probably not. Thought I might spend the night with Dottie Ives in Atlanta.” Actually I hadn’t thought of it until just then, but the idea of a return visitor after dark didn’t appeal to me at all.

“Good idea!” Mom said. “Have a good visit with Rob now, honey, and let us know when to look for you.”

“Is everything all right there?” I thought I detected a false gaiety in her voice.

“Fine. House needed a bit of airing but it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. Elaine’s uncle must’ve had someone clean it before we arrived. And, Prentice, we found fresh fruit, pastries, and a delicious green salad waiting in the refrigerator. So thoughtful, and I don’t even know who to thank.”

I was pretty sure I did.

Dottie wasn’t at home when I called, but I knew she hadn’t gone far. Like me, she was too broke to travel. I left a message that I hoped she wouldn’t mind company for the night and went upstairs to add a few things to the bag I’d packed the night before. I tried to phone
Aunt Zorah to let her know I’d be gone for a few days, but nobody answered. Probably still “reunioning,” I thought, although it was well into Sunday afternoon and those affairs were usually over by then.

If I hadn’t wanted to be a thoughtful houseguest, I don’t know when we would’ve found the body in the barn. But I remembered Dottie admiring a hand-carved picture frame in an antique shop once, and I was sure I’d seen one like it hanging in our loft. It had been carved by Great-Great-Uncle Edgar during his whittling period, my father said. My parents found the barn loft a convenient place to keep broken furniture you might want to repair someday, old radios (who knows what they might be worth eventually?), the set of dishes Mom got with Green Stamps, and not-quite-discarded picture frames.

Dottie had begun redecorating her small apartment, but had to stop when
Martha’s Journal
folded. Maybe this gift, dusty though it may be, would renew her spirits. And it would be perfect, I thought, for that spot in the corner of her guest bedroom. I swung open the barnyard gate feeling proud of myself for having thought of it, but as soon as I stepped inside the building it became obvious something had died in there—and not too recently.

He lay as if he had been flung there about midway inside the barn, still clutching in one fist what looked like a handful of straw. His head was turned at a most peculiar angle, and the eye I could see seemed to be staring at my feet. Jasper Totherow hadn’t smelled like
a rose in the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. The stench of him made me gag and dash for air. I almost made it to the fence before I lost my lunch. Ralphine Totherow wouldn’t be bothered by Jasper again.

S
omething was dreadfully wrong, and Aunt Zorah wasn’t talking. I had fled to her home from Smoke-rise as soon as the police were satisfied I hadn’t put an end to Jasper Totherow and didn’t know who did. I had an idea who might’ve though, and so did they. Jasper’s wife Ralphine headed the list, although I doubted if she’d done it. If Ralphine Totherow was going to do away with her husband, she would’ve done him in long ago. However, she did have opportunity—and oodles and oodles of motives. And from the way the people investigating the crime scene scurried about with smug expressions, I had a feeling they knew more than they were sharing. Sheriff Bonner was also interested in my mysterious “bearded” visitor and took note of every minute detail I could remember about his car, his clothing,
and the little I managed to see of his appearance. It wasn’t much.

I left them photographing the pathetic remains in our barn and drove to Aunt Zorah’s intending to spend the night. Our barn lot was becoming a much-too-popular spot for dead people, and after what had happened to Jasper, the idea of a night alone at Smokerise didn’t seem at all beneficial to my well-being. The sheriff had asked me to stick around in case the bearded man turned up, so Dottie agreed to get word to Rob when his flight arrived the next day. They had rental cars at the airport, and Rob knew how to drive. I just hoped he remembered to drive on the right side of the road.

No one answered when I’d telephoned my aunt, so I assumed she hadn’t yet returned from the big family whoop-de-do, but a dim light burned in the back of her house and I knew where she kept a key.

I found Aunt Zorah in the semidarkness of her sitting room, still in her hat and coat, luggage at her feet, and after discovering one corpse that day, I was horrified to think I’d found another. Fortunately this one spoke.

“Prentice, that you? I didn’t hear you. What is it?”

“I tried to call you a couple of times but nobody answered. Did you just get in?” I couldn’t tell if she was coming or going.

“A little while ago. Just had to sit down for a minute.”

My aunt was practically mumbling and that alarmed me. Dad said she sounded so much like his army drill
sergeant he’d felt right at home during basic training.

“Are you all right?” I felt her forehead. “You’re not sick, are you? And it’s freezing cold in here. I’ll turn up the heat.”

“Not sick, just tired,” she said as I rubbed her cold hands in my warm ones.

“What’s wrong? Have they found Uncle Faris?” Aunt Zorah seemed to be in shock. I gently removed her green knitted hat, slipped off her shoes, and placed a footstool under her feet, almost forgetting for a moment what I had found in my own backyard. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to go inside that barn again.

I took a few deep breaths, thought
blue
, and made tea. My aunt took a couple of sips and said it was just what she needed, but I noticed that her hand trembled when she replaced the cup in the saucer. “Are you going to tell me what brought this on?” I said. “I thought you went to some kind of family reunion.”