The Diva Wore Diamonds (24 page)

“
Yeah? Who?”

“
Guy named Teddy. Teddy Rupskin.”

“
He have twelve fingers?”

“
Hang on a sec. I’ll count ‘em.”

I waited for a few moments, letting my thoughts drift to Constance. I liked my Australian women the way I liked my kiwi fruit, sweet yet tart, firm of flesh, yet yielding to the touch, and covered with short brown fuzzy hair. Constance Noring was perfect in so many ways and yet…

“
Yeah, twelve,” said a voice filled with sufficient gravel to cover all the dirt roads in Watauga County with enough left over to re-pave Bea Arthur’s vocal chords. “He crashed his Vespa into the front of Buxtehooters. But my guess is, he was dead before the scooter hit the building.”

“
I’ll be there soon as I can,” I said. “Be careful when you frisk him. Chances are, he’s got a platypus in his pants.”

•••

“
I just read that Elisha story!” said Meg, in her horrified voice. “You are
not
doing that with our children’s choir.”

“
It’s too late, my pet,” I said. “The children already know it and love it. Moosey has his solo memorized, the soloists have been hired, I’ve ordered the bear costumes, and the publicity machine is running rampant across the tar heel state.”

“
But the bears eat the children!”

“
Yes, but with good reason.”

“
Good reason? They called Elisha ‘baldhead.’ That’s hardly justification for Elisha to have his bears kill all the children.”

“
They were youths,” I said. “Not children.
Youths.
It was a youth group.”

“
Oh,” said Meg. “Well…a youth group. That explains it.”

•••

“
Very good,” I said. “One more time through, and I think you’ll have it.”

The children’s choir was doing very well, and I was enjoying it more than I thought I would.
Elisha and the Two Bears
, the newly-discovered Henry Purcell masterpiece, had two choruses for the children as well as a lovely solo aria to be sung by Moosey. The other roles were for a tenor, portraying the prophet Elisha, and two basses—the bears. I’d had auditions for the solo, but it was no contest. Moosey had been listening to my snooty English choirboy CDs for years and was an excellent mimic.

“
When do we get to hear the bears?” asked Dewey.

“
Next week. We’re going to need a couple of extra rehearsals, but I think we’ll be ready to perform this a week from tomorrow.”

“
Are we going to sing this during church?” asked Bernadette.

“
Yes,” I said. “In place of the sermon. I’ve already cleared it with Father Tony.”

“
Are we selling tickets?” asked Garth. “Mom said she’d take six.”

“
No tickets,” I said. “Everyone’s invited.”

“
Can we sing that part about ‘broken limbs and faces faire’ again?” asked Madison. “That’s my favorite song.”

“
Mine, too!” said Stuart. “That’s the part where we all get chewed up by the bears!”

With broken limbs and faces faire,

Now supper for the ancient bear,

We moan the curse that sealed our fate,

The mocking of his balding pate.

Chapter 19

“
Choir practice is our social activity for the week,” said Meg. “You can’t expect us to shut up and sing.”

“
Anyway, we’re off this Sunday,” said Marjorie. “The kids are doing their musical.”

“
Yeah,” said Marty, “so stop bothering us.”

“
Do you think we might rehearse just a bit?” I asked. “I’ll let you sing something sweet. Maybe something by John Rutter.”

“
Which one?” asked Georgia, suddenly interested. “Not one of those Renaissance re-mixes!”

“
How about
A Gaelic Blessing
?” I offered.

“
Nah,” said Bev. “What about
For the Beauty of the Earth
?”

“
Too many notes,” I said.

“
I like that one about sweet, sweet music,” said Marjorie.

“
That’s a Christmas anthem,” said Meg.

“
A Clare Benediction? God Be In My Head? The Lord is My Shepherd?”

“
That last one,” said Fred, perking up. “It’s the one with the oboe, right?”

“
Yeah,” I said. “I just happen to have the copies right here.”

You fools,
I thought, laughing to myself in my Vincent Price voice.
You’ve played right into my hands.
I knew they’d go for the 23rd Psalm. Now I had them right where I wanted them.

“
Tell us about this musical,” said Bob Solomon. “I hear that it’s an American premiere.”

“
Absolutely right,” I said. “Although Henry Purcell is an English composer.”

“
Old-timey?” asked Marjorie.

“
Born in 1659,” I said, “and died at age thirty-five. The manuscript was found at Cambridge earlier this year.”

“
What’s it called?” asked Randy. “You’ve been rehearsing those kids like crazy!”

“
Elisha and the Two Bears.”

“
Is that a Bible story?” said Tiff.

“
Elisha is a fine character in the Old Testament, but he didn’t make it onto many Sunday School flannel-boards. His stories are sort of…”

“
Gruesome?” offered Meg.

“
Horrific?” said Bev.

“
Grisly?” added Elaine.

“
Bloodthirsty?” chimed in Rebecca.

“
No,” I said. “I was going to say
harsh, but fair.
This is a story to warm the hearts of follically-challenged men everywhere.”

“
Let’s hear it,” said Sheila.

“
Elisha, God’s prophet, just cleaned up Jericho’s water supply and was on his way up to Mt. Carmel when some youths came out and made fun of him saying, ‘Go on up, baldy!’”

“
Nice kids,” snorted Steve DeMoss. “Sounds like those hooligans over in Sterling Park.”

“
Those were
not
hooligans,” said Sheila. “Those were eight-year-olds playing kick-the-can, and you were in their way.”

“
Still…” grumbled Steve, smoothing his two hairs back into place.

“
Anyway, Elisha was not amused,” I continued. “He called down a curse, and two bears came out of the woods and ate forty-two of them.”

“
What?”
said Marjorie. “Ate them?”

“
Amen,” said Mark. “Harsh, but fair.”

“
That’s in the Bible?” asked Tiff.

“
Oh, Elisha’s in some good stories,” I said. “Like the one where there’s a famine so bad that a quarter piece of dove dung was selling for five pieces of silver, and a donkey head was going for the equivalent of a three bedroom house.”

“
And?” said Rebecca.

“
And this woman made a pact with her best friend that they should eat their kids. But after they ate the first one, the second woman backed out on the deal.”

“
Well,” said Mark with a shrug. “Presumably, she was full.”

“
Then the king blamed Elisha for the famine and was going to cut off his head, so Elisha called the whole famine thing off.”

“
How come we never heard of these stories?” asked Muffy.

“
Then there’s the one where the woman drives a tent-peg through her husband’s best friend’s ear.”

“
Do you have a musical for that, too?” asked Meg.

“
I could write one,” I offered. “The grand finale would be
The Whacking Chorus.
”

“
Whack, whack, whack,” chanted the men.

“
Oh, just stop it,” said Meg. “Shouldn’t we be rehearsing?”

•••

Muffy Lemieux stood up to make an announcement. “I hope all y’all are going to come up to hear us at the Hair o’ the Dog Bar and Grill in Boone. We’ll be performin’ Varmit’s new song at the ‘Battle of the Country Bands’ on Saturday night.”

“
Why don’t we make it a road trip?” Phil said. “We could meet here, and some of us could drive over.”

This met with general agreement and enthusiasm.

“
The show starts at eight,” said Muffy. “Don’t y’all be late. And don’t get drunk before y’all vote. We’re the third band to play.”

•••

“
Any breaking news on our murderer?” Dave asked, as he decided which donut would be voted most likely to quell his mid-morning munchies.

“
Not unless someone came in and confessed while I was writing parking tickets,” I said.

“
Are you writing parking tickets?” asked Nancy.

“
Nah,” I said. “Did anyone come in and confess?”

“
Nah,” said Nancy.

“
I still think that I’m missing something. Something important. It’s right in front of us.”

“
We still think that Gerry did it?” asked Dave.

“
Well,” I said, “we can’t prove it, that’s for sure. And frankly, no. No, I don’t think he did.”

“
That doesn’t leave us with a lot of suspects,” said Nancy. “We’ve looked at almost everyone that was at the Bible Bazaar. You don’t think one of the kids killed him, do you?”

“
Holy smokes!” said Dave. “I hope not.”

“
No prints on the rock,” I said. “No DNA either.” I shook my head. “I don’t think it was a kid.”

•••

I had a friend named Bucky James who was the head of the tourism council in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Bucky and I went to high school together, and we’d managed to keep in touch over the years. In fact, I’d played the organ at his first and third weddings. I called Bucky because the Gatlinburg Tourism Council had spared no expense in creating the best bear costumes money could buy. These costumes weren’t for rent, and no one was allowed to borrow them, but Bucky had found himself at a cock fight in Watauga County late one night, with no friends and the feds banging on the door. He’d needed a favor then, and I didn’t mind calling one in now.