The Diva Wore Diamonds (27 page)

The opening hymn was
Be Thou My Vision,
and the adult choir processed up to the front, back down the side aisle and up into the choir loft. I had to play the
Gloria,
then make my way down to the front for the performance. Before the kids made their entrance, we’d hear the Old Testament lesson and the Gospel reading. The first lesson is the story of Elisha, of course, but read from the beginning of the chapter. The lectionary readings all end just before the bears show up. Odd, that. The rest of the Old Testament lesson was the reading for Transfiguration Sunday. Elijah is whisked away in a fiery chariot and Elisha, his disciple, remains with a “double-portion” of God’s grace. Then, a couple of verses later, he cleans up the water supply and wreaks havoc on the Bethel youth group.

The readings were duly proclaimed and it was time for the kids to come down the aisle to the sombre tones of the overture. I looked around the church, searching for members of the Purcell Society, and spotted four faces in the back that I hadn’t seen before. Bingo! Three men dressed in rumpled suits and a middle-aged woman wearing a hat. I gave them a nod.

The only instrumentation for the piece was the harpsichord. The instrument was a nice one, handmade by Ian Burch, with a big, ringing sound. There would be no problem hearing it. At least, I thought, as long as the bears’ Bluetooths were working.

As the children reached the front steps, Codfish Downs, Zeb Martin and Darius Reeves, all standing in the back, sang the first trio.

Elisha, prophet, man of God,

The Fertile Hills of Judah trod.

God’s judgement to these Hills did tell,

Until vile youths upon him fell.

I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Codfish coming up the aisle. With his grizzled beard and lack of hair, he looked every bit the crazed prophet, due for a taunting.

The kids sang:

Go up, thou Baldhead, yea go up.

Take thy mantle, take thy cup,

And to the birds now prophesy.

We find your preaching very dry.

Go up, thou Baldhead, grant us ease.

O prating prophet, take thy leave.

These stones we throw to fire thy shame,

And send thee back to whence thou came!

“
Braaaaap,” went the frog. I looked over at the piano. The lid to the bench was up just about an inch and the frog was struggling out, its amphibious body squashed almost flat as it pulled itself through the opening with webbed fingers and elbows. Its head, not able to fit easily through the crack, was twisted in a grotesque fashion, and its mouth was hanging open, revealing a blackish tongue that dangled lewdly, as it wriggled to free itself.

Thou wretched youths,
sang Elisha.
I shall now hie,

To yonder cave, where Ursine Brethren lie.

The frog popped free and landed on the slate floor with a plop like the sound of a three-pound, uncooked meatloaf being dropped on the kitchen floor. The kids all looked over at the noise. Mary grabbed Ashley’s hand and made a horrible face.

Elisha continued:

Awake, awake shake off dull sleep,

awake from slumber, dark and deep.

Ye dreadful bears to me draw nigh

And hear a Prophet’s awful cry.

These viperous youths, their mocking scorn,

Shall come to naught this cursed morn.

Billy Hixon, the head usher, had been sitting in the front pew, due to the fact that he was mostly deaf and also liked a good show. He heard the frog splat when it hit the slate—a testament to the sheer volume of it—and hadn’t quite decided if, being head usher, he was required to corral the frog and banish it from the proceedings. He was pretty sure it wasn’t part of the show, but he thought he remembered frogs in the Bible somewhere. While he was pondering this, the bears entered.

Awake, awake! Make ready then your bitter tomb,

The prophet now has sealed your doom!

The effect was startling. Two seven-foot bears singing bass is neither sight nor sound for the faint of heart. I noticed several people in the congregation perk up immediately.

With teeth and claws and fetid breath,

we now consign you unto death.

The children looked terrified, as well they might be. I think they might have been acting, but these guys looked pretty scary. However, it was at this point in the duet that Zeb’s Bluetooth started to pick up police radio signals. I knew this because the two bears were scheduled to sing a repeat of their opening flourish,
Awake, awake!
What came out was:

Awake, awake! We have a ten fifty-seven on Elm.

Call for some back-up. Proceed with caution.

A moment later, Darius’ Bluetooth picked up the same signal.

Roger that. Make ready then, thy bitter tomb,

And have thy prophet call for an ambulance.

I reached up, grabbed Dave’s Blackberry off the harpsichord and tossed it into the baptismal font, a pretty good throw considering the font was a good five feet away. Now the bears couldn’t hear, but at least they wouldn’t be singing the police report.

“
Braaaaap!” went the frog.

The children and the bears began the
Munching Dance
. The bears, having no idea there was a three-pound bullfrog under their feet, were happily stomping around in the way that bears do. Billy decided that, if one of the bears happened to get lucky, or
unlucky,
as the case may be, and end the frog’s theatrical career, that would also be the end of the show. He slid down off the pew, all six foot-six, two-hundred sixty pounds of him, and crawled on his hands and knees toward the action.

Cynthia had taught the kids a very stately Baroque dance where each quartet held hands and stepped together in rhythm until one of the bears took a stylized swipe at one of them. Then that child would shriek, throw a red velvet streamer into the air to symbolize the slaughter of another youth-gone-wrong, and collapse in a heap. I knew the bears couldn’t hear, but they were lumbering sorts, anyway, and not suited for dancing. Not like those Russian bears.

Moosey kept one eye on his pet and the other on the stomping paws of the bears. Billy, on the other hand, was intent on watching only the frog. If it jumped just a little farther his way…

“
Braaaaap,” went the frog, and took a mighty leap right toward Billy.

Moosey was in the group nearest the frog and jumped a split-second later. He might have caught Ribbet in mid-leap, had Billy not been attempting the same maneuver. The resulting crash took down the remaining dancers. They tossed their ribbons into the air with yelps of surprise. One of the bears, who was taking a slow swipe at Moosey, overbalanced when he wasn’t there and tumbled to the floor in a sort of slow-motion somersault. The other bear, startled to be the only one standing, looked around in confusion, then reached down and helped his partner up. They stared at each other for a moment, then gave exagerated shrugs, and shuffled back down the aisle to join Elisha, who had retreated to the back of the sanctuary as per his stage instructions.

Moosey had a firm hold on the frog. Billy made it back to his pew, although we could still hear Elaine laughing from the balcony. Right on cue, all of the children got up and stood in a straight line with Moosey in the middle. He turned Ribbet—miraculously unscathed—to face the audience, put his hands under the frog’s arms, and held him up. The frog’s long, amphibious fingers clung to Moosey the way a kitten might hang onto a branch after an ill-advised leap. Its white belly, mottled body and powerful legs dangled a good eighteen inches below Moosey’s hands, and it looked out at the congregation with unblinking, bulbous eyes. Then Moosey lifted his pet aloft, took a deep breath, and sang to make angels weep.

Farewell mother, weep not for me,

For blessed Paradise I see.

To taunt Elisha wrong were we,

And death our punishment must be.

The other children joined in:

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.

Mourn, all ye muses, make sad lament,

These youthful lives were foolish spent.

God’s holy prophet man must never scorn,

Or else such Ursine fate must be by mankind borne.

Amen.

It was a service for the ages.

•••

“
That was something,” said Gaylen, when we’d all made it back to the parish hall for coffee, juice and general snacking. “I hope you’re going to record it.”

“
I expect we will,” I said. “It could have gone a little smoother.”

“
Nonsense,” said Meg. “It went just as expected.”

“
Absolutely,” agreed Bev.

“
I need to go and talk to those Purcell Society members, I guess.”

Meg gave me a puzzled look.

“
They were sitting near the back on the right.”

“
Those were Garth and Garret’s parents and two of their uncles. I talked to them after church.”

“
Hmm,” I said. “I wonder what happened to the Purcell Society?”

“
You mean Dr. Hiram Milligan?”

“
Yeah.” I paused. “Wait a minute. How did you know his name?”

Meg and Bev howled with laughter. “Don’t you think Kent Murphee does a great Boston accent?”

“
What?”

“
I swear!” gasped Meg, between outbursts. “You are so gullible! The North American Purcell Society? Oh,
really!”

“
Well,” I grumbled. “It c
ould
have happened.”

Chapter 22

“
Thanks for surrendering,” I said. “I’m glad you didn’t make us come out and get you. The Boone P.D. will be here in a couple of minutes.”

Nancy, Dave, Meg and I were sitting at our table in the Slab Café. Pete was behind the counter with Cynthia, listening in. Noylene was pouring us coffee.

“
I’m sorry. Really, I am. He just made me so dang mad.”

“
He made everybody mad, Wormy,” said Noylene sadly. “Twarn’t no reason to kill him.”

“
Here’s the thing, Noylene,” Wormy said. “He was all the time hanging around our trailer. Then, with you getting pregnant and all…”

“
What are you talking about?” said Noylene. “I hope you’re not saying that this baby is Russ Stafford’s.”

“
Well,” said Wormy, angrily. “It sure as hell ain’t mine! I figured it was Stafford’s, for sure!”

“
Sure it’s yours, honey,” said Noylene. “You went down and got re-tested, remember? Your little swimmers are A-okay.”