"Mama had one, although I never saw her wearing it, but it looked like that design you saw in those old minutes, and it had her initials on the back. I keep it in my jewelry box."
Elvis was singing somewhere upstairs when I got home that night, and I found Augusta in the room at the end of the hall with the record player that had belonged to my mother. She was shuffling to the music of "Jailhouse Rock," and the expression on her face could only be described as blissful. Mom's collection of 45s were fanned out on the table behind her.
Augusta opened her eyes when she heard me and pulled me into the dance. "I haven't heard anything this good since Glen Miller did that thing about the little brown jar," she said, swinging me out and around.
"That's jug ," I said. I was beginning to get a little dizzy.
"Oh. Well, anyway, I'm sorry I missed that era."
"What era?"I asked.
"The fifties. What do you call this—boogie woogie?"
"Rock and roll," I said. "So, where were you in the fifties?"
"Heaven, of course. I'm only a temp, Arminda. Between assignments I'm in charge of strawberry fields up there."
"Really? They actually grow strawberries?"
"Well, of course. Or it wouldn't be Heaven, now, would it?"
The music ended and I was glad for a break, but Augusta found another record to her liking—this time something called "Heart break Hotel." "You're going to have to teach me the steps," she said, listening to the beat.
I laughed as she tapped her feet in time. "I think you'll have to teach me ."
I was having such a good time dancing, I almost forgot to check the initials on the back of the pin I'd found. If my grandmother had Lucy's pin, then whose pin did I find on the bathroom floor?
I turned the gold disk under the light. The initials A. W. were inscribed on the back. Annie Westbrook. So Lucy's younger sister had not been wearing her pin when she drowned in the Saluda. But what was Otto doing with it?
I showed the minutes to Augusta, pointing out the emblem at the bottom.
"The same design is on the alma mater my great-grand-mother stitched," I said, "and Gatlin says she's seen it on a quilt."
Augusta studied the brittle paper with something close to a frown. "Where did you find this?"
In that old library table in the attic. You wanted it moved into the dining room, remember?"
"Of course." Augusta gave the yellowed paper back to me. I paused. "And there's a pin, too. I think it belonged to Annie Rose, the girl who died…and Augusta, it was in the bathroom at the academy right next to where we found Otto." There, it was out!
"Where in the bathroom?"
"Right there in the stall next to where Otto died. It was wedged in a corner."
"I'd keep these in a safe place if I were you. I have a feeling they might tell us something important."
And I had a feeling Augusta Goodnight had meant for me to find those old minutes in the attic, and that something that happened years ago might have led to my cousin Otto's murder.
Chapter Six
G atlin's husband, Dave, dropped by a little later that night with four husky Angels, members of the high school football team, and with much banging and grunting they maneuvered the unwieldy library table down from the attic and into the dining room. Afterward I made the mistake of treating the boys to pizza at their favorite hangout, the Heavenly Grill, although Dave tried to warn me against it. It was a darn good thing I'd eaten earlier, as I had barely enough money to pay the bill and was grateful when Dave offered to take care of the tip.
I knew from Gatlin that her family was just managing to squeak by on Dave's coaching salary and the spasmodic returns from their part-time jobs. Unfortunately things were not booming in Angel Heights, South Carolina, and I hoped my cousin's plans for a lunchroom-bookshop would bring an end to their hand-to-mouth lifestyle.
The next morning I heard hammering coming from the old Bradshaw house next door and went out to take a look.
A couple of trucks were
Elvis was singing somewhere upstairs when I got home that night, and I found Augusta in the room at the end of the hall with the record player that had belonged to my mother. She was shuffling to the music of "Jailhouse Rock," and the expression on her face could only be described as blissful. Mom's collection of 45s were fanned out on the table behind her.
Augusta opened her eyes when she heard me and pulled me into the dance. "I haven't heard anything this good since Glen Miller did that thing about the little brown jar," she said, swinging me out and around.
"That's jug ," I said. I was beginning to get a little dizzy.
"Oh. Well, anyway, I'm sorry I missed that era."
"What era?"I asked.
"The fifties. What do you call this—boogie woogie?"
"Rock and roll," I said. "So, where were you in the fifties?"
"Heaven, of course. I'm only a temp, Arminda. Between assignments I'm in charge of strawberry fields up there."
"Really? They actually grow strawberries?"
"Well, of course. Or it wouldn't be Heaven, now, would it?"
The music ended and I was glad for a break, but Augusta found another record to her liking—this time something called "Heart break Hotel." "You're going to have to teach me the steps," she said, listening to the beat.
I laughed as she tapped her feet in time. "I think you'll have to teach me ."
I was having such a good time dancing, I almost forgot to check the initials on the back of the pin I'd found. If my grandmother had Lucy's pin, then whose pin did I find on the bathroom floor?
I turned the gold disk under the light. The initials A. W. were inscribed on the back. Annie Westbrook. So Lucy's younger sister had not been wearing her pin when she drowned in the Saluda. But what was Otto doing with it?
I showed the minutes to Augusta, pointing out the emblem at the bottom.
"The same design is on the alma mater my great-grand-mother stitched," I said, "and Gatlin says she's seen it on a quilt."
Augusta studied the brittle paper with something close to a frown. "Where did you find this?"
In that old library table in the attic. You wanted it moved into the dining room, remember?"
"Of course." Augusta gave the yellowed paper back to me. I paused. "And there's a pin, too. I think it belonged to Annie Rose, the girl who died…and Augusta, it was in the bathroom at the academy right next to where we found Otto." There, it was out!
"Where in the bathroom?"
"Right there in the stall next to where Otto died. It was wedged in a corner."
"I'd keep these in a safe place if I were you. I have a feeling they might tell us something important."
And I had a feeling Augusta Goodnight had meant for me to find those old minutes in the attic, and that something that happened years ago might have led to my cousin Otto's murder.
Chapter Six
G atlin's husband, Dave, dropped by a little later that night with four husky Angels, members of the high school football team, and with much banging and grunting they maneuvered the unwieldy library table down from the attic and into the dining room. Afterward I made the mistake of treating the boys to pizza at their favorite hangout, the Heavenly Grill, although Dave tried to warn me against it. It was a darn good thing I'd eaten earlier, as I had barely enough money to pay the bill and was grateful when Dave offered to take care of the tip.
I knew from Gatlin that her family was just managing to squeak by on Dave's coaching salary and the spasmodic returns from their part-time jobs. Unfortunately things were not booming in Angel Heights, South Carolina, and I hoped my cousin's plans for a lunchroom-bookshop would bring an end to their hand-to-mouth lifestyle.
The next morning I heard hammering coming from the old Bradshaw house next door and went out to take a look.
A couple of trucks were
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