Free Hark! The Herald Angel Screamed: An Augusta Goodnight Mystery (with Heavenly Recipes) by Mignon F. Ballard Page B

here knows that crazy old ghost tale! Somebody rigged that up to scare people away.” He tossed the pencil aside. “I’m telling you, we looked over every inch of that place, checked very nook and cranny where they might hide something like that, and came up with zilch!”
    I told him Ben and Vance hadn’t had any better luck.
    “Well, we’ll try to give it another look-see. Maybe we can surprise them, find out what this is all about … could be just some kids with nothing better to do, but if you’ll take my advice, Ms. Pilgrim, you’ll stay away from there.”

    I told Augusta about our conversation that night as I helped her make the small meat pies for the party. I browned the ground beef and combined it with onion, spices, and other ingredients while Augusta made the pastry and cut circles for the pies. She planned to make the soup the next morning, she said, and we had decided to serve hot spiced punch when everyone returned from caroling.
    “You mentioned that Louella Tansey was at home when your cousin arrived yesterday,” she reminded me. “Do you think it might have been her?”
    “I don’t see how she could have gotten to the house before Vance and Jamie. They hadn’t been there more than a minute or so before we heard the violin. Besides, I’m sure we would’ve seen her. And she said Jeremiah had already left for work.”
    Augusta’s hands flew as she spooned filling onto circles of pastry, folded them over, and crimped the edges. In what seemed only seconds, neat rows of pies lined the baking sheets ready to pop into the oven. I watched in silent amazement as she whiskedan egg together with a spoonful of water for the glaze. “Once this party is behind us, perhaps I can do a bit of investigating on my own,” she said, sliding the pastries into the refrigerator to be baked at the last minute.
    “We really won’t have that much to do tomorrow,” I said. As usual, Weigelia had left the house spotless.
    “What carols do you plan to sing?” Augusta gave her Christmas apron a jaunty flip and hung it in the pantry. She had made one for both of us, and hers was a patchwork creation of stars and bells in silver, lavender, and blue, while mine featured a similar pattern in red, green, and gold.
    It would have been hard not to notice the wistfulness in her voice. “Oh, the usual songs, I guess. Why don’t
you
come, Augusta?”
    “Do you think I might?” I am not exaggerating when I say her smile was radiant. “I wouldn’t sing, of course.”
    “Of course you might! It’ll be fun! Weigelia’s coming, too.” Weigelia had offered to help with refreshments the next night, but I persuaded her we’d much rather have her company and her voice. Weigelia has this deep, rich contralto that sounds like the soul of an angel is breaking free from somewhere deep inside her. I guess it’s kind of like Augusta should sound, if only she could.

re they here yet?” Ellis whispered, standing in the doorway.
    “Not yet! Hurry and come inside—it’s freezing out there!” I knew who she meant without asking, as I was just as eager as she was to get a look at Idonia’s mysterious Melrose DuBois.
    Ellis’s husband Bennett crowded in after her, beating his gloved hands together. “You picked a dandy night for caroling. Must be twenty degrees out there!”
    “Actually, it’s twenty-six,” I informed him. “Ben has a bar set up in the kitchen if you need some antifreeze.”
    “Everybody else is here,” I told Ellis. She had brought her clam dip over earlier and now hurried into the dining room to adjust the heat under the chafing dish. Claudia’s husband Brian hovered over the table competing with Zee for the sweet-and-sour meatballs, while Jo Nell’s Paul kept Ben company in the kitchen. Bennett, I noticed, soon joined them.
    Nettie, who stood at the living room window nursing a glass of red wine, held aside the curtain to peer into the street. “Seems they should be here by now … you don’t