Murder Had a Little Lamb (35 page)

As all around me the chapel filled with the beautiful and powerful sound, I noticed that the animals calmed
down a bit. The fact that everyone was now looking straight ahead, toward Reverend Evans, also gave me a good chance to study the audience—at least the backs of their heads. I ran my eyes along the rows, methodically checking each person as I searched for Claude.

“O burning sun with golden beam and silver moon with softer gleam…”

I noticed that not everyone was singing. Beanie, for example, who I saw was whispering in Campbell’s ear. Even from where I sat, I could see how frantic her expression was.

She must be telling Campbell about the painting, I thought, bracing myself for her friend’s reaction.

Much to my amazement, Campbell just shrugged.

My mouth dropped open. But I clamped it shut as I decided I’d simply been wrong.

She must have been telling her something else, I decided.

Yet something about their interaction nagged at me. If Beanie had just learned about that painting of her best friend in the nude only minutes ago, wouldn’t it have been the first thing she would have talked to Campbell about? And when Campbell found out it had been shipped off to an art gallery in New York City, wouldn’t she have become extremely upset, just as her best friend had predicted?

I was still puzzling over the scene I’d just witnessed as hundreds of voices blossomed around me.

“Hallelujah… hallelujah!”

Suddenly, a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the closeness of the tiny building passed over me.

Oh my God, I thought, my stomach wrenching. Was I wrong? Is it possible that Campbell already
knew
about Nathaniel’s plan to exhibit the painting?

And given what I now know about what her father’s reaction would have been, was it possible that
she
had killed Nathaniel to keep him from putting that picture in his upcoming art show?

As my mind moved faster than the speed of light, I suddenly realized what a coincidence it was that Campbell’s best friend happened to walk in on me while I was in Nathaniel’s art studio.

Was Beanie following me? I wondered. Has she been watching my every move?

By that point, my heart was beating so loudly that I was glad the chapel was filled with song. But my relief faded when the hymn came to an end and Reverend Evans instructed, “Everyone please be seated.”

Like everyone else, I complied. But I kept my eyes fixed on the back of Campbell’s head. My heart pounded like a jackhammer as I tried to decide what my next move would be.

“We are here today not only to bless our beloved animals,” Reverend Evans told his rapt audience, “but also to honor Saint Francis. Even though our service today is interdenominational, I believe that there is no single individual throughout history who we’ve all come to associate more strongly with animals—with the possible exception of Noah.”

He paused to let the laughter die down before he continued. “One of the best-known stories about Saint Francis is also one of my favorites. He once visited a
town in Italy called Gubbio, which had been terrorized by a large wolf that had attacked not only animals, but also people. Saint Francis promised the townspeople he would tame the wolf.

“Because the animal was so ferocious, they begged him not to try. But he insisted, and rather than waiting for the wolf to find him, he went into the woods by himself to look for the wolf. And he found him, all right. In fact, the wolf bore down on him, his teeth bared as if he was ready to kill. But Saint Francis stood his ground, raising his arms to make the sign of the cross. When he did, the wolf stopped in his tracks, as if he was watching and listening.

“In the end, Saint Francis struck a deal with both the wolf and the townspeople. The people agreed to feed the wolf and the wolf agreed not to hurt anyone else. From that point on, the wolf walked at Saint Francis’s side like a devoted pet.

“And now,” Reverend Evans boomed, “with the spirit of Saint Francis in mind, I’d like to begin blessing all the dogs that are present.”

All the dog owners rose to their feet, acting as if they’d attended a rehearsal, or at least done this once or twice before. As they did, they lovingly cradled their canines in their arms or patted the heads of the animals beside them. Those who were seated near the aisle stepped out, as if wanting to be sure to catch whatever positive thoughts and wishes Reverend Evans was dispersing throughout the chapel.

“Oh, Lord,” Reverend Evans intoned, “for all your creatures we thank you, but especially brother dog.
Dogs fearlessly protect our homes, they selflessly safeguard our families, and they provide us with companionship throughout their lives. Every day they exhibit unwavering loyalty and infinite devotion. And in return, they ask only for our love. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit …”

Everyone remained in the same spot as Reverend Evans continued with the prayer. “If the dog owners will please be seated, we’ll have more room for the felines,” Reverend Evans finally instructed.

Once again, the members of the audience acted as if they were doing a dance they knew well. The dog owners sat down, with those who had stepped into the aisle finding their way back into the pews. The cat owners took their place, either rising to their feet or moving into the opening between the two rows of seats.

Once the rearrangement had taken place, I glanced over in Campbell’s direction and saw that she was still standing, with Snowflake cradled in her arms. In fact, she was the only dog owner in the entire room who was still on her feet.

What’s going on?
I wondered.

I watched, flabbergasted, as she made her way across the aisle, stepping over the feet and knees of everyone in her way.

Why is she leaving? I thought as feelings of panic rose up inside me. Something is happening here.

And then I saw that Beanie was trailing right behind her.

“Heavenly Father,” Reverend Evans continued after surveying the chapel and seeing that the reshuffling
had come to an end, “bless our sister cat. Cats are our steady companions, delighting us with their sharp wit and their beauty. As kittens, they charm us with their innocence and playfulness. As they grow, they continue to inspire us with their curiosity, their serenity, and their peacefulness. My Almighty God bless all cats, in the name of the Father, the Son …”

The ceremony was moving along more quickly than I’d anticipated. I suspected it wouldn’t be long before Reverend Evans did one final blessing for all the other animals, the gerbils and fish and goat, then started to wrap things up.

I was aware that I had to take action, even though I still hadn’t figured out what that action should be. But I had to know what was going on with those two—
before
the Blessing of the Animals came to an end and everyone dispersed.

Which meant I was running out of time.

O
n impulse, I stood up, too.

Clumsily I made my way across the pew, holding Max tightly against my chest like an oversize clutch purse. Once again I kept muttering, “Excuse me, sorry,” meanwhile crunching down on more toes than I would have liked. At least I managed to keep from stepping on any paws.

Once I was in the aisle, I headed in the same direction as Campbell and Beanie. Doing so took me through a door in front of the chapel, immediately to the left of the altar.

As soon as I did, I heard their voices coming from somewhere in the back of the chapel. As I walked along the short hallway, taking care not to make any noise, I spotted a single room at the end of the short corridor. It was separated from the hallway by a small anteroom—really a pass-through with a door that I
surmised opened into a closet. Stroking Max’s ears in an effort to keep him calm, I peered inside and saw that it was comfortably furnished as a sort of sitting room. Probably the spot where Reverend Evans conversed with anyone seeking his counsel, I concluded.

But at the moment, Campbell and Beanie occupied the room. The slim blonde lay stretched out on the couch, a pair of sandals with impractical high heels on the floor beside her and her Maltese curled up at her feet. Beanie, meanwhile, sat on an uncomfortable-looking straight-backed chair, with Esmeralda sitting on the floor beside her.

Fortunately, neither girl had seen me. I pressed my back against the wall and noiselessly slunk into the closet, which happened to open in the direction of the hallway. That meant that if I left the door ajar, I could see into the room through the narrow space on the hinged side. The opening was just wide enough for me to see both girls reflected in the mirror hanging on the wall beside them.

I could see and hear everything. My only concern was keeping Max quiet. I buried my nose in his fur, meanwhile scratching his neck in the way he particularly liked.

“I had no idea this thing was going to be so boring,” Campbell whined. “I was getting so antsy in there!”

“Campbell,” Beanie said as she glanced around nervously, “we really have to—”

“If I’d known this stupid blessing was going to be like this,” Campbell went on, acting as if she hadn’t heard her, “I never would have come. To think I could
have gone into the city this weekend instead! I’m missing some great parties. But for some reason, I thought it would be fun to bring Snowflake to this—”

“Campbell, listen to me!” Beanie insisted.

Campbell looked shocked. “Since when do you talk to me in that tone of voice?”

“Since Dr. Popper might have figured out what happened.” Beanie swallowed hard. “You know. With Mr. Stibbins.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Campbell insisted. “Especially since I didn’t do anything wrong.” Impatiently she continued, “In fact, if anyone was a victim here, it was me. No one could blame me for being so upset when all of a sudden Mr. Stibbins changed the rules. I mean, from the very start he told me and all the other girls that the paintings were just studies he was working on for his own—what was the phrase he used? Oh, that’s right. ‘Artistic development.’ He swore up and down that no one would ever see them.”

“I knew from the start that going to his house and posing for him without any clothes on wasn’t a good idea,” Beanie countered angrily. “I know you were flattered, just like all the other girls who posed for him.”

“Of course we were flattered!” Campbell exclaimed. “Besides, it all seemed so innocent. It’s not as if he ever wanted to do anything besides paint us!”

“But I still didn’t trust him,” Beanie said. “And I tried to talk you out of it. But as usual, nobody can tell you what to do. In fact, I wondered if me telling you it was a bad idea made you want to do it even more.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Campbell cried. “How was I supposed to know he was going to change the rules? I had no idea he’d decide he could get famous by exhibiting those paintings—especially the one of me! That’s why
I’m
the real victim here! After all, I’m the one the press would have pounced on! I’m the prettiest and I have the best fashion sense—not to mention that my father happens to be one of the richest men in the country!”

“In that case, were you really surprised that Mr. Stibbins decided to put those paintings on display?” Beanie demanded.

“I don’t know,” Campbell said petulantly. “What does it matter now? What’s more important is that
you
were supposed to take care of everything—like making a bunch of other people look as if
they
were the ones who killed him. Dr. Goodfellow, Vondra, her mother, Mr. Molter …”

“But I keep running into things I wasn’t counting on!” Beanie shot back. “Like that nosy Dr. Popper!”

Campbell let out an exasperated sigh. “There’s that crazy idea of yours again. All that nonsense about her being a private investigator—all because she happened to show up on campus a couple of days after the murder. I swear, Beanie, you watch way too much TV!”

“But it was her wedding!” Beanie cried. “Dr. Popper and Mr. Stibbins knew each other! So doesn’t it strike you as an amazing coincidence that just a couple of days after he was killed she showed up at our school? And just a few minutes ago I followed her to Mr. Stibbins’s art studio!”

Campbell froze. “You were in his studio? Was the painting there?”

Beanie nodded. “It’s back. I saw it.”

“Then why didn’t you take a knife or something and rip it to shreds?” Campbell demanded in a shrill voice.

“How could I, with Dr. Popper standing there the whole time?”

“Beanie, sometimes you are just so useless!” Campbell cried.

“Don’t worry, Campbell! I’ll do it!” Beanie said. She sounded as if she was close to tears. “I’ve done everything else you asked me to do, haven’t I? I left those newspaper articles in Dr. Popper’s mailbox, I trashed that stupid student art exhibit … and I
really
put myself at risk by setting that fire to scare Dr. Popper away. I even went to all the trouble of making it look as if Mr. Molter was responsible!

“And before all that, I’m the one who watched Mr. Stibbins week after week. I even found out that he was going to that wedding! We never even would have known about it if I wasn’t going through his mail every day!”

“Oh, go get me a Diet Coke, will you?” Campbell commanded crossly. “I’m dying of thirst.”

“But Campbell, this is important!”

“In a glass, this time, not one of those stupid cans. And do you think you could remember to put ice in it?”

Beanie’s face was red, although whether it was from rage or embarrassment, I couldn’t say.

“I’m sorry about that. That other time I couldn’t find—”

“Just hurry, will you?” Campbell insisted.

As I watched Beanie rise reluctantly from her seat, the wheels inside my head were turning. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Beanie was the one who had followed Nathaniel to my wedding. Campbell was used to having other people doing things for her. The very first time I’d met her, when she was forced to consider the possibility that her dog could become ill, her reaction was that her father would simply find someone to take care of her problem.