Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (11 page)

She flung the door open. “Pete, Marcie, is Robby sick?"

Pete caught her in his arms. “He's fine. I stopped by to give him a new helmet for bike riding. A guy I know individualizes them. Robby asked for a story. Since I was free I paid Marcie and sent her home."

"I'll pay you back."

"Not to worry. Mrs. M, how are you? Any murders with missing weapons to report?"

"Not at the moment."

Beth stepped from the circle of his arms. She looked puzzled and thoughtful. “I'll make a pot of coffee.” She walked to the kitchen.

"Already done,” Pete said.

I started to follow, but he caught my arm. “How come she's not at the Simpsons? Marcie said her mother was entertaining the choir."

"Just a select few."

"I thought Beth was part of the inner circle."

"Not any more."

"She okay?"

"Disillusioned."

"You told me to stick around. You were right. I'd like to pop him a good one."

"He didn't act alone. Judith helped.” I moved away. “Coffee waits."

Beth had three filled cups and a coffee cake on the table. “Looks home-made,” I said.

She shook her head. “A box mix."

"Better than the ones at the grocery store unless there's a bakery."

Beth sat next to Pete. “How would you like to go to the party after the Evensong with me?"

Though I knew why she'd asked him, I was pleased. She couldn't allow Judith to force her from the choir or let Roger's defection pull her down. Pete grinned. I hoped he wouldn't be angry when he learned there was a bit of bravado behind her invitation. Still, he was sharp enough to know and understand.

"Sure. Why don't I bring Robby? He might get a kick seeing his Mom and listening to the music. Then you'd only need Marcie for the party."

"Not Marcie. Judith has her booked for the day. Blanca, Maria's niece is watching him. Bring her along. She likes music. Robby wants her to teach him to play the guitar."

After eating a slice of coffee cake, I rose. “Time for me to head home."

Pete stood. “I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to my favorite sleuth.” He winked and turned to Beth. “Mind if I drop back?"

"Please do.” Beth smiled. She stood at the door and watched until we reached the top of the driveway. This time, I thought she'd learned the truth about Roger and I believed she'd mend quickly.

Pete held my arm. “Thanks again for the advice."

"Just be careful. She's feeling kind of fragile right now."

"I'll be cool. Friendship. This is a first. Sure hope we don't get stuck on that step."

I laughed. “I think you can handle it."

He walked me to the door. Before I had the key in the lock, Robespierre burst through the pet door. He rubbed against my legs and butted Pete.

Pete squatted and rubbed the cat's head. “I know I haven't been around lately, but your person's short on dead bodies."

"I wish you wouldn't joke about this."

"You having premonitions?'

"Nothing like that. Once was enough."

He turned and jogged down the street. At the corner, he waved.

The next afternoon I walked to the church to discuss the drive for the Food Cupboard with Edward. Every November the local churches collect food and money for perishables. This year I was the chairwoman for St. Stephen's and I was on a mission. After I heard how much money had been collected at the first two Evensongs, I decided to petition the Vestry to donate the offerings from the Requiem for the drive. Knowing how seldom the members agreed with anything I proposed, I decided Edward should make the pitch. First I had to neutralize Roger's appeal to Edward's pride.

Roger had persuaded the Vestry to give the choir the money from the first two programs. It seems he had an idea for the choir to tour England. While that was a nice thought, in the twenty-five years since the Evensong programs had started, the offering had always been donated to special charities.

Edward listened to my pitch. “Katherine, I just don't know. Just think how glorious it would be for the choir to sing at Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's or St. Stephen's in London."

"That would be nice, but think of how many hungry people could be fed with the offering. When Charles and I began the programs, we wanted the offerings to be donated to worthy causes, not for pride and vanity."

He nodded. “As usual, you're absolutely right. There's something about the way he sells his ideas that sways the Vestry. I'll remind them of the purpose of the events. At least they have to vote on each of the offerings."

"Thank you."

Edward and I stood at the French doors and looked into Memorial Garden. The grass had browned and the bushes were bare except for the row of holly along the privet hedge.

Edward opened the door. “We're extending the wall in the spring."

Beneath the stones in the wall that stands in the center of the garden are the ashes of former members of the congregation. The names are engraved on metal plaques.

"Why?"

"There are requests for more spaces than we have left."

"What happens when the garden's a solid wall?"

"Neither you nor I will see that day.” He sighed. “The Vestry shouldn't have sold the land behind the church. We would have had space for any number of projects."

"You can't blame me for that Vestry decision. Happened before either of us came here."

He laughed. “Katherine, you're so refreshing.” He turned and entered his study.

The side door of the church opened and Marcie ran out. Her face was flushed and her hair mussed.

"Want to walk home with me?” I strode across the garden.

She stared at her shoes. “Can't. Mom's picking me up and I'm late."

"How was your lesson?"

"Fine."

Something was wrong. Her voice was barely above a whisper. What had Judith done now?

"I thought you had your lessons at his apartment."

"That's voice. Dad said I could take organ lessons. This was my first."

A car door slammed. Judith marched up the walk. Anger radiated from her. I stepped into the shadows cast by the towering hedge.

"Where were you? I've circled the block five times. Your lesson was over at four."

Marcie's shoulders slumped. “We were...talking about music and I forgot the time."

"So what else is new? You are totally inconsiderate and your father encourages your behavior. Well it's not going to continue. Get in the car and wait for me. I have to talk to Roger."

"Mom, don't say anything to him, please."

"Do you think we spend our time talking about your petty problems. We have more important things to discuss.” Judith strode away. “I matter to him. You don't."

After she entered the church, I stepped onto the walk. “Courage, child."

Marcie looked up. “She's chasing him and she doesn't realize how foolish she looks to people. She's too old for him.” She scuffed the toe of her sneaker. “Mom likes young men. That's why I don't bring boys home. I get so embarrassed about the way she acts. My friends laugh at her."

I didn't know how to reply to that. I struggled to find an answer.

"I wish she was dead.” Marcie whispered the words.

"Marcie!” There had been anger and desperation in her voice. Before I could say any more, she scurried to the car. Surely she wouldn't act on her anger.

As I walked home I wondered if Martin knew how his daughter felt about her mother, or if he saw the real Judith.

Several days later the discovery of some overdue library books sent me uptown. The walk was a welcome break in my day. Since rehearsal week was in full swing and the first two practice sessions had lasted until nearly midnight, I had skipped my usual morning walk.

The soloists had joined us and my fears about Judith had been realized. The tonal quality of her voice had remained expressionless. Roger didn't seem to notice, but several of the choir members had made faces when the quartet sang. His lack of concern puzzled me. What kind of hold did she have over him?

At the library I browsed in the new arrival section and hoped there were some things that would strike me. Since my taste in reading is eclectic, there usually were several choices. Three books seemed interesting. As I approached the checkout desk, Judith emerged from her office and stood on the small landing that overlooked the main room.

"Mrs. Miller, I need to talk to you about Marcie."

The note of demand in her voice nearly made me refuse, but curiosity won. “Let me check out these books."

"I'll be waiting."

A short time later, I climbed the short flight of stairs to her office. She stood by the window. When I entered she whirled and startled me.

"You've got to stop encouraging Marcie to believe she can have a career in music. I've tried but she won't listen."

I leaned against the door. “She's extremely talented."

"So was I. I wanted to be an architect. My teachers encouraged me but I learned that wasn't a woman's field. Neither is music. To be a real woman, you have to know how to attract a man.” She laughed. “I've mastered that."

"But Marcie's not you."

She paced from the window to the desk. “He won't let her do it. He stole my dream. How else did he get what I wanted?"

"Who are you talking about?” I asked.

She ignored my question.

The doorknob pressed into my back. My thoughts centered on escape, but I wouldn't turn my back on her. The way her eyes glittered scared me. She moved to within inches of my position. The smell of alcohol made me cough.

"No one can steal another person's dream."

She whirled and stalked away. “A lot you know, but you never understood. He hurt me and you won't believe me. He'll hurt her too."

"Who? Martin?"

"Why would Martin hurt me? Don't act dumb. You know who I mean. I fixed him once.” Her eyes held a wild excitement. “I'll fix him again. You'll see. Then maybe you'll believe me."

I shifted the books and reached for the doorknob.

"Judith, I have to go. I promise I'll talk to Marcie."

She turned and, as though she had just realized I was there, stared. “You. Are you spying on me again? I saw you hiding in the bushes at the church. You're always prying into what isn't your business."

A frisson of fear slid along my spine and radiated along the nerves. How foolish. What could happen in a public place?

"I wasn't spying. I had a meeting with Edward and he wanted to tell me about the new memorial wall. We had just stepped outside when I saw Marcie. She looked upset and I wanted to see if she needed help."

"She should be upset. She's trying to take him from me but he doesn't want her. She's just a silly child. She won't listen but she'll be sorry. So will you if you don't stop spying on me."

"Judith!"

She laughed again and the sound chilled me. “He hurt me. He hurt me but he won't hurt me again."

I opened the door and ran down the steps. My hands shook and I held the books against my chest. Instead of going home, I walked to Sarah's house. Maybe the ordinary chaos there would help me forget Judith's craziness.

Sarah opened the door. “What's wrong? You look like you've found another body."

"Just had a shocking experience."

"What?"

"Make me a pot of mint tea and I'll tell you.” I followed her to the kitchen where she put water on to boil. I stared at the wall and tried to come to grips with the scene in Judith's office. Who had she meant? Roger? Some man from her past? When the tea was ready, I sipped and sighed.

"Now tell me what's wrong,” Sarah said.

When I finished the first cup, I related my encounter at the library. “She scares me."

"And for good reason. Maria and I had lunch at the Pub today. Judith was there and her lunch was a liquid one. Avoid her."

"Wish I could. Unfortunately I'm directing the choir for the Evensong Sunday and she's one of the soloists."

"Next time before you volunteer, tell yourself Sarah will have me committed to the hospital over the mountain."

"That might be the wisest solution."

That night at rehearsal, Judith acted as though the scene in her office hadn't occurred. Her open friendliness did nothing to relieve my edginess in her presence.

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As the last strains of the organ faded from the air, the audience attending the Mozart Requiem began to leave the sanctuary. From the expressions on their faces, I knew we'd been a success. I kept the choir in their place until the aisles cleared. They disbanded and headed to the choir room to disrobe before gathering in Fellowship Hall for the usual reception.

I felt drained physically and exhilarated emotionally. A buzz of conversation flowed from the open door of the hall where most of the attendees gathered. My legs felt rubbery and beads of perspiration formed on my forehead. I slipped inside and collapsed on one of the chairs set against the wall as the adrenaline rush that had carried me through the performance ended.

Edward bustled over. He beamed. “Katherine, you were just...magnificent.” His booming voice caused people to turn and stare. “You and Roger must work together again. I've never heard the choir sound more...magnificent. What a magnificent idea to have the choir in the nave. The music soared."

I'd identified his word of the day and vowed not to use it. One of my teachers had said if you wanted to make a word yours use it ten times. At Edward's rate of usage, he'd make all the descriptive adjectives his and leave none for the rest of us.

"I don't think I could do this again. I'm feeling my age and then some. But you're right. The performance went well."

"Not just well —” Roger entered the room and diverted Edward's attention. “I must tell him how —"

He missed two chances to use his word, but I wasn't disappointed. In fact, laughter threatened to spurt like champagne from a shaken bottle. If I became hysterical, I'd attract more attention that I deserved. While I'd been the visible partner, Roger had been the one who'd made the production a success.