Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (12 page)

"Nicely done, Kate.” Lars handed me a glass of white wine. “You look wilted."

"Just catching my breath. This robe weighs as much as my cat and that was harder work than I remember."

He touched his glass to mine. “Just standing all that time is an effort at our age."

"Lars! We're not even septuagenarians yet.” The wine took the dryness from my throat and added a bit of giddiness to my voice. “I'd better shuck this robe. I stopped in here because I couldn't move another step."

His hand at my elbow provided a gentle support. “Why don't we skip this party? I'll take you home and make a Lars’ omelet deluxe."

"Sounds wonderful, but it's the party for me. The traditional chocolate cake is in the fridge. We won't stay late, but I want to hear the tape. After the first few notes, I heard nothing."

As we crossed the room, people stopped to tell me how much they'd enjoyed the program. Since I'd played only a minor role in the success, my response was low key.

"I'll pass your compliments to Roger and the choir. They did all the work. I was just stage dressing."

Betty Peters pulled me aside. “Nicely done. Why did he give Judith a solo? She doesn't need the spotlight. Hasn't anyone warned him about her? He'll be her next victim and he's such a nice man."

I shrugged. “I only stepped in to direct. He made all the decisions.” I squeezed her hand. “How's Alan?"

She beamed. “He and Nancy just gave us our first grandchild. A little boy."

"Then you have a lot to be thankful for."

She nodded, but the bitter line of her mouth remained. Some people don't forgive or forget.

Lars tugged on my arm. “Kate, we're going to be late."

After I shed the robe, I felt lighter and rejuvenated. As we walked downstairs, I heard voices and I paused.

"Judith, we've got to go,” Martin said. “People will be arriving in a half hour and we should be there to greet them."

"You go ahead. I'll wait for Roger. He has my car. Check to see that Marcie followed my directions to the letter."

"You know she will."

"If she knows what's good for her."

"It wasn't fair for you to make her stay at home. She would have been as proud of her mother as I am."

"You're dreaming. She's jealous of me."

"Why do you say things like that?"

My ire rose. I stepped forward. Lars gripped my arm. “Kate, no."

"I have to do something before she ruins that child's life."

"It's not your problem.” He groaned. “I forgot. The world's problems are yours."

"Not true. Just those I care for."

He laughed. “Just half the world then. Please don't interfere. Remember the last time you spoke to someone about their child."

"How could I forget?” That action had been one of the triggers for my tenant's murder. “I know you're right but —."

By the time we reached the hall, the Simpsons were gone. Several choir members walked out with us. The air was chilly and I shivered as we walked to the car.

As soon as we reached the house, I put the kettle on and made some selections from my stores of mint. Apple mint, a pinch of catnip and peppermint. I'd need a calm center to endure several hours at the Simpsons.

"One cup and I'll be fine. Two and it's party time."

Lars chuckled. “Kate's cure-all. Blend some for me to take to New Mexico. Every night, I'll drink a cup and wonder what you've managed to get yourself into."

"Life is meant to be experienced.” I poured steaming water into the teapot. “When do you leave?"

"Tuesday morning. Are you up for an airport trip?"

"No problem. Why the middle of the week?"

"Bonnie's fussing about being cheated out of time with me. She was upset when I delayed my departure."

Especially because I was the cause. “And Don?"

"He thinks his sister's acting like a spoiled brat. Don't ask what he thinks about her husband."

"I won't."

"The young man is an opportunist and that's kind."

"I wish you weren't going."

"I wish you were coming with me, but I'll be back in three months.” He touched his mug to mine. “Here's to friendship, a forever thing."

When we finished the tea, we put on our coats. Lars carried the cake container.

We stopped beside his car and I frowned. “We're driving? Why? It's only two blocks and parking will be at a premium."

"It's cold and we're taking advantage of our age.” He handed me the cake container. “I spoke to Martin at the reception. He promised us a spot in their driveway."

"But we don't plan to stay that long."

"Don't argue.” He started the car.

Since there might be a need for a quick getaway, perhaps driving was a good idea. Who knows what accusations a drunk like Judith would make? I needed to let Martin know about her threats and once more urge him to get help for Marcie and himself.

One spot remained in the double driveway. Lars pulled in and stopped the car. Martin stepped outside at the kitchen entrance. When he saw it was us, he waved. “Had to chase two cars."

"Thanks."

Cars lined both sides of the street almost to the river. Lars took the cake and we entered the front hall. Our coats joined the others on the long deacon's bench. Lars handed the cake container to Marcie.

"Truly magnificent."

I giggled. “I hope he's used it ten times."

Lars laughed and most of the people in the living room and those clustered around the bar and buffet turned to stare.

"You've done it now. How are you going to explain?"

"Tell them you got fresh."

"You wouldn't."

He winked. “Watch me."

I grabbed him and pulled him into the living room. We found seats on one of the three couches. When the house was built this space had been two rooms. Martin and Judith had taken the partition out.

"What would you like to drink?” he asked.

"White wine and club soda. I'm saving my calories for food.” With thirty-seven choir members, the spread would be large. Since Roger's arrival, nine new members have joined the choir.

"So am I,” Lars said. “That's the best thing about these affairs."

"You get the drinks and I'll pick the appetizers."

As I took two plates, Marcie put several dishes on hot plates. The front door opened. Roger strolled in with Pete and Beth close behind. I put the plates down and went into the front hall to greet them.

Pete saluted. “Mrs. M, you looked like a bat in that black robe."

Roger snorted. I laughed. “Glad to amuse."

"Robby's words."

Beth took off her coat and stuck her blue scarf in the sleeve. She'd changed from the slacks she'd worn to the Evensong to a blue dress that ended at mid-thigh.

Roger's eyes widened in appreciation. “Beth, you look great."

"Thanks. Do you remember Pete?"

"Sure. Robby's buddy."

Pete slipped his arm around Beth's waist. “And his mother's...friend."

Roger strode away. Pete winked and I grinned.

Beth held a bag. “Where should I put this?"

"I guess on the buffet."

"Good news.” Roger's voice rose above the clamor. “Choir rehearsal is canceled for Thursday. You all deserve a day off.” Applause followed his announcement. “I have the tape. After I get a drink and some food, you can hear how great you were."

As if on cue, Edward's “magnificent” was heard.

"Not again,” someone said.

Lars chuckled. I laughed.

Marcie grabbed the bag from Beth. “Don't laugh at Roger."

"Not Roger. It's Edward. Magnificent must be his word of the day."

"What's this?"

"Chips and dip."

"I'd better get a bowl for the chips. Mom would have a fit if I put the bag on the buffet."

"You've done a good job."

Judith emerged from the kitchen. “Don't give her the credit. She only followed my directions. I suppose she's whining about missing the performance."

"Not a word."

She looked into the living room. “Roger, you have the tape. Let me show you how to use the machine and get you a drink.” She stopped at the bar and poured two glasses of Scotch over ice. She drank hers and refilled her glass.

"I need food first. You know how hungry a performance makes a person.” He put the drink down and headed to the buffet. He stood behind me. We both filled plates with assortments from the variety of appetizers.

I scooped a chip into Beth's dip and ate. “Delicious.” I added some to both of the plates I held.

Roger followed my example. “You're right. It's great."

By the time I'd traded a plate to Lars for a drink, the tape began. All conversation stopped. As I listened to Roger play the Introit, gooseflesh covered my arms. Brilliant, lush. He was more than good, but I refused to use Edward's word.

Everyone in the room appeared rapt, except Judith. She tapped her foot against the carpet in a steady rhythm. The Requiem began. The choir sounded full and rich. The soloists were wonderful. except Judith. Her emotionless voice flattened the quartet. I looked at Roger and saw agreement in his expression.

Judith sipped her third or fourth glass of Scotch and preened. Occasionally, she stroked Roger's arm. Marcie stood beside her father in the doorway leading to the dining room. Every time her mother sang, she flinched. Not that I blamed her.

"Magnificent.” Edward's voice sounded over the last note. “You're to be congratulated, all of you.” He rose and headed to the buffet. “Now for what we really came for, the food."

Roger bowed. “I'm proud of you but wait until Passion Sunday."

"We were good, weren't we?” Though Judith had included everyone, her stance and her expression shouted “me."

A dozen conversations began. Lars and I joined Laura and Edward at the table. Martin and Marcie carried food from the kitchen and removed the remains of the appetizers.

As we ate I noticed the number of times Judith went to the bar. Lars and I had filled our plates with some new dishes and some old standbys. I must admit to eating more than I should have. The portions were small but the variety was vast. Lars returned for seconds once the crowd around the table thinned. My eyes said more but my stomach protested.

Judith waved me to her side. “Would you like to cut your famous cake?"

"Why not.” I followed her into the kitchen.

Marcie sat at the table cutting a pan of brownies. Martin filled a large coffee urn.

"What did you think of your mother's performance?” Judith strutted across the room. “Pretty good. Makes your voice look weak."

I picked up a knife and began to cut the cake. Stay cool, child, I prayed.

Judith whirled. “I'm waiting, Marcie.” A smile played across her lips.

"You were all right."

"
All right
. What do you mean by all right?” Judith's voice rose in pitch and I felt sure the sound carried to the dining room. “What would you know? Don't you wish you had a voice like mine?"

"No."

Silence followed Marcie's answer. My fingers curled around the knife. Why had the child been so blunt?

"I guess you think you could have done better."

"I'm not an alto."

"Just because you can pick out a few tunes on the piano doesn't mean you know a thing about music."

"You were flat. Your voice had no expression."

"Flat. You wouldn't know flat. Not with a voice that pulls the fillings from my teeth."

"Then you have a tin ear.” Marcie pushed the brownie pan away.

Martin entered the kitchen. He looked from one to the other. He took a step toward his daughter and then one toward his wife. At any other time, his indecision would have been comic.

"I'm tired of you putting me down” Marcie said. “I'm tired of you messing up my life. I know what I heard. I have perfect pitch.” Marcie rose. “Ask Roger since you believe everything he says. Though after what I saw Thursday night when Dad was away, Roger might lie. You're too old for him. Good thing you passed out before he laughed in your face."

In two strides, Judith reached her daughter. Before either Martin or I could act, she slapped Marcie. “Ingrate. Just don't look to your father and me for college tuition. You're on your own."

Marcie fled from the kitchen. Judith whirled to follow but Martin caught her arm.

"Judith, we have guests."

She made a face. “I meant what I said. Not another dollar for classes in the city or music lessons with Roger.” She pulled free. “I'll tell him he's not to see her again.” She straightened. “I need another drink and to see to our guests. And I need to tell Tom —” The door closed on her words.

Martin slumped against the counter. “I don't know what's wrong with her these days."

"She needs help. Call Andrew. He might have some suggestions."

"She'd never go."

"Then for starters why try not ALANON for you and Marcie. Your daughter needs help in dealing with this."

"We can't go."

"Why not?"

"It just wouldn't do for everyone in town to learn what's going on."

Did he think no one heard Judith and Marcie?

"Who's Tom?"

He frowned. “Her oldest brother. He died years ago."

"Why does she confuse Roger and him? Do they resemble each other."

"Never met him. He died before Judith and I met and she doesn't talk much about him."

I picked up the knife and finished slicing the cake. “Let me talk to Marcie. She needs someone who will listen to her. She'll go to college. You and I can work something out."

"Thanks."

Lars met me at the stairs. “Kate, I'm ready to leave."

"I need to talk to Marcie."

"I heard a bit of her outburst. Everyone did. Marcie ran upstairs."

Judith's laughter drifted from the living room and startled me. She sounded as though the scene in the kitchen had been an illusion.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I found Marcie in Roger's arms. He patted her back. “She'll forget this by tomorrow. How often have I told you to use tact with her?"

"She hates me.” Marcie said.

"Not true.” He stepped back but she followed him like a moth seeking heat. “This is my fault. I shouldn't have given her a solo. She doesn't handle pressure and she's in constant need of reassurance."