Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (16 page)

Finally, I left the car and entered, not the church, but the attached building and followed arrows to the office. When I entered the room, a young woman in her early twenties seated behind a metal desk looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to the pastor."

"He won't be in until around two. You should have called.” She frowned. “Are you new in town?"

"I don't live here and I left home this morning before your office opened."

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I can help you. The secretary's out of the office, too. I'm Barbara Clary, Minister of Music."

"Katherine Miller. I'm from St. Stephen's. Roger Brandon, the former organist here is there now."

A look of disgust appeared on her face. If I asked the right questions, she might be the one to supply the answers.

"He's a good organist."

"And I think, a bad man."

Her hands clenched. “I...I'm not sure what you mean."

I sat in the chair across from her desk. “I need some answers about why he was dismissed here. They're vital to someone I care about."

Her gaze slithered past my face. “The position here was always to be mine. My uncle..."

"I know about that. Roger made sure we knew. I'm just puzzled about why a church would let a superior musician go and replace him with an unknown."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Then I'll tell you what's happening at St. Stephen's and maybe you'll be willing to share what you know.” As I related the things I'd observed and my fears for Marcie and the other people whose lives he'd touched, she began to look like a trapped animal.

"He promised —” she began.

"Tell me.” Steel entered my voice.

"It's...I was so dumb...I thought he could help me...It was the summer he arrived...He was teaching me relaxation techniques and they really worked. He wanted...” She shook her head. “He wanted to have sex. I turned him down and he dropped me flat."

She paused for a long time and I feared she wouldn't say anything more. “And,” I said.

"When I was home for spring break, I heard from my little sister about the classes he was holding at the church. She got defensive and refused to talk. That night, I came to the church.” She looked like she was going to be sick.

"What did you see?"

"He had...He always wore these black clothes to do the exercises. My sister and three other teenagers were with him. In the church parlor. There's a carpet there. They were naked. He was touching them and asking them to touch him."

"Meld your inner power with mine and yours will grow,” he said.

"I screamed. They all jumped up. I threatened to tell everyone about what they were doing. My sister said she'd kill herself if I did. I believed her."

I reached across the desk and took her hand. “Then what happened?"

"I went to my uncle and told him I wanted the position and I wanted to start in June right after graduation.” Then I went to Roger. He told me he'd found another church. I made him promise not to do what he'd done here. He promised and I believed him."

"He's excellent at convincing people to believe what he wants."

She sucked in a breath. “What are you going to do?"

"I have to stop him and I may need to call on you to confirm my story."

"I'd rather not, but if there's no other way, I will. I wish he was dead."

"That's one solution."

She shook her head. “Not a very good one though."

"Thank you for sharing this with me.” I rose and walked to my car.

How could I stop him? He had a most convincing persona. Just outside the town, I pulled off the road and was sick.

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When I arrived home at a little after two, I made a pot of mint tea, selecting those guaranteed to ease my nausea. So Roger had played his games before. I thought of Svengali and Rasputin and shuddered. Roger Brandon seemed as much an evil genius as they had been.

Once the tea finished brewing, I picked up my copy of his resume and letters of recommendation and began making phone calls. Though the ministers I spoke to tried to remain vague, they all admitted to having heard rumors about strange behavior on Roger's part.

By the third such conversation, I snapped. “Was it fair not to let people know? Your letter of recommendation positively glows."

He cleared his throat. “Rumors can't be passed on as truth. No one made a complaint and you'll have to admit he's quite charming."

"And evil."

I slammed the receiver down. This seeking of an inner power and the seduction of vulnerable young women had to be stopped. But how? And here at St. Stephen's, they hadn't all been young.

He'd charmed his way into a dozen or more lives. Beth. The Simpsons. Betty Peters. Tracey Stanton. Even I'd fallen for his charm as well as his music.

While I sipped tea, I brooded over my options and realized I had none. I had to confront Roger with my knowledge and I had to go alone.

Edward would sputter. By the time he calmed down, he'd have found a way to explain Roger's behavior away. And he would believe anything Roger told him.

The Vestry would demand proof. In writing. Probably in triplicate.

Judith would laugh and turn on her daughter. She would deny Roger was interested in anyone except her. Martin would accept whatever she said.

I could call Pete, but what could he do? Unless a crime had been committed, he had no power to act. And one hadn't been committed—yet.

My gut clenched and I swallowed several times. Roger had to resign from St. Stephen's but without making the reason public knowledge, he'd be free to play his games in another church. I had to speak out and not allow his charm or Edward's fear of scandal to divert me.

When the teapot was empty, I felt calm. I couldn't tarry any longer. I put on my coat and made my way downstairs. Dark clouds stained the pewter sky with fingers of black. Robespierre charged from the backyard and wove a pattern around my legs. I bent and scratched his head. The wind whipped my coat and carried a metallic smell and taste.

"Sometimes one has to do the impossible,” The cat meowed. I straightened and headed to my car.

"Katherine.” Sarah stood on the walk across the street and waved. “Where were you this morning? I called to invite you over for coffee. It's been weeks since the last time."

"I had an errand."

"Come over now. I have great news. Bob has a new account and a promotion. I know the school bus is due, but I'll set the boys working on their homework."

"I wish I could, but there's something I have to do."

"Why don't you come to dinner?"

"I'm not sure how long I'll be. I'll call you when I get home."

After parking in front of the church, I strode up the walk. A glance at the French doors showed the lights were on in Edward's study. I prayed he wouldn't see me. I needed neither his assistance nor his interference. This battle was mine.

The side door flew open. Marcie bolted from the church and ran toward me. Her face was ashen and her eyes wide.

"Child, what's wrong?"

She threw herself into my arms. The force of the impact nearly sent us both crashing to the ground. Too late. Too late. Guilt flooded my thoughts. Why had I waited? I should have come directly to the church.

"Let me take you home."

"Not there. She hates me. She'll kill me.” She pulled away, ran to the bushes and threw up.

I handed her some tissues. “We'll go to my house then."

She didn't resist the suggestion, but stumbled along beside me. As we drove away from the church, I glanced at her a number of times to make sure she hadn't passed out. Her eyes were dull and her expression flat. She looked so pale and drained, I knew she was in shock.

Damn him. Anger toward Roger settled like a hot coal in my chest. one I'd feed until I spoke to him about his past and his future. But first, Marcie needed my help.

When we reached the house, even Robespierre's hearty greeting didn't remove the bleakness from her eyes. I led her upstairs and settled her on the couch. Her hands and arms were ice cold and I realized she wasn't wearing her jacket. I wrapped an afghan around her and made a pot of mint tea. After sweetening a cup with honey, I held it to her mouth and she drank.

"No matter what happened to you today, it's not the end of your life. This morning, I took a trip upstate and learned about the things he's done. I was too late to save you, and for that, I'm sorry. He'll pay. I'll make sure of that."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Convulsive sobs shook her body. I held her and let her cry. Robespierre jumped onto the couch and curled on her lap.

"I...thought...he...was...wonderful.” At first, her words emerged between shuddering sobs. Then as though her vocal cords had been primed, words flowed nearly as fast as her tears.

"He was teaching me to tap my inner powers and it felt so good. Then he gave me this book that had ...pictures, but I didn't think he wanted...wanted..."

Her body shook. I held her close. The cat rumbled.

"We did breathing exercises. At his apartment, we lay beside each other on the floor. Then he started...touching me...to awaken the power. I felt all quivery inside."

She stopped to gulp a breath. I waited for her to continue.

"Two days after the Evensong, I went to his apartment for my lesson. He asked me to touch him. Then he kissed me and I felt so...I wanted to do what he asked me.” She gulped a breath.

"Then what happened?"

"Mom called. She said she was coming. I got dressed and ran home.” Her hands formed fists.

"Yesterday, we met at the church. We were doing our exercises. He unbuttoned my blouse and...he kissed and touched me. He wanted...wanted what the book showed...I wanted it too."

Her tears began again. Robespierre rubbed his head against her chin.

"You came. I was angry. He left me and...It was like I woke up. I ran out of the church.” She looked at me. “I'm an awful person."

"You're not. But why did you go to the church today?"

"To tell him I wasn't taking lessons with him any more. I should have called but...I wanted to tell him what he was doing was wrong."

"What happened?"

"He was practicing. It was wonderful. I went up and he kept playing. I told him how great he sounded.” She shuddered “He said that was because he was in tune with his inner power. I backed away. I don't want lessons any more. He moved toward me. ‘But there's so much more I can show you,’ he said."

She shivered. I sat beside her.

She sucked in a breath and began talking again. “He kissed me and I couldn't think. He led me downstairs to one of the pews. He took off my coat. Then he hurt me. I didn't want to—It hurt. It hurt."

Her tears and the racking sobs started anew.

"Marcie, it's all right. You're not the one who should feel guilty."

She shook her head. “What am I going to do? I fought against sharing so he took my music. I was selfish."

"Now you have nothing,” he said.

She straightened. “My coat...I left it there. Everyone will know what I did. What can I do now? He took my music."

My fingers gripped her shoulders. “Your talent is part of who you are. No one can take another person's talent."

"But he said —” she shook her head. “He was playing when I left. I've never heard him sound so wonderful. He's going to hurt me again."

"Marcie, stop this. That's what he wants you to think. He chose that piece because it's flashy. He's a master manipulator."

"How can I believe that?"

I lifted her chin. “You have to go to the Emergency Room to be examined. I'll call Pete. You can tell him what Roger did."

Her eyes widened. “How can I say...Everyone will know. It's my fault. I let him hurt me."

"You're not sixteen for another week. You're a minor. He's an adult. He's bigger and stronger than you are. He's committed a crime and this isn't the first time."

"I can't."

"You need to talk to someone who knows how to help you. I can listen but you need a professional. Can you talk to someone like that?"

"I guess so."

"I'll call Andrew and ask for a name. Then I'll call your parents."

"No.” She grasped my arm. “Not Mom. She'll blame me. I know she will."

"Then I'll speak to your father."

Marcie nodded. I called Andrew and then the counselor whose name he gave me. She agreed to meet Marcie at the Emergency Room immediately. Then I dialed the Simpsons.

When Martin answered, I explained the situation. “She wants you, not Judith. You need to take her to the Emergency Room. Ask for Janice. She'll be waiting."

"Be right there."

After they left, I returned to the church. A prayer filled my thoughts. I needed to be calm when I faced Roger. If he wasn't at the church, I'd go to his apartment. The coals of anger had been fanned. I wouldn't rest until he was on his way to jail.

When I opened the side door, the gray cat bolted through the opening and dashed into the bushes. Once my heart stopped pounding, I frowned. How had the stray gotten into the church?

I headed up to the choir room. Several pieces of music lay on the piano. Roger wasn't in the music library or the room where the choir robes were kept. Since he'd never leave the lights on and the door open, I knew he was somewhere in the building. The sanctuary? But I hadn't heard the organ.

Downstairs, I strode down the hall and opened the door. The lights were on in the choir loft. Deep shadows filled the rest of the room. I turned to leave and remembered Marcie's jacket. What had she said about the attack? He'd taken her downstairs to one of the pews. Her jacket had to be here somewhere.

As I moved down the aisle, I looked for the bright pink coat. Where was Roger? I stopped short and held in a gasp. I saw the jacket and Roger's body half-sprawled on one of the pews.

Swallowing my scream, I knelt and touched his arm. “Roger.” My voice sounded tentative. Then I saw his head and the blood. I looked up at the balcony. Had he fallen or had he been pushed?