Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (6 page)

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Since the substitute organist was unable to return, Roger and I finished the choir season in tandem fashion. No matter what argument I tried, he refused to step into my shoes. He insisted my presence helped him ease into the new responsibilities. I must admit his request that I stay flattered me, though dealing with the choir members often made me want to scream. Judith's divisive tactics didn't help. Though she tried to pull Roger into her sphere, he resisted.

The one time I saw him lose his cool was on the evening of the last rehearsal of the season. Several members brought tidbits for the stray cat.

When Roger left the church, he stopped so suddenly I nearly plowed into him. He bypassed the group in a rush. His breathing took on the pattern of an asthmatic in the throes of an attack.

Judith laughed. “Are you all right?” Her dark eyes

"Just in a hurry,” he said. “I've things to do."

"Are you coming to the Pub?"

"Not tonight."

With the end of the choir season, I settled down to a summer of quiet gardening and neighborly visits. What a change from last summer when my tenant had taken over my yard and very nearly my son.

Beth was a regular visitor. One afternoon in early August, she arrived alone. Today, she wore a troubled frown and she mentioned Roger. Though curious, I waited for her to speak. She poured a glass of iced tea and sipped.

"Where's Robby? Off with Pete?'

She shook her head. “Day camp for two more weeks. Then I don't know what I'll do."

"Did Marcie quit?"

"Unfortunately. Judith told Marcie to find a job other than sitting. Then after I'd made arrangements for Robby to go to camp, Judith screamed at Marcie for losing her job. Since I'm working this weekend, she will be watching Robby. I told her to bring him over to visit Robespierre. Do you mind?"

"I'll be glad to see them. Any idea what set Judith off this spring?"

"Roger. Who else? Just because I've been seeing him since he arrived she's miffed. You know how she is when there's a new man around."

"She wants first dibs. Are you and Roger serious?"

"Hardly. I think he wants a buddy.” She frowned. “We've been going places since June and he hasn't kissed me. The other day when Marcie asked him to be her voice teacher, he kissed her cheek. I haven't gotten that far."

"Why would he do that?"

"Who knows? At least he takes me to some neat concerts and recitals. I'm becoming an expert on Baroque music."

"And Pete?"

"He's still Robby's friend.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not that I can see. Finish your tea. This blend is guaranteed to raise your spirits."

She laughed. “You sound like Roger. He's your latest devotee."

"That's true. He's dropped by several times to help with the harvest. We had a delightful time."

"Guess he's charmed you, too. That's one of the problems. When I'm with him I can only see how wonderful he is. Then he leaves and I —” She shrugged. “Question myself."

Not exactly my reaction, but close. After every one of his visits, I remembered my vow to solve the mystery of his many moves. Then I saw him again and thought the vague questions I had were foolish.

"Are you going to the choir picnic?"

"When Judith called and asked me if I wanted to bring anything, I said I would. I guess she's in charge of the food."

"And everything else. It's at her house. I offered to help, but she said she knew I have an exhausting schedule at the hospital and she could manage very well. She told me to bring rolls. That's boring. Had a couple of recipes I wanted to try."

"Maybe at the next gathering."

"Unless Judith's in charge.” She finished her drink. “I'd better go. Robby's due from camp and I have to take him to his baseball game. Pete's working this evening."

"Have fun."

She wrinkled her nose. “Robby loves the game and the excitement. I don't. I can't yell for or at him like the other moms. I've seen some sick behavior. Mothers screaming at their sons for striking out, missing a catch. Sniping at the umpires for their calls.

"People tend to forget the game's supposed to be fun."

"You're right.” She put the glass on the tray and headed down the street.

After she vanished, I considered her comments about Roger. He hadn't kissed her. He'd kissed Marcie's cheek. He came across as a virile man. He made a woman, even one my age, feel special. Was his charm part of an act? Had this been the reason he'd moved frequently?

A picture of a group of disillusioned women chasing a smiling Roger popped into my thoughts. Maybe I should look into the matter. But then, maybe Beth's expectations went beyond Roger's promise.

Before I set a plan of action, Maria called me over to see the baby. Watching little Carlos try to crawl and Robespierre's attempts to help him made me laugh.

The choir picnic was held at the Simpson's house on the third Saturday in August. Most choirs hold their picnics in June or July, but many years ago, my sister had major surgery in June and I went to stay with her family. The picnic was postponed until I returned. Thus a tradition was born.

The day was perfect for the event. The temperature was in the mid-eighties, a light breeze and a scattering of clouds. The heat wave of the past few weeks had ended during the night with a wild storm.

I made potato salad as requested by Judith and a chocolate cake. Just as I finished icing the cake, Roger arrived. I checked to make sure Robespierre was in the garden with Maria and the baby. Then I popped the cake in the freezer to set the icing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to help you carry your contributions.” He chuckled. “Judith said you'd bake a cake. I thought she was joking."

"It's a tradition for every St. Stephen's potluck event I attend. Pour yourself a glass of mint tea. I need to wash my face and comb my hair.” And change into a different shirt and slacks, I thought.

"We have time. I definitely need the tea. I drove Marcie home after her voice lesson and stayed to help, but Judith's out of control."

"I guess you've never seen her in high gear."

He rolled his eyes. “She told me to do seven things and changed her mind eight times. If these affairs upset her so much, why does she volunteer?"

Several answers were on my tongue, but I left them unsaid. For control. To show off. I shrugged.

"I told her I was going home but she sent me here.” He stuck his finger in the icing bowl and scooped a bit I hadn't applied to the cake. He winked. “Will you marry me?"

"I'm too old."

"Maybe I like older women.” He filled a glass and drank. “Thanks for letting me stay. Anything to escape before she changes her mind. She exhausts me."

"And most people. How are Marcie's voice lessons going?"

A dreamy look appeared in his eyes. “She's so musical I can't believe it. Her voice is clear and pure. Frankly, her talent frightens me. I'm amazed she hasn't entered any competitions."

"Judith doesn't approve."

He groaned. “Maybe she's right. Some child prodigies fade. I never have to correct her twice for a mistake. She practices more than my other students combined."

"Is your schedule full?"

"Not yet. Two organ students, four piano, three voice. I wanted to give Marcie organ lessons but Judith says it's too much."

"Did you ask Martin?"

"What could he do? Seems to me what Judith wants she gets.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “In September, I'll offer the choir private lessons. I'm helping Marcie with theory. I wouldn't want her to miss getting into a good school because she lacks exposure."

My laughter made him look up. “She's in the Saturday Julliard program. Ask to see her schedule. Enjoy your tea.” I left the room to get ready.

When I returned I found Roger held captive by a large fuzzy cat. Robespierre sat three feet from Roger in his Sphinx position. The terror on Roger's face and the tension in his body made me grab the cat.

"Start ahead with the potato salad. I'll follow after I feed the beast."

Roger moved swiftly. He took the bowl of potato salad and edged past us. “Sorry. I was clawed by my aunt's cat years ago. I still have scars."

While I wanted to reassure him about my cat's gentle behavior, I knew he wouldn't listen. “Go ahead. I'll see you at the Simpsons."

I expected to see him charge downstairs but he moved cautiously. When I heard the downstairs door close, I put Robespierre down. “There's no hope for him. Don't torment.” I fed him and took the cake from the freezer.

Roger waited on the porch. That surprised me.

He shrugged. “I figured it would be safe to wait."

"He really is gentle."

"That's what my aunt said about hers."

"Even when the neighborhood children dress him in doll clothes he endures. He's been pushed in a stroller, ridden on a sled and walked on a leash. Maria's baby pulls his ears and tail. He's never bared a claw."

"I believe you. I just can't forget the way that cat attacked me."

"Have you ever considered aversion therapy? My son's a psychiatrist. That's not Andrew's specialty but if you'd like, I could ask him for some names."

Roger laughed. “I'll think about it. For now I'll just avoid the beasts."

We walked down the street and around the corner to the Simpson's house. Though not a Victorian in style, it was built during that era. It resembles a farmhouse, solid, square, with a porch that sweeps from the front to the side and one of the two entrances to a large kitchen. We weren't the first arrivals, but only a few of Judith's closest cronies were present. Roger and I entered through the gate and headed to the spacious backyard. The aroma of charcoal greeted us.

Judith spotted us. “Didn't I tell you she'd bring a cake? Put the salad on the table. I'll take the dessert inside.” Her hands fluttered like the wings of a bird trapped in a chimney. I expected to be showered by wine from the glass she held. “Mrs. Miller, find a seat in the shade. Marcie, come get the cake."

Marcie stood at the brick grill. “I thought I had to watch the chicken."

"You heard me. Move it now."

Marcie walked over and took the cake holder. When she reached the kitchen door, Judith screamed. “How could you leave the chicken?"

"You asked her to take the cake inside,” Roger said. “I'll see to the chicken."

Judith laughed. “Dear Roger, you're right. It's just there's so much to do. Martin's inside making hamburgers. It's too much."

"Draft the rest of us. There's no need for you to do everything."

"You're right. Here's Beth. She has the rolls. I need to tell her what to do with them."

She darted away and stopped at the table and added wine to her glass. I glanced toward the grill to see if Roger needed help, but Marcie had joined him. He smiled and patted her shoulder. She looked up at him. Martin arrived with the hamburgers, and suddenly, the yard filled with people who gathered in clusters. Judith, plastic glass in hand darted from group to group. The energy level rose steadily.

As I waited in line at the buffet to fill a plate, Pete and Robby arrived. The boy ran to where his mother stood with Roger. “We won. I hit a double."

"Great job,” Beth said.

Edward and Laura arrived. “What a lovely couple,” he said. “I have such hopes."

I didn't because I remembered what Beth had told me and I'd watched Roger charm a dozen women. I waved to Pete and he strode over.

"Grab a plate and stay. There's an abundance of food."

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. M, I believe I will."

He watched Beth and something in his expression betrayed his interest in her. I'd applaud, but only if his attitude had changed.

Judith rushed over. “Mrs. Miller, I have a place reserved for you at the picnic table. Tell me what you want and I'll make up your plate. You shouldn't have to stand in line."

Her too sweet tone annoyed me. “I have two hands and two legs and I'll use them as long as I can.” I stepped back but the aroma of her alcohol-laden breath washed over me. “Fix yourself a plate. Food might be a good thing to go with the wine."

I wondered about Judith's wine consumption. Did she have a problem with alcohol or was she using liquor to deaden some deeper problem?

"When I'm sure everyone is eating, I will.” She flitted off.

Pete bent and put his head close to mine. “Our Mrs. Simpson is a bit unstable. Drinks too much. I've seen her and the organist a couple of times at the Pub bending their elbows."

"I think she's taking voice lessons with him. Maybe they're stopping off afterwards.” Though choir practice hadn't begun, several people from the choir had begun private lessons with Roger.

"What does that have to do with them being at the Pub sans her husband?"

"I wouldn't know.” After I carried my plate to the picnic table, I went for a hamburger. Several teenagers, children of choir members, sat in a corner of the yard. “Why don't you join them?” I asked Marcie.

"Mom told me to tend the grill. And they don't want me hanging around. They're ever so popular. I don't fit in."

Roger arrived for some chicken. He slid his arm around her waist. “Don't worry about them. They're jealous of your talent."

She smiled radiantly. “Do you really think so?” Her eyes glowed with hero worship and her voice rang with awe and pleasure.

When I left the grill, Roger followed me. “Poor child. She doesn't fit in with the crowd. How well I understand the feeling. Judith worries, but I've told her Marcie will come into her own. Then people will be sorry."

Was he giving me a hint of what his life had been? Nothing in his expression gave me a clue.

"It's clear she admires you, but she's young and can be easily hurt."

He laughed softly. “Marcie and I share a love of music just like you and I do. That's the basis of our friendship. She understands."

But Marcie was a teenager with all the fragility of her age group. With a mother like Judith and a father whose whole life centered around his wife, Marcie searched for approval. In trying to help, Roger risked harming her. Still, her adoration must be flattering and something hard to give up.