The Tenor Wore Tapshoes (12 page)

"You're hardly ruined. But all good things must come to an end."

"That's easy for you to say. I took out another newspaper ad. It's going to run tomorrow. There's only one thing to do," Pete said. "I've got to make another roll that looks just like the last one."

"You can't do that," said Noylene. "It was a miracle. If the Virgin Mary chooses to appear in a cinnamon roll, and it gets stolen, you can't just make another one. She doesn't work like that."

"Well, I've got to do something."

"What about fingerprints?" asked Nancy, pulling out her pad. "Was there a break-in? Was the lock forced? A window broken? How did the thief get in?"

"All go0d questions," I said. "Why don't we all sit down and get the whole story. Noylene, quit cleaning up. You're destroying evidence. Now, how 'bout some coffee?"

* * *

Pete, Noylene, Nancy and I chose a table in the back of the café. Collette brought over a coffee pot and four cups.

"I came in at five-thirty as usual to get breakfast ready," Pete said. "Through the back door. I didn't even go into the restaurant—just into the kitchen."

"Was it jimmied?" asked Nancy.

"Not that I noticed."

"Any windows broken?"

"I don't think so. Collette can go check," said Pete, indicating his suggestion to Collette who scurried into the kitchen.

"I came in at six," said Noylene. "Through the back. I said hello to Pete and came into the restaurant to make some coffee and do the prep for the breakfast shift."

"Did you notice the roll missing?" I asked.

"Not at first. But after about a half hour or so, I was wiping down the counter and I noticed that she was gone. I remember it was 6:30 because I was just going to open the doors. Collette was waiting for me to let her in."

"The bun was just gone? Did you tell Pete?"

"Yep. Gone. The glass lid was on the plate just like it is now, but the plate was empty. I thought that Pete took it out. You know, to shellac it like he was talkin' about yesterday. I didn't even go ask him about it till JJ asked where it was. She was in here for breakfast."

"I bought the poly yesterday, but I hadn't dipped it yet," said Pete. "It should have been on the plate."

"Then you called us?" asked Nancy.

"Well, we had to wait until you showed up for work," said Pete. "Lucky you're early this morning."

I looked at my watch. It showed 8:10. It
was
early for us. The door opened and Dave walked in.

"You're supposed to be answering the phones," said Nancy with just a little annoyance in her voice.

"Got it covered," said Dave, pointing to the cell-phone dangling from his belt. "All calls forwarded to my cell." He pulled up a chair.

"The windows are all okay," said Collette, coming back into the dining room. "Hi, Dave," she said, her cheeks coloring nicely. Nancy noticed it as well and bristled visibly. Although she had never shown any interest in Dave that I had seen, he was, after all, her own private lap dog.

"Did you have any customers this morning?" I asked, turning my attention back to the crime at hand.

"The usual morning crew plus a few newcomers. The bulk of the customers have been coming in around 9:15. I don't know what I'll tell them," said Pete.

"Tell them that the Vatican has asked for the bun to be loaned to the Catholic Diocese of North Carolina for a few days, to confirm its validity and to have it certified by the Pope," said Dave.

"Hey, that's really good, Dave," said Pete, nodding in agreement. "It just might work. At least until I can cook up another Virgin Mary roll. It may take a few tries."

"Thanks," said Dave. "I discovered her, you know."

"Why don't I give my son a call?" said Noylene. "He could come up and help find her."

"I didn't know you had a son," said Nancy.

"Yep. Livin' in Hickory. He's getting' his license to be a private detective. I'm sure he'll come up if there's a reward offered."

"A reward?" asked Pete. "What kind of reward?"

"I dunno," said Noylene with a shrug. "Maybe fifty bucks."

"What if there's a ransom demand?" chimed in Collette. "They'll probably ask for more than fifty dollars."

"I don't think there will be a ransom demand," I said. "It's probably just a prank. Let's give it a day or two. How about some breakfast?"

"You guys go ahead," said Pete. "I'm going to print up a sign saying that pope-y stuff that Dave was talking about. Tell me again, will you Dave?"

"How about this?" said Dave. "The Virgin Mary Cinnamon Roll, also known as the Immaculate Confection, is temporarily unavailable for viewing. It has been sent to the Vatican for authentication and blessing by the Pope and will be returned in a few days.'" Dave was obviously inspired. Collette gave him a suspicious look.

"That'll work," said Pete, writing furiously on a napkin. "I'll put 'Thank you…The Management' underneath and give a thirty percent discount on all the shirts and mugs. That should make the customers happy and buy us a couple of days."

"But it's a lie," said Noylene.

"It
may
not be a total lie," I said with all the seriousness I could muster. "Maybe it was the Vatican that stole it. If it really
is
the Virgin Mary, that would make sense. The Pope would want to see her first-hand. He might have sent some of those Swiss Guards in here to purloin the holy pastry."

"Although I haven't seen anyone suspicious wearing yellow pantaloons," added Nancy.

"I think you're making the miracle too commercial," said Collette quietly. "I don't think she'd like it if you said the Pope was going to bless her and he wasn't."

"I was just kidding, Collette," I said hastily, seeing the seriousness in her face. "I don't think that the Vatican is behind the theft."

"Oh please, " Pete said, maybe a little too sarcastically. "It's just a cinnamon roll. Have you guys ever been to the Vatican? You can buy most anything—all blessed by the Pope. You can get holy water, rosaries, crosses, Bibles…even pizza. If the Pope actually waved his hand over everything that was sold as 'pope-blessed,' he'd never have time to do anything else. Besides," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence, "I'm just saying that we sent it to the Pope for a blessing. I never said that he actually would bless it."

"That's a pretty thin hair to split," I said. "Especially since you didn't send it at all. Don't forget that you're colluding with the police here. I'd think twice about this if I were you."

"I'm just trying to soften the disappointment for my customers. Not to mention that I've got quite a bit of cash wrapped up in this deal. I'd like to at least make my investment back."

"I think you've already managed that," I said. "The crowds at the Slab have been pretty good for the past week."

"I guess," said Pete, sullenly. "I suppose I can always use the coffee mugs. But I still have about a gross of these shirts. I'll tell you one thing. If I do manage to make another VM cinnamon roll, this time I'm going to polyurethane it right away and put a lock on the case."

"Breakfast?" I suggested again.

"I'll get it," said Collette.

"I'm giving D'Artagnan a call anyway," said Noylene with a note of finality as she got to her feet.

"Who?" I asked.

"You know. My son."

"His name is D'Artagnan? D'Artagnan Fabergé?"

"He's a detective."

* * *

"By the way," said Marilyn as I walked by on my way up to the choir loft. "You missed the staff meeting this morning."

"Couldn't be helped," I said. "There were big doin's a-foot at the Slab. It's a major crime scene."

"Yes, well, I thought you should probably know that there will be a 'Puppet-Moment' during the worship service a week from Sunday."

"A Puppet-Moment?"

"Brenda's back from her Puppet Ministry Conference. I believe she purchased four fairly expensive puppets. She's very excited."

"I'll bet."

"I thought you should know. Just in case there will be some special music as well."

I could feel a shiver creeping up my spine. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Marilyn in her sweetest, yet somehow cruelest voice.

Chapter 11

I had heard of Jimmy Leggs. Everyone had. Jimmy was the most notorious button-man in the biz. No one I knew had ever seen him. He could blend in like a midget nun at a penguin convention.

"Why do you think it was Jimmy Leggs?" I asked Toby Taps.

"It
'
s his bindle. He
'
s sendin
'
a message."

"A message to who?"

"To Piggy."

"What
'
s the message?"

"How should I know?" said Toby, shrugging his shoulders like Janet Reno shivering off horse-flies. "I
'
m not Piggy."

* * *

"This is excellent writing," said Fred, one of the St. Barnabas basses, as the tardy members of the choir made their way up to the loft for choir practice.

"I second that," said Bob Solomon. " I can just about picture Janet Reno shivering off horse-flies."

"Please stop encouraging him," said Meg.

"I second
that
," said McKenna. "I don't want to picture Janet Reno doing anything."

"Are we singing for the All Saints Service?" asked Marjorie, reaching for the flask she kept in her music rack.

"Two weeks from Monday night. November 1
^st
. Seven o'clock," I said.

"Halloween's on Sunday then?" She took a swig.

"It is," I said. "
How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place
on All Saint's Sunday.
Give Us the Wings of Faith
for the Monday night service. There's only one more rehearsal after this one. Next Wednesday is the vestry election so there will be no choir practice."

"Are we singing anything for the puppet show?" asked Elaine.

"How did you find out about the puppet show?"

"Brenda's telling everyone," said Georgia. "It's not a secret, you know."

"I don't have any information yet on the puppet show. We have a lot of music to learn, though, so let's get started."

"Have you shown this latest episode to your ghost?" asked Rebecca.

"Nope. He hasn't shown up." I decided to treat this latest revelation as humorously as I could. I hadn't known that my ghost story had made the St. Germaine grapevine.

"Maybe you could send it to Janet Reno," Meg said.

* * *

I was interested in the chicken. I had gotten the word about Brother Hog's second service. Apparently the chicken had chosen Romans 6:23 as the scripture of the evening. That was one good chicken. Second Corinthians 11 on the first night followed by "The wages of sin is death." Brother Hog might be good, but I suspected that he was hedging his bets. What were the chances that, out of 31,102 verses in the Bible (a number I just happen to know thanks to my religion class in college and a defect in my brain that also remembers Avogadro's Number and the value of Pi to twelve places), Binny Hen managed to pick out two of the most quoted, most preached on, and most familiar scriptures in the entire book? Slim, I thought. Chicken slim. Anorexic. Even
with
the Holy Spirit.