Requiem Murder Part 3

"That would have been great."

"When do you want to come?"

"I'm free most days."

"One problem. My apartment is a one bedroom so I can't put you up overnight. I can call Judith

Simpson. She has a guest room." Though I knew she would be glad to have first dibs on him, I didn't

want her to scare him off. Still, I didn't want him to stay in a motel.

"Don't bother. I can drive down in the morning and back in the afternoon." He gave me his phone number. "I'll be waiting for your call."

I scratched Robespierre's head and chewed on an errant thought. Was there some reason other than church politics behind the contract buyout? Don't borrow trouble. The warning didn't comfort me.

My first call was to Tracey Stanton, a member of St. Stephen's. She had a thriving real estate business.

"Apartments," she said. "A rare commodity."

"It's for Roger Brandon, our new Minister of Music."

"Maybe I do have something. I've just taken over as rental agent for the Gulliver Apartment complex.

There are two units opening in the upper building, not as nice as the river apartments, though. I can put a hold on one of them, but I'll have to list it by the weekend. Can he come before then?"

"I'll let you know which day will be convenient for him."

"Terrific. By the way, what's he like? I missed church the Sunday he was there."

A picture of Roger Brandon and the way the light from the stained gla.s.s windows had burnished his hair

swept into my thoughts. "Tall, broad shoulders, red-gold hair, strong hands. Judith couldn't keep her eyes off him. Does that tell you anything?"

"What about her fingers?" Tracey coughed. "Forget I said that."

"I've yet to see Judith touch any man except Martin. She just shops."

Tracey laughed. "I'll remember that the next time she casts her eyes on one of mine. Tell me more about Roger Brandon. He sounds...attractive."

"He is, and smooth and charming. His voice is deep and mellow. He's the kind of man who when you're with him makes you think you're the only woman who exists. And his musical talent is beyond description."

"I've heard that. Why is he coming to St. Stephen's? If he's that good, wouldn't he aim for a bigger church?"

The question in her voice drew mine to the surface.

Why was Roger coming to St. Stephen's? Our music program has a reputation for excellence, but most organists of his caliber head for a big city position or hit the concert circuit.

"Let me go so I can call him."

"Thanks for the business."

Before calling Roger, I dialed the church. An idea had rooted in my mind but I needed Edward's support. He answered and I spoke. "Guess what happened?"

"Katherine, you know I have no patience for guessing games."

"Roger Brandon just called."

He groaned. "Don't tell me he's not coming. That would be horrible news."

"He's coming in June instead of August. His present church has decided to let him leave then."

"Why couldn't they have fired him before Easter?"

"They haven't fired him. They're buying out his contract."

"They're utter fools. I wonder if we can benefit from their foolishness?"

I leaned my head against the window frame. "We can. Perhaps he can relieve me of my duties in June

and play for the summer services."

Edward made a humming sound. "How splendid, but the Vestry will never agree to pay three salaries for June."

"They'd only have his. The subst.i.tute wouldn't mind. She can't handle the stress and demands of the

music. You can tell the Vestry I'm ready to collapse." I chuckled. "Maybe not. Several of the members

would cheer."

"How can you say such a thing? You're quite well-loved at St. Stephen's. After all, we are a community of Christians."

"Who are people with likes and dislikes. If everyone loved me, I'd sprout wings. Don't ask the Vestry.

Just inform them of the benefits."

"I might stir them up again, but I'll try."

"Good. I'll let Roger know."

"Katherine!" His voice squeaked. "You can't say anything until there's a decision."

"Would you like me to come to the meeting and hold your hand?"

He sputtered. "D...D...Don't...don't even consider the possibility. Every time you've attended, you stir a nest of scorpions. I will deal with the matter."

My smile broadened. It's been years since I've attended one of the sessions. The threat of my presence always stiffened his spine. "Thank you." After hanging up, I went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of mint tea. When would Edward realize he was dealing with people and not a community of potential saints? While the tea steeped, I called Roger and then Tracey. *****

The next morning, a beautiful spring day, shortly before ten, Roger arrived. As his dark sedan pulled up to the curb, I rose from the garden plot where I'd been cleaning away the debris of winter. Bright tulips, daffodils and hyacinths formed borders between the beds of just sprouting varieties of mint.

Robespierre stretched and ambled across the lawn to the yard next door where Maria Prescott was enjoying the sun with and the baby she and Paul had adopted in Spain. The cat sat on the edge of a bright blanket and stared at the infant. We all wondered how he would act when Carlos began to crawl.

Roger and I reached the steps to the porch at the same time. He clasped my hands. "Your directions were great. It's good to see you again." He stepped back and studied the house. "I like. A Victorian, right?"

"Thanks, and yes. Would you like to come in. Tracey called to say she'd be late."

"I don't want to interfere with your schedule."

"I haven't one. Come upstairs. I'm ready for a tea break."

He followed me into my "Painted Lady." "Why are you on the second floor?" he asked.

"I like to watch the river, and there's a window seat in my living room that gives me a great view." I paused at the foot of the stairs. "Would you like a bit of breakfast?"

He shook his head. "I ate before I left and I'm sure I'll take Tracey to lunch."

"A cup of mint tea, then."

"There's no need to entertain me. You were working in your garden."

I laughed. "The weeds will be there tomorrow. That's the beauty of being retired. No schedules." He followed me upstairs and I showed him into the living room. While I poured heated water from an electric kettle, he played some scales on the piano. "Go ahead and play."

The notes of a Chopin Etude held me so spellbound I nearly forgot my mission. He played with a mastery I envied and I'd had my share of successes in my youth. How could the other church bear to let him go?

He had manners, charm and talent.

After Roger left with Tracey, I returned to my garden ch.o.r.es. I marked the plot where I wanted to plant a few vegetables. My neighbor's sons would dig the ground after school. As I worked, I prayed Roger would relieve me of my choir duties. Dealing with the cliques and abrasive personalities exhausted me mentally and shortened the chains around my patience.

I carried a tray with my lunch to the porch and had just finished eating when Roger and Tracey returned.

She waved and drove off. He strode up the walk.