“Yes. I’m a sheriff, not a killer. I can’t imagine Reverend McCamy liking brownies.”
“Why ever not? He has quite a sweet tooth.”
Katie shrugged. “Somehow I think of him as always being too above all of life’s pleasures, immersed in his work-”
“His calling,” Elsbeth said, frowning. “It’s not his work, it’s his calling. God chose him above all others to lead the common man to Him.”
“Not women, too?”
“Of course,” she said, her voice cutting. Then she lowered her voice as if someone were trying to overhear. “God has granted him His grace, he is God’s messenger, so special that God gave him the beauty of suffering.”
Miles said, “What do you mean ‘suffering,’ Mrs. McCamy? How can there be beauty in suffering?”
“It can be a gift to us, Mr. Kettering. Reverend McCamy likes his brownies with pecans, lots of pecans.”
When Katie and Miles were settled at the kitchen table with cups of coffee in front of them, Katie said, “I heard a rumor, Elsbeth. I’d like to scotch it and so I figured the only way to know the truth is to come out and just ask.”
Elsbeth turned, a can of cocoa in her hand. “What rumor?”
“That you and Reverend McCamy are thinking about leaving the area.”
Elsbeth nearly dropped the can. “Goodness, where did you hear that, Katie?”
She was aware that Miles was wondering what she was up to. She just smiled, sipped her coffee, and wondered if indeed Reverend McCamy had been seen going into a real estate office in Knoxville. She said as she watched Elsbeth’s hand shake as she measured a teaspoon of baking powder into the mixing bowl, “You know rumors-they’re talked about everywhere but don’t seem to begin anywhere.”
“Well, it’s wrong. Of course we’re not leaving. Reverend McCamy is very happy here, despite that nasty televangelist over in Knoxville. That miserable man happened to find out that Reverend McCamy was approached by the producers on the cable station, and now he’s trying to make everyone believe he’s the spawn of the Devil, the bastard.”
“What’s this bastard’s name?”
“James Russert, a real tacky individual, right up there with most of the others who bleat on TV and collect millions of dollars from gullible people.”
And Reverend McCamy’s congregation wasn’t gullible?
Katie had seen Russert, a loud, blustering Bible-thumping TV preacher she turned off as fast as she could.
Elsbeth looked around at them, a big chocolate-covered spoon in her hand. “We’ve heard that you’re harassing our congregation, talking to them at work, following them home. It’s disgraceful, Sheriff, disgraceful.”
“We’re conducting an investigation, Elsbeth. Be sensible, you’re up front because Clancy was your brother. Naturally you’re part of the investigation.”
28
E lsbeth waved that spoon at them, sending some of the chocolate flying. “I want you to leave us and our parishioners alone, or we will find a lawyer who will stop you. Do you understand me?”
Suddenly, she shrugged and turned back to the brownie bowl. She said over her shoulder as she measured more cocoa into a measuring cup, her voice calm again, under control, “Neither I nor Reverend McCamy know anything about this. We have told you this repeatedly. Reverend McCamy loves God. More importantly, he is beloved by God and all those who bask in His grace. He doesn’t speak ill of anyone.”
“He doesn’t speak ill of sinners?” Miles’s voice was so mild he surprised himself.
“Regular sinners-our local sinners-they know they’re in trouble. They know they need Reverend McCamy to help them rise above their sins.”
Miles asked in that same mild voice after a moment of silence, “I understand that Reverend McCamy believes women need more assistance than men.”
Elsbeth McCamy paused a moment, then in a sharp angry movement, pulled a bag of pecans out of a cabinet and dumped the whole bag into a bowl. “Well, not exactly, but we let our righteous men guide us. Reverend McCamy is very serious about every member of his flock leading the sort of life that will grant him God’s grace. As for the women of his flock, we know it was Eve who tempted Adam to abandon God’s commands, and so it is women who must bear her sin.”
What to say to that? Katie and Miles sat in silence, watching Elsbeth mix the ingredients together. She was humming under her breath, comfortable with what she was doing.
How, Miles wondered, watching this woman mix brownies, how could this very strange, very beautiful woman be involved in the kidnapping of his son? But Clancy was her brother. He couldn’t forget that, ever. Miles said, “My son was kidnapped for a reason, Mrs. McCamy. Perhaps you could tell us what this reason is.”
She nearly dropped the bowl to the clean pale cream tile floor. Katie held very still, her face not giving away that she wanted to punch Miles. Talk about rushing fences. She saw Elsbeth’s face, just as Miles did, and it was as obvious to her as it was to Miles that Elsbeth McCamy knew something. It would have been obvious to the postman. Katie realized then that Miles’s unexpected question had shocked her into giving at least that much away.
Elsbeth picked up a wooden spoon and began to vigorously stir the brownie batter. She was stirring so hard he could hear the pecans crunch against the sides of the bowl.
Elsbeth walked to the oven and turned it on, still saying nothing at all. She returned to the kitchen counter and continued beating the brownie batter. There was raw fury in every whip of the spoon.
Her Jesus earrings caught the sunlight from the kitchen window when she turned suddenly. “I want you both to leave. I’ve been polite, but this is police harassment and-”
“Elsbeth, what are you doing in here?”
She turned very slowly, picking up the bowl as she did so, and holding it in front of her, as if for protection. Now that was odd, particularly since it was Reverend McCamy’s voice, her husband’s.
“We have visitors who were just leaving. I’m making brownies for you.”
He came into the kitchen, those dark intense eyes fastened on that brownie batter, but he said nothing to his wife. His eyes passed over Katie, stopped at Miles, and he said, “You’re the boy’s father, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m Sam’s father. Miles Kettering.”
Reverend McCamy didn’t approach him, and Miles was glad. He didn’t want to shake the man’s hand. He appeared to be studying Miles, and thinking hard.
“I have wondered,” Miles said, “why you have named your church the Sinful Children of God?”
Reverend McCamy said, “Because of the first sin, Mr. Kettering. A sin so grave that Adam and Eve were forever cursed and forced to suffer for what she had done.” He paused a moment, looked briefly at his wife, then at Katie. He stepped over to the counter and ran a finger along the edge of the brownie bowl and licked off the batter, closing his eyes a moment. Well, Katie thought, that was certainly one kind of bliss. Then his eyes snapped open and he seemed once again the prophet ready to condemn the sinners. He said, “It is written to woman in Genesis: ‘Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.’ It is a pity your husband left you, Katie. He took away the focus of your life.”
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am about that,” Katie said and smiled sweetly at Reverend McCamy.
Miles thought the man was mad.
“A husband is a woman’s shepherd,” Reverend McCamy said, his dark eyes resting hard on Katie’s face. “Without his guidance, without his support and discipline, she will fall into sin and be struck down.”
Katie looked this time as if she wanted to leap on Reverend McCamy, but the flash of murder in her eyes was gone in an instant. She even smiled. “I see you love brownie batter. I do, too. Could I have some, Elsbeth?”
Miles wondered just how long Reverend McCamy had been listening outside the kitchen. Had he been afraid his wife would give something away?