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“So what are your pastoral duties here?”

“Pretty limited, and that’s the way I’ve tried to keep it. At the beginning of the season we always have a memorial service, out on the beach, for the members of the colony who’ve died during the winter. We give family members and friends an opportunity to share memories and then we join hands, and I give a brief prayer. Sunday mornings we have a service with music and different kinds of performances and presentations. It’s all done by colony members, people of all ages. It’s not a religious service, it’s more of a spiritual nature. My job is to get this organized and make sure everyone is lined up and ready. Then we have a wedding or two or three, an occasional death or baptism. I probably average half a day a week, and that’s all I want.”

“How are you connected with the colony?”

“I’m not a direct descendant. I got here via marriage. My wife’s family goes right back to the beginning, right back to the strong Christian abolitionist roots of this organization. We’ve had our own cottage here for about 20 years. Jeanine’s brother, he’s older by five years, ended up with the family cottage. We’re close enough to see one another on a daily basis, and far enough apart not to intrude on one another’s lives.”

“Given your expertise in family therapy, are you called upon to…?”

“All the time. Everyone with kids, especially teenagers, is trying to get through some problem. I do my best not to get too involved. This is my vacation. This is my respite from the demands of therapy. If there is a real crisis, I’m happy to help. But I do my best to keep a low profile, if you know what I mean.”

“How about the colony as a family?” asked Ray.

“Funny you should mention that. I’ve always sort of thought about it in that way. It’s a large extended family, composed of individual families, some of whom have histories going back generations. There are very complex relationships here. Fortunately, most of the time this is an enormously successful cooperative community.”

“How did Malcolm Wudbine fit into this family?”

“There was an interesting dynamic. We have Malcolm and Verity and their history. Then there’s Malcolm and his relationship with his son and daughter-in-law. And last the rather strange relationship with Malcolm and the colony. He’s been very good to this place, but at times he’s been a brute and a dictator. Along the way he created a dependency relationship. We all became conditioned to look to Malcolm for his money and his skill at fixing things. It was sort of father and child relationship.”

“How did you get along with Malcolm?”

“I did my best to stay out of his way. That’s how I deal with unpleasant people. I am one of the few people living here who never had an acrimonious encounter with him. I don’t know why I was spared. Perhaps my pastoral role afforded me some special protection.”

“Did you ever have any financial dealings with him?”

“No, fortunately, but a lot of people did. I might have, too. But at the time I had no money. There was quite a frenzy back when he invited people to open accounts. There were lots of people hopping on board, everyone hoping to make a fortune. They all wanted a piece of the action and were convinced that Malcolm could deliver for them the same kind of wealth he had acquired for himself. Folks moved their longstanding retirement accounts over to his firm. I also heard that some people took out second mortgages, although I don’t know whether or not that’s true. The market was going up, all the old guidelines and questions didn’t seem to matter anymore. And for a couple of years they did well. That was a regular part of summer gossip. And then the dotcom collapse quickly shattered those dreams. There was a lot of anger directed at Malcolm, and Elliott, too. It clearly wasn’t their fault. I’m not sure they handled it well. I heard they abruptly closed out the smaller accounts, and many of those people had huge losses. Even though it was more than a decade ago, there is still some residual anger.”

“So what about the Wudbine family?”

“I really can’t tell you much. I’m just an outsider. I’m sure that it’s just as functional/dysfunctional as any other family. On a bell-shaped curve, they’re probably around the mean, maybe a standard deviation on the side of strangeness at the most. That’s pure conjecture. Really unfair of me to say that. I just don’t know.”

Saturday night, did you see anything unusual, anything out of place, people around you hadn’t seen before?”

“No, nothing like that. But, Sheriff, my focus was on the play. Sterling had worked us very hard. We had started in chaos about a month ago. By Saturday night it all seemed like a well-oiled machine. I was having a wonderful time. I think the rest of the cast was too. There was so much energy and excitement. Even the lights going out just seemed to add to the total effect of the suspense and mystery. Sheriff, I was in shock. I still am.”

“Where were you when the place went dark?”

“I was sitting in the green room. I was texting with one of my kids out in the audience. We just went on with our conversation until the lights came back on, and I had to get ready to go back onstage.”

“You have any theories about who might have wanted Malcolm Wudbine dead?”

“None at all. The man could be a pain in the ass. But murder, I don’t see it, not here. So many things happen between people. If I’ve learned one thing over the years, especially in my professional life, it’s impossible to imagine the things that happen between people. And to take it one step further, it’s difficult to anticipate how a person might interpret events or see a relationship. So who knows what might have inspired this rage. I’m really interested in knowing more about the killer and what motivated them to do this crime. I hope we can have a conversation about the case after the dust settles.”

“I’d be happy to do that,” said Ray, standing and extending his hand, “after the case is closed and adjudicated.”

“One more thing,” said Waltham, “I assume my son’s on the list. He played my nephew, he’s sixteen.”

“Yes, one of the many people we have to get to.”

“My wife took him downstate this morning. Football practice starts tomorrow. I doubt if he knows anything. He’s been totally in love for at least three weeks and oblivious to everything and everyone else. When you’re sixteen, a summer romance is a big deal.”

Ray walked outside with Waltham and chatted a few more minutes, then returned to the library and keyed some additional notes on his laptop. His concentration was interrupted by the his phone vibrating on the tabletop.”

“You better get out here, Ray,” said Sue. “The family chopper just took off with Elliott, Jill, and Alyson Mickels. Brenda Wudbine is in the greenhouse that adjoins the staff quarters, alone and unguarded.”

“I’m on my way.”

29

Brenda Wudbine sat on a stool near a counter at the center of the small greenhouse, a collection of cut flowers spread out before her. Holding a near-empty glass with the remains of a Bloody Mary in her left hand, she eyed Ray and Sue suspiciously.

“We came to offer our condolences,” said Ray, making eye contact with Wudbine, then quickly scanning the area for security cameras. He looked back at her.

“Condolences,” she repeated, her voice unsteady, her word suspended in the moist air, redolent with the smell of earth and blossoms. “Funny, no one has said that. I’m the wife, the supposed widow, and no one has said that. No one has offered condolences. And that’s what people do, isn’t it?” She focused on Ray, her gaze unsteady. “Even my friends back in Chicago who have been calling, they didn’t say it. But then they loathed Malcolm.”

Brenda focused on the flowers for a long moment, then looked up at Ray. “Does Jill know you’re here?”