Adam held the power in that relationship, so it was him I dealt with.
“That list, Reverend?” He weighed it in his mind. A tongue, used to spouting Scripture and metaphor, fell silent. He walked out of the office. Tamma glared at me. “Why are you doing this? Why are you bothering us?” she demanded. Her hands balled into fists, unsuitable for prayer. “I didn’t realize looking for truth was a bother to you.
Isn’t that why we have churches?” “I used to think nicely of you, Jordy. But you’re a thoroughly unlikable person. Leave us alone.” Adam returned with a file. He sorted through the papers, found one, set the file down, and walked back out. I heard his footsteps stop, the hum of a copying machine, and the crisp sound of paper sliding into a tray.
His footsteps resumed and he entered, brandishing a paper at me.
“Here. I hope you don’t bother these people too much.” He glanced at his wife, who wouldn’t look at me. “I can’t see how this has anything to do with Beta’s death.” “Thanks. Good day, Reverend. Mrs. Hufnagel.”
I nodded to the unfriendly Tamma, and left. Walking out into the morning sunshine of the parking lot, I scanned the list quickly. It was interesting that two of the names matched two of the names on Beta’s list. I changed my plans. I went home. Sister sat in the living room, watching Mama sweep the back porch. Mama loved to do that; repetitive actions hold a fascination for Alzheimer’s patients.
It’s almost as if their repertoire of tasks is so limited, they get a sensual pleasure out of repeating endlessly the few actions they can still do well. Mama swept even the microbes off that porch, weaving back and forth for hours if uninterrupted. We didn’t want her to do it at first, but her doctor said it was decent exercise. It was better than the walking in circles that she also favored. I decided to try out a theory. No more taking folks at face value. I picked up the kitchen phone, cleared my throat, and dialed Matt Blalock’s number.
“Hello, Blalock residence.” “May I speak to Matthew Blalock, please?”
I sounded just like my friend and co-worker Gil Camden back in Boston, just watering down the Yankee accent a tad. Making fun of Yankees when you live up there tends to make you into a good mimic. At least it did me. “This is Matt Blalock.” “Hello, my name is Gil Camden. I’m a Vietnam vet who just recently moved to Bavary. I understand you hold a weekly meeting over there in Mirabeau for vets. I’m interested in attending.” “Yes, we do. But not this week.” Matt coughed. “We don’t have our usual meeting place available. We should have it back next week, and we’ll meet then. If I can get your address and phone number, Mr. Camden, I’ll-” I set the receiver gently back into its cradle. The good Reverend Hufnagel had lied right to my face. So why were he and Matt together at the church? The two of them were a pair that just didn’t match. I went up to my room and laid out my notes. Since I didn’t have enough answers about the suspects, I decided to concentrate on the victim. Beta brought death on herself; this was no random act of violence, no crime of passion. Her presence in the library at night, her attempt to torch the building, her careful list of names and Biblical verses, the unexplained money in her account pointed to some system she’d imposed on her life. Beta, in other words, was up to something and it got her killed. I was the person most attached to the library; I’m the only one who would have arguably killed for it (and I wouldn’t have gone that far). That list had kept me focused on Beta’s relationships at the library, but Mirabeau was a small town and lives overlap in other areas. I needed to cast my net further, and I’d decided to start with the church. I wrote out another list on paper: TIMETABLE OF EVENTS IN BETA’S LIFE January-Beta in hospital, accuses Ruth Wills of trying to poison her. Incident dropped. February-Beta forced off library board after censorship battle. Rough fight with bad feelings between Beta and library board and vice versa. Particular animosity between Beta and Matt Blalock.
Bob Don Goertz appointed to replace Beta. Beginning of March-Beta chaperones with Tamma Hufnagel on youth group trip to Lake Travis.
Beta and Tamma mend fences. Late March-church rummage sale. Beta drops the ball on it. Beginning of April-Beta begins planning work on Vacation Bible School with Tamma and Janice Schneider. Monday, April 7, evening-Hally Schneider takes Beta home after baby-sitting job.
Sees Eula Mae Quiff meeting Beta at her house. Tuesday, April 8-Beta deposits $35,000 in her savings account. Saturday, April 11, evening-Ruth witnesses violent argument between Beta and Bob Don at his dealership. Beta makes some threat toward someone Bob Don cares about. (Perhaps his mistress-remember his assigned quote about a damsel or two!) Monday, April 13, morning-fights with me at library.
Also present: Tamma, Eula Mae, Ruth. Monday, April 13, afternoon-at her home apparently meets with Bob Don, then Tamma. Goes to church and takes library key from Adam’s office. Monday, April 13, late night-goes to library with intention of burning it down-alone or with killer? Killed with baseball bat. I read again where Beta deposited all that money. The day after she met Eula Mae. And Eula Mae was one of the few folks in town who could cough up that much cash. Beta must’ve been dangling something over Eula Mae’s head- The palm of my hand slapped up against my mouth and I felt as stupid as a Bummel at birth. Beta did have something over Eula Mae, but it had to be something Beta didn’t know about when she made her censorship stand at the library. If Beta had dirt on Eula Mae, she’d have used it to get Eula Mae to switch her vote. The same for the others on the board:
Janice and Ruth. But Beta hadn’t. No embarrassing revelations came to light when Beta got tossed. Whatever she’d had on Eula Mae, she hadn’t had it in February. But at some point, Beta got smarter. She’d gotten $35,000 worth in smarts. Meeting late with Eula Mae. Threatening Bob Don. Who else? I tore through my notebook, back to the list of names.
Maybe this was a list of people Beta could blackmail. But then why were my name and Mama’s on it? I’d been as virtuous as a monk since coming home, and Mama could only get into a limited amount of mischief in her condition. It didn’t wash. Sister rapped gently on my door.
She’d never done that as a teenager but she’d broken her filthy habits. “You have a visitor, Jordy. Beta Harcher’s niece is downstairs.”
10
The young miss Harcher wasn’t what I expected. Although I hadn’t given it much thought, when I’d heard Beta had a niece it wasn’t hard to imagine some tight-lipped, proper young clone of Beta. Apparently self-righteousness and primness aren’t in the genetic code. The girl was around five feet eight, with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and a finely featured face. Her eyes were blue as a jay, and they darted around with the same cunning and speed. Her figure was firm and shapely under the black T-shirt and faded, acid-washed jeans she wore.
She also wore large, funky turquoise earrings and black cowboy boots.
I guessed she was young, around twenty-three. Mark had come in from the backyard. As Sister and I came down the stairs, the girl laughed at something he said, a high, musical bell of a giggle. He blushed madly and kept gawking at her. I obviously needed to have a talk with that boy when all this calmed down. Had Sister explained the facts of life to him? Lord, all my responsibilities. I kept those facts of life firmly out of my head as I introduced myself. I’m not sure she did.
“Well, Mr. Poteet, you sure don’t look like any librarian I ever met.
I’m Shannon Harcher.” Her hand was cool and firm in my grasp. “Please, sit down,” I indicated the sofa. She did, neatly, and I sat next to her. I glanced at Sister, asking with my eyes for some privacy. Sister made herself comfortable in the easy chair. Mark leaned against the wall, trying to look older and nonchalant. It didn’t work. “My sympathies on your aunt’s death,” I said, not knowing what else to say. To my surprise, a hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re very kind, Mr. Poteet. But I know you and Aunt Beta weren’t exactly friends. She gave me updates over the phone about her book-banning efforts.” I opened my hands, then closed them back together. No use in denying that little fact. “No, we weren’t friends. I-” She raised a well-manicured hand to interrupt me. “Look, Mr. Poteet, there’s no need to explain. I know what kind of person my aunt was.” Shannon Harcher shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend with me that you liked her. I won’t hold you to all those small-town niceties.” “Okay, Miss Harcher-” “Shannon.” “Then call me Jordy. Okay, Shannon, your aunt and I weren’t friends.” I paused. “You’ve probably already heard that from the D.A.’s office and the chief of police.” Her lovely eyes narrowed.