“That would be Pastor Wertz,” she said softly, and Luke bent his head closer to better hear. He smelled like cedar again today, she thought, the odor of fire and death washed away. She took another breath, filling her head with his scent before turning her focus back to the cemetery in which she’d stood with Daniel barely two weeks before. “Wertz has been pastor since before I was born. My father thought he was a fool. That either meant he couldn’t be bought or that he wasn’t bright enough to play his games. Wertz doesn’t seem much different, except that his sermons used to be a lot longer. Today’s was barely twenty minutes.”
“He’s got a lot of them to do,” Al said. “Maybe he’s pacing himself.”
She thought of all the death inflicted by Mack O’Brien. “You’re probably right.”
“What about the older gentleman with the entourage?” Luke asked.
“That’s Congressman Bob Bowie.”
“His daughter was Mack O’Brien’s first victim,” Luke murmured, and she nodded.
“Standing beside him are his wife, Rose, and his son, Michael.”
“What about the thin, old man beside the son?”
“That’s Mr. Dinwiddie. He’s the Bowies ’ butler and has been since I can remember. The Bowies had live-in servants, and that made my mother jealous. She wanted a butler, but my father wouldn’t allow it. ‘Servants have big ears and wagging tongues,’ he’d say. He did too much business in the middle of the night to worry about a butler.”
“Anybody else I should know?”
“Do you see the older lady with big hair? She’s standing three rows back. That’s Angie Delacroix. She might be a good resource to talk to about Granville and anyone else. Angie owns the beauty shop. She knows everything that goes on in Dutton, and what she doesn’t hear, the barbershop trio see. That’s them, coming this way.”
Three old men had been sitting in folding chairs at the graveside. As one they’d risen and were now making their way across the grass.
“Barbershop trio?” Al asked as the old men approached. “Not a quartet?”
“No. There are always three, and they sit on a bench outside the barber shop all day and watch the world go by from nine to five, Monday through Friday. They take an hour for lunch in the diner across the street. They’re a Dutton institution. The old men in the town have to wait for one of the trio to die before a space on the bench opens up.”
“O-kay,” Luke murmured. “And I thought my great-uncle Yanni was weird for painting all the eyes of his yard statues blue. Which of these guys is Daniel’s old English teacher? He helped us with Mack O’Brien yesterday. He might be willing to give us information again.”
“That would be Mr. Grant. He’s on the right. The others are Dr. Fink and Dr. Grim. All three of them creep me out,” she murmured.
“With names like Fink and Grim, I can understand,” Luke said, amused.
“That’s their real names, too. Dr. Fink was my dentist. I still can’t hear a drill without panicking. Mr. Grant always talked about dead poets. He tried to get me to go out for theater. And Dr. Grim was my biology teacher. He was… different.”
“Different how?” Luke asked.
“He made Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller look like he had ADD.”
“That exciting?” Luke asked, a smile in his voice.
“More so.” She straightened as the three stopped in front of her. “Gentlemen, please allow me to introduce you to Special Agent Papadopoulos and Assistant District Attorney Al Landers. This is Dr. Fink, Dr. Grim, and Mr. Grant.”
The old men nodded politely. “Miss Susannah.” Dr. Fink took her hand. “I didn’t get the chance to express my condolences at your parents’ funeral.”
“Thank you, Dr. Fink,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.”
The next man brushed a kiss against her cheek. “You’re looking lovely, my dear.”
“And you’re looking well, Mr. Grant.”
“We heard the news about Daniel,” Mr. Grant said, worried. “Is he improved?”
“He’s still in intensive care, but his prognosis is excellent.”
Mr. Grant shook his head. “I can’t believe twenty-four hours ago he gave me a volume of poetry, and now… But he’s young and strong. He’ll pull through.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The third man was studying her intently. “You’re looking peaked, Miss Vartanian.”
She straightened again. “I’m just tired, Dr. Grim. It’s been a long few weeks.”
“Are you taking B-twelve? You haven’t forgotten the importance of vitamins, have you?”
“I certainly could never forget the importance of vitamins, sir.”
Dr. Grim’s face softened. “I was so sorry to hear about your mama and daddy.”
Susannah held back the flinch. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”
“Excuse me,” Luke inserted, “but I’m sure you gentlemen have heard about the death of Dr. Granville yesterday.”
All three grimaced. “It’s a terrible shock,” Dr. Fink said. “Before I retired, my dental practice was next door to his clinic. I spoke to him every day. I’d have lunch with him sometimes. My daughter took my grandkids to him for their shots. I had no idea…”
“He was one of my students,” Mr. Grant said sadly. “A brilliant mind. Skipped two grades to graduate early. What a waste. Fink’s right. It’s a shock to all of us.”
Dr. Grim looked most devastated. “He was my star pupil. Nobody absorbed biology like Toby Granville. Nobody knew he had such evil in him. It’s unbelievable.”
“I understand,” Luke murmured. “You three must see a lot that goes on in Dutton.”
“We do,” Dr. Fink said proudly. “At least one of us is on that bench at all times.”
Susannah lifted her brows, surprised. “I thought you had to sit there, nine to five.”
“Well, we don’t leave unless there’s a good reason, of course,” Mr. Grant said. “Like my weekly therapy on my knee or Fink’s dialysis or Grim’s-”
“That’s enough,” Grim said roughly. “He didn’t ask our daily routine, Grant. Do you have a specific question, Agent Papadopoulos?”
“Yes, sir,” Luke said. “I do. Did you notice Dr. Granville talking to anyone unusual?”
All three men frowned and looked at each other.
“Like a woman?” Fink asked. “Are you asking if he was having an affair?”
“No,” Luke said, “but are you saying he did?”
“No,” Grim said. “To say he was a God-fearing man seems ludicrous, but I never saw him in an inappropriate situation. He was the town doctor. He talked to everyone.”
“So he didn’t have anyone he was especially friendly with, or did business with?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Mr. Grant said. “Fink, Grim?”
The three men shook their heads, curiously unwilling to speak against a man who was now known to have been a rapist, killer, and pedophile. But their reticence could also be due to a general mistrust of outsiders, Susannah thought.
“Thank you,” Luke said. “I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
The three gave Susannah a stern glare, then started back for their folding chairs.
Susannah let out a breath. “That was interesting. I would have expected them to be cool to Al, just because he’s a Yankee, but not to you, Luke.”
“I’m glad I didn’t say anything then,” Al said, mildly affronted.
Her mouth curved a little. “Sorry, Al, but the older generation still holds a grudge.”
“I didn’t expect them to be happy with my questions,” Luke said. “Granville’s scandal is a shock and reflects poorly on the whole town. Who’s the woman with the camera?”
“That’s Marianne Woolf. Her husband owns the Dutton Review.”
Luke let out a low whistle. “Daniel said she was voted most likely to do everyone. Now I understand. Whoa.”
Susannah quashed the spurt of jealousy. Men had always had that reaction to Marianne, and the years had been good to her. Susannah wondered if the plastic surgeons had been good as well, but dismissed the thought as petty.