“Roscoe’s murder was premeditated. Maury’s was not—or so it
appears . Kendrick Miller has a tie to St. Elizabeth’s, but—” He shrugged.
“But”—Cooper shot another rubber band straight in the air— “while we’re just postulating—”
“Postulating? I’m pissing in the wind.”
“You do that.” She caught the rubber band as it fell back. “Listen to me. St. Elizabeth’s is the tie. What if Fletcher and McKinchie were filching alumni contributions?”
“Kendrick Miller isn’t going to kill over alumni misappropriations.” He batted down her line of thought.
The phone rang. The on-duty operator, Joyce Thomson, picked it up.
Cynthia said, “I’ve always wanted to pick up the phone and say, ‘Cops and Robbers.’ “
Rick’s line buzzed. He punched in the button so Cynthia could listen. “Yo.”
“Sheriff,” Joyce Thomson said, “it’s John Aurieano. Mrs. Berryhill’s cows are on his land, and he’s going to shoot them if you don’t remove them.”
Rick punched the line and listened to the torrent of outrage. “Mrs. Berryhill’s a small woman, Mr. Aurieano. She can’t round up her cattle without help, and it will take me hours to send someone over to help. We’re shorthanded.”
More explosions.
“Tell you what, I’ll send someone to move them, but let me give you some friendly advice… . This is the country. Cows are part of the country, and I’ll let you in on something quite shocking—they can’t read ‘No Trespassing’ signs. You shoot the cows, Mr. Aurieano, and you’re going to be in a lot more trouble than you can imagine. If you don’t like the way things are, then move back to the city!” He put the phone down. “You know, there are days when this job is a real pain in the ass.”
40
A subdued congregation received early-morning mass. Jody Miller and her mother, Irene, sat in a middle pew. The entire Hallahan family occupied a pew on the left. Samson Coles made a point of sitting beside Jody. Lucinda squeezed next to Irene. Whatever Kendrick Miller may or may not have done, the opprobrium shouldn’t attach to his wife and child.
Still, parishioners couldn’t help staring.
Rick and Cooper knelt in the back row. Rick’s head bobbed as he started to drift off, and his forehead touched his hand. He jerked his head up. “Sorry,” he whispered.
He and Cynthia waited in the vestibule while people shuffled out after the service. Curious looks passed among the churchgoers as everyone watched to see if the police would stop Irene. She and Jody passed Rick without looking right or left. The Hallahans nodded a greeting but kept moving.
Finally, disappointed, the rest of the congregation walked into the brisk air, started their cars, and drove away.
Rick checked his watch, then knocked on the door at the left of the vestibule.
“Who’s there?” Father Michael called out, hearing the knock.
“Rick Shaw and Deputy Cooper.”
Father Michael, wearing his robe and surplice, opened the door. “Come in, Sheriff, Deputy.”
“I don’t mean to disturb you on Sunday. I have a few quick questions, Father.”
He motioned. “Come in. Sit down for a minute.”
“Thanks.” They stepped inside, collapsing on the old leather sofa. “We’re beat. No sleep.”
“I didn’t sleep much myself. . . .”
“Have you been threatened, Father?” Rick’s voice cracked from fatigue.
“No.”
“In your capacity as chaplain to St. Elizabeth’s, have you noticed anything unusual, say, within the faculty? Arguments with Roscoe? Problems with the alumni committee?”
Father Michael paused a long time, his narrow but attractive face solemn. “Roscoe and Sandy Brashiers were inclined to go at it. Nothing that intense, though. They never learned to agree to disagree, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do.” Rick nodded. “Apart from the inviolate nature of the confessional, do you know or have you heard of any sexual improprieties involving Roscoe?”
“Uh—” The middle-aged man paused a long time again. “There was talk. But that’s part and parcel of a small community.”
“Any names mentioned?” Cynthia said. “Like Irene Miller, maybe?”
“No.”
“What about Sandy Brashiers and Naomi Fletcher?”
“I’d heard that one. The version goes something like, Naomi tires of Roscoe’s infidelities and enlists his enemy, or shall we say rival, to dispose of him.”
Rick stood up. “Father, thank you for your time. If anything occurs to you or you want to talk, call me or Coop.”
“Sheriff”—Father Michael weighed his words—“am I in danger?”
“I hope not,” Rick answered honestly.
41
April Shively was arrested Monday morning at the school. She was charged with obstructing justice since she had consistently refused to hand over the school records, first to Sandy, then to the police. As she and Roscoe had worked hand in glove, not even Naomi knew how much April had removed and hidden.
Sandy Brashiers wasted no time in terminating her employment. On her way out of the school, April turned and slapped his face. Cynthia Cooper hustled her to the squad car.
St. Elizabeth’s, deserted save for faculty, stood forlorn in the strong early November winds. Sandy and Naomi convened an emergency meeting of faculty and interested parties. Neither could answer the most important question: What was happening at St. Elizabeth’s?
The Reverend Herbert C. Jones received an infuriating phone call from Darla McKinchie. No, she would not be returning to Albemarle County for a funeral service. She would be shipping her late husband’s body to Los Angeles immediately. Would the Reverend please handle the arrangements with Dale and Delaney Funeral Home? She would make a handsome contribution to the church. Naturally, he agreed, but was upset by her high-handed manner and the fact that she cared so little for Maury’s local friends, but then again, she seemed to care little for Maury himself.
Blue Monday yielded surprises every hour on the hour, it seemed. Jody Miller learned that yes, she was pregnant. She begged Dr. Larry Johnson not to call her mother. He wouldn’t agree since she was under twenty-one, so she pitched a hissy fit right there in the examining room. Hayden Mclntire, the doctor’s much younger partner, and two nurses rushed in to restrain Jody.
The odd thing was that when Irene Miller arrived it was she who cried, not Jody. The shame of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy cut Irene to the core. She was fragile enough, thanks to the tensions inside her house and now outside it as well. As for Jody, she had no shame about her condition, she simply didn’t want to be pregnant. Larry advised mother and daughter to have a heart-to-heart but not in his examining room.
At twelve noon Kendrick Miller was released on $250,000 bail into the custody of his lawyer, Ned Tucker. At one in the afternoon, he told his divorce lawyer not to serve papers on Irene. She didn’t need that crisis on top of this one, he said. What he really wanted was for Irene to stand beside him, but Kendrick being Kendrick, he had to make it sound as though he were doing his wife a big favor.
At two thirty he blasted Sandy Brashiers on the phone and said he was taking his daughter out of that sorry excuse for a school until things got straightened out over there. By three thirty the situation was so volatile that Kendrick picked up the phone and asked Father Michael for help. For him to admit he needed help was a step in the right direction.
By four forty-five the last surprise of the day occurred when BoomBoom Craycroft lost control of her shiny brand-new 7 series BMW. She had roared up the alleyway behind the post office where she spun in a 360-degree turn, smashing into Harry’s blue Ford.
Hearing the crash, the animals rushed out of the post office. BoomBoom, without a scratch herself, opened the door to her metallic green machine, put one foot on the ground, and started to wail.