“And the numbers were down?”
“Well, they were — are — but only fractionally. And over the last several years, they’d increased by double digits annually. It was inevitable that they’d level off at some point. For that matter, membership has leveled off, too. As a congregation, the Silver Spire has grown like Jack’s beanstalk for ten years. You can’t keep that up forever, and the same is true of church programs.”
“But apparently Meade thought differently.”
“Mr. Goodwin, Roy knew doggone well that it was unrealistic to expect unending growth in our education programs. We already had well over seventy percent of our adult members actively involved in one or more courses. I’ll stack that up against any large church of any denomination in the country.”
“Did he specifically single you out for criticism?”
“Not hardly. Sam — that’s Sam Reese — took a lot of zingers from Roy, because like I said, overall church membership had leveled off, too.”
“So what did Meade expect to accomplish by the criticism?”
Gillis nervously brushed his hair back from his eyes and leaned forward. “I’ll tell you. He was trying to undercut everybody. Roy Meade was power hungry; he couldn’t stand to see others get a lot of credit. He was number two on the staff, behind Barney, but he always wanted more. He—” Gillis stopped short. “I’ve said enough.”
I waited until he wound down. “What did you think about those notes that Bay had been getting in the Sunday collection?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t like them, not one bit. Some of the others in the Circle figure they are harmless — you know, the work of some crank. But they worry me; there’s a lot of mighty crazy folks running around nowadays. That’s why I was glad when Lloyd talked Barney into getting a real investigator in here. Of course, look how that turned out. Why are you so interested in the notes, anyway?”
I countered a question with a question. “Don’t you think the notes and Meade’s death are somehow connected?”
Gillis shook his head vigorously. “No way, not at all. It’s bad enough that Roy’s dead — and I really do mean that fervently, regardless of what I said about him a minute ago. But there is still somebody else out there making threats to Barney. And believe me, Mr. Goodwin, I see them as very real threats. The evil’s all around us.”
“So it seems. How would you describe the meeting the night Meade was killed?”
“Nasty,” he said, making a face. “Your Mr. Durkin said he was sure those threats were written by somebody here, which was bad enough. But then Roy started, well... insulting him, and then Durkin lashed back and said some awful things, really awful things. Barney led us all in prayer at that point, and then we had to go to our offices to meditate for fifteen minutes.”
“And you came back here?”
He nodded.
“Where’s Meade’s office?”
“Across the hall and two doors down.”
“Did you hear any shots?”
“No, but that’s not too surprising, I guess. These are plaster walls, and I never hear any noises from the offices on either side of me. And you can see how thick the doors are, too.”
“When did you first know Meade had been shot?”
“Sam Reese came in and told me.”
“How do the others in the Circle of Faith feel about Meade?”
Gillis wrinkled his long nose. “Mr. Goodwin, I apologize if this sounds abrupt or rude, but I just don’t want to talk about Roy anymore. Like I told you before, I’ve said enough, and I really must get back to work. I think Barney knows who you’re supposed to see next.”
I was getting the old heave-ho, but it didn’t bother me, because I figured I’d gotten all I was going to out of Gillis, at least for the present. I went back to Bay’s office, where the younger of the two secretaries was waiting for me.
“Mr. Goodwin, Dr. Bay asked me to take you down to Mr. Reese’s office,” she said brightly. “He’s expecting you.” I thanked her and learned her name was Diane as we went to the door right next to the executive office, which she rapped on. The muffled response sounded like “Come in,” and I swung open the door. That’s when I learned that my next interview would be with not one person but two.
Nine
They sat together on a beige sofa along the wall on the left side of the office, under a large framed color photograph of the church, sunlight gleaming off the spire. He looked pretty much like Fred had described him: paunchy, balding, generally unimpressive. And “borderline flashy” was a good description for her; she clearly was younger than her husband, although by no means a kid. I assumed her platinum hair — and there was plenty of it — had been artificially enhanced, but whatever the case, the end result was just fine with me.
A grim-faced Sam Reese made the introductions for both of them, while Carola dipped her head and gave me an almost-smile. “I know Barney said you preferred to see each of us individually,” Reese told me after I took a chair at right angles to the sofa, “but we come as a team. That’s the way it is.”
His tone made it clear that there wasn’t room for argument, so I nodded and forced a grin. “Fair enough; both of you know why I’m here, so there’s no reason to beat around the proverbial bush. How did each of you feel about Royal Meade?”
“I don’t know what that question’s supposed to mean,” Reese snapped. “How do you think we felt about him? We had all served together here for more than ten years. We were a close-knit group.” Carola nodded what I presumed was her assent, although her face effectively masked any feelings she had toward Meade.
“All right, I’ll phrase it more directly: Did you like him?”
Reese started to get up, but his wife eased him back with a hand on his arm. “Look, Mr. Goodwin,” he said through clenched teeth, “the only reason we’re putting up with this nonsense is because Barney requested it. Frankly, I find the whole business tasteless and objectionable.”
“That seems to be the consensus hereabouts,” I responded, “and I can sympathize with that position. But so that you know where I’m coming from, I find it tasteless and objectionable when someone gets falsely charged with murder.”
“And you truly think your Mr. Durkin is innocent?” It was Carola Reese, her green eyes wide and her expression open and trusting.
“Yes, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Reese snorted. “Hah! You work for Nero Wolfe, which means you do what he tells you, regardless of what you happen to think yourself.”
“Not so. It is true that I am employed by Mr. Wolfe, but I am my own man and always have been. I will be happy to supply references who are willing to attest to this, Mr. Wolfe among them.”
“All right, let’s get on with it,” Reese said sourly. “You wanted to know if we liked Roy. Of course we did.”
“Both of you?”
Carola opened her mouth, but before anything came out, her husband replied. “Yes, both of us, and — if I can be so presumptuous as to speak for others — the rest of the Circle of Faith as well.”
“That’s interesting. I had the impression Meade could be hard to get along with.”
“I suppose almost everyone is, from time to time.”
“And I also understand that he was on your case because of falling membership.”