Before Jones could argue, he made his way carefully across Bellefield Avenue. Even though it was a one-way road, he had learned long ago to always look both ways when crossing streets on the Pitt campus. For some strange reason, the city of Pittsburgh had designed its busonly lanes to go in the opposite direction to the car traffic on a few of its streets. Vehicles rarely collided with buses — all they had to do was stay out of each other’s designated lanes — but pedestrians weren’t always as fortunate. Nearly every year some visitor or clueless freshman who wasn’t familiar with the setup stepped off the sidewalk and got flattened by a bus heading in the ‘wrong’ direction. It happened so often that local police called it death-by-bus.
‘Can I give you a hand?’ Payne called from a distance.
The woman stopped scraping her passenger-side window and searched for the source of the sound. When she realized it was Payne, she became noticeably flustered.
‘I’m sorry,’ she yelled to him while hustling around the front of her Ford Taurus. Her headlights were off, but her car’s engine and heater were running.
‘For what?’
‘For showing up like that. I shouldn’t have done it.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not here to yell at you.’
‘Then why are you here?’ she asked as she opened her door.
When the interior light popped on, Payne could finally see the woman they had been following. Until that point, she had been nothing more than a ghost moving in the shadows of the Cathedral, a green coat trekking through the snow. Now he could put a face on their subject. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties. Brown hair, brown eyes, and very little make-up. Not the least bit glamorous, but sexy nonetheless. The type of woman who used to be a cheerleader but now spent her days at work and her nights with her kids.
Payne answered, ‘I’m here to help.’
‘To help with what? You don’t even know why I’m here.’
‘I will if you tell me.’
‘Listen,’ she said as she climbed into her car, ‘I appreciate you coming outside to talk to me. But I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced.’
He shrugged. ‘Trust me, it’s not a problem. I made my speech and welcomed my guests. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve earned myself a coffee break. Why don’t we go back inside and get ourselves something to drink? I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing my ass off.’
For the first time that night, she smiled. ‘It is kind of cold.’
Payne theatrically rubbed his arms. ‘Brrrrr— rrrrrrr.’
She smiled again, this time even wider. ‘Fine, we can go somewhere and talk, but not inside the Cathedral. I’m severely underdressed.’
Payne glanced at his watch. ‘How about Heinz Chapel? I bet it’s still open.’
She considered his suggestion, then nodded.
‘Do you mind if my friend joins us?’ He pointed back at Jones, who was keeping an eye on things from the nearby steps. ‘I swear, he’s harmless.’
‘No, he’s not,’ she replied. It wasn’t an accusation, more like a statement of fact. ‘Then again, neither are you. If you guys were harmless, I wouldn’t have come so far to talk.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘Philadelphia.’
‘In this weather? What’s that, a seven-hour drive?’
‘Closer to ten. Lots of accidents on the turnpike.’
Payne nodded in understanding. This time of year, Pennsylvania highways were an adventure — especially in the central part of the state where the roads were so mountainous it was like riding a roller coaster. ‘What time did you leave?’
She turned off the engine. ‘Early.’
‘And you came all this way to talk to me?’
‘To both of you.’
‘Both of us?’
She closed her door and nodded.
‘About what?’
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather tell you together. It’ll be easier that way.’
‘Not a problem,’ he assured her. ‘No pressure from me.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’
‘However,’ he said as they walked across the road, ‘since you crashed my party, I feel like I’m entitled to one piece of information that you still haven’t told me.’
‘Oh, yeah? What’s that?’
Payne looked at her. ‘What’s your name?’
She glanced at him and smiled. ‘Ashley. My name is Ashley.’
8
After shaking Ashley’s hand, Jones led the way to the front entrance of Heinz Chapel. The massive front doors, each weighing over 800 pounds, were made of oak and attached with wroughtiron fixtures. As the three of them approached, one of the doors inched open as an elderly black janitor tried to push his way outside. He was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt underneath a khaki work jacket stitched with his name: Sam. In his left hand, he had a metal snow shovel. In his right, a bucket filled with rock salt.
Jones saw him struggling and rushed forward to help. ‘Let me get that for you, sir.’
‘Thank you. Thank you indeed. Awfully nice of you.’
‘Not a problem.’
Sam hobbled outside and set down his bucket with a clang. ‘Can I help you guys?’
Jones nodded. ‘We were wondering if the chapel was open.’
Sam studied Jones in his tuxedo, then noticed Payne in his. ‘Sorry, fellas, you’ll have to go somewhere else. Gay marriage ain’t legal in Pennsylvania.’ He burst out laughing, a loud mix between a cackle and a wheezing cough. The type of sound someone makes after fifty years of smoking. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just playin’ with you. I hope you ain’t offended.’
‘Not at all.’
‘You see,’ Sam explained, ‘I don’t got much time left, so I like to joke around.’
‘Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m not the least bit offended.’
‘Good!’ he said, patting Jones on his shoulder. ‘You’re proud of your gayness. That’s good to hear. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed about.’
‘No, sir, that’s not what I meant. I’m not gay.’
Sam shook his head. ‘I guess you ain’t black, neither.’
Once again, he laughed — even louder than before. Jones humoured him with a smile, but realized their conversation was going to be pretty one-sided.
‘Anyway,’ Jones said, ‘it was nice talking to you. The three of us are pretty cold, so we’re heading inside. Make sure you stay warm out here.’
‘Oh, I will,’ he said as he grabbed a handful of salt and scattered it on the stone steps. ‘Don’t worry about me none. The cold ain’t gonna kill ol’ Sam. I can promise you that!’
‘Nice meeting you,’ said Payne as he followed the others inside.
The lobby, known as the narthex, was surprisingly dark. What little light there was came from deeper inside the chapel. The middle section, known as the nave, extended from the edge of the entryway to the railing in front of the altar and was filled with several rows of oak pews. Wroughtiron lanterns, dangling on chains from the arches above, scattered soft beams of light in every direction, but they went virtually unnoticed because of the transept window on the left side of the nave. Four vertical rows of stained glass, each 73 feet tall, showcased important figures from secular history, representing politics, science, music, and literature. People like George Washington, Leonardo da Vinci, Beethoven, and Edgar Allan Poe.
‘Wow,’ Ashley whispered as she stared at the rainbow of colours projected inside the chapel by its exterior spotlights. ‘The windows are beautiful.’
‘If you look closely,’ Jones explained, ‘there’s an equal number of men and women. For every Shakespeare, there’s a Pocahontas. That level of equality is pretty rare in older art.’