Blessed Is the Busybody (29 page)

I had to go downstairs sometime. Lucy and Roussos had been gone awhile when I decided to chase away everybody with the bad manners to confront my husband while I was still recovering. I wasn’t sure what I had to lose. If I behaved badly, we could claim it was my poor injured brain. Or better, we could explain if our visitors didn’t like it, they could fire Ed—which was most likely why they were here in the first place.

It was a no-lose situation.

As I carefully descended I detected the scent of roses. I caught sight of the first bouquet on the table at the foot of the stairs. One degree at a time I turned my head and saw that the living room was filled with flowers.

I heard the kitchen door slam, then Ed came into the hallway.

“What are you doing up?”

“Where is everybody?”

“They just left. Out the back way. That seems to be the preferred route these days.”

He came over and wrapped his arms around me. I slumped against him. “It smells like somebody died,” I said. “It smells like a funeral in here.”

“You have a lot of friends. The Meanie moms sent a gift certificate to the Emerald Spa. May suggests a massage. Crystal O’Grady suggests Botox.”

I sniffed. That brain injury thing again.

“The sofa for you,” he said.

He dragged me to the sofa and tucked me in with one of Junie’s afghans. “Tea, coffee?”

“Just you.” I patted the sofa, and he perched on the edge facing me. He looked worse for wear. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. His beard looked even scragglier than usual. It was probably going to be history soon.

He smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “Your head’s better?”

“Uh huh. What did the doctor say?”

“That you’ll need to take it easy for the rest of the week. No stress.”

“Gosh, is he sending me to the Caribbean?”

He smiled and touched my cheek with the back of his fingers. My eyelids drifted closed. “There were moments Monday night when I wondered if I’d ever feel you do that again,” I said.

“Damn it, I would have shot Harry myself if I’d had the gun.”

I opened my eyes. “You’re a pacifist.”

“We can safely say I’m not.”

“Wouldn’t it have been funny if at the very end of my life, I finally had
something
in common with Gelsey? Harry.”

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Don’t even joke about it.”

“You might as well tell me.”

“What?”

“Why that committee was here.”

“It’s going to complicate your life.”

“Oh, my poor simple life. How can I cope?”

“That was Tom and Yvonne and about six others from the board.”

“Well, there’s always Boston.”

“That’s the complication. Everybody wants me. The Tri-C board wants me to stay here. They’ve given me a full vote of confidence. They delivered dozens of letters in support from people in the congregation.”

“Wow.”

“And Boston says an offer’s in the making.”

“Oh . . .” For a moment I couldn’t wrap my mind around this. “Oh. We could stay here if we wanted? Or we can go?”

“The board’s proposed a raise to go with their offer—now that they can count on Gelsey’s addition to the endowment. How’s that for irony? And they sweetened the deal with a new floor for the kitchen. They think we deserve it after everything.”

“Bargain for a new sink while you’re at it.”

“What do you think?”

Boston was a wonderful city, but it wasn’t the life we had chosen for ourselves. Ed had wanted time to breathe, time to pursue his beloved research. Despite the pleasures of a large city, I guess now I wanted to raise our daughters somewhere less intense. Maybe I’d had some reservations about Emerald Springs, but I’d made friends here and so had our children.

I tried to feel my way through an explanation. “This whole thing had to be an aberration. This is a quiet town, an easy place to live. Nothing else could go wrong, could it?”

“I’m inclined to stay, if you’re willing.”

There was plenty of time to tell him about Lucy’s plan for my future.

“Let’s,” I said.

“Then it’s a done deal.”

“Before you leave me so I can take the next nap of the day, I just have a quick question.”

“Sure. What?”

“You being the real moral compass of the family.”

“Uh huh. What do I need to point to?”

I pictured an overturned salt shaker on Gelsey’s dining room table, and a sheet of newspaper from our recycling bin. I pictured a shattered punch bowl—and boy, did I hate to tell the spring social committee about that.

“Let’s just say there’s this woman I know. And she was very brave, even remarkably daring one night. But she did not, in fact, lead a certain police detective and her husband to the place where a murderer intended to kill her. Let’s just say that as she grabbed something off a certain table to throw at her attacker, she probably knocked over everything else in sight.”

“And the dilemma?”

“Well, does she take credit where none is due? Or does she make a painful confession and admit it was purely accidental?”

“Well, is she absolutely sure it was an accident? Remember what Freud said? Or could her unconscious have sensed the murderer’s intentions and triggered her actions to save herself? Or was this some entity outside herself taking action? Some mysterious force in the universe acting for her good? The answer to a prayer she doesn’t even remember praying?”

“You had to complicate this, didn’t you?”

“That’s what a good moral compass does.” He kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and kept him there for a long moment. I never wanted to let him go.

“So I don’t have to tell Roussos?” I said after he sat back up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“He won’t buy the unconscious, mysterious force, answer to a prayer explanation.”

“He doesn’t have time to think like that. He has to act and act fast.”

“So maybe I shouldn’t complicate his life. You know? Besides, it doesn’t really matter. Our paths won’t even cross again. Right?”

“Promise me this was your one and only stab at solving a murder.”

“Promise me nobody will bring another case right to our doorstep.”

“Aggie . . .”

I closed my eyes. Nap time. Nothing beats a concussion for closing off a conversation.

Don’t miss the next Ministry is Murder Mystery featuring Aggie Sloan-Wilcox

LET THERE BE SUSPECTS

Coming in December 2006 from Berkley Prime Crime!

Now that the recent excitement in her husband’s congregation has “died” down, Aggie Sloan-Wilcox is certain that her life in bucolic Emerald Springs, Ohio, will return to normal. Then mother Junie decides that Christmas is a perfect time for a family reunion and persuades Aggie’s sisters, Vel and Sid, to join her. A less welcome guest is invited, too. Ginger Grable, a former foster sister, joins the happy clan, and jealousy flares. When Ginger is murdered, Sid, who has always resented Junie’s attachment to Ginger, is the logical suspect.

Aggie knows Sid is incapable of murder, even if Ed, Aggie’s minister husband, and Detective Kirkor Roussos of the Emerald Springs police department have doubts. Sure, Sid’s a little spoiled, but this is the same young woman who convinced Aggie’s young daughters to confront a prominent church member wearing a fur coat to morning service. No murderer, she.

Between family duties, Christmas preparations, and the new house she’s flipping with best friend Lucy, Aggie still finds time to investigate Ginger’s past. To her dismay she finds that once again members of the Emerald Springs Consolidated Community Church are right in the midst of things.

This time which parishioner will fall prey to her sleuthing skills? Or will Aggie and her family become prey themselves?