Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon (24 page)

Lindsey reached out and took her grandfather's hand. He smiled at her, and then continued.

"The curse that followed our family lifted once the diamond and the cross were delivered to York Minster. Then, about ten years ago, it began again. We feel…the family believes…that when the bodies of the Romanovs were exhumed and buried in St. Petersburg, the curse began again. The cross and the diamond cry out to be returned to the martyrs."

"So you made plans to take the treasures back from the Minster?" I asked.

"These last five years. I realize now that it was a mistake. Two more deaths…and for nothing."

"Do you know who killed Kris?" asked Lindsey.

I nodded.

"Can you tell us?"

I shook my head.

"And do you know where the diamond is?" asked Wenceslas, still hopeful.

"Yep. But it's going back to the Minster."

•••

St. Barnabas had been almost magically returned to its pre-Lenten appearance. The altar was back in place. The water feature had disappeared. The paraments were red as was our tradition. We didn't need to worry about offending the ox. The pig was back home and the monkey had left the building.

The instrumentalists and the choir started arriving for the seven o'clock Maundy Thursday service at about 6:15. The altar guild was scurrying around with last minute adjustments; Father Tony was making sure that all was in order. Wenceslas was having a word with the acolytes. And conspicuous only by his absence was Father Emil Barna.

Father Tony was the celebrant and it was a beautiful service or perhaps just seemed so in contrast with all that had come before. Either way, I was proud of the choir and, as the service ended in silence and semi-darkness, we all walked out into the warm night air with a feeling of hope and expectation – finally looking forward to Easter.

•••

"I
knew
she couldn't be trusted," said Megan, after I had told her about my afternoon. "Meeting you at the hotel! I could scratch her eyes out!"

"That's cute," I commented. "You being so jealous and all."

"You're just lucky you didn't go up to her room."

"Um…yes, I am. Very lucky."

"You didn't, did you?" she asked, her gray eyes narrowing.

"Of course not."

"Because you
know
I'll find out."

"I know that you will," I nodded, happy to agree.

"So you did?"

"No, no," I stammered. "I meant that I knew you'd find out if I did, so I didn't."

"You mean you wanted to? The only reason you didn't is because you knew I'd find out?"

"Do you smell something burning?" I asked. "I'd better check the kabobs."

•••

"Bad news on Good Friday," said Malcolm Walker, making one of his semi-regular appearances at the Slab. "I just got a call from our woman applicant. She's withdrawn her name from consideration."

"Did she hear about our Feng Shui Altar Guild?" I asked, motioning for Malcolm to take a seat with one hand while balancing a forkful of scrambled eggs with the other.

"She did, yes," Malcolm chuckled, "but that wasn't the reason. She was offered a job teaching at Lenoir-Rhyne College starting in the fall. It's where her folks live."

"But the other fellow is still coming?"

"A week from today. By the way, have you seen Father Barna?"

"I haven't been up to the church today. He didn't show up for the service last night. I thought that a bit odd, if not refreshing."

"No one has seen him since yesterday morning. He came in and gave Marilyn his sermon title for Easter and disappeared. I've alerted Tony, and he has a sermon ready for Sunday if he needs it. He was going to help with the service in any event."

Suddenly the glass door to the Slab banged open and Dave stuck his head in.

"Careful of that door," Noylene called out.

"Sorry," said Dave, perfunctorily. Then spotted me at the table. "Hayden, you'd better drive up to your house. Your silent alarm's going off."

"Call Nancy," I said, "and have her meet me there."

Chapter 20

The drive up to my place took a good twenty minutes. I had installed a burgler alarm at Megan's insistence. It worked off the phone system and rang in the St. Germaine police station. The problem was that half the time I was always forgetting to set it. This was one of the mornings I remembered. I had fed Baxter, put him outside to chase whatever wildlife he could scare up, punched in the code, locked the door and headed into town.

I drove up into the mountains, pulled into the long gravel drive and slowed down as I neared the house. I had the feeling that something was very wrong. There was a car by the back door. Through my windshield, I saw Archimedes sitting on a branch by the kitchen window, looking at the ground. I reached under the seat of the truck and took out a .38 revolver, then opened the glove compartment and removed a box of shells. I loaded the gun, left the box of shells on the seat and stuck the revolver in the back waistband of my jeans.

I got out of the truck, left the door ajar and walked to the back door. There, lying next to the kitchen steps was Baxter. He'd been shot, but was still alive, lying still, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. When I bent down and scratched his ears, Baxter's eyes opened and he raised his head. I could see that the wound was high on his shoulder and wasn't bleeding too much. Probably a small caliber bullet, and if I were any judge, he'd be just fine.

I eased the kitchen door open and walked gingerly inside, immediately noticing quite a ruckus coming from the den. As quietly as I could, I made my way through the house, hoping to catch the invader by surprise. As I pushed the door to the old cabin open, I saw that I hadn't surprised anyone. There, standing in a pile of my antique hymnals and prayerbooks, a small, 9mm automatic in her hand, was Jelly Barna.

"Where is it?" she snarled, looking even more unattractive than usual. Maybe it was the gun.

"Kris' prayerbook. I know you have it. I talked with Margot this morning."

"It's there on the shelf," I said, pointing to my collection. I had close to four-hundred hymnals, Bibles and prayerbooks printed anywhere from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries. It was almost impossible to tell them apart by looking at the spines. Most of the printing was faded and the leather binding worn. Jelly was standing in the middle of about fifty of the books, having rifled quickly through them before tossing them to the floor.

"Let me see your gun," Jelly said. "Or I'll kill you right now."

I reached behind my back and pulled my revolver from my waistband. I didn't have any doubt that Jelly would do exactly what she said.

"Slowly. Take it out with two fingers. You make one quick move and I'll take your head off. I only shot your dog in the shoulder because I love animals. You I won't mind killing."

I held my gun out with two fingers, privately cursing my stupidity. Nancy would never let me live this down. That is, if I lived at all.

"Toss it," commanded Jelly, her 9mm still aimed directly between my eyes. I tossed it onto the couch where it bounced and settled, infinitely inviting, but out of reach.

"Now," said Jelly, lowering her gun slightly and pointing it at my midsection. "I'm just curious. How did you know?"

I shrugged. "Kris was strangled by a pair of pantyhose. They weren't hers – she was wearing garters – so I figured the murderer was probably a woman. I e-mailed your picture over to the Minster Police. The one from the Feng Shui website. One of them recognized you as Kris' cousin from America. You knew what Kris was planning. It had been planned for years. But you're not from the Kaszas family. You had no interest in seeing the diamond returned. You wanted it for yourself, so you followed Kris into the treasury and killed her. But she had already hidden the diamond."

"It's in the prayerbook. It has to be."

"See for yourself," I said. "Second shelf from the top, third book from the left."

Jelly kicked some books aside and made her way to the end of the shelf, all the while keeping her gun trained on me. She pulled the volume down and quickly found the hollow place in the spine. It was, of course, empty.

"Where is it?" she said.

I shrugged.

"Don't you move a muscle," said a voice behind me. It was Nancy. "If you so much as blink, I'll drop you like a three-legged donkey on St. Swithen's day." I had to smile. Someone, at least, had been reading my work. Still, I didn't relish being in the middle of two angry and determined women, both of whom were brandishing loaded weapons.

"Just drop the gun, Jelly," I said. "It's over."

"Well, I guess I'd rather go to an American prison for killing you than an English prison for killing Kris," she said simply, her arm extending and her finger tightening on the trigger.

The sound of a gun blast filled the room.

Chapter 21

I poured myself a drink, lit a cigar, and put my feet up on the desk. Another case was in the bag, and I was feeling as clever as a weasel in a chicken suit. I slammed back the booze in a single gulp. Suddenly a shot rang out; a woman screamed, or maybe it was just the hooch. The door opened and there she was. Lilith. Lilith Hammerschmidt and her singing snake, Rolf. And I was on the barking end of a forty-five.

"You killed him. The first man I ever truly loved," sobbed Lilith.

"Who's that, Lilith?"

"Race. Race Rankle. He was the only one who understood me."

"I didn't kill him, Lilith. The clowns did. It's all yesterday's news."

"You did it. And I know why. Before I contracted leprosy and changed my name to Lilith, I was Evette Nimue."

Now I remembered. Race Rankle's associate priest. No, it didn't pay to go skinny-dipping with an associate priest carrying political ambitions, no matter how attractive she is. I had soured the deal. When Evette disappeared, Race made it his business to know mine. He'd been blackmailing me for years. He found out about the kickbacks I was receiving from the Methodists for information. Those Methodists always wanted to stay one step ahead. But when I refused to go along with his Leper colony scheme, he was going to turn me in. I had to kill him. But I still had questions.

"Lilith, why was he wearing an evening gown?"

"He wasn't like that. We were going to a costume party."

I didn't buy it, but I shrugged it off. What people wore was their own business.

"So what are you going to do now, Lilith? Shoot me?"

Tears welled in her eye. "I think I will."

She tried to pull the trigger, but the last of her remaining fingers dropped to the floor along with her Roscoe. She hit the carpet on all threes, scrambling for the gun. I opened my desk drawer, calmly pulled out my thirty-eight and plugged her where she was.

"Sorry, Lilith. I can't have you squealin' to the bishop."

"Take care of Rolf for me," she whispered as she fell lifeless to the floor.

I nodded and scooped up the snake. There was still time to enter the Bishop's Invitational Choral Tournament, and I knew a place where the hamsters ran free.

•••

"He's going to be OK?" asked Megan.

"Baxter will be fine," I said. "The vet removed the bullet. There shouldn't be any complications. He'll be limping for a while though."

"Thank goodness."

"What about me? You're not even concerned about me?"

"You've got Nancy to take care of you. And it's a good thing, too. What were you thinking?"

"Well, obviously I made a couple of mistakes. I underestimated the culprit."

"I'll say. Is she going to make it? Not that I care. I hate that woman."

"She's in critical condition, but she should make it. Nancy doesn't miss."