The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) (22 page)

“
Noylene,” asked Cynthia, “are you in labor?”

“
Just a little,” growled Noylene through gritted teeth. “I’ll be okay in a minute. Mind if I sit down?”

Dave, Pete and I all jumped to our feet. Dave’s chair was the closest and Noylene plopped down heavily. “Pete said that if I could just take the first shift, he’d have someone else in here at noon.”

“
How far apart?” asked Meg.

“
How far
what
apart?” said Pete.

Cynthia’s eyes flashed. “Contractions, you idiot,” she said. “You’re making this poor woman wait tables
while she’s in labor?
”

Pete raised his hands in supplication. “
What?
” He pointed an accusing finger at Cynthia. “
You
said you couldn’t work this morning.”

Cynthia was incredulous. “I had a meeting at eight!”

“
Noylene said the baby probably wouldn’t come till this afternoon,” Pete explained.

“
How far apart?” asked Meg again, wiping a bead of sweat off of Noylene’s forehead with her napkin.

“
Maybe five minutes,” puffed Noylene. “For the last couple of hours.”

Nancy stood up decisively. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital,” she said. “My car’s out front. Who wants to go?”

“
I’m coming,” said Meg, helping Noylene to her feet.

“
Me, too,” said Cynthia, joining the trio of women.

“
I’ll stay here and wait for news,” I said. “And Pete’s got to stay and take care of the customers.”

Pete eagerly nodded his agreement.

“
I’ll stay, too,” said Dave. “Someone’s got to guard the French toast.”

•••

Dave and I finished almost all the breakfast while Pete was on the phone with Pauli Girl begging her to come in and sub for Noylene. It didn’t seem to either of us that he was having much luck. I took my leave of the Slab and headed across the park toward the church, consigning Pete to the mercy of his customers. Dave sauntered back to the station, just in case there was a stray donut left over from the week before.

I met up with Gaylen as I walked into the office suite. Marilyn was at her desk on the phone, making an appointment for the Right Reverend Dr. Weatherall to counsel yet another bereaved parishioner.

“
This whole thing is somehow your fault,” said Gaylen. Her jaw was still wired shut, but I could understand her much more easily now, her articulation labored and precise. “No. I’m just kidding, even though this is nothing to be kidding about. Bishop O’Connell wants a meeting to know why his deacon was killed.”

“
I wish I knew for sure,” I said. “I’m thinking that his deacon was killed because he made someone very angry. Either that, or Mushrat found out something he had no business finding out.”

“
Well, I hope you solve this case in a hurry. I told Marilyn I’d do some grief counseling, but most of these people are not grieving. They just want some answers. I can’t blame them.” Gaylen held up her hands in dismay. “How could God allow this? Why was the deacon killed inside the church? Shouldn’t we cancel Christmas services? And, of course, there’s all the speculation about who committed the murder.”

“
All good questions,” I said. “I have another one. How did Donald Mushrat get the key to the toggle switch box? You had one, Billy had one, and Bev had one. Three keys. As far as I know, that’s all there were.”

“
I can answer that one,” said Gaylen. “He got the master key to the building from out of Marilyn’s desk, used it to unlock my office, then came in and stole it.”

“
Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty brazen.”

“
Yes,” said Gaylen. “If he hadn’t been killed, he would have been fired pretty darn quick, bishop or no bishop.”

“
I presume Marilyn won’t be keeping the master key in her desk any longer.”

“
No, she won’t,” said Gaylen. “That was my fault. We thought it’d be safe in the back of the bottom drawer under some Sunday School literature. That way, if we needed it for some reason, we’d be able to get it. Anyway, we moved the key to a magnetic box and stuck it behind the copy machine.”

She paused for a moment to rest her facial muscles before continuing.

“
Apparently, Mr. Mushrat rifled through all the drawers in Marilyn’s desk one evening when he had nothing else to do. Then, after he found the key, he headed for my office. I have to assume he went through all my files. Luckily, my computer has a password or who knows what else he would have been into.”

“
This puts a whole new slant on things,” I said. “Maybe the killer found out that the deacon had been privy to your files.”

“
I don’t see how. I didn’t even realize it until this morning. The key hung on a cord right beside the door to the bathroom. Once I noticed that the key was missing, I started looking around and found several files out of place, papers out of order, that sort of thing. And you...” She pointed a stern finger at me. “You can’t say anything about this to anyone.”

“
I won’t. But I may come back to you with some more questions.”

“
I know.” Gaylen sighed. “At least I’m feeling a little better. And I’ll be in church on Sunday morning, of course.”

“
If someone comes in and confesses, you’ll let me know, right?”

Gaylen eyebrows went up. “No.”

I laughed. “By the way, Noylene’s down at the hospital. The little Fabergé-Dupont heir is imminent.”

“
That’s good news, anyway.” Gaylen smiled, probably for the first time this morning. “A flame is extinguished, a new light comes into the world. The circle of life.”

“
Amen, sister.”

•••

It was one o’clock before I heard from Meg.

“
Well, Noylene was in labor for about two hours after we checked in,” she said.

“
Is that a long time?”

“
Not so long,” said Meg. “Pretty quick, actually, although she’d been having contractions since five this morning.”

“
So everything is good?”

“
Everything’s fine.” Meg was silent for a long moment. “Well?” she said.

“
Well, what?”

“
Oh,
really!”
I could almost see Meg’s eyes roll in exasperation. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“
I presume it’s a baby,” I answered.

“
You’re not one bit funny. It’s a boy, for your information. Eight pounds, eleven ounces.”

“
That’s great. What’s the little biscuit’s name? And who’s the proud papa?”

“
I actually helped Noylene fill out the birth certificate,” said Meg. “So I guess it’s all public record now.”

“
Yep. Spill it.”

“
His name is Rahab Archibald Fabergé-Dupont. Noylene thought it sounded exotic.”

“
Rahab is a girl’s name,” I said. “She was a prostitute in the Old Testament. Did you point that out to Noylene?”

“
No, I did not. And neither will you.”

“
It’s gonna be tough,” I said. “But I shall try to remain silent on the subject. So who’s the father?”

“
The father of record is Hogmanay McDonald McTavish.”

“
Brother Hog?!”

“
One and the same,” said Meg. Another silence. “There’s one more thing...”

“
Yes?”

“
This baby...”

I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“
What?”

“
He’s just fine!” said Meg brightly, hearing the anxiety in my voice. “But he was born with a...a slight...”

My heart sank.

“
That is...he has a rather conspicuous...”

I closed my eyes, waiting for the worst.

“
Tail.”

Chapter 22

“
So,” said Pete. “A tail, eh?” He leaned against the counter that separated Nancy’s and Dave’s desks from the waiting area in the police station. “Could I have one of those donuts?”

“
They’re from yesterday,” I said. “Help yourself.” I slid the box across the counter. “Who’s watching the store?”

“
I finally talked Pauli Girl into taking the full-time job. Until Noylene comes back, anyway. She was divvying her shifts up between the Slab and the Bear and Brew, but I’ve got her now.”

“
What was the final offer? If I know Pauli Girl McCollough, she drove a hard bargain.”

Pete huffed a heavy sigh. “Minimum wage plus tips, plus meals, and a gas allowance.”

“
Let’s hope Noylene doesn’t find out.”

Pete looked panicked. “You all are sworn to secrecy!” he said. “
I mean it!
Aren’t you bound by some kind of policeman’s oath or something?”

“
Nah,” said Nancy.

“
Get back to the tail,” said Dave. “And pass me that chocolate one with the sprinkles.”

Pete pushed the donut box back across the counter.

“
Well, a tail’s not very common, that’s for sure,” Nancy said, “but the obstetrician says it happens. He called it a caudal appendage. The doctors usually take care of it right away, but apparently Noylene wants to think about it before snipping it off.”

“
Huh?” I said. “What’s there to think about?”

“
How long is it?” Dave asked, seemingly fascinated by the prospect of someone having their own tail.

“
Maybe three or four inches,” answered Nancy.

“
Wow,” said Dave, nodding. “It’ll probably grow though, right? Is it a prehensile tail? I mean, will the baby be able to use it to carry his bottle around and stuff?”

“
I doubt it,” said Pete. “Although that would be very cool. Who’s the proud daddy, by the way?”

I grinned. “That would be our friend, Brother Hog.”

Pete laughed. “No kidding?!”

Nancy was smiling, too. “It’s on the birth certificate,” she said.

“
Back to this tail thing,” said Dave. “Is it curly? Like a pig’s?”

“
Shut up, Dave,” said Nancy, with a dismissive wave. “It’s nothing. They’ll whack it off and the baby will be just like any other web-footed child running around town.”

“
He’s got webbed feet?!”