Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon (19 page)

"I'll take fifteen percent of the total," I said, grinning like it was Tuesday and I was the Pope.

"Four percent of the net," came Rankle's reply as he settled into the chair and picked up his glass.

"Twelve percent of the gross," I said, reaching for my drink as well.

"Six and a half--off the top."

"Nine and a quarter--under the table."

"Seven even--down and dirty."

Done," I said.

"Done," said Race, smiling. He lifted his glass to his lips and threw the hooch back like a bad prom date to seal the deal. Then he coughed once and stared at me, his mouth a gaping black hole, opening and closing, like a bass in a fish tank or a bass who forgot the words of the opening hymn, before falling out of the chair. He was dead. As dead as Connie Chung's career. And this was going to be the biggest frame-up since the Energizer Bunny was charged with battery.

•••

Palm Sunday morning dawned bright and cool with blue skies. It was fine weather for a donkey ride, and I intended to arrive at the church in plenty of time to make sure everyone knew what they were doing. I had spoken to Meg on the phone the night before, and she informed me that according to the FOOSCHWAG, the monkey was no longer in his house. Now the pig was in charge, and we mustn't offend the snake.

"Everything is turned around again, but I think there's enough room for the donkey. The chi will be flowing North-Northwest, so try to stay out of the way."

"I'll do my best," I said. "Is the pig really in charge?"

"More than ever! And don't forget. Whatever you do, please avoid offending the snake."

"If I see any more snakes, I won't offend them. Did they get the fountain fixed?"

"Oh, yes. It trickles very nicely now. But I suspect there will be even more trips to the bathroom during the service."

"I expect there will be."

"The pig's earth-sign is water, by the way. And the snake's is fire. It's a very dangerous combination. That's what Mr. Christopher says."

"I'll be careful. See you tomorrow morning."

•••

I would have made it to church with ninety minutes or so to spare – plenty of time to get everyone lined up and in order. I would have, that is, if I hadn't come upon an accident on the highway into town. A car had missed a curve, driven off the road into a ditch and hit a small tree. The driver wasn't hurt, but, being a police officer, I had to write up the accident and give the driver a ride into town where he could call a tow truck. By the time I arrived at St. Barnabas, I had about five minutes to spare before the service started.

"Hayden!" called Princess Foo-Foo as she ran up to meet me. "Thank God you made it! All the children have their palm branches and have lined up behind the donkey. Is that right?'

"It's exactly right, Brenda. Crucifer, verger, acolytes, thurifer, choir, donkey, the Barnacles, then the children."

"I think we're all set then," she said smiling in relief.

"How's Moosey doing?"

"He's doing great. That donkey just loves him and follows him everywhere." Foo-Foo pointed to the front of the pack. I could see a tail whipping back and forth.

"Moosey," I called, making my way to the top of the procession. "How's Jeremiah?"

"Great! I gave him some food just like you said."

"What's that in your hand?"

"What I been feeding him. It's called 'sparagus. He loves it."

I looked on in horror as Jeremiah ate the last spear. "Where did you get asparagus?"

"In the church kitchen. I left my carrots at home. This was left over in the fridge from that dinner."

"Did you feed him anything else?" I asked, dread now evident in my voice. I was reasonably certain that I had seen the only other leftovers from the
Edible Last Supper
.

"About four of them chili enchiladas."

•••

In retrospect, I think we all felt the sorriest for the Barnacles since they were directly
behind
the donkey carrying Father Barna's train. A donkey's digestive system is not set up for asparagus and chili enchiladas, no matter how he may enjoy eating them.

The procession began with the handbells ringing, the organ playing and the choral refrain of "Lift up your heads, ye mighty gates; behold the King of glory waits" echoing through the sanctuary. True to Meg's description, the altar was now set up in the north to take advantage of the pig's energy. This was, to some degree, more like our usual setup, and at least not as totally foreign as when the monkey was in his house. I much preferred the pig.

The crucifer came in followed by Wenceslas, resplendent in his velvet tam and cloak, goose-stepping along behind the cross. Behind Wenceslas were the acolytes and then Benny Dawkins, our champion thurifer, who was swinging the smoking incense pot and going through his bag of tricks quite nicely. He presented the "Three-Leaf Clover," the "Over the Falls," and his special "Rock the Baby," before finally finishing up with his trademark swing that had earned him the Bronze Medal at the International Thurifer Invitational in London – the "Doubly-Inverted Reverse Swan."

The choir was next, singing the refrain when it came around, and deferring to the soloists, Bev and Bob, for the remainder of the piece.

Moosey and the donkey were behind the choir. Moosey was leading Jeremiah by a rope tied to his halter while Father Barna sat on the beast of burden's back and waved to the congregation like the Rose Bowl Queen on New Year's Day. Father Barna's attendants – the Barnacles – were following him, directly behind Jeremiah, carrying the train of the priest's cope. Walking behind the donkey were about thirty children and a few parents. They all had palm branches in their hands and were waving then frenetically – occasionally sticking a palm into the eye of an unwary parishioner foolish enough to have claimed an aisle seat on Palm Sunday. All told, it was quite a scene they made as they paraded into the church from the front steps.

The donkey made it about half way down the aisle before the first explosion happened. I call it an explosion because the phrase "a little donkey gas" would not begin to describe the breathtaking volume of the sound followed by the unfathomable odor that arose to the choir loft like a stench from the depths of hell.

"Oh my God!" muttered Beverly, quickly pulling her choir robe up around her mouth and nose. To his everlasting credit, Bob, who had just started singing, gagged only once before choking out the rest of his solo. The choir didn't do as well, spinning around to see what had transpired, their eyes wide with disbelief. Several of them made it to the choir loft, Megan included, before the next refrain came around. It didn't help. None of them could utter a sound.

The second explosion sent all the children running for cover, palm fronds thrown to the wind. The Barnacles didn't know what to do. They were directly in harm's way but were holding Father Barna's cope and didn't dare let go. Finally, Randy, the younger of the two, covered his mouth and ran from the building. Lester wasn't far behind.

With a huge "HEE-HAW" from Jeremiah – a cry of anguish if ever a donkey has uttered one – another explosion occurred, this one more powerful than the two that had come before. I stopped playing. The chili enchiladas and asparagus were proving to be a deadly combination. With another bray, Jeremiah sat down in the middle of the aisle and refused to move. The congregation had begun to move toward the exits, first as unobtrusively as possible, but then, as the smell overcame them, in a headlong dash. Wenceslas and Moosey had disappeared into the sacristy with the acolytes in tow. Father Barna had slid down Jeremiah's back and was trying to pull the ends of his cope from underneath the donkey's hindquarters. It was no use. He was trapped.

The choir was silent as we all viewed the next event with reverent awe.

Jeremiah gave a low groan. Then with a series of very fast "HAW-HAW-HAW-HAWs" he lept to his feet. Father Barna, his cope coming free, fell backward directly behind the donkey. We all watched in wonder, our robes protecting our noses, as Jeremiah's tail came up and he gave one last anguished bray.

"HEEEE-HAAAW!"

It was then that Father Emil Barna, "God's Voice in Appalachia," received again the sacrament of baptism, this time by immersion.

"Oh dear Lord God, blessed be your Holy Name," Georgia muttered with a smile.

"Who's going to clean that up?" asked Jeanie.

"We'll have to call a cleaning service," Meg said. "Unbelievable! I didn't know a donkey could do that. It's like that time the hose came loose on Jeffrey Hine's truck when he was vacuuming out those portable toilets."

"It was the enchiladas," I explained through the cassock covering my mouth. "That, plus the asparagus."

I looked back down at the carnage. Jeremiah, feeling much better, was heading toward the front door. Father Barna was rolling on the floor, calling for help.

"I think that the Palm Sunday service has ended," I said. "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

Chapter 16

"I'm really not responsible for that," I told Meg. Our appetites had returned by supper, and we were having grilled cheese sandwiches and a new black and tan ale I had found, called
Mississippi Mud.

"This is good beer," Meg said, taking a sip. "And you are definitely responsible. I don't know how exactly, but you are."

"I told Moosey to give the donkey some carrots. You know, to lead him down the aisle. Not asparagus and chili enchiladas."

"Well, Ardine was sure mad. I can tell you that! She said that you and Moosey promised there'd be no trouble."

"Well, how do you think I feel? All that work that the choir did preparing those pieces is down the drain. We can use the Victoria piece after Easter, but we can't sing
O Vos Omnes
until next year."

"If they have the church cleaned up by then."

"I think that the FOOSCHWAG must have offended the pig," I said. "It sure smelled worse than a sty in there."

"Very funny. Billy Hixon says he can get a cleaning crew in there tonight to start work. He says that it'll cost twice as much, but if they wait until tomorrow, it may be too late."

"On the up side, there may not be very much support for Father Barna's application to serve as permanent rector."

"You're probably right there. Although, if the vestry thinks that you had anything to do with it, you may be the one out of a job."

"I am innocent of all charges. I have been nothing but supportive to Father Barna, Jelly, Princess Foo-Foo, Wenceslas, Mr. Christopher and all their cronies."

"That's sort of true. The snakes, of course, were your fault."

"Not mine. Those snakes escaped on their own."

"You brought the snake handler in."

"Father Barna asked me to."

"Really?" Meg asked doubtfully.

"That's my story and I'm stickin' to it."

•••

"Spring at last," said Pete Moss as I walked into the Slab for our Monday morning staff meeting. "It's supposed to get up into the sixties today."

Nancy was drinking coffee at the table and waiting for her breakfast. Dave hadn't shown up yet.

"I guess it's time," I said. "Gardens are supposed to go in by Good Friday."

"They're going to be late this year," said Nancy. "No one in their right mind would put in a garden for at least a month."

"You'd be surprised," I said. "Old timers swear by the Almanac." I turned my attention to the kitchen. "Hey, Noylene! Do you think I can get a haircut this afternoon?"

Noylene stuck her head out of the swinging door. "Can you come by around two?"

"I'll be here."

Nancy pulled her pad out of her pocket and set it on the table. It was now official – our meeting had begun. With or without Dave.

"How's your hand?" asked Nancy, trying to look at the small scar that remained on my palm.

"Good as new," I said, holding up my hand for her to see. "That Dermabond is amazing stuff. No stitches!"