Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] (14 page)

What was churning in her head? How had she parlayed Roger's lukewarm attentions into his wanting her? Had something happened during their walk to imprint that idea in her mind? He hadn't looked to me like a smitten man.

She straightened and jabbed her finger at me. “I warned you not to spy on me. I'm glad Mozart is over so no old busybody will be sneaking up the steps to the choir room and eavesdropping on private conversations. Why must you stick your nose in everything?"

"How many drinks did you have before you left the house?"

"That is none of your business.” She spoke slowly and precisely. “Are you saying I'm drunk? You're wrong. Why did you turn my daughter against me? Did you know she's after Roger? Beth too. They're not going to have him. I'm the one. He's mine."

She stepped toward me and I backed almost to the door of the building. I wasn't about to enter the foyer where no one could see us. The glare in her eyes scared me. While I searched for an escape, I prayed for a way to divert her attention from me.

She moved closer. The expression on her face made me think of Robespierre the only time I've seen him angry. A stray dog had wandered into the yard. Before I could chase the animal, Robespierre had jumped from the porch railing onto the dog's back.

My knees felt shaky. My heart pounded. I searched the street hoping to see someone I could call for help.

"You shouldn't spy on me. That's not a nice thing to do."

"I'm not spying. I was here first.” A dumb thing to say, but the words popped out.

"Judith,” Martin said.

I sucked in a breath. I hadn't seen him approach but his presence was welcome.

"Judith, what are you doing here?"

"I came to pick up Marcie. Her lesson should be over by now."

"She isn't here. I met her at the corner. We saw your car go flying past. Get in. We're going home and I'm driving."

I studied him. Had he finally admitted Judith had an alcohol problem? Did he realize she'd been about to attack me?

She thrust her lower lip into a pout. “I have to tell Roger he can't give Marcie lessons."

"You can do that another time. Mrs. Miller, would you like a ride home?” he asked.

The thought of being in a car with Judith repelled me. “No thanks. I have an appointment.” I waited until their car had vanished before I entered the building and pressed the buzzer for Roger's apartment.

"Who's there?"

"Mrs. Miller.” My voice shook with the aftershocks from the meeting with Judith. The buzzer sounded. I entered and rode the elevator to the second floor. He waited at the open door of his apartment.

He looked masculine, mysterious and unlike the Roger I was used to seeing at the church. A black tee shirt spanned his broad chest and shoulders. His sweat pants were also black.

"What's wrong? You look—are you ill?” He held my arm and steered me to the couch in the living room.

"I'm fine. I just had an interesting and eerie meeting with Judith."

"She must have come to pick Marcie up."

I studied his handsome face. Did he really think that? What about the things Judith had said?

"She came to see you. She stayed home today so she could spend the day with you, except Martin didn't go to work because he thought she was sick. He kept her a prisoner. She's leaving him."

"What?” He shook his head. “You're joking."

The astonishment on his face told me he hadn't considered this. He sat on the couch beside me.

"I wish I was joking. She thinks you want her."

He groaned. “That's insane. I never gave her any... How did she get that idea?"

"By twisted logic. She told you to cut Beth off and you obeyed her. Martin always does what she said and so do you."

"All I wanted was to keep her calm for the performance."

"Are you sure? Why did you choose her as a soloist?"

He groaned. “I didn't mean to but one day when she was here for her lesson, I mentioned that I was using choir members for the quartet and —” He shook his head. “She accepted but I didn't ask her."

"It might be best to avoid her and to stop Marcie's lessons."

A look of astonishment flashed in his eyes. “Trust me, I've never encouraged her."

Though I wanted to believe him, his expression seemed wary. “I'm serious about the need to avoid her."

"But she belongs to the choir and she's influential in the church."

"Not as much as she thinks. I know she's driven people from the choir, but she's never influenced a vote taken by the Vestry. Drop her and drop Marcie's lessons. I'm afraid for the child."

He looked away. “That's a hard thing to ask me. Teaching her is a joy. She's so musically gifted it's my pleasure to help her."

"I know. She was my student until she grew beyond my abilities. I'll agree the situation's not the same, but to keep her as a student will do more harm than good."

"All right, I'll call her. I just wish there was another way.” He moved to the alcove. “Would you like some tea?"

"I need to go home. Just be careful."

As I hurried down the street, I wondered if he'd listen. For his sake, I hoped he would. But if he enjoyed poking anthills and watching chaos erupt, he'd continue his games.

Once I reached the house, mint tea headed my agenda. I carried a full pot to the window seat. Robespierre curled beside me.

"That woman is insane. Does Martin realize how close she stands to the edge of madness?"

Robespierre blinked and purred. The soft rumble eased the tension that held my body in a vise.

The ring of the phone startled me. “Hello."

"Mrs. Miller, it's Martin. I want to apologize for Judith's behavior. She's not herself these days."

To say the least. “She was drunk this afternoon."

"You couldn't be more wrong. She hasn't had a drink since Sunday. She's ill and I've persuaded her to see a doctor. She has an appointment next week."

Was he anosmic? The smell of alcohol on her breath had been overpowering. My patience with him had ended.

"Why are you burying your head in the sand?"

"You don't understand."

But I did. He didn't want to believe me. If he did, he'd have to act. He wanted to believe Judith loved him, that she was a caring mother, that she wasn't an alcoholic.

"Since Judith's ill, why don't you send Marcie to stay with me for a few days? All this turmoil must be affecting her studies."

"I can't do that. She has to help me care for her mother."

"And risk being abused because Judith is angry with her?"

He snorted. “I know it seems like Judith resents Marcie but that's not true. She loves Marcie. She's proud of her. Since she's sick, she's unhappy with everything and everyone."

Judith was ill but the problem wasn't a physical one. Martin couldn't face an illness caused by his wife's past frustrations, enhanced by alcohol and something deeper. Before Judith destroyed her daughter, a solution had to be found. The answer lay with Roger, and I wasn't sure he cared about anyone except himself.

Guilt assaulted me. He was at St. Stephen's because his music was enough to tempt the angels. I'm not an angel but I had coveted him.

After hanging up I made dinner. While I forced myself to eat, I considered the problem. Who could I ask to help diffuse the situation that rumbled toward us like an avalanche? Martin and Roger were no help.

Edward? A logical choice but his Pollyanna attitude wouldn't allow him to see trouble until it slammed into him.

I scraped my barely touched dinner in the garbage. What about Pete? No crime had been committed and he didn't like Roger. There'd be no help from him.

The phone rang. I felt so drained I nearly ignored the sound, but I couldn't. Curiosity always forces my hand.

"Mrs. Miller.” Beth's voice rang with happiness. “I need to ask you a favor."

"So ask."

"Let me explain. Since the night I was...you know when...anyway, Pete's been here every evening. We want to go away this weekend. Could you watch Robby?"

"I'd love to. Are you two serious?"

She laughed. “I think so. We've talked about so many things and we have a lot of the same views. I know it's happening kind of fast but he really cares about Robby and me. He says he loves me.” She paused. “He told me about his chauvinistic attitude when we first met."

"Weren't you angry?"

"Yeah, I was, but he ate crow and he told me how much his ideas have changed. He loves me. I can't believe it."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, but I'm scared. I knew Rob from grade school and we kind of grew into love. This time I feel like I'm flying down a ski slope."

"There are many ways to fall in love."

"Except, you know how my emotions have been bouncing like a kid on a trampoline. There was Roger's rush and the letdown. And Pete acting like a big brother. When we're here Robby's always present, even when he's asleep. We need to get away and see what develops. Do you think I'm awful?"

My hand rested on Robespierre's head. “Not a bit. Just remember there are no perfect marriages.” I smiled. “Some come close but some of my friends could have benefited from a weekend or two with their intendeds. Might have prevented a great deal of unhappiness."

She chuckled. “You're wonderful. Pete said you'd understand."

"The world changes and I've learned to accept new ideas even if I don't practice them.” I thought of Lars and smiled. “Though one never knows. I'm glad it's Pete and not Roger."

"That was a mistake.” She sighed. “Roger cares for Roger. What a head trip he ran on me. Now he's doing the same thing with Judith."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not sure who's toying with who.” I related my afternoon encounters with the pair. “Something about this troubles me and I can't come up with an answer."

"To Roger or Judith?"

"That I'm not sure about either. She's an alcoholic and Martin protects her. For some reason, she's been set off. Roger's part of the problem, but I think there's something from her past."

"Is there anything I can do? Maybe keep Marcie here?"

"I offered. Martin refused. If Marcie comes by your place, listen to her and try to keep her from reacting to her mother. We both know until Judith admits there's a problem, nothing can be done."

"I'd like to slap some sense into her."

"Don't.” Fear filled my voice. “Just remember how unstable she is."

"Thank heavens there's no choir rehearsal this week. How did Roger react when you talked to him?"

"He's useless. While we talked like he agreed with my suggestions, I got the feeling he'll do exactly what he wants. I wonder if he knows the contents of the pot he's stirring?"

A short silence followed my comment. Then Beth spoke. “I'm afraid he knows and enjoys. He likes attention and taking chances. What better way than toying with Judith?"

"And to my regret, he makes such beautiful music. I feel guilty."

"Why?” she asked.

"I saw how often he changed churches but I coveted his presence at St. Stephen's so much I didn't press the committee to check his background. I knew once Edward heard him there'd be no other choice."

"I see what you mean, but would anyone have told us what he was really like?” She made an odd noise. “You know, he called this afternoon and asked to borrow my car. Wanted to come to dinner. Just like nothing had happened. Just like he'd never discarded me. I think he's amoral. What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure."

After hanging up, I tuned the radio to my favorite station. Music formed a background for my thoughts. I made a mental list of options beginning with another talk with Roger.

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The next day as I prepared to walk uptown for another attempt to convince Roger to avoid the Simpsons, an unexpected visitor arrived. My daughter-in-law knocked and opened the door.

"Is this a bad time?” Ruth asked.

"I was just headed to the church."

Robespierre wound around her legs. She bent to pet him. “I should have called but I decided to drop by and invite you to lunch."

Since she seldom acts on an impulse, I wondered if there was a problem. Were she and Andrew experiencing fallout from last summer's near disaster? A glance at her serene face dispelled that notion.

"There's no special time for me to be at the church."

"Good. There are so many things I want to tell you. We missed you last Sunday. I need a favor."

"Ask away."

"After lunch. It's payment in advance."

"Sounds interesting.” I reached for my handbag. “On the way back you can drop me off at the church."

Robespierre followed us downstairs and to her car.

"What are you brewing now?"

There was no reason to tell her about Roger and the Simpsons. She'd tell Andrew and my son would instantly decide I was in danger.

"I've made a decision. Once I finish my stint as Food Cupboard chairwoman, I'm taking a sabbatical from volunteer activities."

She held the car door for me. “Why don't you take a real vacation? Go somewhere exotic."

"I've thought about that. Lars wants me to come to New Mexico."

"That would be wonderful for you...About your meeting. Just tell Reverend Potter you have a life."

"He's not the problem. Roger's been hinting about Passion Sunday and I've had enough choir exposure to last the rest of my life."

"Give him our compliments on Sunday's performance. He, the choir and you were great. Andrew rushed us out before the reception. You know what he thinks about them."

"Hives of hornets flying around waiting for a chance to sting. Buzzing about nothing of value.” Her laughter joined mine.

She parked in front of the Witchery, a local restaurant with a scrumptious lunch menu. I fished two quarters from my handbag and fed the meter before Ruth reached the sidewalk.

She shook her head. “This was supposed to be my treat."

"Don't worry. I won't grab the check."

She held the door. I paused and looked around. The decor always made me think of Halloween. A variety of dolls dressed as witches were displayed on ledges around the room. While we ate soup and quiche, Ruth told me about the classes she was taking toward her Master's in American Literature.