The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) (35 page)

“
We got that old box out of Dr. Weatherall’s office,” whispered Addie. “We just wanted to look at it.”

“
So which one of you opened it?” I asked.

“
How did you know we opened it?” said Bernadette.

“
I saw the pick marks. I’m guessing it was you, Moosey. You use Bud’s set of shims?”

“
Umm, yeah.”

“
Well, what’s done is done. We can’t change it. I meant what I said, though. You all keep quiet about this.”

I heard Gaylen say the offertory sentence: “Walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.”

“
I’ve got to get back upstairs,” I said. “You kids go find a seat.”

“
That’s not all,” blurted Addie.

I froze. “What’s not all?”

“
When we were up in the loft, Dewey knocked the box over.”

“
That
wasn’t my fault,” Dewey said. “Moosey hit my arm.”

“
Then what happened?”

I heard Edna Terra-Pocks begin the long, fourteen measure introduction to
Lo! Star-Led Chiefs.

“
Everything fell out of the box,” said Bernadette. “It was all over the floor. There was a lot of dust and rags and stuff.”

“
Mostly dust,” said Dewey.

“
There were some brown sticks, too,” added Moosey. “And some little chunks of tree sap. They were pretty small.”

“
So, you put it all back?” I said.

“
We couldn’t,” said Addie in dismay. “Garth and Garrett thought it was so funny. They stomped it all into the floor with their big shoes. Then everyone ran off. It was just us four that tried to clean up.”

I heard the choir begin to sing.

Lo! star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring,

And bending Magi seek their infant King!

“
So, what did you do next?” I asked.

“
Well,” said Moosey, “we cleaned up everything we could.”

“
What about the box? I know you locked it back.”

“
Yeah,” said Moosey, “but it didn’t have a rattle anymore, so we put some stuff in it.”

“
What?” I asked.

“
Chicken bones from dinner,” said Bernadette. “And some napkins.”

“
It all rattled about the same,” said Dewey. “We didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“
What did you do with the dust and stuff you cleaned up?”

“
Umm...” said Addie, nervously.

“
Umm...” said Bernadette.

Marked ye, where, hovering o’er His head,

The dove’s white wings celestial glory shed.

I looked hard at Moosey.
“What?”
I demanded.

“
We put everything into one of the organ pipes. One of the ones in the front.”

“
You
didn’t!”

Moosey shrugged and tried his gap-toothed grin, but it fell flat.

“
Not the rags,” Dewey said quickly. “We put the rags in the trash.”

“
Here,” Moosey said, reaching into his pocket. He handed me two silver coins, ancient and struck only on one side. “I wasn’t gonna keep ’em.”

I snatched the coins from his hand and dropped them into my pocket. “Not a word!” I hissed at the four children. “Not one word of this to anyone. You understand?”

“
Yessir!” they said in unison, relieved that I wasn’t going to shoot them.

“
Now get on into the fellowship hall and see if there is anything you can do to help Mrs. Sterling.”

They took off out the front door and around the outside of the building like rabbits just as the choir was heading into the final page of the anthem. The anthem ended with a quiet organ postlude, but if I knew Edna, and I was sure I did, she had decided to rewrite the ending and go out with a splash. I raced up the stairs just as the choir finished and signaled to Edna, with my good arm, to keep it down. It was no use.

Just as I knew she’d do, she put the expression pedal to the floor, opened all the stops, and came down on the last chord with all the juice she had.

The great noise went up. “Pa-toomph!” went the pipe, then joined the cacophony of its brothers and sisters. The dust of the king shot up into the air, played in the light for a moment, and then settled gently on the heads of those sitting in the back of the church. Several people thought they felt some small particles land in their hair, but they brushed them away without a care. The choir didn’t know what happened, but they’d heard the popping sound and seen the explosion of dust.

“
Huh,” said Marjorie. “Ain’t that something? We oughta swab them pipes out more often.”

Postlude

Diana Terry decided to leave town, as we expected she would. When I told Meg about her, she was horrified, but still grateful.

“
If it wasn’t for Diana, you’d be dead,” she said.

“
Well, you, too.”

“
Probably,” Meg agreed, “but let’s not forget that she did kill Deacon Mushrat.”

“
I’m not forgetting it for a moment,” I said. “Even though we had no evidence to arrest her, I gave her name and picture to the FBI. They’ll keep an eye on her. But I have a feeling we’ll see Diana Terry again.”

The Nantwich Reliquary and the chicken bones made their way back to England after a highly successful tour that raised over thirty thousand pounds for St. Hywyn’s church. Father Arthur Farrant was more than pleased and sent us a lovely note upon his return. Our sexton was a little perturbed with all the dust that had suddenly appeared in the nave, but a good cleaning took care of everything.

The two coins from the reliquary ended up in my desk drawer, right under my typewriter, until I could figure out what to do with them.

Gaylen’s jaw healed within a couple of weeks and, when the wires came off, she was back to her old self. The same could be said of my arm. Edna Terra-Pocks stayed on through January but then found another part-time organist position closer to home. I was glad to get back, but it was a few weeks before I could get my fingers to move the way they did before the accident.

Brother Hog and Noylene decided to get married. Noylene went ahead and added Brother Hog’s moniker to her own, becoming Noylene Fabergé-Dupont-McTavish. Little Rahab got his little tail snipped off the same day he was circumcised. Two weeks late, Brother Hog said, but Noylene got a two-for-one from the doctor, and she never could resist a bargain. Dave Vance was sad. He’d been hoping to watch little Rahab get dunked into the baptismal font by his tail.

Big Mel continued to win trophy after trophy, and became even more of a legend than the St. Germaine Christmas Parade had made her. She published a book on the Big Mel philosophy of “winning through intimidation” and went on the tour circuit of toddler beauty pageants.

Mr. Christopher Lloyd got his own show on HGTV called
The 14 Layers of Style.
It was cancelled after four weeks when Mr. Christopher was caught on tape by Entertainment-TV flogging his chintz with Raoul the cameraman.

Nancy Parsky had a wonderful vacation, returning from her holiday bronzed and happy. Dave (whom she decided to take with her at the last minute) didn’t come back either bronzed or particularly happy. In fact, Dave came back the color of a boiled lobster and had some rather shocking tales to tell about being repeatedly strip-searched in the Belize airport.

Marjorie never did start her blog, technology being what it was and Marjorie being who she was.

Brother Hog retired from New Fellowship Baptist Church, un-retired his revival tent, found himself a new Scripture Chicken, and hit the back roads with a will. His reputation preceded him and he had no lack of offers of a place to pitch his tent and preach the gospel.

Bud went back to school to major in business. He had a new goal, a business plan, and a dream to open his wine shop. I’d guard his investment until he was ready. Elphina, privy to the knowledge of his eventual windfall, vowed to wait for him.

Pete and Cynthia went turkey hunting. Both survived.

St. Barnabas turned its sights toward Epiphany, Lent and Easter, the seasons rolling by like clouds across our beloved Appalachians—days turning to months, and then to years. People would come and go, clergy and musicians would come and go, fashions would come and go. St. Barnabas would endure.

•••

“
Marilyn,” I said to my secretary. “Pack your bags. We’re going on vacation.”

“
Really? Where are we going?”

“
Kooloobati. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

“
Isn’t that where the chockobats live?”

“
So I hear, doll-face.”

“
But I don’t have anything to wear.”

I smiled. It was good to be a detective.