For good measure, I added a seal to the bottom of the sheet. I turned the board over, taped the sheet to the back.
As I started down the back steps of the rectory, I realized, with an unhappy memory of the upright dog leash, that the arrow could not arrive apparently self-propelled. I’d half appeared when I looked down and saw slate-blue trousers. This was no time for Officer Loy to surface. A quick transformation into my purple velour and I hurried toward Kathleen.
“Mrs. Abbott?” I looked at Kathleen inquiringly.
Kathleen looked past me and gasped.
I turned and came face-to-face with Detective Sergeant Price. It was too late to wish for a scarf.
We looked at each other across time and space. I saw strength and honor in his eyes and more.
I don’t know what he saw in mine.
I took a step back and gave him an impersonal smile, a smile that I hoped was cool and distant and yanked up the drawbridge between us. I rushed into speech. “Isn’t this a lovely event? I can’t resist church sales. You never know what you are going to find.” I swerved toward Kathleen. “Hello, Mrs. Abbott. You probably don’t remember me.
Helen Troy. I’ve just transferred my membership from All Souls’ in the city. I’m making friends with some of the church ladies and I was so glad to help out yesterday with a little sweeping at the rectory, but you weren’t home. I found this adorable teal arrow at the collectible sale and they said you could tell me about this donation.
Ca ro ly n H a rt
Is it really”— my voice was hushed—“an authentic Daniel Boone arrow?” I turned the board over, handed it to her.
Sergeant Price came a step nearer, staring at my undeniably flaming-red hair.
Kathleen balanced the board in one hand, then the other, looked at the front, peered at the back. Now it held her fingerprints.
I was pleased with myself. I felt as buoyed as a poker player drawing an inside straight. That moment of pride lasted until I looked across the church parking lot and saw Chief Cobb heading toward us. Purposefully.
Kathleen sounded buoyant. “Teal arrow. Yes, indeed, here’s the teal arrow. We certainly hope it’s genuine, but I don’t know who donated it. Someone left it propped up against the back steps of the rectory Thursday night.”
“I see. Perhaps I’ll not take a chance on it, then. But thank you.” I began to back away.
Detective Sergeant Price moved toward me. “Mrs. Troy, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
“Oh, my son Billy’s waiting for me at the fortune-teller booth.
I’m really in quite a hurry.” I swung on my heel and headed for the church. I sped in front of a large family. Redheads.
“Wait. Wait, please.” The detective dodged around a group of Cub Scouts.
I used a group of teenage boys as a screen and ran for the church.
On the church steps, I risked a backward glance.
Detective Sergeant Price stood by Chief Cobb and Officer Leland, pointing, then they started toward me, moving fast.
I yanked open the door, plunged inside. The hallway was crowded.
A half-dozen children giggled and pushed as they hurried toward the parish hall.
The door opened. I saw Officer Leland’s slate-blue sleeve.
I disappeared.
C H A P T E R 1 6
Chief Cobb gestured up the hallway. “Let’s find her. I’ll check the main hall, you two take a look in classrooms, offices.” He raised his voice. “Coming through.” The authoritative tone parted the mass of children.
I hovered near the ceiling of the parish hall. The lights had been dimmed on the north end. Flashing orange, red, green, and yellow spots played across the ceiling and walls. Somber organ music evoked specters tiptoeing through a graveyard. Occasional high screams and banshee wails shrilled from a tent. A crooked sign on the front of the tent identified it as spook house. enter at your peril. 5 tickets.
Children of all ages painted pumpkins lined up on trestle tables.
Thumpy music blared from one corner where sheet-draped children bent and swayed and hopped and chanted in an odd combination of dance and calisthenics. Lights blazed over a small stage at the south end of the hall. Almost everyone was in costume except for Sunday school volunteers in orange T-shirts.
A long line stretched from Madame Ruby-Ann’s tent out into the hall. I dropped inside. An orange turban, dance-hall makeup, and flaming cerise robe transformed Patricia Haskins into a fortune-Ca ro ly n H a rt
teller. She bent near a crystal ball, touching it lightly with her fingers.
Eyes closed, she crooned to a wide-eyed teenage girl in a peasant costume, “Beware the dark stranger. Turn aside, reach out to the blond Galahad. The familiar may seem ordinary, boring, pedestrian, but the crystal never lies. Your future belongs to a young man whom you’ve overlooked. He awaits you.” A shudder. Her hands fell away.
She pressed a palm to her head. “The crystal demands much. Make way for my next appointment.”
