about the boy?” the minister asked. He tried to keep his attention focused on my face, but his gaze kept drifting down to my hips. I noticed his lips twitching as if he were repressing a smile, and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Why had I let Oretta talk me into wearing this horrible outfit?
Was he assuming I'd know something because of my position as the town's newspaper editor, or was it because my relationship with the ex-police chief gave me a quasi-official position in Lickin Creek's law enforcement circles? I'd probably never know.
“I suppose you heard that Kevin's cousins are now saying he was kidnapped,” I said.
Primrose gasped. “I didn't know. That poor little boy. How could his mother ever have left him out of her sight?”
I remembered what Mrs. Poffenberger had said to me last night-something about not being able to watch all of them all the time-and repeated it to Primrose. Perhaps I sounded as if I were an apologist for the mother, because Primrose grew rather huffy.
“The other kids should have taken care of him. Do you have brothers or sisters?” she snapped at me. “If you did, you know you would have done everything in your power to keep them safe.”
The ever-present guilt over Billy's death that I had carried with me for nearly twenty years threatened to overwhelm me. I pretended I hadn't heard the question.
“Kids don't really think about things like that. They assume nothing bad will ever happen to them. What about you, Primrose? I'll bet when you were a youngster you didn't spend much time worrying about your siblings.”
“I have to check the oven,” she said quietly, then turned and walked away.
I looked questioningly at the Reverend Flack. “I said something wrong, didn't I?”
He patted me on the shoulder. “Not your fault, my dear. Primrose was orphaned when she was seven. Her adoptive parents never had any other children, and she's always felt something was lacking in her life. Our not having children of our own has made it worse. Uh-oh, Oretta Clopper's coming this way. I wonder what I've done wrong this time.”
Oretta Clopper was an awesome sight in a purple chiffon toga draped over an enormous leotard. She made me feel positively svelte. Her face was scrunched into a scowl as her high-pitched voice berated him. “Really, Reverend, I have told your kitchen volunteers over and over how much cinnamon to put in the cider, and they…”
Someone behind me coughed delicately, and I spun around to see Ginnie bearing a tray of paper cups and cookies. “Have some cider,” she suggested. “It's quite good.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “With just the right amount of cinnamon.”
I took a cup and introduced her to Praxythea. For a few minutes the three of us chatted while we munched on cookies.
“Look,” Ginnie said, “there's no rehearsal tomorrow because the Boy Scouts meet here in the church auditorium. Why don't the three of us play bingo?”
Praxythea begged off, mentioning something about speaking to the Kiwanis Club, but I agreed to go.
“And it wouldn't matter to me if there's a rehearsal scheduled or not, because I am not going to be in this pageant,” I said firmly. “I'm only filling in tonight for Weezie.”
Ginnie smiled. “That might be what Oretta told you, but you'd better be prepared to perform.”
The door burst open and Bernice Roadcap entered the room. She paused just inside the doorway and made quite a production out of shrugging off her fur coat. A rather good-looking man, with the usual Lickin Creek beard, received the offering before it fell to the floor and carefully draped it, inside out, over his left arm. Hanging from his right shoulder was a thermos in a sling. Remembering the smell of alcohol on Bernice's breath earlier that day, I was pretty sure I knew what was in it.
Bernice's companion appeared to be ten or fifteen years younger than she, but I always find it difficult to guess the age of men with beards.
“Is that her husband?” I asked Ginnie.
“She wishes,” Ginnie said with a laugh. “But she's got to get rid of Stanley first. According to local gossip, most of the Roadcap money is tied up in property and businesses, and she's afraid to go through with the divorce until she's got the cash in hand.”
“So that's why she's pushing the council to buy her cold-storage building.”
“Most likely,” Ginnie said. “That's Stanley over there. He's one of the church trustees.” She pointed to a folding chair, where a thin bald man with rimless glasses, who didn't seem to notice the arrival of his almost ex-wife, was busy applying glitter to a pinecone wreath.
Bernice, on her unsteady march toward the stage, spotted Matavious Clopper in the front row. “There you are,” she called out, attracting the attention of nearly everyone in the room. “I've been trying to get in touch with you all afternoon. My back is killing me.” She kept up a steady stream of complaints as she tottered down the center aisle.
Matavious put his glasses on and looked up from the tape recorder, searching for the source of the noise. His wince upon recognizing her was nearly imperceptible. “See me after the rehearsal, Bernice. I'll do a quick manipulation for you.”
“I should think so. I knocked and knocked. Nobody answered. The very idea.”
“We're always closed on Wednesday afternoons.”
“You were in there. I heard you moving around.”
“You must have been mistaken, Bernice.”
Bernice dismissed him with a “Humph.”
“Places, people. Places,” Oretta ordered, rushing toward the stage. She stared at me, as if trying to figure out why I was there. Perhaps I could escape, I thought, but unfortunately she recalled she'd invited me.
“Toni,” she gushed. “I'm so glad to see you take your responsibilities seriously. Now that you're a member of the cast, I'm sure you'll feature our rehearsal photo prominently in the
“Now that I'm a member of the cast? That doesn't sound good,” I said to Ginnie.
Ginnie made no reply, her attention caught by something happening behind me. She grabbed my arm. “Look,” she whispered. I spun around and saw two people by the door.
“It's Jackson and Weezie Clopper,” she said. “I hope he's not going to make a scene.”
Jackson took a seat in the back row, while Weezie, her red jacket still on, disappeared into the kitchen. I didn't have time to see if she had any visible bruises.
“Your muse beckons,” Ginnie said, nodding at Oretta, who was tapping her foot and glaring down at me from the stage. “See you later.”
I climbed the four steps to the stage where Oretta met me with several hundred yards of pink tulle. “Your costume,” she said. Looking critically at me, she added, “I recommend wrapping it around your hips.”
My cheeks burned, more from anger than embarrassment, and I bit my tongue to keep from making a nasty crack about the size of her own ample hips. Swathed in pink, I took my place on a stool next to Bernice, a yellow- draped sugar plum fairy reeking of gin.
“Hold your heads up high,” Oretta said. “Remember you are goddesses.” And the rehearsal began. I was the only actor with a script-the ladies had really been working.
With nothing to do but read an occasional plagiarized phrase, I amused myself by watching the people in the hall. Jackson Clopper leaned back in his folding chair and glowered directly at Oretta. At least I hoped it was Oretta he was glowering at and not me because he truly looked frightening. I wondered why he'd come.
Looking over the kitchen counter, I could see Ginnie removing pies from the ovens. I also caught a momentary glimpse of red and guessed that it was Weezie's jacket. I hoped the poor woman wasn't in for a beating when the Cloppers got home.
Stanley Roadcap occupied a seat near Bernice's fur coat, with a half-made holly wreath apparently forgotten on his lap. Praxythea stood in the back of the room, distributing signed eight-by-ten glossies.
There were other people present, their faces familiar but names unknown. Perhaps by the time I left Lickin Creek, I'd have all its citizens straight in my mind.
I suddenly realized the two other goddesses were staring at me. “Excuse me?” I said.
“Hail to the great mother,” Oretta cried, with a touch of impatience in her voice. I realized I'd missed my cue.
“Hail to the great mother,” I said with enthusiasm.
