time to paint?'
'Not much recently, that's true. But I love the life, Mrs. Hallenbeck. It has a lot of rewards that might not be obvious to the outside eye. The Inn is a very peaceful place, you know. The past few days are definitely an exception. Our guests are almost always nice, like you, and come here to relax. Like this prayer meeting this morning,' said Quill earnestly, aware somewhere in her sleep-deprived brain that she was rattling on, ' - nice people, church people, peacefully praying in the Banquet...'
'Ah, Quill?' Peter Williams tugged at her elbow. Quill blinked at him. 'We've got major trouble with the prayer meeting.'
-12-
'They came in a van about half an hour ago,' said Peter as they walked through the lobby to the Banquet Room.
'They?' said Quill. The coffee she'd drunk to stay awake must have been decaf; either she was asleep on her feet or Peter didn't make sense. 'They who?'
'Right out there.' He pointed to the front door.
Quill opened the door and went outside. A white Chevy Lumina van was parked on the drive. The side panels were lettered in a screaming orange. 'We Save Sinners!' Quill read aloud. 'Call 1-800-222-PRAY!' She walked slowly around the van. 'THE ROLLING MOSES - The Rev. William Maximilian' was printed on the hood in black Gothic letters intertwined with lightning strikes. Quill shut her eyes and opened them again. The design was still there. And the phone number. They were both very familiar.
Those pamphlets Doreen was carrying around in her apron pocket.
The license plates on the van read 'Florida, the Sunshine State.' The inspection sticker was a year out of date.
'Quill?' Peter called to her from the lobby. He sounded worried. 'They're starting the prayer breakfast now.'
Quill drifted slowly back in. 'I don't think I want to know what's going on,' she said dreamily. 'I'm on overload. As a matter of fact, I'm going upstairs to take a quick nap.' She thought of her nice comfortable queen-sized bed with the muslin comforter and the cool white sheets.
Peter hesitated. 'I'm the last one to judge by appearances...
'Yes,' said Quill. 'But these guys showed up at the prayer meeting this morning. They look pretty... unsavory, I guess you'd say. They said Doreen had called that 1-800 number and they were here to... to...'
'To what?'
'Perform an exorcism,' said Peter.
'A what?'
'To rid the Inn of succubi and other stuff. I thought we'd better sit in.'
Quill walked the short length of the hall to the Banquet Room. Most of the deacons were already there; Quill saw Harland Peterson, Elmer Henry, and Tom Peterson and smiled 'Hello.'
Dookie Shuttleworth stood by the open door, looking con- t fused. He started forward when he saw Quill, took her hand, I and patted it warmly. 'We haven't seen you in quite a while, Quill. Please come in and join us.' He drew her into the Banquet Room.
Despite the short notice, Meg and the kitchen crew had done themselves proud. The staff had set up a long buffet table; Kathleen Kiddermeister was making crepes to order at one end. Chafing dishes filled with The Sausage, bacon, caramelized apple, puffed potatoes, and a large Heavenly Hoggs Ham were displayed along the rest of the table length. Bowls of fresh strawberries and blueberries sat in the center of round cloth-covered dining tables set with Spode china. The room was filled with most of the regulars of the Hemlock Falls Word Of God Reform Church - and a few who weren't. Doreen sat at a table with Esther West. The ubiquitous Keith Baumer had apparently invited himself and was swallowing food at an enormous rate. Quill decided testily to put the cost for Baumer's breakfast on his bill instead of the one that went to the church.
She paused to reconsider. She wouldn't throw Baumer out. She'd perform a charitable act. Let Baumer horn in if he wanted to. She was becoming more and more convinced that he was the best suspect of all. She was not averse to supporting the admonition to let the condemned eat a hearty meal; the food in prison would be a punishment all the greater in contrast.
The happy, contented buzz of satisfied breakfast-eaters bathed Quill in a warm glow. 'Isn't Meg terrific?' she said aloud.
'She is wonderful!' said Dookie. 'After this delicious breakfast, Quill - 'such a generous contribution to the church, my dear - I had no idea when I mentioned our money troubles that you would give us so much!'
Quill had forgotten her promise to fund the breakfast. She waved away the uneasy feeling that she'd been giving away a lot of free food since John had been gone. 'Reverend Shuttleworth, there's a van outside...' Quill stopped, not sure how to continue.
'Yes. The Rolling Moses.' The confused expression returned to Dookie's face and seemed to settle there. 'They said Doreen Muxworthy called them early yesterday to tell them a succubus was inhabiting the Inn and their help was needed to get rid of it.'
'Doreen?' said Quill, keeping her voice low with an effort.
Dookie brightened. 'The Reverend William Maximilian said these - er - performances have a very positive effect on the urge of the congregation to donate to worthy causes. We agreed to split the collection plate today - and since we're in desperate need of funds, Quill, I thought perhaps... Ah! Here is the Reverend Mr. Maximilian now. Mr. Maximilian, I would like to introduce Miss Sarah Quilliam, who has so generously donated today's breakfast.'
'Good eats. God bless you, sister.'
The Reverend Mr. Maximilian breathed heavily through his open mouth. He was fat, hairy, and his five o'clock shadow rivaled the late Richard Nixon's. Quill hadn't seen sideburns like that since Elvis Presley gave his farewell
