I looked up to see a gaunt-faced Agatha Preston hovering above me. Her apricot-colored sweater, skirt, and headband made her skin look jaundiced. Over a wide lace collar that was absurdly girlish, her only adornment was a long, expensive-looking double strand of jade beads. Her streaked hair was woven into two tight braids.
?Yes, Agatha. Hello.?
?Hello. Well. First of all, I want to apologize for that phone call yesterday.? She looked around at the assortment of bikers, churchgoers, and yuppies-in-corduroys and added, ?I was quite upset, and I just sort of fell apart.? Her delicate fingers fumbled with her jade beads. ?Bob couldn?t come, or rather, he might arrive in a little bit, he had to stay at church to talk to the police … Hymnal House.? She glanced down at the book in my hands. ?I?m sorry. Were you studying?? Without waiting for my reply she looked around for a waitress. ?I?m hungry. Aren?t you??
She was making me nervous. ?Sit down, Agatha.?
?Oh, sure.? She pulled out her Swiss-style wooden chair with its heart-shaped back. A waitress wearing a ruffled blouse, skirt edged in fake leather fringe, and cowgirl boots thumped up.
?I?m ready,? I said crisply. Ever partial to European fare, I ordered Musli with yogurt and blueberries while Agatha stammered, changed her mind twice, and finally settled uneasily for a cheese omelet. The waitress slapped her order book closed and hightailed away.
?Start with the phone call yesterday,? I commanded with a smile and swig of coffee.
Her blue eyes turned huge. ?Well, it all really starts before that.? She hesitated. ?You see, you work, or I guess I should say, you work outside the home, so your relationship with the church is different.? Color flooded her sallow face.
?My relationship with whom in the church is different? Different from whose relationship??
?Your relationship with the other women. From the other women. They just … don?t expect the same things of you. You get respect. I mean, I always wanted to do volunteer work, especially since I thought it would help Zelda… you know …have support. She?s gone through so much.?
?And did it??
Her laugh was dry and brittle, a you?ve-got-to-be-kidding laugh. ?I?m like their little pet. Hers and Lucille?s.? She raised her voice. ?C?mere, Agatha! Answer the phone sixteen times a day! Go fetch! Stuff these envelopes! Mail out these raffle invitations! And whatever you do, don?t have any fun! You?re doing this for the church!? She regarded me intensely. ?People talk about heaven all the time, but you know what?s weird? I think a lot about hell. And who I?d like to have there.? She smiled conspiratorially. ?Do you ever think about that??
?Let?s see.? I sipped coffee and tried to think. ?I saw the IMAX film on Antarctica. I thought that would be a great place for my ex-husband to spend eternity.?
?Oh.? She giggled and twirled a streaked braid with her index finger.
?How about your husband? Does Bob have fun in the church? Or is he one of the hell-folks??
Agatha thrust her head back and giggled even louder, as if now I was being really naughty. ?Oh, bob, well, you know. He loves to run things, and he has the time to do it now. In the spring and summer he does construction projects like Habitat for Humanity, in the fall he goes out with Sportsmen Against Hunger, and they just have a blast shooting off their Remingtons at all those poor, innocent elk ? ?
?Did Father Olson get respect??
Color again climbed her neck above the ch9ildish lace collar. I felt as if I?d said ?Underpants!? to a conservative seventh grader. ?Ah,? she said, ?I wouldn?t know. I guess I?d have to say no.?
?So … how did you know about this lack of respect for him.? Through your volunteer work??
?Well, yes. Zelda and Lucille informed me it was my turn to be head of the Episcopal Church Women.? She was frowning at something over my shoulder. ?Father Olson was also… .counseling me. You know,? she added, suddenly earnest, ?he could have gone to any parish/ Everyone loved him. Well, almost everyone … ?
?Did you love him?? I asked impulsively.
She blushed again and twirled the braid so tightly I thought she was going to pull it out. ?I didn?t think that I did, I mean, I just admired him, but then I heard this thing on Stories of the Weird about how people can be soul mates, you know? That?s why I wondered if you?d seen him, you know, his body? Was there much … blood? Did he suffer?? Her eyes probed my face.
Oh, Lord. I said, ?When you called, I didn?t know if you meant Olson.? I immediately felt somewhat light- headed, probably a side effect of dealing with an underappreciated woman who claimed to be worried about me, yet who put great stock in Stories of the Weird. ?I don?t think he suffered too much,? I improvised. ?Who didn?t love Father Olson??
Agatha wrinkled her nose and absentmindedly fingered the milky green beads. ?Oh, you now, some people thought he was just showing off with a fancy car, trying to act rich, but he wasn?t, he just needed to get around! Ted didn?t believe in having a lot of money. Ted just believed in love, you know, don?t you??
Instead of answering, I poured us both more coffee. She frowned at it.
?Gosh, I guess I should have ordered tea. I always drink tea, but it just hasn?t seemed cold enough lately, but it?s not quite warm enough for iced tea ? ?
?Agatha!?
The vacant eyes were suddenly startled ?What?? She pulled her row of tiny bottom teeth in front of her top teeth and wrinkled her forehead.
?Where was your husband yesterday??
?Yesterday? You mean Saturday??
?yes. Where was Bob all day??
?Gosh. Um. You mean, like in the transcendental sense??
?I mean, like was he at the hardware store, was he at the barber, what??
Agatha?s youthful face remained puzzled. But as the overhead speakers began another set of cheerful Alpine square dancing music, her features brightened. ?With Aspen Meadow Kiwanis. Yes, you know. They?re building a house, for Habitat for Humanity, off Main Street on that empty lot where the house burned down last year, remember? And the guy who owned it was in Saudi Arabia or something, so he sold it to the Kiwanis for next to nothing. The lot, I mean, anyway ? ?
?And Bob was there all day.?
?Well, most of the day, I guess. He came home terribly exhausted and I was just so upset about Father Olson, and on the phone with you … .Why??
?Agatha, was Bob,? I leaned toward her, ?jealous of your relationship with Father Olson??
?Only when I didn?t clean the house on the days we did our counseling work ? ? She stopped abruptly, looking stricken.
?Did you ever work with P.R.A.Y.??
?Pray? About what??
The waitress arrived with our food. The Musli with yogurt and blueberries spilled out over a wide porcelain bowl. I took a mouthful. Creamy yogurt coated the sweet, juicy blueberries and luscious crunch of Zurich-style granola. I was suddenly ravenous. It felt as if years had gone by since I had eaten anything. Melted cheese cascaded down the side of Agatha?s steaming omelet. She made mm-mm noises as she dug in.
?Agatha,? I ventured after a moment, ?do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Father Olson? Someone who could have killed him? Anybody who might have been a traitor??
?Who, me/ Have an idea? No.? She chewed an enormous mouthful of omelet thoughtfully. ?No, really. But listen, I?ve been so worried about you with what happened to your fiance and all ? ?
?What do you know about Victor Mancuso??
?Vic ? ? Oh. Nothing.? Her face brightened again. ?Didn?t they make an announcement about him? I do know about Roger Bampton. He had leukemia, and then he got better after Ted … Father Olson laid hands on him. Do you really think miracles happen? Or do you believe that it?s just all in our minds? On Stories of the Weird ? ?
?I?d guess I? have to talk to Roger. Talk to his doctor or something.?
?Well, I saw Roger. When he was sick.? She put down her fork and made a face. ?He looked awful. His skin was the color of deer feces, you know, when it?s been there for a while ? ?
?Agatha, I?m trying to eat Musli here.?
?Oh, sorry. Well anyway, I?m not one of those people demanding to see the blood tests, before and after.?
?Who?s demanding that??
