?Oh, Goldy, I don?t know.?
I wondered in anyone had ever tried to give this woman a lie-detector test. Would she pass or fail? Or would she just not understand the questions/ I said, ?Was Ted Olson his own worst enemy??
She put down her fork and sighed. ?People wanted stuff from Ted all the time, that?s what I?m trying to tell you, nobody respected him. I mean as a person. Everyone wanted a little bit of him, as if he were some kind of stuffed animal or something. No one would notice a little bit of stuffing missing, do you know what I mean??
?I guess I don?t.?
She doused her coffee with creamer and wigged her mouth disapprovingly. ?They wanted him to take care of them. They wanted him to pray for them. They wanted to talk to him about issues in the parish, and mostly what they wanted was for him to get so-and-so to stop doing something. Or get someone to start doing something.?
?Was there anybody who wanted him to do something, and he didn?t do it??
?Come on.? She took a small sip of coffee, approved of it, and sipped more. ?He couldn?t do everything. He was supposed to have Mondays off, you know.?
?And did he??
?Oh, no. People would call, call, call all day. One day he just didn?t answer the phone. You know, when there was that big problem over the music. Zelda wanted to find out if he?d heard from the bishop, and when he didn?t answer the phone, she drove all the way out there and stalked right up to the door and banged on it.?
?And did he answer??
?Of course he didn?t! But then she came around back!? Agatha was indignant. ?Peering through his windows and trying to see what was going on1 So she opened the back door and she shrieked, ?I knew you were home! Your car is right there in the driveway!? like she?d just won a game or something. That woman is impossible. I don?t care if she is my motherin-law.?
I spooned up some more Musli and tired to think of how to phrase the next question.
?Did Ted tell you all this, Agatha??
?Well,? she said with another sip of coffee, ?I was in counseling with him at the time.?
?He was your counselor that day at his house??
She looked up. A shadow crossed her face. ?Oh, Bob honey, we didn?t see you come in.?
12
Bob Preston peered down at our plates, then glanced around the restaurant. He sat tentatively, frowning at the Western-style light fixture hanging down over our table.
This is awfully bright,? he announced. ?Makes it hard to see.? He proceeded to start unscrewing the bulb. Unfortunately, it was too hot. Bob yelped, dipped his fingers into his wife?s ice water, carefully wiped them on the clean napkin of the place setting in front of him, and unscrewed the bulb a few more revolutions before dipping, drying, and unscrewing again. Finally he had the bulb out. He reached across and with extreme delicacy placed it on the empty seat at our table for four.
Agatha tilted her head to focus on this little drama. ?Poor bob,? she murmured sympathetically once the lightbulb was dispensed with. ?Can?t stand bright light.?
?Ahhh,? said Bob Preston when Heidi/Dale rushed up. But before she started to take his order, she sent a confused look at our light fixture. ?Don?t worry about it,? Bob assured her with a wave of pinkened fingers. ?All we need you to do now turn off that damn noise.?
?What??
?Turn off the polka!? he bellowed. Several bikers turned unshaven faces in Bob?s direction, but he glared back. ?Look, I need hash browns on one plate, two poached eggs on another, and sliced fruit ? no honeydew melon on that, okay? ? on a third. Got it, honey?? The waitress finished scribbling, nodded once, and took off.
?Bob,? I began conversationally, ?we were just beginning to miss you. Everything okay at church??
He grunted. ?I guess. If you don?t mind listening to Montgomery. I swear, that man is boring. And after what our congregation has been through, you?d think the diocese could send us someone who could preach. What do we get? A froggy-looking guy who shouts bad poems at parishioners. And then that obnoxious seminarian, what is his name, Hartley? Kid drives me nuts. He sees me getting into my car, an Audi that I earned the bucks to buy, thank you very much, and he starts preaching at me about the evils of money.?
Agatha had undergone an astonishing personality change since her husband?s arrival. Instead of being spaced-out, she was now demure. She smiled vapidly.
I asked, ?What do you think?s going to happen to the parish??
Bob Preston puffed up. ?If the Lord wants us to ? ?
I said, ?Stop right there, Bob.? Agatha regarded me in horrified silence; her husband merely shrugged. I went on gently, ?For the sake of argument, let?s assume the presence of the Lord, okay? What do you think the people are going to do??
He shook his head and pulled in his chin, assuming the dismayed expression of an oilman who?d drilled a dry hole. ?I don?t know if you can assume God?s presence, Goldy. That?s what they did during Pinckney?s time, and the place was as dead as smashed and bloodied roadkill, I?m telling you.?
I pushed the plate of unfinished Musli away. ?And you thought the place came to life under Father Theodore Olson??
The waitress arrived with Bob?s order. She looked at me quizzically, then hesitated, I thought, because of the lack of light and the unwillingness to risk Bob?s rude tongue again. Then she said, ?You?re the caterer. Goldy. I heard what happened. Sorry.?
I murmured a thanks. Bob Preston took a bite from one plate and brayed: ?These potatoes are cold.? The waitress rolled her eyes at me ? demanding clients! ? and whisked away the offending hash browns.
?Yes,? said Bob, picking up where we left off, ?the place came to life under Olson. Didn?t you find him more centered on the Lord than Pinckney and that old-church crowd??
?I thought Father Olson was very nice.? I kept my gaze on Agatha. ?He was very … attractive to parishioners.? She looked away. I went on, ?I didn?t have the same approach to the faith as Olson, but he was a great counselor for Schulz and me. Arch had him for confirmation class and thought he was marvelous. I just wish the police could figure out why ? ?
?Well, that?s their job, isn?t it?? Bob interjected brusquely. He craned his neck around, probably seeking the unfortunate waitress. ?What did Schulz say in that note??
My skin prickled. I exhaled and shrugged noncommittally. ?Haven?t the foggiest. It was policeman shorthand. Olson was alive, Olson was dead. What did the police have to say to you??
With his right hand, Bob made a lasso-type movement in the air. He grimaced. ?They said they found a diocesan vehicle. They wanted to know who had access to the keys, who had access to the car, who had access to Hymnal House ? ?
Our waitress returned with Bob Preston?s new hash browns. I pressed my lips together. Who had access to Hymnal House and Brio barn? I thought of the old conference center, where I had taken my Sunday School teachers? course and where I had catered many times. The conference center boasted many rooms, now closed off. It also contained numerous sequestered storage areas. Hmm.
?Bob and Agatha,? I announced as I got to my feet, ?thank you for a lovely brunch. I need to be getting home to stay by the phones and take care of Arch. Let?s get together again soon,? I added insincerely.
Bob Preston reared back slightly. His brow furrowed. Then, not one to let piping hot hash browns go to waste, he dismissed me with a small wave.
?I?ll take Goldy to the door,? Agatha said hastily. With his mouth full, Bob shrugged. Agatha rose suddenly and sent her Swiss-style chair reeling. This brought more interested looks from the bikers. They loved brawls, even at brunch. To discourage such an eruption, Agatha and I walked decorously to the entrance of the restaurant.
?Please tell me,? she began in a low, imploring tone. ?I have been so worried about you, and about Schulz, but did Ted ? Father Olson ? say anything to Schulz about … anything from me??
?Anything from you? Like letters? Talk fast, he?s looking at you.?
She glanced nervously in her husband?s direction and waved her fingers halfheartedly. ?I was in counseling with Ted because I thought Bob was getting ready to leave me,? she blurted out in the same confessional whisper. ?Money disappeared out of our checking account and I didn?t know where it went. I thought Bob was hiding it somewhere, getting ready to file for divorce. After the first few months, I just couldn?t bear to see Ted only once a week. I had
