board on the floor, with its disheveled array of notes. Slowly, we pulled out thumbtacks and gathered up the notes with numbers that had landed on the floor. Diocesan Center. Altar Guild. Organist.
?Here?s one,? said Agatha. ?Roger Bampton.?
?I wonder why Ted would need to call him.?
?Oh, you know, Roger was having copies of his blood tests framed for Ted. Roger called it ?his first miracle.? Ted was pretty excited about it. He told everybody. I don?t know what happened to them, though. I know they were calling back and forth ? ?
?Eureka!? I read, ?Alexander Graham, 555-6363.?
Agatha wrinkled her nose. ?That doesn?t sound like anyone in our parish.?
I said, ?You don?t have a son who loves codes. That?s for Alexander Graham Bell, honey.? I thought for a moment. Go to a pay phone, or try to plug in the phones here? Out at Olson?s house, the vandal hadn?t realized that just whacking a phone and pulling it out of the wall was not enough to destroy it. ?Would you go see if you can plug in the secretary?s extension? Then if you?ll take notes on his messages, I?d appreciate it. I might miss something.?
?But it?s supposed to be confident ? ?
?Too late for now.?
Agatha clamped her mouth shut and minced into the outer office. She fussed with the secretary?s extension while I plugged in Olson?s smashed phone and got a dial tone. I sat down at the desk, whacked my foot on a pile of plumbing pipe, and cursed. I dialed first the 555 number, which was indeed the right US West messaging service, then dialed the church number, then pressed the buttons for P,R, A, and Y.
The first message came on. It was Agatha.
?Hi, it?s me calling Thursday night. Sorry you have that society meeting tomorrow during the day. I?ll miss you! Let?s talk after the wedding on Saturday, plan something else. Love you.?
In the outer room, I heard Agatha stifle a sob. I couldn?t stop the electronic message and didn?t want to. The voice mail beeped with another message.
?This is the diocesan office. Please pick up your photocopies of the General Ordination Examinations by Friday afternoon so that your committee can begin its work next week. Call if there?s a problem.?
Another beep. Lucille Boatwright said, ?I just think it?s terrible what you?ve done to Zelda. This never would have happened in Father Pinckney?s time. In Father Pinckney?s time, I never would have had to speak into one of these infernal machines, either!?
There was a long beep, as if Lucille had somehow messed up even while disconnecting from the infernal machine. The next voice was Bob Preston?s.
?I know what you?re doing.? In the outer office, Agatha gasped. Her husband?s voice was low and threatening. ?I?m gong to spill the beans on you to the bishop. You think they want to face another lawsuit in this diocese? You?re dead in the Episcopal church, Olson. You?re finished.?
Good God. There was another beep. ?Sorry about the blowup at the meeting, old friend, especially after you?d brought that coconut last time, which was such fun. You are part of the communion, I didn?t mean what I said, guess I just got carried away, you know how I do. Listen, you forgot to pick up your exams. I?ll bring them out to your house to read Saturday morning before the wedding you?re doing for that Goldy woman on the committee. Tomorrow then, nine o?clock?? Canon Montgomery disconnected.
In the outer office, Agatha shrieked. Then there was a dull thud.
?Agatha?? I said. There was no response. In my hand, the phone beeped again and another message, this one from Doug Ramsey, began playing back. I pressed the dial-tone button desperately. ?Agatha?? I called. There was still silence from the outer office. I jiggled the button and prayed for a dial tone so I could call 911. Still the message for Ramsey droned on.
?Help!? I called. My voice sounded feeble.
?No one will hear you,? said Canon Montgomery as he stepped into Olson?s office. His white hair was askew. His face was scarlet. In his hand he was holding a collapsible baton, the kind available at police-supply stores. Only this one, I was fairly sure, was the one that had whacked me in the back by Olson?s house, when I had discovered the one thing Olson?s killer had left out there: a photocopied paper that was his excuse for being there in the first place. The one who would Bring the tests to Read was the Judas.
?They?ll catch you,? I said angrily. ?You will never ? ?
?Shut up.? He was dressed all in black, except for his snowy-white clerical collar, which didn?t go with his flushed toadlike face and his hand gripping the weapon. ?Where are the blood tests? You must know. I know he told someone ? ?
?What??
?I know Olson was lying,? he growled. ?I ? ?
?Where?s Tom Schulz, you son of a bitch?? I screeched. ?Olson called Tom before the wedding because he was afraid of you. And well he should have been.?
He laughed. It was a horrible gritty laugh that made my stomach turn. I glanced quickly around the ransacked office. From grimy windows to the shelves of books to the floor, where the tangle of pipes from the renovation lay in an unattractive heap, there was no way out.
?Where is Tom Schulz?? I demanded again.
Canon Montgomery shook his head. ?You know, I could have destroyed Olson. I mean, fix it so he?d be defrocked. He had money business with that woman out there, he had questionable money transactions with the pearls and all this sudden giving. Driving a Mercedes. Pah!?
?But you killed him.? Stall, I thought frantically. Do anything to keep him talking. So that someone will have a chance to see you or hear you. ?And Mitchell Hartley, too. He must have found out something.?
?No great loss, Hartley. He didn?t even want to turn me in1 He just wanted to tell me he knew I?d picked up Olson?s exams, and that they?d found one page out at Olson?s house. Hartley wanted to pass the exams in exchange for his information. We had a meeting last Friday. Olson and I fought over his idiotic miracle claims. He stomped out, and unfortunately I was seen by Mitchell Hartley picking up Olson?s set of exams and the diocesan vehicle keys. Saturday, when I was out at Olson?s, your cop friend was listening to Olson spill his guts. I know he told him where the blood tests are. Too bad.?
He was insane. There was no doubt about it. I said, ?You just couldn?t stand him having that kind of power, could you? After he?d been your protege??
?People were worshiping him,? Montgomery snapped fiercely. ?I was trying to protect the church. And how fortunate he didn?t give my name in that note. Then when the police find the bodies of you and that other woman, they?ll suspect me even less. It?ll just look like another burglary ? ?
I eased my hand under the desk, where one broken pipe was resting against the side of the file cabinet. ?You?ll never disprove the miracle, you know.? I told him with as much aggression as I could muster.
?Oh?? He lifted his peaked white eyebrows and smiled sourly, as if we were discussing disputed theological points. ?Why is that??
?Because the blood tests are in the computer, you beast. Down at the pathology lab. Even if you destroy one set, there will be endless documentation. It?s like the message you left. You can?t get rid of it by axing the phone machine. The information is stores.? I had a sudden vision of Lucille Boatwright complaining about the phone machine. ?You couldn?t operate the fax machine, and you couldn?t destroy messages by breaking an answering machine. You and your generation just don?t understand technology!?
With that I jumped up, pipe in hand, and slammed it into the window next to Olson?s desk. Panes broke, but the frame held.
?Help!? I shrieked. ?Help!?
Montgomery turned quickly and sprinted for the front door of the office.
?Hey!? I yelled after him. ?Where?s Tom Schulz??
The office door banged closed. I leapt up and charged out to the secretary?s office. My back shrieked with pain. Agatha was slumped over the desk, moaning. At least she was alive. I had to go after Montgomery.
By the time my eyes adjusted to the darkness and the swirling snow, Montgomery was on the flagstones. He was running toward the columbarium site. The parking lot and the road were just beyond it.
?Don?t!? I yelled. Then I ran, faster than I had ever run before, damn my back. I was desperate to catch Montgomery. He could not get away. He could not disappear without telling me where Tom was.
