Dark Tort

Wrong. So…there I was munching on one of the Bites, when Wink Calhoun, her eyes still rimmed with red, appeared in the church kitchen.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, without preamble.

The kitchen was empty except for the two of us. Keeping my voice neutral, I said, “I need to ask you about your affair with Donald Ellis.”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do, Wink. Other people saw you together.”

She began to cry. “I can’t talk to you about it.”

“I don’t want to intrude unnecessarily into your personal life, but this is important. Was Dusty involved with Donald?” This made her sob even harder. “Wink, you said you wanted to help figure out what happened to Dusty, and you promised you’d answer my questions. I told you we think Dusty had a new man in her life, a relationship she was keeping secret. Could it have been Donald Ellis?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I was involved with him, yes. But I broke it off because I felt so guilty, you know, having a fling with a married man.”

“Did Nora know about your affair?”

“I don’t think so. Donald hates Nora, though, did you find that out?”

“No. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“They have terrible fights. Once she was so mad at him, she hit him across the face. Not a slap, but a real”—here she demonstrated—“whack.”

“How about you, do you get along with Nora?”

“She’s been pretty nice to me. We’ve played squash a few times, since I told her I played in high school. And there was that time I told you about, when she stood up to Ookie for me at the club, but that may have been just to annoy Ookie. They’re always trying to one-up each other.”

Peachy, I thought. I decided to change course. “Do you know anything about Charlie Baker changing his will right before he died?”

“What? Who told you that?”

“How about paintings missing from Charlie’s house?”

Wink’s mouth hung open. “Who told you that?”

Out in the narthex, the choir was warming up.

This was my cue to remind Wink that the sheriff’s department would not be happy that she had been withholding critical information from them. But she started to cry again, so instead I simply told her not to share the details of our conversation with anyone. I took off my apron and went in search of my family, not feeling as if I’d really gotten any closer to the truth.

Gus’s grandparents arrived, looking nervous. But they were so enthusiastically greeted by Gus, that their agitation seemed to melt. They, in turn, embraced Arch, which made him feel wonderful, although he pretended to act embarrassed. With no grandparents living nearby, he reveled in their attention, their store-bought cupcakes, their inappropriate, but still treasured, gifts of stuffed animals, jacks, and marbles. We were all like the boys’ clothing: we could fill in one another’s gaps and, between us, make a big family.

During the service, I watched Bishop Uriah Sutherland closely. K.D. had given me information about him that might or might not shed light on who he really was.

Could he be the thief who took Charlie’s paintings? Even worse, could he have killed or been involved in the deaths of Dusty or Charlie? I shuddered to think such a thing. It definitely didn’t sound plausible. Some mumbled words from a dying woman wouldn’t be enough to get a search warrant for the Ellises’ house. Yet I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that those same mumbled words might have been a secret about Uriah, as K.D. suspected, something very damning, and that those words might have been what Althea told Charlie Baker at his last show.

I focused my attention on the service. Gus beamed when he flipped back his hair, wet with holy water, after he’d been dunked. He looked right at me and smiled. Dear Gus, I thought. I am so thankful for you.

The highlight of the service was the moment when Meg Blatchford, whose smile was as wide as Gus’s, announced to the congregation: “You may welcome the newly baptized!” And everyone clapped.

After the service, parishioners young and old chowed down enthusiastically on Asparagus Quiche, Prosciutto Bites, fruit salad, and sheet cake. It didn’t take long for the little kids to realize that their plastic plates—slick with bits of asparagus, jam, and cake frosting—made really great Frisbees. Before you could say “definitely unorthodox,” disks were sailing across the parish hall more thickly than flying saucers in a science-fiction movie. Bishop Sutherland’s chasuble took a direct hit from a plate covered with plum jam. Luckily, several members of the Episcopal Church Women insisted on bustling forward with cold wet towels to minister to the bishop and his vestments. He laughed just as he had before, at Donald’s party, with guacamole down his shirt. He seemed jovial and relaxed, and imagining him as a thief or killer began to seem foolish.

The only dark cloud to pass across the lovely morning occurred when Richard Chenault, fire coming out of his eyes and sparks coming off of his silver hair, stalked up to me in the parish hall and asked what I’d done with his wife.

“What have I done with her? Nothing!”

“She was on the phone with you. You told her to come see you—”

“Are you adding eavesdropping to your list of sins, Richard?” I asked mildly.

“She came to visit you, didn’t she? Next thing I know, her answering service is saying she’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks! And the hospital won’t tell me where she is!” He must have realized he was sounding a bit shrill, so he forcibly got himself under control. “I just want to talk to her.”

I didn’t say what I thought, which was: If you’re getting a divorce, why don’t you go through your attorneys?

“Goldy,” he said, “I’m sorry. I apologize for my tone. I just…need to talk to her.” He licked his lips, then said, “I understand from…from, well, I understand that you were quite close to my niece.”

“Yes, she was a neighbor. And a friend.” I swallowed, determined not to melt down.

“She didn’t leave anything for me, did she? With you? The cops won’t tell me anything, and I’m missing some important papers.”

“She didn’t leave anything with me,” I said truthfully. “Did you talk to Sally?”

When he straightened his tie and said yes, I felt a flash of fear: What if Sally had told him about the paintings I had taken? Had I told her not to tell anyone? I couldn’t remember.

“With Louise arrested—” he began. “You did hear that, didn’t you?” When I nodded, he said, “With Louise under arrest, the office is once again being searched. So I don’t believe we’ll be needing you tomorrow morning.”

The ultimate power jab. But I smiled anyway. “Thank you for telling me. I guess I’ll see you and the Ellises tomorrow night. At the ribbon cutting for the Mountain Pastoral Center.” He looked momentarily confused. “I’m catering the dinner afterward.”

Richard turned and made a discreet motion to Donald and Nora Ellis, as well as Alonzo and Ookie Claggett, all of whom had been hovering nearby. I smiled in spite of myself. Richard and K.D. had joined St. Luke’s because they’d wanted to be married there. Nora Ellis was an Episcopalian because her father was a clergyman, and it was easy to see how Donald had taken the path of least resistance. Alonzo and Ookie, I suspected, had joined for social-climbing purposes. But before I could give voice to these theories, Richard and his retinue departed.

I mumbled, “I am not going to let this upset me, I am not going to let this upset me, I am not going to let this upset me,” all the way out to the church kitchen, where I pulled out my cell phone and one of the cards K.D. had given me. I punched in the numbers for Grace Mannheim, cousin to Althea Mannheim, the hit-and-run victim whom K.D. had tried to save in the Southwest Emergency Room. Because I needed to know if Althea Mannheim did indeed have anything to do with Bishop Uriah Sutherland.

I thought I would get no answer, or a machine. But Grace Mannheim answered on the first ring. I identified myself and nervously announced that I was a friend of Dr. K. D. Chenault, who had treated her cousin, and would she be willing to speak with me? Today, if possible? I was coming to Boulder anyway, I offered, hoping I didn’t sound rude or forward.

She immediately told me to call her Grace. She heard the chaos in the background and told me laughingly