Requiem Murder Part 27

"There'll be a big age difference."

"But he won't be alone."

She called Robby to come for his snack. Then she poured the coffee. The sound of the television tuned to a children's program was loud enough to cover our conversation.

"Has Marcie been by lately?"

She shook her head. "Not since the last time she sat. But Judith's ill. Martin turned down my offer to help."

"There's nothing either of us can do there." I sipped the coffee. "I've a story to tell you and some

questions to ask." "Sounds serious."

"I'm afraid it is." I related the things I'd heard Roger say that afternoon and his explanation. "I've a feeling something bad is going down and I pray I'm wrong. Did you and Roger ever...Were you...how close...?"

She shook her head. "We indulged in a couple of heavy petting sessions but he never...He had a number of reasons that sounded right at the time. Robby. No protection. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How does this fit what you said? Oh no. Do you think he and Marcie..."

"I don't know. She has a major crush on him, and even I know how charismatic he can be. It's not only Marcie. I know of at least two girls in the junior choir who take piano lessons with him." I poured more coffee. "Has he ever mentioned tapping your inner power?"

Her forehead wrinkled. "Maybe once when we were involved. He said something about the power not being there. I asked him what he meant and he said he shouldn't have to explain. If I felt what he did, I'd know. What will you do?"

"Make some calls. Check his resume. Maybe take a trip upstate. Then take what I learn to Edward and the Vestry. They'll hate me again."

"They shouldn't, especially if your suspicions are true."

"Edward likes to think the best of everyone and he hates having to deal with sticky problems. The Vestry doesn't like to be stuck in a rocking boat."

"Can you can't let this rest?" "Would you?"

She shook her head. "I know I don't have any influence at the church, but I'll back you."

"Good...Now, tell me where you and Pete are going."

While she talked about their plans for a weekend in the City and the play they wanted to see, I set my priorities. Tomorrow, instead of a walk, I'd drive upstate to ask questions and demand answers about Roger and why the church had bought out his contract. That should have alerted me to a problem, but I had wanted him at St. Stephen's.

After dinner, I listened to the news. Rain was predicted for tomorrow. I hoped it would hold off until I returned. Even if it didn't, my trip was necessary.*My start didn't take place as early as I'd planned. A fitful night had kept me in bed later than usual. The day was raw. A pewter sky showed glimpses of an orange, sullen sun.

I reached the red brick church, the site of Roger's previous situation, and parked at the curb. For several minutes, I sat in the car and framed the questions I needed to ask. Would the answers confirm my suspicions?

Finally, I left the car and entered, not the church, but the attached building and followed arrows to the office. When I entered the room, a young woman in her early twenties seated behind a metal desk looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to the pastor."

"He won't be in until around two. You should have called." She frowned. "Are you new in town?"

"I don't live here and I left home this morning before your office opened."

Her frown deepened. "Maybe I can help you. The secretary's out of the office, too. I'm Barbara Clary,

Minister of Music."

"Katherine Miller. I'm from St. Stephen's. Roger Brandon, the former organist here is there now."

A look of disgust appeared on her face. If I asked the right questions, she might be the one to supply the

answers.

"He's a good organist."

"And I think, a bad man."

Her hands clenched. "I...I'm not sure what you mean."

I sat in the chair across from her desk. "I need some answers about why he was dismissed here. They're

vital to someone I care about."

Her gaze slithered past my face. "The position here was always to be mine. My uncle..."

"I know about that. Roger made sure we knew. I'm just puzzled about why a church would let a superior

musician go and replace him with an unknown."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Then I'll tell you what's happening at St. Stephen's and maybe you'll be willing to share what you

know." As I related the things I'd observed and my fears for Marcie and the other people whose lives he'd touched, she began to look like a trapped animal.

"He promised --" she began.

"Tell me." Steel entered my voice.

"It's...I was so dumb...I thought he could help me...It was the summer he arrived...He was teaching me relaxation techniques and they really worked. He wanted..." She shook her head. "He wanted to have s.e.x. I turned him down and he dropped me flat."

She paused for a long time and I feared she wouldn't say anything more. "And," I said.

"When I was home for spring break, I heard from my little sister about the cla.s.ses he was holding at the church. She got defensive and refused to talk. That night, I came to the church." She looked like she was going to be sick.

"What did you see?"

"He had...He always wore these black clothes to do the exercises. My sister and three other teenagers

were with him. In the church parlor. There's a carpet there. They were naked. He was touching them and asking them to touch him."

"Meld your inner power with mine and yours will grow," he said.

"I screamed. They all jumped up. I threatened to tell everyone about what they were doing. My sister

said she'd kill herself if I did. I believed her."

I reached across the desk and took her hand. "Then what happened?"

"I went to my uncle and told him I wanted the position and I wanted to start in June right after

graduation." Then I went to Roger. He told me he'd found another church. I made him promise not to do what he'd done here. He promised and I believed him."

"He's excellent at convincing people to believe what he wants."

She sucked in a breath. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to stop him and I may need to call on you to confirm my story."

"I'd rather not, but if there's no other way, I will. I wish he was dead."

"That's one solution."

She shook her head. "Not a very good one though."

"Thank you for sharing this with me." I rose and walked to my car.

How could I stop him? He had a most convincing persona. Just outside the town, I pulled off the road and was sick.

Chapter 11.

Sanctus.

When I arrived home at a little after two, I made a pot of mint tea, selecting those guaranteed to ease my nausea. So Roger had played his games before. I thought of Svengali and Rasputin and shuddered. Roger Brandon seemed as much an evil genius as they had been.

Once the tea finished brewing, I picked up my copy of his resume and letters of recommendation and began making phone calls. Though the ministers I spoke to tried to remain vague, they all admitted to having heard rumors about strange behavior on Roger's part.

By the third such conversation, I snapped. "Was it fair not to let people know? Your letter of recommendation positively glows."

He cleared his throat. "Rumors can't be pa.s.sed on as truth. No one made a complaint and you'll have to admit he's quite charming."

"And evil."

I slammed the receiver down. This seeking of an inner power and the seduction of vulnerable young women had to be stopped. But how? And here at St.

Stephen's, they hadn't all been young.

He'd charmed his way into a dozen or more lives. Beth. The Simpson's. Betty Peters. Tracey Stanton.

Even I'd fallen for his charm as well as his music.