The Bass Wore Scales (33 page)

At the bottom was added, “Bounty paid for by Bennett Shipley, St. Germaine, NC. Collect from Mayor Peter Moss, St. Germaine Courthouse.”

“
Holy cow,” I said.

“
Can I see?” asked Moosey. I walked over and handed him the paper.

“
I called the courthouse,” said Nancy. “There’s already a line outside the door waiting to buy a Gorilla License. They won’t open up until eight, though. Pete said that Bennett Shipley came by his house last night and gave him a certified check for five thousand dollars.”

“
Well, if they don’t get Kokomo today, we may want to talk with him tomorrow.”

“
Shipley?” asked Nancy.

“
No. The gorilla.”

“
You know where he is?”

I gave a nod in Moosey’s direction. Moosey smiled as innocent a smile as I’ve ever witnessed.

“
Ahh,” said Nancy. “Can’t we just go bring Kokomo in?”

“
I don’t think so. If we did, he’d have to be destroyed. I think he’s better off taking his chances.”

“
Okay, let’s hope he’s as smart as everyone thinks he is.” Nancy thought for a moment. “You know,” she said, “I really,
really
like Dave. I always have.”

“
Yeah,” I grinned. “I know.”

“
But I didn’t know he was going to call the wedding off. That’s a lot of pressure. What if this thing between us doesn’t work out?”

“
That’s life,” I said. “Sometimes it doesn’t, but you have to give it a chance.”

“
Hey,” called Moosey, still sitting in his chair, and holding up a section of the newspaper. “Look here at this picture. What’s this called?”

I walked over to where he was sitting and looked down at the paper. He was pointing to a photo of a couple of American soldiers on a dusty Iraqi street.

“
What? The soldiers? They’re the ones stationed in Iraq.”

“
No, this here.” He pointed to the woman behind them, clad head to toe in black.

“
That’s called a burka. It’s what some of the women wear in the Middle East.”

“
Ain’t it hot?” asked Moosey.

“
I suppose it is.”

“
Sheesh. I wouldn’t wear it if it was as hot as it looks,” said Moosey, flipping the paper open to the comic page. “Lookie here at Snoopy. He’s up on the doghouse again!” He giggled. “Hey, when are we going to go fishing?”

“
You think Moosey has ADD?” asked Nancy, softly, when I returned to the other side of the room.

“
Maybe a little,” I replied.

* * *

There were two workmen outside the Slab Café, replacing the plate glass window, when I wandered down the sidewalk to see how Pete was faring. I looked in the door. The glass had been cleaned up, and the food was off the floor and into the garbage. Noylene was leaning on a mop, a strand of red hair hanging down into one eye.

“
Hey there, Chief,” she said, with a smile. “We’ve almost got it cleaned up. Took about five hours last night, though.”

Pete came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “I need to get back in business. Those gorilla hunters are going to come back hungry.”

“
How about the dishes?” I asked.

“
Already on the way. Darla’s Restaurant Supply in Asheville. They should be here in an hour.”

“
Toasters?”

“
Toasters, cups, mugs, sugar shakers…the whole enchilada,” said Pete. “My insurance guy was here this morning at six. He said they wouldn’t pay for the damage unless I brought charges against Collette. I told him to forget it.”

“
How much is it going to be?” I asked.

“
Probably two or three grand,” said Pete. “I’ve got it covered. I needed new plates anyway.”

“
I’m in for half,” I said. “I’d hate to have to arrest Collette. By the way, did you see that line outside the courthouse?”

“
Yep. I called over to see how we were doing. We’d sold two hundred fifty or so as of nine o’clock.”

“
I’m hoping they don’t find him for a while,” I said.

“
That might be a vain hope,” said Pete. “A bunch of those guys had their dogs with them.”

“
Ah. But dogs don’t know what a gorilla smells like,” I said, with a smile.

“
Can’t they just go over to the animal shelter and sniff around the cage?”

“
Well, I suppose they could,” I said. “And they’ll get a scent, sure enough. It might even have been a gorilla’s scent if someone hadn’t cleaned out that cage last night, hosed it down and replaced all that straw with used hay from Seymour Krebbs’ camel stall.”

“
Heh heh,” chuckled Pete. “As I recall, that camel doesn’t care for dogs.”

* * *

“
Hey!” called Billy Hixon. “Hayden! C’mere a second.”

Billy was in the parish hall, pouring a cup of coffee when he spotted me walking by the outside back doors. I joined him at the coffee pot.

“
We’ve got some real coffee,” he said. “
Finally!
That other stuff was just…bleah.”

“
I agree.” I poured myself a cup, and we walked over to one of the tables. “‘Because thou art lukewarm, I will spew thee out of my mouth.’”

“
What?”

“
Nothing. A verse from Revelations.”

“
I didn’t know John the Revelator had anything to say about coffee. Huh,” he grunted. “You learn something new every day.”

“
Absolutely,” I agreed.

“
I’ve been helping Kimmy Jo Jameson with the funeral arrangements,” said Billy, sipping his Apocalyptical brew. “It’s going to be quite a service.”

“
Is Gaylen presiding?”

“
Yeah, she is. Junior’s being buried in his car, you know.”

“
I heard that,” I said.

“
Elaine’s going to be one of the scripture readers,” said Billy proudly. “Wormy’s going to wire the car radio up with
Eternizak
, we’ve got a forty-foot crane rigged to lower the racecar into the ground, and guess what?”

“
What?”

“
The American Academy of Piping and Drumming started last weekend in Valle Crucis. We’re going to have a whole bagpipe band. Kimmy Jo asked that the St. Barnabas choir be there, and we’re renting the electronic organ from Brodt’s Music Company. You remember—the one they sent over for that tent revival. We’re hooking it up to an old Marshall amp and set of speakers that Bob Solomon had in his storage building.”

“
That’s the organ I’m playing?”

“
Yeah! Kimmy Jo is faxing music to the church. She wrote a song, then paid some guy in Virginia to arrange it for choir and organ.”

“
Oh, Lord. I don’t suppose I can get out of this?” I sighed.

“
Nope,” said Billy. “We want to stay on their good side. I don’t want any problems getting our money back. By the way, it’s all going to be televised.”

I sighed again. “Of course it is.”

* * *

I walked into Bootsie Watkins’ office, wearing my sternest look and my new badge hanging visibly on my belt.

“
Can I help you?” she said smartly, in her best secretarial tone.

I stood in front of her desk and stared at her for a full thirty seconds without saying anything. She started to squirm.

“
Can I help you, Chief Konig?” she asked again, this time a little less sure of herself.

“
I think that maybe you can,” I said, after a long moment. “Why don’t you come with me into the pastor’s office? Bring the key with you. And Brother Kilroy’s appointment calendar.”

“
Okay,” she said, in a very small voice.

I walked quickly down the hall, Bootsie dogging my steps, trying to keep pace with me. We came to the door of Brother Kilroy’s office. The stained-glass window in the door was still broken. I tried the door. It was locked. I gestured to the handle. Bootsie put the key into the lock and clicked it open. I pushed down on the handle and the door swung open.

“
Let me get you a chair,” I said, as I picked up one of the upholstered armchairs in the alcove. I carried it into Kilroy’s empty office and set it in the middle of the room. Then I came out of his office and brought in a matching chair, leaving the alcove empty except for a small table on which rested a hymnal. I set the chair opposite the first, close enough that when we were both sitting, our knees would almost touch. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation—which is what I wanted.

“
Let’s take a seat,” I said. “I have some questions.”

Bootsie sat, knees tightly together, her arms crossed in the classic defensive position. I sat across from her and leaned in.

“
I’m curious, Bootsie. How many keys are there to this office?”

She chewed on her lip. “Just one.”

“
Just the one that you used to open the door?”

“
Yes.”

“
How do you know?”

“
I got it out of the door the morning after the…umm…accident. I put it in my desk until you asked for it when you came back. Mona asked Brother Kilroy for a copy at least twice that I remember. He always told her that she didn’t need it. I
never
had a copy. He always kept that one on a separate key-fob—not on his regular key ring.”

I held out my hand, and Bootsie dropped the key into my outstretched palm. I held it up and looked at it.

“
Where’s the key-fob?” I asked.

“
It wasn’t with the key. The key was stuck in the lock, but the fob was missing.”

“
What did it look like? The key-fob, I mean?”

Bootsie raised her eyebrows. “It was a Bible. Not a full sized one. One of those miniatures, but it had both the Old and New Testaments. And the Psalms. It had a little silver clasp—maybe two inches wide and a little longer than that.” She held up her fingers, showing me the dimensions that she remembered. “It was black with a little silver chain and a silver clasp.” She was chewing on her lip again.

“
Have you seen it since Brother Kilroy was killed?”

“
No. No, I really haven’t. Can I go to the bathroom?”

“
In a minute,” I said. “What about Brother Kilroy? I want to know what kind of a man he was. What kind of husband?”

“
He was a good preacher.”