The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) (30 page)

“
Why don’t they shut up?” he said to no one in particular.

“
This is the pre-game show,” said Fred. “We’re just here to provide some background music. Folks will listen if they want.”

“
That ain’t right!” insisted Varmit, but Edna Terra-Pocks had started her introduction.

“
Hang on,” Varmit whispered across the choir at Muffy. “Don’t start yet. They ain’t listening!”

Muffy glanced back at him, a confused look taking the place of her confident performer’s countenance. She was standing at the front of the balcony, her hands clasped in front of her. She had no music, having memorized all three verses at the behest of Edna. She turned back to the congregation, unsure of the best course of action.

Edna finished the four measure introduction and indicated to Muffy that she should start singing.

“
Don’t do it,” hissed Varmit.

Muffy made up her mind in an instant, but her concentration was lacking.

“
O holy cooowww,” she sang.

“
Hahahahaha!” roared Marjorie, unable to contain herself.

“
Dammit!” said Muffy loudly, stamping her pretty foot and crossing her arms in front of her in a fit of pique. “We gotta start over!”

Edna, unsure of what to do, kept playing, although she’d begun to hiccup in an effort to keep her own amusement in check.

Muffy was furious.
“We gotta start over!”
she called to Edna again, this time louder, since she supposed that Edna hadn’t heard her the first time. Edna, finally unable to continue, stopped playing, managed to turn off the stops, and put her head down on the keyboard, her shoulders racked with laughter interspersed by hiccups.

“
Okay,” whispered Varmit. “Everyone’s listening now.”

“
Varmit,” Muffy growled through clenched teeth, “I’m gonna kick your kiester from here back to Virginia!”

“
Hahahaha!” howled Marjorie. “This is even better than waiting for that high A!”

Most of the rest of the choir had fallen out of their chairs and were rolling on the floor of the loft holding their sides. Although they were doing their best to stifle their mirth, their snorts and gasps of merriment were, pretty much, being echoed in the congregation below.

It took me about thirty seconds to wade through the bodies to the front of the loft and restore order.

“
Okay,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “That was a very special Christmas gift, and one we won’t soon forget.” I looked over at Muffy, who was still furious. “You want another shot at it?” I asked.

The anger on Muffy’s face dissipated in an instant and she brightened immediately. “Sure! Sure I do!”

I pointed at Edna, who’d managed to compose herself, and she began the introduction again.

“
O Holy Naaht,” sang Muffy, with more than a hint of Loretta Lynn. “The stars are brightly shahning...”

Chapter 33

Christmas was over and things were getting back to normal in St. Germaine, at least as normal as we ever managed. There was still snow on the ground and the holiday lights were still up, but the crowds that flocked to our little village for shopping and that down-home atmosphere had dissipated considerably.

“
Okay,” I said, reaching across the table and stabbing a bite of Nancy’s egg-and-cheese breakfast casserole. “Another question arises. Why was the wine at the Frost farm in the first place? Hiram Frost lived by himself.”

“
Good point,” said Dave, also eyeing Nancy’s breakfast. “Can I try a bite of that, too?”

“
No,” said Nancy, moving her plate closer and guarding it with her forearm. “Order your own.” She turned her attention to the question at hand. “I’ve been thinking about that and I have no idea.”

“
Me, neither,” said Dave.

“
You know,” she added, “quite frankly, ever since we decided that she saved Meg’s and your life...” She shrugged. “I’m just not that interested in hunting her down.”

“
Yeah,” I said. “But she shot the Mushrat. We’ve gotta get her.”

“
It’s our sworn duty,” said Dave.

“
Did you ever tell Meg?” Nancy asked. “That we think it’s one of her friends, I mean?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“
More coffee?” said Pauli Girl, suddenly appearing beside Dave.

“
Yes, please,” said Dave. Nancy and I just pushed our cups across the red and white checkered, vinyl tablecloth.

“
We have to solve this thing before you leave on vacation,” I told Nancy. “Otherwise, you can’t go.”

Nancy smiled. “Whatever,” she replied, but I didn’t think she was taking the threat seriously.

Chapter 34

The Lettuce Patch was an icebox -- it had to be to keep its clientele from desiccating and permanently becoming part of the moss-covered carpet. The tables were covered with dead leaves, fungus and decaying vegetables. Trails of slime crisscrossed the walls and floor like angry argyle wallpaper. I caught the unholy stench of osmosis. Yep. I knew it. This was a slug-bar. And they were everywhere.

Annie Key gave me a hard shove from behind and I slid into the room, my feet slipping and sliding like the lead penguin at the Ice Capades.

I saw Pedro LaFleur lying in a mushroom patch behind a table in the corner, all trussed up with a couple of extra long bamboo shoots. I pulled my heater and let the Maître D’Limpet have it right in the pneumostome. Once, twice. He didn’t flinch, just blurgled a horrible, muculent laugh.

“
Won’t work, pard,” Pedro said sadly. “The bullets get sucked right in. I unloaded a whole clip at the cigarette girl and she slurped ‘em like they was oysters. And don’t bother aiming for their brains. They’re too small to hit.”

I nodded and put the gat back in my sock. “What do you dirty snails want?” I said.

All the slugs ground their tooth-like denticles angrily and wheezed in umbrage. If I knew one thing about slugs, I knew that they hated to be called snails.

“
Isn’t it obvious?” said Annie Key. She spun on her foot, pulled off her wig, and spit the false teeth out of her mouth. It was her. It was Sophie. Sophie Slugh.

•••

Gaylen Weatherall was presiding over the worship meeting, a meeting I agreed to attend, even though I’d done enough meetings at St. Barnabas in the last month to carry my meeting obligation deep into Lent.

“
I’d like to thank you all,” Gaylen said, “for your work in my absence. I know it’s been a very trying time.”

Gaylen’s jaw was still wired shut and would be for another couple of weeks, but her arm was out of its sling, evidence that she wasn’t having too much trouble with her shoulder. Her ribs (according to Meg) were healing nicely and her two black eyes were unnoticeable under a light concealer. Her nose still had a bump in the bridge, but that might be there forever, or at least until she decided that the plastic surgeon should get a crack at it. Her right hand was in a cast, but the fiberglass ended at her wrist, unlike my own cast that traveled up way past my elbow.

“
Now, we have a couple of big events coming up,” she said. “Kimberly?”

Kimberly Walnut picked up a sheaf of photocopied papers and started passing them around the table.

“
This is some information on our ‘Cocoon’ lock-in for the kids,” she explained. “This is a curriculum that I’ve written. I’m hoping to get it published later this year. As you can see,” she pointed to a chart on the second page, “the children come at five o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. We’ll have an activity, then dinner, then a prayer time, then a children’s vespers service...”

“
How long does this Cocoon thing last?” asked Joyce Cooper, flipping through the pages.

“
It lasts from five o’clock on Tuesday until lunchtime on Wednesday,” said Kimberly Walnut. “The last thing we have before lunch is our big communion service.”

“
So they come in like worms,” I said. “They’re transformed and leave like butterflies.”

“
Caterpillars,” said Kimberly Walnut. “They come in like caterpillars. Not worms.” She tapped on her documents and said, very slowly to make sure we understood, “
It’s in the curriculum.
”

“
I am a worm and no man,” said Elaine. “I remember that from Bible drills.”

“
Caterpillar,” snapped Kimberly Walnut.

“
Maybe the kids could learn all the ‘worm’ scriptures, “ I said. “You know, God prepared a worm in the Book of Jonah. It smote a gourd, as I recall. Maybe the kids could decorate gourds. Also, the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.”

“
Caterpillars!”

“
Now, children,” said Gaylen.

“
Don’t the kids have school?” asked Joyce.

Kimberly shook her head. “Wednesday is a teacher in-service day. It’s the perfect time. This gives the children something to look forward to right after Christmas, and the parents who work won’t have to be scrambling around trying to arrange day care.”

“
Well, they’ll still have to if we toss the kids out at lunchtime,” Joyce said.

“
Oh, no,” said Kimberly. “The program ends at lunch, but we’ll be happy to keep them until 3:30 if they need to stay.”

“
Very nice plan,” said Gaylen, giving Kimberly Walnut a smile. “And, of course, I’ll be here to help out. But I’m not staying the night.”

Kimberly Walnut promptly forgot about worms and beamed.

“
Where are the kids going to sleep?” asked Bev.

“
We’re going to use the fellowship hall. Everyone will bring sleeping bags. I’ll be on a cot, but the children will just sleep on the floor.”

“
You have meals all figured out?” asked Gaylen.

Kimberly nodded vigorously.

“
Chaperones?”

“
Oh, yes. One adult for every five children. That’s what the curriculum calls for.”

“
And how many children are signed up?” asked Elaine.

“
Twelve,” said Kimberly Walnut.

“
So, three adults,” said Elaine.

“
Yes,” said Kimberly Walnut. “Well, no. Two for sure. But maybe three.

“
And who are the two for sures?” asked Gaylen.

“
Well,” said Kimberly Walnut, “me and Emily Douglas. Then Diana Terry said she’d try to make it after supper. You remember Diana? She helped out at Bible School last summer. I don’t know for sure if Diana’s coming, but we can do it with two if we have to.”

“
I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” said Gaylen. “Now, then...our Epiphany service.” She looked over at me. “What’s the status on the bones?”

“
The bones of one of the Three Kings will be at St. Barnabas at the beginning of next week. They’re coming here straight from the National Cathedral. Arthur Farrant and another priest are driving the relics down here on Monday morning.”