The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) (34 page)

“
Really?” I said. “The kids were playing with it?”

“
Maybe,” said Diana. “Not that I’d know, of course.”

“
Of course, you wouldn’t,” said Nancy. “But I still don’t understand why
someone
didn’t put the reliquary in her car and drive out of town as soon as we were called out to Camp Possumtickle.”

“
Probably,” said Diana, looking over at me, “because some smart-ass cop put sugar in
someone’s
gas tank.”

•••

We checked the car, but Nancy was right. Nothing.

“
Can we lock her up?” Dave asked as we walked back down the sidewalk.

“
Nope,” I said. “Not yet. No evidence. No confession.”

“
Nothing,” said Nancy. “Another hit-nun gets away scot-free. It’s the story of my life.”

“
Oh, well,” said Dave. “Maybe Pete’s got some more waffles.”

Chapter 42

“
Were you kids playing with that old box in Dr. Weatherall’s office last night?” I said.

I had all the children lined up in the fellowship hall, sitting in folding chairs. Kimberly Walnut came walking out of the bathroom and saw her little angels under interrogation.

“
What’s going on?” she demanded.

Emily Douglas came out of the kitchen a moment later. She glared at her two twins. “Spill it,” she growled.

“
It was Dewey!” said Garth, pointing a finger at the boy sitting two seats to the right.

“
It was Moosey’s idea!” squealed Dewey. “I just unlocked the office.”

“
It was Bern...” started Moosey, but then stopped. He sighed and slumped in his seat. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “It was me.”

“
How did you get the key?” I asked.

“
I found it behind the copy machine,” said Dewey. “It opens everything.”

“
When did all this happen?” said Kimberly Walnut.

“
When you and Mom were asleep,” said Garrett. “We’ve been playing in the church all night. But we didn’t take the box till almost morning.”

“
Let me get this straight,” said Gaylen. “All you kids were running through the church all night. With the master key?”

“
Yep,” said Garth. The other kids nodded. “Mom and Mizz Walnut were really snoring up a storm.”

Gaylen glared at Kimberly Walnut. Kimberly twitched.

“
Let’s have the key,” I said, holding out my hand to Dewey. He dug into his jeans pocket and dropped the brass master key into my hand.

Nancy and Dave came walking into the fellowship hall and in Dave’s arms was the Reliquary of Nantwich. He put it down on one of the folding tables set up to serve the children’s breakfast.

“
It was in the choir loft,” said Nancy. “Sitting on the organ console.”

I looked the old box over carefully and rubbed the old lock with my finger.

“
Well, no harm done. Let’s get it back to the office,” I said. I pointed a finger at all the children, one at a time. “And not one word about this to anyone. You understand? Or I’ll throw you all in jail.”

The children all nodded vigorously.

“
And that goes for you adults, too,” I said, looking at Kimberly Walnut and Emily. “Not one word. Now you kids go back to your coo-coo thing.”

“
Cocoon!” said Kimberly Walnut. “It’s called ‘Cocoon!’”

•••

“
So what’s the deal?” Nancy asked. “You were very adamant that no one says anything.”

“
What if the Reverends Farrant and Overnight knew that a bunch of ten-year-old kids were traipsing around in the church, playing with a priceless relic from the Middle Ages?”

“
They would not be pleased.”

“
No, they would not,” I agreed.

Chapter 43

Most of the senators...er...”slugs”...made it out alive and plump. Some didn’t. Sophie was one of those that didn’t. The last thing she said to me as she was shriveling up like a piece of fatback in a sizzling frying pan was “Urrrgg hafrap!” Strong words.

“
Get me outta here,” called Pedro. “I’m as sticky as lawyer pudding. Them slugs had their way with me.”

“
Spare me the details,” I said, snipping his bamboo shoots with my pocket knife.

“
How did you know to bring the salt shaker?” Pedro said.

“
It was the kiss,” I said. “She could wear a disguise, but she couldn’t change that kiss. It was the taste of wet feet mixed with marinated ham that gave her away. How could a man ever forget that?”

“
What about the Slugh Organ?” asked Pedro.

“
Seems to me we’ve got an in,” I said, smiling like the cat that got the slug, then decided it didn’t like slugs, spit it out, and got a canary instead. “We’ve got the technology, and none of these senators is going to mess with us anymore. They’re running scared, as scared as Sarah Palin’s book editors.”

“
So you’re saying...”

“
I’m saying that the Queen Bishop is going to award the contract to the Slugh Organ Company.”

“
Who is us,” said Pedro happily.

“
Who is us,” I agreed.

•••

The twelve days of Christmas begin on December 25th and continue through January 5th. On the 6th of January, we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany—the coming of the Wise Men to the Holy Child, symbolizing the revelation of God-made-man in the person of Jesus Christ. The Biblical Magi, traditionally named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, represent the non-Jewish people of the world and paid homage to the infant Jesus with gifts of gold (the symbol of Christ’s kingship), frankincense (symbolizing his priesthood), and myrrh (foreshadowing his death). The Feast of the Epiphany begins the season of the same name that takes us to Ash Wednesday and into Lent.

The children had finished their Cocoon program after lunch and had all gone home fluttering like the butterflies they had been born to be. Kimberly Walnut had taken the rest of the day off. I suspected that I wouldn’t see her for the Epiphany service.

Meg and I got to the church about forty-five minutes before the service, and preparations were in full swing. Benny Dawkins was warming up in the aisle with his practice thurible. J.D. Overnight was supervising the embellishment of the litter on which the reliquary would rest—decoration that included boughs of fir and sprigs of holly. Two acolytes would carry torches, two others would carry the litter in procession.

Bishop O’Connell was busy chatting with Gaylen and Arthur Farrant, admiring the reliquary and asking questions about the history of the kingly remains. The Altar Guild was putting the finishing touches on the decorations, and the fellowship hall had been hung with greens and lit with candles for the reception and talk by Father Farrant following the service.

The choir wasn’t meeting beforehand, having been instructed to be in place for the processional hymn precisely at six o’clock, but many of them had already vested and were helping by setting out bulletins and cleaning up stray pine needles.

About twenty minutes before the service, people started to come in. Word of the bones had gotten around town quickly enough, and there had been articles in the two local papers advertising the event. Except for the Wednesday night prayer meeting at New Fellowship Baptist Church, we were the only game in town. NFBC was also loaning us Brother Hog, Noylene Fabergé-Dupont, and their son Rahab, all perched on the front row.

•••

Edna Terra-Pocks began the service with one of my favorite Christmas organ pieces,
Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella
, arranged by Keith Chapman. I was up in the loft with her, turning pages with my one good hand. She finished up and put the music for
We Three Kings
, our processional hymn, onto the music stand and began to play.

Benny Dawkins, his incense pot smoking, came in first. He was followed by the cross bearer, the acolyte carrying our Epiphany banner, and the choir. Benny was beginning to swing in the first of what would be an evening of truly memorable maneuvers.

The two torch bearers came in next, followed by the lay eucharistic ministers and the two acolytes carrying the reliquary. Arthur Farrant, J.D. Overnight, Gaylen Weatherall and Bishop O’Connell, all of them decked out in their finest raiments, completed the procession. Luckily we had five stanzas of the hymn to sing by the time everyone had to be in place.

When I was playing the organ, I was usually too busy pushing ivory to appreciate Benny’s artistry. Watching him work without having to worry about what notes I was playing was a pleasure. About half-way down the aisle, a second thurible appeared in his other hand—where he had kept it hidden, I had no idea—and he began to spin both, one in each hand: the pots moving in a blur, crossing back and forth in front of his body in a symphony of gold chains and smoke. He was subtle and fantastic in equal measure. Truly a master.

“
Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” said Gaylen, when the procession had finished.

“
And blessed be His kingdom, now and forever. Amen,” said the congregation.

Edna played the introduction to
Glory to God in the Highest
and the congregation sang.

“
O God,” intoned Gaylen, when the congregation finished singing, “by the leading of a star you manifested your only Son to the peoples of the earth; Lead us, who know you now by faith, to your presence, where we may see your glory face to face; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.”

“
Amen,” answered the congregation.

We moved smoothly through the service: the lessons, a hymn, a short sermon by Arthur Farrant about kings and relics, the creed, prayers, confession and the Peace. When the announcements began, Moosey crept up the choir loft stairs, peeked his head in and waved for me to come back and talk to him.

“
I gotta talk to you, Chief,” he said.

“
Can it wait?” I said. “The offertory is coming up. I should really be up here to conduct.”

“
Nope. It can’t wait.”

“
Okay, hang on one second.”

I waded through the choir to the organ and whispered to Edna.

“
No problem,” she said. “If you’re not back, they’ll just follow me. We’ll be fine.”

I looked at Meg, sitting on the front row of the soprano section. She and Bev had been listening. They both nodded at me.

I followed Moosey down the stairs into the narthex. Dewey, Bernadette, and Addie were all waiting for me.

“
We have to tell you something,” said Addie.

“
Yeah,” said Bernadette.

“
It was my fault,” said Dewey. “Well, me and Moosey.”

“
What are you four talking about?” I said. “And keep your voices down.”