Requiem Murder Part 2

Pete laughed. "What's the matter? Don't you trust your favorite cop?"

"Are you really a policeman?" Robby asked.

"A policeman?" Beth echoed.

"I'm surprised you never met him when you worked in the ER. I'm sure he's been there a time or two.

He's all right. Used to be my paperboy."

Beth tucked a scarf in the neck of Robby's jacket. The door closed behind them. She stood at the door

and watched until the pair reached the top of the driveway. She turned. Sadness glistened in her eyes and I knew she'd thought about her dead husband. "Let's finish before they return."

"Do you have the next three weekends after this one off?" She nodded. "Good. There are five of us. I

think we should take two cars. The first church is a two hour drive and more than a half hour of Judith's

company and I'll start twitching. Then there's Ralph. I've finally contracted intolerance."

She laughed. A mischievous twinkle cleared the last trace of sadness from her eyes. "I've got intolerance, too. We'll take my car. It's small."

When Beth arrived early the morning of our first trip, she was alone. "Where's Robby?"

"Pete's taking him to Sunday School and then to some indoor recreation place. He's quite taken with my son."

"And the mother?"

She wrinkled her nose. "He's indifferent. Maybe I'm too serious for him."

We walked to her car. A pale sun shone in a clouded sky. The air held a bitter chill.

Our trip took us nearly a hundred miles north of the Hudson River town where we lived. Roger Brandon was the first applicant.

After our arrival in the small upstate town, we parked across the street from a large red brick church. Martin, Judith and Ralph entered the church ahead of us. Morning sunlight streamed through a series of narrow stained gla.s.s panels. Beth followed me down the aisle to a seat in one of the center pews. The rest of our group settled in the last row.

Once the prelude began, I closed my eyes. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. Why was such a superb musician buried in this out-of-the-way place? In that instant I knew we had to have him and I revised the salary Edward had mentioned upward.

When the last note of the postlude ended, I remained in my seat so filled with music I was unable to move. Finally, I followed Beth to the vestibule where the other committee members waited.

"What did you --"

I shook my head to cut off Ralph's question. No sense airing our business for everyone to hear. We remained in the vestibule after the minister left his position at the door.

Judith's quick intake of breath signaled the approach of a tall, broad-shouldered man. Light shone through the stained gla.s.s windows to illuminate his handsome face and to burnish his red-gold hair. There was a mystical quality in his expression. He smiled at Judith and then Beth. He took my hand. "You must be the committee from St. Stephen's. I'm Roger Brandon." I introduced myself and the others.

Outside, I pulled my coat closer. The temperature hadn't risen from the early morning chill. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk? We have some questions and I'm sure you do, too."

"There's a restaurant five miles out of town. Why don't you follow me there?" His voice was as rich and vibrant as the music he charmed from the organ.

"That would be terrific."

When we were in the car, Beth sighed. "Is he as good as I think?"

"He's brilliant...stunning...words can't describe. I want him at St. Stephen's."

"So will Judith. Did you see the way she stared?"

"Let's not worry about Judith's collection. First we have to see if he's interested. Then I have to convince Edward and the Vestry to offer more money."

The elegant restaurant had a small provate room. As we talked, the distance from Roger's playing

allowed me more objectivity.

Why was he so eager to leave his present church where he'd been organist for less than a year? Of course, St. Stephen's offers a challenge and exposure. Still, the longest he'd remained in one church had

been two years. At thirty-two, he'd been musical director for seven churches. Though his gypsy ways troubled me, I remembered his tremendous talent and I coveted him for our music program.

Perhaps his many moves could be blamed on his youth. This thought erased my qualms.

Judith sat beside him. Her attempts to claim him failed. He gave equal attention to every committee

member.

"When can you come?" Ralph asked.

"August," Roger said. "It wouldn't be fair to break

my contract here."

Ralph frowned. "We need an organist for Pa.s.sion Sunday and Easter."

I glared. "You know that's impossible." I turned to Roger. "Could you come to St. Stephen's as a guest

organist, say in two weeks?"

"I'll see if one of my students is available to take over here."

I gave him my phone number. Before the waitress brought the check, Ralph pushed his chair back. "I have to get back. This is my busy season. I have two clients coming this evening." He strode to the door.

Judith made a face. Martin covered her hand with his. "Let's go. Do you want to hear Ralph complain for

the entire ride home?"

Beth, Roger and I lingered over coffee and dessert. After the bill was paid, he walked us to Beth's car.

"It's been a pleasure," he said.

"For me as well," Beth said.

"I could listen to you forever." As far as I was concerned, Roger had the job at St. Stephen's.

Chapter 2.

Kyrie.

On the Wednesday after Easter, I stood in the kitchen and stared at the gloomy sky. The threat of rain had kept me from the garden and the spring clean up. I gathered the knickknacks I'd collected over the years and dusted or washed wooden or porcelain figures, some musical and some whimsical. There was little for me to do around my apartment. Last year when I'd broken my leg, my son had hired a woman to help me. She still came in once a week to clean.

The phone rang. I sat in the window seat and reached for the receiver. Robespierre shifted to make room. When he wants, he can curl in a small s.p.a.ce, but most of the time, he sprawls.

"Mrs. Miller, Roger Brandon here."

"What can I do for you?"

When he'd come to St. Stephen's to play, he'd created quite a sensation. Edward had been so impressed, he'd offered Roger the job even though the other candidates hadn't auditioned. I'd heard about the flap this caused with the Vestry, but Edward had prevailed. He usually does.

Roger laughed and the phone vibrated. Robespierre purred. I sighed.

"Maybe it's what I can do for you," he said.

"And what would that be?"

"The Vestry here voted to buy out the rest of my contract. I finish the end of May. It seems the job is

wanted for the niece of the largest contributor when she graduates."

"How do you feel about that?"

He coughed. "It will give me time to settle in and organize music for the coming year. The program at St.

Stephen's is larger than here. I called to see if you know a real estate agent I could contact."

"I know several."

He laughed again. "I knew you were the right person to call."

"Do you want an apartment or a house?"

"An apartment will be fine."

"Let me make some calls and get back to you. Do you have a price range? Apartments are few and

expensive around here."

He named a figure that made me think he wasn't completely dependent on his salary.

"It's a shame I have a good tenant. I could have rented you the first floor of my house."