Requiem Murder Part 28

While I sipped tea, I brooded over my options and realized I had none. I had to confront Roger with my knowledge and I had to go alone.

Edward would sputter. By the time he calmed down, he'd have found a way to explain Roger's behavior away. And he would believe anything Roger told him.

The Vestry would demand proof. In writing. Probably in triplicate.

Judith would laugh and turn on her daughter. She would deny Roger was interested in anyone except her.

Martin would accept whatever she said.

I could call Pete, but what could he do? Unless a crime had been committed, he had no power to act.

And one hadn't been committed -- yet.

My gut clenched and I swallowed several times. Roger had to resign from St. Stephen's but without making the reason public knowledge, he'd be free to play his games in another church. I had to speak out and not allow his charm or Edward's fear of scandal to divert me.

When the teapot was empty, I felt calm. I couldn't tarry any longer. I put on my coat and made my way downstairs. Dark clouds stained the pewter sky with fingers of black. Robespierre charged from the backyard and wove a pattern around my legs. I bent and scratched his head. The wind whipped my coat and carried a metallic smell and taste.

"Sometimes one has to do the impossible," The cat meowed. I straightened and headed to my car.

"Katherine." Sarah stood on the walk across the street and waved. "Where were you this morning? I called to invite you over for coffee. It's been weeks since the last time."

"I had an errand."

"Come over now. I have great news. Bob has a new account and a promotion. I know the school bus is due, but I'll set the boys working on their homework."

"I wish I could, but there's something I have to do."

"Why don't you come to dinner?"

"I'm not sure how long I'll be. I'll call you when I get home."

After parking in front of the church, I strode up the walk. A glance at the French doors showed the lights

were on in Edward's study. I prayed he wouldn't see me. I needed neither his a.s.sistance nor his

interference. This battle was mine.

The side door flew open. Marcie bolted from the church and ran toward me. Her face was ashen and her eyes wide.

"Child, what's wrong?"

She threw herself into my arms. The force of the impact nearly sent us both crashing to the ground. Too late. Too late. Guilt flooded my thoughts. Why had I waited? I should have come directly to the church.

"Let me take you home."

"Not there. She hates me. She'll kill me." She pulled away, ran to the bushes and threw up.

I handed her some tissues. "We'll go to my house then."

She didn't resist the suggestion, but stumbled along beside me. As we drove away from the church, I

glanced at her a number of times to make sure she hadn't pa.s.sed out. Her eyes were dull and her

expression flat. She looked so pale and drained, I knew she was in shock.

d.a.m.n him. Anger toward Roger settled like a hot coal in my chest. one I'd feed until I spoke to him about his past and his future. But first, Marcie needed my help.

When we reached the house, even Robespierre's hearty greeting didn't remove the bleakness from her eyes. I led her upstairs and settled her on the couch. Her hands and arms were ice cold and I realized she wasn't wearing her jacket. I wrapped an afghan around her and made a pot of mint tea. After sweetening a cup with honey, I held it to her mouth and she drank.

"No matter what happened to you today, it's not the end of your life. This morning, I took a trip upstate and learned about the things he's done. I was too late to save you, and for that, I'm sorry. He'll pay. I'll make sure of that."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Convulsive sobs shook her body. I held her and let her cry. Robespierre jumped onto the couch and curled on her lap.

"I...thought...he...was...wonderful." At first, her words emerged between shuddering sobs. Then as though her vocal cords had been primed, words flowed nearly as fast as her tears.

"He was teaching me to tap my inner powers and it felt so good. Then he gave me this book that had ...pictures, but I didn't think he wanted...wanted..."

Her body shook. I held her close. The cat rumbled.

"We did breathing exercises. At his apartment, we lay beside each other on the floor. Then he started...touching me...to awaken the power. I felt all quivery inside."

She stopped to gulp a breath. I waited for her to continue.

"Two days after the Evensong, I went to his apartment for my lesson. He asked me to touch him. Then he kissed me and I felt so...I wanted to do what he asked me." She gulped a breath.

"Then what happened?"

"Mom called. She said she was coming. I got dressed and ran home." Her hands formed fists.

"Yesterday, we met at the church. We were doing our exercises. He unb.u.t.toned my blouse and...he

kissed and touched me. He wanted...wanted what the book showed...I wanted it too."

Her tears began again. Robespierre rubbed his head against her chin.

"You came. I was angry. He left me and...It was like I woke up. I ran out of the church." She looked at me. "I'm an awful person."

"You're not. But why did you go to the church today?"

"To tell him I wasn't taking lessons with him any more. I should have called but...I wanted to tell him

what he was doing was wrong."

"What happened?"

"He was practicing. It was wonderful. I went up and he kept playing. I told him how great he sounded."

She shuddered "He said that was because he was in tune with his inner power. I backed away. I don't want lessons any more. He moved toward me. 'But there's so much more I can show you,' he said."

She shivered. I sat beside her.

She sucked in a breath and began talking again. "He kissed me and I couldn't think. He led me downstairs to one of the pews. He took off my coat. Then he hurt me. I didn't want to -- It hurt. It hurt."

Her tears and the racking sobs started anew.

"Marcie, it's all right. You're not the one who should feel guilty."

She shook her head. "What am I going to do? I fought against sharing so he took my music. I was

selfish."

"Now you have nothing," he said.

She straightened. "My coat...I left it there. Everyone will know what I did. What can I do now? He took

my music."

My fingers gripped her shoulders. "Your talent is part of who you are. No one can take another person's talent." "But he said --" She shook her head. "He was playing when I left. I've never heard him sound so wonderful. He's going to hurt me again."

"Marcie, stop this. That's what he wants you to think. He chose that piece because it's flashy. He's a master manipulator."

"How can I believe that?"

I lifted her chin. "You have to go to the Emergency Room to be examined. I'll call Pete. You can tell him what Roger did."

Her eyes widened. "How can I say...Everyone will know. It's my fault. I let him hurt me."

"You're not sixteen for another week. You're a minor. He's an adult. He's bigger and stronger than you are. He's committed a crime and this isn't the first time."

"I can't."

"You need to talk to someone who knows how to help you. I can listen but you need a professional. Can