Requiem Murder Part 29

you talk to someone like that?"

"I guess so."

"I'll call Andrew and ask for a name. Then I'll call your parents."

"No." She grasped my arm. "Not Mom. She'll blame me. I know she will."

"Then I'll speak to your father."

Marcie nodded. I called Andrew and then the counselor whose name he gave me. She agreed to meet

Marcie at the Emergency Room immediately. Then I dialed the Simpson's.

When Martin answered, I explained the situation. "She wants you, not Judith. You need to take her to the Emergency Room. Ask for Janice. She'll be waiting."

"Be right there."

After they left, I returned to the church. A prayer filled my thoughts. I needed to be calm when I faced

Roger. If he wasn't at the church, I'd go to his apartment. The coals of anger had been fanned. I

wouldn't rest until he was on his way to jail.

When I opened the side door, the gray cat bolted through the opening and dashed into the bushes. Once my heart stopped pounding, I frowned. How had the stray gotten into the church?

I headed up to the choir room. Several pieces of music lay on the piano. Roger wasn't in the music library or the room where the choir robes were kept. Since he'd never leave the lights on and the door open, I knew he was somewhere in the building. The sanctuary? But I hadn't heard the organ.

Downstairs, I strode down the hall and opened the door. The lights were on in the choir loft. Deep shadows filled the rest of the room. I turned to leave and remembered Marcie's jacket. What had she said about the attack? He'd taken her downstairs to one of the pews. Her jacket had to be here somewhere.

As I moved down the aisle, I looked for the bright pink coat. Where was Roger? I stopped short and held in a gasp. I saw the jacket and Roger's body half-sprawled on one of the pews.

Swallowing my scream, I knelt and touched his arm. "Roger." My voice sounded tentative. Then I saw his head and the blood. I looked up at the balcony. Had he fallen or had he been pushed? There was nothing I could do for him. I turned and ran from the sanctuary and through the garden to the parish house.

Mary looked up. "He's not here."

I'm sure she meant Edward. "I need to call the police."

"An accident with your car?"

Since I'd already dialed the local station, a number I've memorized, I didn't answer. No sense repeating

my news. "Pete Duggan, please. Tell him it's Katherine Miller."

A few minutes later, I heard his voice. "Officer Duggan."

"Pete, I need you."

"Another body, Mrs. M."

"How did you guess?"

"You're kidding."

"Not one iota. At St. Stephen's. In the sanctuary."

"What happened?" His voice sounded in one ear and Mary's in the other.

"It looks like he fell from the choir loft."

"Roger?" Once again, the question was stereophonic.

"Yes."

"Sit tight. We're on our way." The phone clicked.

"Katherine, what do you think happened?" Mary asked. "I can't stand the thought of him being dead. He

was so wonderful."

"I don't have time to talk. I'm going back to the church and make sure no one disturbs him." And to

retrieve Marcie's jacket. When the police received the report from the hospital, she'd head the list of suspects. And if they found her coat, they'd be sure she killed him.

When Pete and the rest of the team arrived, I stood at the side door. The overhang protected me from

the misting rain. Pete took my arm. "Lead the way, Mrs. M."

We reached the sanctuary door and he paused. He glanced into the changing room. "Wait here and don't move unless I tell you to."

"I'll be good, Officer."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. You attract murders like a metal pole draws lightning. Like I said, stay put.

One body is enough."

From my position in the chair facing the door, my view of the sanctuary was limited. The deep voices of

the policemen rumbled but the acoustics that are so wonderful for music blurred their words. What had

happened in the hour since I'd taken Marcie home and my return? How could I protect the girl?

A dozen times I checked my watch and saw the hands had barely moved. I used the time to decide what I wouldn't say.

Pete strode into the room. He held an evidence bag. "Do you recognize this?" The bag held a blue scarf."

"It looks like Beth's."

"It is hers. Has her initials."

"Where did you find it?"

"In the choir loft on the floor near the organ. Looks like someone tried to remove the initials. It's torn

where they are. Any idea how it got here?"

"No."

"Was she here today?"

"How would I know? I just arrived before I called you. What's wrong with you?"

He sat on the other chair. "You know that she invited me to that party to spite him. Maybe they made up

their quarrel."

"And she pushed him over the balcony because she was so happy. I don't think so. When do you think this happened?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. Won't until the results of the autopsy are in."

I leaned forward. "Roger was charming and a master of manipulation. He had a great ability to fool

people but once a person saw the real man, they couldn't be fooled again. Beth's not dumb."

"Are you sure."

"I know he called her and had the nerve to ask to borrow her car and for an invitation to dinner. She turned him down because she knew he was using her. There are things --" How could I tell him what I'd learned today without involving Marcie?

He nodded. "Beth told me about his call. I want to believe her, but there's this." He groaned. "She'll have to be questioned by someone else."

"What now?"

"I'll need a statement from you. Begin with why you were here and what time you arrived."

"I came to see Roger, and it must have been around four when I arrived. Not more than ten or fifteen

minutes before I called you."

"Why did you want to see him? Thought the Evensong was your last hurrah."

My thoughts scrambled and I sifted through the things I wasn't ready to reveal. "To tell him to back away

from the Simpson's. Frankly, I'm worried about them."

He shook his head. "We'll get back to them later. Start with your arrival here, and details, please."

"I parked at the curb and walked to the side door. When I opened it, the stray cat that hangs around the

church flew out the door." I paused. "That struck me as odd. I don't know how it got inside. Roger's afraid of cats."

"How afraid?"