Requiem Murder Part 8

teachers suggested I take voice lessons. Mom doesn't like the idea."

"Couldn't you use your baby-sitting money for lessons?"

"That goes in the bank for college."

"Isn't that why your mother's working?"

Beth made a face. "Every cent she makes goes for antiques. Last night she told me I'd have to get a real

job this summer. No penny-ante baby-sitting. I already told Beth I'd watch Robby. What's wrong with Mom?"

"She's unhappy with Beth."

"She's always unhappy with someone." Marcie wrinkled her nose. "It's the new choir director. Mom wants him for her friend and she doesn't like to share. What am I going to tell Beth?"

"What did your father say?"

"That I should keep my promise." She kissed my cheek. "Let me go talk to Beth."

The resiliency of youth, I thought as she pounded down the stairs. What was wrong with Judith? She

should be delighted with her daughter's talent.

Chapter 4.

Tuba Mirim Since the subst.i.tute organist was unable to return, Roger and I finished the choir season in tandem fashion. No matter what argument I tried, he refused to step into my shoes. He insisted my presence helped him ease into the new responsibilities. I must admit his request that I stay flattered me, though dealing with the choir members often made me want to scream. Judith's divisive tactics didn't help. Though she tried to pull Roger into her sphere, he resisted.

The one time I saw him lose his cool was on the evening of the last rehearsal of the season. Several

members brought tidbits for the stray cat.

When Roger left the church, he stopped so suddenly I nearly plowed into him. He bypa.s.sed the group in a rush. His breathing took on the pattern of an asthmatic in the throes of an attack.

Judith laughed. "Are you all right?" Her dark eyes "Just in a hurry," he said. "I've things to do."

"Are you coming to the Pub?"

"Not tonight."

With the end of the choir season, I settled down to a summer of quiet gardening and neighborly visits.

What a change from last summer when my tenant had taken over my yard and very nearly my son.

Beth was a regular visitor. One afternoon in early August, she arrived alone. Today, she wore a troubled

frown and she mentioned Roger. Though curious, I waited for her to speak. She poured a gla.s.s of iced tea and sipped.

"Where's Robby? Off with Pete?'

She shook her head. "Day camp for two more weeks. Then I don't know what I'll do."

"Did Marcie quit?"

"Unfortunately. Judith told Marcie to find a job other than sitting. Then after I'd made arrangements for

Robby to go to camp, Judith screamed at Marcie for losing her job. Since I'm working this weekend, she will be watching Robby. I told her to bring him over to visit Robespierre. Do you mind?"

"I'll be glad to see them. Any idea what set Judith off this spring?"

"Roger. Who else? Just because I've been seeing him since he arrived she's miffed. You know how she is when there's a new man around."

"She wants first dibs. Are you and Roger serious?"

"Hardly. I think he wants a buddy." She frowned. "We've been going places since June and he hasn't

kissed me. The other day when Marcie asked him to be her voice teacher, he kissed her cheek. I haven't gotten that far."

"Why would he do that?"

"Who knows? At least he takes me to some neat concerts and recitals. I'm becoming an expert on Baroque music."

"And Pete?"

"He's still Robby's friend." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not that I can see. Finish your tea. This blend is guaranteed to raise your spirits."

She laughed. "You sound like Roger. He's your latest devotee."

"That's true. He's dropped by several times to help with the harvest. We had a delightful time."

"Guess he's charmed you, too. That's one of the problems. When I'm with him I can only see how

wonderful he is. Then he leaves and I --" She shrugged. "Question myself."

Not exactly my reaction, but close. After every one of his visits, I remembered my vow to solve the mystery of his many moves. Then I saw him again and thought the vague questions I had were foolish.

"Are you going to the choir picnic?"

"When Judith called and asked me what I wanted to bring, I said I would. I guess she's in charge of the

food."

"And everything else. It's at her house. I offered to help, but she said she knew I have an exhausting

schedule at the hospital and she could manage very well. She told me to bring rolls. That's boring. Had a couple of recipes I wanted to try."

"Maybe at the next gathering."

"Unless Judith's in charge." She finished her drink. "I'd better go. Robby's due from camp and I have to

take him to his baseball game. Pete's working this evening."

"Have fun."

She wrinkled her nose. "Robby loves the game and the excitement. I don't. I can't yell for or at him like

the other moms. I've seen some sick behavior. Mothers screaming at their sons for striking out, missing a

catch. Sniping at the umpires for their calls.

"People tend to forget the game's supposed to be fun."

"You're right." She put the gla.s.s on the tray and headed down the street.

After she vanished, I considered her comments about Roger. He hadn't kissed her. He'd kissed

Marcie's cheek. He came across as a virile man. He made a woman, even one my age, feel special. Was

his charm part of an act? Had this been the reason he'd moved frequently?

A picture of a group of disillusioned women chasing a smiling Roger popped into my thoughts. Maybe I should look into the matter. But then, maybe Beth's expectations went beyond Roger's promise.

Before I set a plan of action, Maria called me over to see the baby. Watching little Carlos try to crawl and Robespierre's attempts to help him made me laugh.*

The choir picnic was held at the Simpson's house on the third Sat.u.r.day in August. Most choirs hold their picnics in June or July, but many years ago, my sister had major surgery in June and I went to stay with her family. The picnic was postponed until I returned. Thus a tradition was born.

The day was perfect for the event. The temperature was in the mid-eighties, a light breeze and a scattering of clouds. The heat wave of the past few weeks had ended during the night with a wild storm.

I made potato salad as requested by Judith and a chocolate cake. Just as I finished icing the cake, Roger arrived. I checked to make sure Robespierre was in the garden with Maria and the baby. Then I popped the cake in the freezer to set the icing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to help you carry your contributions." He chuckled. "Judith said you'd bake a cake. I thought she was joking."

"It's a tradition for every St. Stephen's potluck event I attend. Pour yourself a gla.s.s of mint tea. I need to wash my face and comb my hair." And change into a different shirt and slacks, I thought.

"We have time. I definitely need the tea. I drove Marcie home after her voice lesson and stayed to help, but Judith's out of control."

"I guess you've never seen her in high gear."

He rolled his eyes. "She told me to do seven things and changed her mind eight times. If these affairs upset her so much, why does she volunteer?"

Several answers were on my tongue, but I left them unsaid. For control. To show off. I shrugged.

"I told her I was going home but she sent me here." He stuck his finger in the icing bowl and scooped a bit I hadn't applied to the cake. He winked. "Will you marry me?"

"I'm too old."