Requiem Murder Part 9

"Maybe I like older women." He filled a gla.s.s and drank. "Thanks for letting me stay. Anything to escape before she changes her mind. She exhausts me."

"And most people. How are Marcie's voice lessons going?"

A dreamy look appeared in his eyes. "She's so musical I can't believe it. Her voice is clear and pure.

Frankly, her talent frightens me. I'm amazed she hasn't entered any compet.i.tions."

"Judith doesn't approve."

He groaned. "Maybe she's right. Some child prodigies fade. I never have to correct her twice for a

mistake. She practices more than my other students combined."

"Is your schedule full?"

"Not yet. Two organ students, four piano, three voice. I wanted to give Marcie organ lessons but Judith says it's too much."

"Did you ask Martin?"

"What could he do? Seems to me what Judith wants she gets." He leaned his elbows on the table. "In

September, I'll offer the choir private lessons. I'm helping Marcie with theory. I wouldn't want her to miss getting into a good school because she lacks exposure."

My laughter made him look up. "She's in the Sat.u.r.day Julliard program. Ask to see her schedule. Enjoy

your tea." I left the room to get ready.

When I returned I found Roger held captive by a large fuzzy cat. Robespierre sat three feet from Roger in his Sphinx position. The terror on Roger's face and the tension in his body made me grab the cat.

"Start ahead with the potato salad. I'll follow after I feed the beast."

Roger moved swiftly. He took the bowl of potato salad and edged past us. "Sorry. I was clawed by my

aunt's cat years ago. I still have scars."

While I wanted to rea.s.sure him about my cat's gentle behavior, I knew he wouldn't listen. "Go ahead. I'll see you at the Simpson's."

I expected to see him charge downstairs but he moved cautiously. When I heard the downstairs door

close, I put Robespierre down. "There's no hope for him. Don't torment." I fed him and took the cake from the freezer.

Roger waited on the porch. That surprised me.

He shrugged. "I figured it would be safe to wait."

"He really is gentle."

"That's what my aunt said."

"Even when the neighborhood children dress him in doll clothes he endures. He's been pushed in a stroller, ridden on a sled and walked on a leash. Maria's baby pulls his ears and tail. He's never bared a claw."

"I believe you. I just can't forget the way that cat attacked me."

"Have you ever considered aversion therapy? My son's a psychiatrist. That's not Andrew's specialty but if you'd like, I could ask him for some names."

Roger laughed. "I'll think about it. For now I'll just avoid the beasts."

We walked down the street and around the corner to the Simpson's house. Though not a Victorian in style, it was built during that era. It resembles a farmhouse, solid, square, with a porch that sweeps from the front to the side and one of the two entrances to a large kitchen. We weren't the first arrivals, but

only a few of Judith's closest cronies were present. Roger and I entered through the gate and headed to the s.p.a.cious backyard. The aroma of charcoal greeted us.

Judith spotted us. "Didn't I tell you she'd bring a cake? Put the salad on the table. I'll take the dessert

inside." Her hands fluttered like the wings of a bird trapped in a chimney. I expected to be showered by wine from the gla.s.s she held. "Mrs. Miller, find a seat in the shade. Marcie, come get the cake."

Marcie stood at the brick grill. "I thought I had to watch the chicken."

"You heard me. Move it now."

Marcie walked over and took the cake holder. When she reached the kitchen door, Judith screamed. "How could you leave the chicken?"

"You asked her to take the cake inside," Roger said. "I'll see to the chicken."

Judith laughed. "Dear Roger, you're right. It's just there's so much to do. Martin's inside making hamburgers. It's too much."

"Draft the rest of us. There's no need for you to do everything."

"You're right. Here's Beth. She has the rolls. I need to tell her what to do with them."

She darted away and stopped at the table and added wine to her gla.s.s. I glanced toward the grill to see if

Roger needed help, but Marcie had joined him. He smiled and patted her shoulder. She looked up at him. Martin arrived with the hamburgers, and suddenly, the yard filled with people who gathered in cl.u.s.ters. Judith, plastic gla.s.s in hand darted from group to group. The energy level rose steadily.

As I waited in line at the buffet to fill a plate, Pete and Robby arrived. The boy ran to where his mother stood with Roger. "We won. I hit a double."

"Great job," Beth said.

Edward and Laura arrived. "What a lovely couple," he said. "I have such hopes."

I didn't because I remembered what Beth had told me and I'd watched Roger charm a dozen women. I

waved to Pete and he strode over.

"Grab a plate and stay. There's an abundance of food."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. M, I believe I will."

He watched Beth and something in his expression betrayed his interest in her. I'd applaud, but only if his

att.i.tude had changed.

Judith rushed over. "Mrs. Miller, I have a place reserved for you at the picnic table. Tell me what you want and I'll make up your plate. You shouldn't have to stand in line."

Her too sweet tone annoyed me. "I have two hands and two legs and I'll use them as long as I can." I

stepped back but the aroma of her alcohol-laden breath washed over me. "Fix yourself a plate. Food

might be a good thing to go with the wine."

I wondered about Judith's wine consumption. Did she have a problem with alcohol or was she using liquor to deaded some deeper problem?

"When I'm sure everyone is eating, I will." She flitted off.

Pete bent and put his head close to mine. "Our Mrs. Simpson is a bit unstable. Drinks too much. I've

seen her and the organist a couple of times at the Pub bending their elbows." "I think she's taking voice lessons with him. Maybe they're stopping off afterwards." Though choir practice hadn't begun, several people from the choir had begun private lessons with Roger.

"What does that have to do with them being at the Pub sans her husband?"

"I wouldn't know." After I carried my plate to the picnic table, I went for a hamburger. Several

teenagers, children of choir members, sat in a corner of the yard. "Why don't you join them?" I asked

Marcie.

"Mom told me to tend the grill. And they don't want me hanging around. They're ever so popular. I don't fit in."

Roger arrived for some chicken. He slid his arm around her waist. "Don't worry about them. They're

jealous of your talent."

She smiled radiantly. "Do you really think so?" Her eyes glowed with hero worship and her voice rang with awe and pleasure.

When I left the grill, Roger followed me. "Poor child. She doesn't fit in with the crowd. How well I understand the feeling. Judith worries, but I've told her Marcie will come into her own. Then people will be sorry."

Was he giving me a hint of what his life had been? Nothing in his expression gave me a clue. "It's clear she admires you, but she's young and can be easily hurt."