Glory Be!. Ron/Janet Benrey

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СКАЧАТЬ let me play detective. You don’t know much about cars, so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of moving a Volkswagen. You’re too smart—and I think too compassionate—to risk killing a fish. You don’t have easy access to the old clothing placed on Moira McGregor. But you do have a fancy computer, several graphics programs and a good ink-jet printer. I think you created the phony traffic ticket found dangling from Chief Porter’s radio antenna. In fact, the more I think about it the more sense it makes. You weren’t taking much risk marching into the parking lot behind Police Headquarters and affixing said ticket. If anyone spotted you, you could simply say you left something in my ’Vette.”

      “I admit to nothing.”

      “The clincher is the spelling error.”

      Kate peered at him quizzically.

      “You wrote ‘trafficing,’ without the k. The correct spelling is trafficking. We both know that spelling is your weakest subject.”

      Kate pushed a lock of hair away from her face but said nothing. Rafe pressed on. “Where did the book come from? Don’t try to tell me it’s on loan from the school library.”

      “Well, I don’t know this for a total fact, but I think the book came from Sam Lange’s bookstore.”

      Rafe grunted. The Glory Book Nook was the logical source for an “antique” book. Although Sam sold both new and used books, he seemed to make more money from the old volumes on his shelves. He specialized in quirky topics and did a thriving Internet business with book collectors.

      “Okay, I’ll do some more detecting. Jake Moore, a junior at Glory High, works three afternoons a week and all day Saturday at the Book Nook, so he had the means to acquire the book in question. Jake is also a member of the church choir, which gives him a motive…except…”

      “Except what?”

      “Jake doesn’t like the contemporary service. He’s supposed to be on the same side as Lily Kirk. So he can’t be involved.”

      “Right.”

      “Except…”

      “Now what?”

      “That ‘right’ you just spoke sounded suspicious. It’s got me thinking.”

      “About what?”

      “About how devilishly clever your side is.” He poked at her ribs. “Jake Moore is an undercover agent. You placed a spy in the opposition’s camp.”

      “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said airily.

      “Okay, then let’s talk about the book some more. How nasty do the collected pranks get?”

      “Well, the book shows you how to do lots of things that go ‘bang.’ A couple of guys were interested, but these days you can’t go to a drugstore and buy the ingredients to make homemade explosives.”

      “And the people said, ‘Amen!’”

      “Some of the pranks are impossibly gross. Itching powder, stink bombs and paper bags filled with horse manure.”

      “I know that one! You put the paper bag on the victim’s porch, set fire to the top of the bag and ring the bell. Most people put out the fire by stomping on the bag.”

      Kate grimaced. “That’s awful. I don’t like jokes that need to be cleaned up with a shovel. Pranks should make people laugh.”

      “Like a phony parking ticket presented to the chief of police?”

      “That sounds funny to me.”

      “Actually, the Chief wasn’t amused in any way, shape or form. He offered to shoot the person responsible.”

      Kate sat up straight. “Are we finished talking about practical jokes?”

      “Do you have another topic in mind?”

      “I’ve been told that you were checking out Emma McCall this morning at The Scottish Captain.”

      “Checking her out?”

      “Watching her with more than professional interest.”

      “Who told you that?”

      “You were also seen talking with her tonight at church.”

      Rafe felt his eyebrows rise. Who, he wondered, was Kate’s source of information? He tried to remember if Jake Moore was also a member of the Glory Gremlins. He was certainly large enough to play football.

      “And your point is?” Rafe said.

      “You are considered absolutely awesome, while everyone knows that she’s a total loser. Think carefully before you do anything that might ruin your reputation.”

      Rafe didn’t want to laugh aloud, but he couldn’t stop himself.

      “The poppers are magnificent here,” Lily said, “I recommend them highly. I believe they’re homemade.”

      Emma knew better. Dan’s Pizza Deluxe undoubtedly bought frozen, machine-made poppers, ten-pounds at a time, but why shatter Lily’s illusions or begin a pointless discussion about the tawdry secrets of cheap restaurants?

      Emma scanned the menu quickly. It seemed late for deep-fried jalapeño peppers stuffed with cream cheese, but a greasy pizza might be even less digestible. And more expensive. She guessed that Lily was stretching a tight budget to pay for their impromptu after-rehearsal snack.

      “Why don’t we share an order of poppers?” Emma said.

      “That’s a grand idea.” Lily sounded relieved as she caught the waitress’s attention. “One order of poppers and two iced teas.”

      Emma waited patiently for Lily to begin the conversation—almost certainly a long-winded recruiting speech encouraging Emma to become active in the ongoing church battle. Why couldn’t people understand that she didn’t care enough about the issue to take sides? Why couldn’t they simply leave her alone?

      Emma had been walking to her Volvo when Lily suddenly appeared at her side. “We don’t know each other very well, Mrs. McCall, but I have a question that I must ask you.”

      Emma didn’t point out that McCall was her maiden name and she had abandoned the “Mrs.” label when she moved to Glory. She simply said, “A question? About what?”

      “The rain may begin again at any minute. Why don’t we go for quick snack? My treat, of course.” Lily gestured toward an old Ford Taurus sedan.

      Reluctantly, Emma dropped her car keys into her purse. She had been awake since four-thirty and wanted to get to bed, but Lily possessed a peculiar authority—a strange presence—that compelled Emma to agree. She obediently followed the woman to the well-cared-for silver Ford and opened the passenger’s door. She paid little attention to the elderly vehicle until she slid past the high side bolsters on her bucket seat.

      This feels СКАЧАТЬ