M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“I’ll let you fill in the blanks for Ms. Thayer and Father Lee. See ya’ later, I’ve got to get going. Call me and we’ll get together.”

“Wait, I’ll walk out with you,” Andrew offered.

“No, that’s all right. I can find my own way. Besides I saw a guy I think I know, and I’d like to say hello to him on the way out.”

“Okay, thanks for the info,” Andrew said ponderously. “And Jim, take care of yourself.”

Andrew sat back running his fingers through his hair as he thought of Neil Klein and Charlene. He reached for the phone and dialed Neil’s number. He was gratified to hear the deep voice answer.

“Klein.”

“Neil, I took a chance that you might be in your office late. This is Andrew, and I have some news.”

“Andrew, good to hear you, I was working late; what news?” Neil asked in a surprised tone.

“They fished Monte Maxwell out of the river today. Savalza said it looked like an execution. I just thought that you should know we’ve hit another dead-end.”

Neil was silent for a moment then, “Maybe not; remember, Andrew, they’re still watching—take care of yourself. I will call you on Thursday or Friday about the visit to Mrs. Thayer.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember. Talk with you later.”

As he dialed Charlene he realized it seemed natural. The phone rang three or four times before she picked up.

“Hello,” her voice was distinctive and warm. Andrew remembered his first call, there was definitely a change.

“Hi, it’s Andy, how about dinner? I have some news that Savalza dropped on me today that I thought you might like to hear.”

“Yes, very much. About dinner, why don’t you come here and I’ll cook tonight. You get to take potluck, okay?”

“I’d like that, and I’ll risk it. See you between 6:30 and 7:00.”

“That’s perfect. See you then.”

He arrived at 6:45 and barely rang the bell when she opened the door and ushered him into the living room. Smiling she handed him a newspaper; he noted it was the Everett Daily Herald not the Seattle Times, and offered him a drink. A small fire was burning in the fireplace and she had set some snacks on a table by the sofa. “Very nice,” he commented. “Thanks. I need to read what the competition has to say now and then, and I will take that drink, but make it small.”

“Help yourself then, if you don’t mind. That opens into a bar and there’s ice, soda and whatever else you may want,” she said pointing to a handsome cherry cabinet. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable while I finish the salad. I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”

After preparing his drink he followed her into the kitchen. Leaning in the doorway he watched her as she put the finishing touches on a green salad. “Looks good, what else are we eating?”

“I’m about to broil a couple of steaks; I hope that’s all right?” she nervously brushed a wisp of hair away from her face with the back of her hand.

“Great! I like mine medium rare.” He could see her relax slightly as he moved to a chair at the kitchen table where two places had been set. Clearly, she didn’t want dinner to appear to be a very special occasion.

“Do you mind eating in the kitchen?” she asked. “Somehow the dining room seemed too formal.”

“Not at all,” he answered. “The kitchen is fine. Cozy, in fact,” he added tongue in cheek. “I get the feeling that you don’t entertain men alone too often, hmnn?”

He saw her stiffen. “I thought you had information for me from Jim Savalza; why do I sense that I’m being ‘interviewed’? In answer to your question, no, I don’t, at least not unless there are other people here as well, in which case, we use the dining room,” She said pointedly, “Anything further?”

“No, that answers it, and, yes, you are being interviewed, but,” he paused. “Okay, I will give you Savalza’s news first.” Andrew recounted Jim’s visit to the Times and the news about the discovery of Monte’s body and his believed connection to the murder of George Kelshaw.

Charlene listened intently shaking her head at the conclusions arrived at by Jim and Andrew. “There has to be more to it, there has to be someone else involved; but who? Have you thought to tell your friend “Evan Scott”?” she queried.

“I did, just before I called you; I told him we’d hit another dead-end.”

“What did he say?”

“He cautioned us to be careful; I’m sure he was very interested,” he stated flatly. “Yes, there certainly has to be someone else involved but the trail seems to end with Maxwell and I would suppose that’s by design. Jim is going to wrestle with the problem tonight. Now on a lighter note let’s get to the interview.”

“Be serious, Andrew, what is this ‘interview’ business?” She placed the steaks under the broiler and set a small timer.

“You know at dinner the other night I learned a couple of things about you and Paul and Coleman and his wife. And I got to thinking that since I was on my way to falling in love with you I should know more about you,” he said playfully.

“Stop it, Andrew, please; you shouldn’t say such things even if you are joking;” she quickly looked away avoiding his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I think you know I’m not joking. Tell me about your life here and now… I know that you’re really involved with the Episcopal Diocese and St. Mark’s Cathedral. Has it always been like that or is it something that occurred after you lost Paul? And hey, don’t burn the steaks!”

She drew a deep breath and pulled the steaks from under the broiler turned them and returned them to the flame. “After I lost Paul I was lost for awhile too. I loved him so much; I didn’t want to believe he wasn’t coming back. It didn’t seem real.

It took some time for me to settle into a different life. I tried going back to work at the University, but there were too many memory connections—so I did a lot of things. Political campaigns, music programs, you name it, I tried it. I even made several trips to San Francisco where we met, going back to special places… trying to find something more of him, some kind of solace I suppose. Nothing helped very much for very long.

“Finally, I went back to church; St. Mark’s became my refuge. We were made for each other; it was a home where I could feel and cry and eventually be lifted spiritually.

“John Leffler was the Dean then and he was such a wonderful friend and and an inspiration. He helped me so much; he had so much wisdom.” She spoke with a quiet passion, “I guess God filled the hole in my life through St. Mark’s.

“As you know I took an interest in some of the outreach ministries of the church and then became active in diocesan affairs; I met Father Ben and the Maritime ministry and the rest is history,” she said simply. “Oh I still have other interests as well, but now I do them because I really want to rather than because they fill a void.”

She removed the steaks, added a béarnaise sauce and served them.

Andrew was silent waiting for her to be seated. She placed the salad and a small covered dish of dijonaise potatoes on a hot pad, poured two glasses of red wine and took her seat across the table from Andrew. She bowed her head and offered a blessing.

After thanking her profusely for her ‘potluck’ dinner Andrew proceeded to devour his meal eagerly. Between bites he continued to question Charlene about hobbies and interests. “I know you’re active in the Diocese but surely you have other interests—such as ah…” he fumbled.

“Do I like fishing?” She laughed, “Is that what you want to know? Or perhaps riding motorcycles? I don’t do either.” Then she qualified, “I used to fish with my dad, but that was when I was a kid.”