Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“Scott, even if Bram did tell Rina things, I’m sure they were said to her in confidence.”

“So what?” Oliver said, sipping beer. “He’s a priest. He talks, he violates his vows. But she isn’t under any oath. She shoots off her mouth, she’s just acting like a woman.”

They must have made up. Because when Rina called everyone to the table, she and Pete were all lovey-dovey. Cute, Marge thought, but nauseating. Smiling at each other, little love pats on the rears when they thought no one was looking. Marge almost wished they were still fighting.

As expected, the food was excellent. First course was a thick pea soup with diced carrots and thick marrow bones. It was followed by a butter lettuce, mandarin orange, slivered almond, and green onion salad. The entrée was rack of lamb served with a timbale of rice pilaf and a crookneck squash puree.

Copious amounts of comestibles. Marge had seconds, Decker and Oliver had thirds. Rina’s sons didn’t just eat, they devoured. Nice kids, Marge thought. Polite and attentive. Still, it was clear they were anxious to leave. As soon as they finished clearing the plates, they excused themselves, saying they had errands to run.

Rina poured coffee. Oliver eyed the cup and saucer with suspicion. “Can you die by eating too much?”

Rina said, “You know, I once read about a knight who died of a burst bladder.”

“Lovely,” Decker said.

“I’ll pass on the coffee,” Oliver said.

“Nonsense.” Rina placed the cup in front of him. “A little decaf never hurt anyone.”

“Tell that to the knight.”

Rina said, “I think the story went like this. The knight had been at a king’s banquet, had been drinking gallons and gallons of wine. Apparently, back then, one wasn’t permitted to excuse oneself from the table for any reason until the festivities were over.”

Oliver said, “Too bad trains hadn’t been invented. Otherwise, he could have gotten himself a brakeman’s companion.”

“I’ve got dessert coming,” Rina said.

“No more,” Oliver pleaded. “No more. No more.”

“Everyone can use a little sweetness in his or her life.” Rina stood at the kitchen door. “I’ll be back.”

After she left, Marge said, “She’s awfully chipper.”

“She’s a pain in the neck.” Decker smiled. “But a good kid down deep.”

“She don’t look like a kid to me,” Oliver said.

“Watch your tongue,” Decker said.

Oliver gave Decker a forced smile. “Now that you two are in good graces, think you might want to ask-”

“No.”

“Deck, she might know something.”

“It’s Loo to you and she doesn’t know anything.”

“So you asked her.”

“No, I didn’t ask her,” Decker replied. “But she doesn’t know anything. If she did, she would have told me.”

“Deck, how does she know what’s relevant?”

Marge said, “He’s got a point, Pete.”

Oliver said, “I’ll bring it up-”

“No, you won’t.”

“Just let me ask her-”

“Ask me what?” Rina said, carrying in a layer cake.

“Ask you nothing,” Decker said.

“Ask what you and Bram talked about,” Oliver said.

Decker turned red with anger, held his tongue. Rina set down the cake.

To Oliver, she said, “I was willing to tell him. He wasn’t interested.”

“Rina, that’s enough!”

“She isn’t talking to you,” Oliver said. “She’s talking to me-”

“You’re in my house, Scott!”

Rina said, “Let’s not ruin a nice dinner. I’m sure Peter has his reasons for wanting to change the subject.” She kissed her husband’s head. “Would you like some cake, dear?”

Decker glared at her, eyes sweeping over his colleagues’ faces. He groused, “Tell us what you talked about.”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing much to say.” She cut Peter a slice of cake. “Just some personal talk. About my late husband…Bram’s feelings toward his siblings.”

Oliver said, “He didn’t talk about the murder charges against him?”

“He didn’t murder anyone,” Rina said. “He’s not capable of murder.”

“Yeah, he’s a saint,” Decker said. “That’s why he had bloody clothes in his safe.”

Marge looked at Decker, put her finger to her lips.

Decker grumped, “She knows about the safe, Marge. I told you she eavesdropped on our phone conversation.”

Marge’s eyes widened. “Rina, that’s low.”

“Yeah, sounds like something I’d do,” Oliver said.

“Sorry, but I’m not remorseful. My friend’s life was at stake, so too bad!”

“Think you might fake some humility for my sake?” Decker snapped.

“Peter, I’m-”

“How about some cake, Mrs. Decker?” Oliver piped in.

Rina served Oliver a wedge of cake.

“Too big,” Oliver said.

“Just eat what you’d like.”

“I’m gonna eat the whole thing, that’s the problem.”

“You only pass through once in your life, Scott.”

“You’re right. Leave it.”

Rina said. “Marge?”

“Half that size, Rina.”

Rina cut a piece for Marge, filled up the coffee cups. “Bram didn’t do anything. He’s clearly protecting someone.”

“He said that to you?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Rina admitted. “Bram’s a priest. He’d never reveal anything confidential. But I did find out why he has a safe in his apartment.”

“Why?” Oliver asked, taking out a notepad.

“He got held up at gunpoint several years ago in the rectory. Since then, on weekends, when the chapel’s empty, he keeps the church’s cash and valuables in his safe.”

“Valuables?” Marge asked.

“The gilt chalices used in Mass,” Rina answered. “Silver candlesticks, incense holders, and trays…things like that.”

Oliver smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t think he was referring to the porno magazines.”

“They’re not his,” Rina stated.

Decker said, “He told you that?”

Rina paused, then shook her head no.

Decker took a forkful of cake and appraised her. “What are you hiding, dear?”

Rina sighed. “He told me the magazines were his. But I don’t believe him. He’s protecting someone, Peter. You know it and I know it.”

“I don’t know anything,” Decker said.

“I know I’ve said this before.” Marge swallowed a mouthful of devil’s food. “But why would Bram leave explicit magazines with his name on the wrappers at the scene of a murder? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know why,” Decker said. “But Luke said his name was on the wrappers.”

“My opinion?” Oliver said. “I think Luke’s name was on the wrappers.”

“What are you talking about, Scott?” Decker said. “Bram just told Rina that the magazines were his.”

“I don’t believe it,” Rina said.

Decker said, “Fine, Rina. Don’t believe it. Can we change the discussion?”

Marge thought a moment, then said, “So let’s assume Bram’s name was on the wrappers-”

“Marge,” Decker said. “Please.”

Rina cried out, “Peter, this is important to me! How can I make you understand that?”

Decker rolled his tongue in his mouth. “What’s important to you, Rina? Proving Bram innocent or hearing the truth?”

Rina paused. “I’ll accept the truth. As soon as you can prove him guilty.”

“I don’t prove guilt or innocence, Rina. I just collect evidence. And right now, the evidence collected from your friend’s safe is incriminating.”

“He’s protecting someone.”

“And you’re repeating yourself.”

“Peter, how do you know the wrappers had Bram’s name on them? Did you see them?”

“No.”

“We’re taking Luke’s word for it,” Oliver said. “A big mistake.”