Keohane, G. - Solomon's Grave

Nathan knew that story—sans the interlude with Elizabeth. Kaila recently married a man named Roderick (that was his first name, Josh was quick to point out with a roll of his eyes), and Josh hadn’t been seeing much of anyone for the past year. That was another surprise. He tended to be a ladies’ man, with natural good looks and half-day beard growth that never seemed to shave completely off. It added movie-star charm to his looks.

Nathan didn’t want to press, but he wanted to know more about Josh and Elizabeth’s breakup. It was human nature, he supposed, the need to know .

He hadn’t seen Elizabeth during his rounds at the nursing home this morning, and missed her all the more because of it. Nursing schedules rotated to assure weekend coverage. It would have been nice knowing they had another date planned. If nothing else, it would have been a mental anchor during this conversation.

“So,” he pressed, “it just wasn’t working out, you and Elizabeth?”

Josh put the can down with too much force and said, “Oh, for crying out loud, Nate.” Though he spoke with an overlay of exasperation, he tried to suppress a grin. “You two were made for each other. I mean, if I had to pick one reason out of many for why she and I weren’t compatible except as friends, it’s that we both love the same man.” He blushed, lifted the can and pointed with one finger. “Now don’t go getting any ideas. I’m not that way.”

Nathan laughed, but said nothing. How could he open up, even to his best friend, about his feelings for Elizabeth when that same friend once dated her, short-lived as the relationship had been? Then again, Josh had just said it himself, hadn’t he?

As if reading his thoughts, Josh added, “You still love her, that much is obvious; and seriously, Buddy, she digs you just as much.”

“Digs?”

Josh shrugged. “Yeah, hippie talk is coming back, didn’t you know? We get to say dig and groovy like we did when we were six years old.”

“So what about you? Seeing anyone now?”

“Naw, taking a sabbatical from the opposite sex for a while. But I’m keeping busy.”

The kitchen phone began to ring. Nathan stood and cleared his throat, knowing that most of the congregation used the main church line. “Pastor Dinneck,” he said, realizing with a start that this was the first time he’d answered the phone this way. Feels kinda good , he thought, not without a little shame.

“Pastor, hello. This is Brother Armand. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“Not at all,” he said. “How’s Reverend Hayden settling in?”

“That’s just it. They suggested I call you, to see if he’s contacted you.”

Contacted? “No,” Nathan said, drawing out the word. “Last time we spoke was yesterday morning. I could check my machine, though.”

“Could you?”

Something was wrong. Nathan wanted to question the monk further, but if Hayden did leave a message it would explain everything. Even as he walked into the office, he didn’t expect to see the answering machine’s light blinking. Nathan had listened to all the messages when he came home this afternoon.

There were three messages on the machine. The light wasn’t blinking, which implied none of them were new. Still, he pressed PLAY and listened to the first. When he was sure he’d already heard it he pressed NEXT, then again to the third. He returned to the phone with the last message—Josh asking if he wasn’t busy with his church stuff—still playing behind him. As he reached for the phone, he heard Josh mutter, “I really sound like that?”

“I’m sorry, Brother Armand. Reverend Hayden hasn’t called. Isn’t he there?”

“I’m afraid not. This morning he missed breakfast. When I went to his cell, he was gone. No one has seen him all day.”

“He moved out already?”

“That’s the odd thing. His belongings are still in the room, including his coat and shoes, even the bouquet of flowers your parish sent him.” Nathan didn’t remember ordering any flowers, but likely one of the elders had taken it upon themselves. Armand continued, “We assumed he might have gone for a walk, if he brought a second pair of shoes. But we’ve covered the grounds as best we could. They suggested I check with you.”

“They?”

“The police.”

“The police?” At these words, Josh looked up. Nathan gave his friend’s raised eyebrow a shrug in response.

“Yes. They say it’s too early to file a missing person’s report, and to be honest, I don’t think there’s any real need to worry, but....”

Nathan swallowed, suddenly feeling in his heart what the unspoken words of the monk were. “But... what?”

The voice on the other end sighed heavily. “Well, Ralph has been pastor of your church for so long, perhaps this might have been too much of a change for him. I’ve seen men who have worked hard at their job for decades come apart once they retire. Sitting at home, not having direction. I don’t want to speculate. I’m not a psychologist, but the thought is troubling.”

Nathan suddenly had an urge to end the conversation. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll call around to some other people he was close to, see if he’s called them.”

The monk’s voice took on new hopefulness. “Yes, exactly. If you know anyone he might have called, that would be the thing to do right now.” He gave Nathan his phone number and asked him to call if he learned anything. Nathan agreed and gave Armand his cell number, asking him to call anytime day or night if Hayden should return.

When he hung up, his grip lingered on the handset. He tried to brush away a pervading sense of dread. Again, he wondered how selfish he’d been, worried about himself and his own acclimation to this place. He should have given more thought to Hayden. He might have had a harder time moving away than anyone had suspected. Here’s your watch, Reverend. Your life is over .

“I assume that was about your old boss?”

Josh’s voice startled him and he let go of the phone. “What? Oh, yeah. He’s gone.”

Josh got up slowly, put his empty can on the counter. “Gone?”

“Yeah, as in disappeared. Listen, I hate to cut this visit short, but I think I’d better call some people.” He looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s late, but the sooner I find out—”

Josh raised his hand. “Say no more, Nate. Give me a call if you hear anything. Not sure who the guy knows; otherwise I’d offer to make some calls myself.”

Nathan walked him through the church to the front door, since his friend had parked his car beside Nathan’s. He put a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Thanks. I guess this is going to be par for the course, though maybe not this kind of incident— hopefully not. But, calls will come in at all hours.”

Josh smiled, then hesitated. “No hard feelings about the Elizabeth thing?”

“None,” Nathan lied, and opened the door. So many mysteries had been passing under his nose lately, it bothered him to have to deal with the fact that his oldest friend had been keeping something from him. Jealousy, he knew. It would fade, in time.

He stood by the door watching Josh’s car pull onto Dreyfus Road. He tried to recall names of those closest to Hayden. Mrs. Zawalich and Mrs. Lewis, of course, but he shouldn’t call them so late. If they had nothing to report, his call would only keep them up. Best make a note to call them first thing in the morning.

Vincent Tarretti . The name came to him and immediately made sense. The two men at least seemed close. Even if Tarretti hadn’t heard, he might be able to supply more names for Nathan to call.

Decision made, he went into Hayden’s den— his den now—and pulled the address book from the top left hand drawer. It was an old, well-worn leather volume, phone numbers of parishioners and church offices written in neat, boxy handwriting, sometimes crossed out and replaced with new ones where they would fit. Nathan made a mental note to computerize the list first chance he got. He couldn’t find Tarretti’s phone number at first, not until he had inspiration to look under “C.” An entry for “Cemetery,” and Tarretti’s name written below.