Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon

by Mark Schweizer

  "Let's just say that his approval rating isn't as high as his opinion of himself."

  •••

  I was running late the next morning, but managed to answer the phone on the fifth ring as I was coming out of the shower. For the first time all year I hadn't bothered to set my alarm – I never did in the spring and summer, relying instead on Mother Nature to wake me. She had let me down. The weather, a lovely week of early spring sunshine had, overnight, turned miserable. The temperature dropped about twenty degrees, and a storm had come in behind the cold front. It was overcast and raining when I finally awakened, brewed a pot of coffee and jumped into the shower. I came out a few moments later.

  "Hello?" I said, trying to tie my robe with one hand and juggle the phone with the other.

  "Hayden? It's Lindsey."

  "Lindsey. How are you? To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

  "I'm here in Boone and I thought we could get together."

  "You're in Boone? Is there another conference at Appalachian State?"

  "No conference. I'd just like to see you."

  "You came all this way just to visit?"

  "Well, I've been thinking about you quite a bit."

  "I must admit, I've been thinking about you, too. Thanks for coming up. I have some work to do up at the church, and then I need to check in at the office. Do you want to meet me there?"

  "No. Why don't you come on over to Boone. I'll meet you in the lobby of my hotel. It's the Broyhill Inn on Blowing Rock Road."

  "OK, I can get there around eleven. Is that good for you?"

  "That's just fine." she said. Then added in a low voice, "I can't wait to see you."

  "Me too. Bye."

  •••

  As soon as I hung up with Lindsey, I put in a call to York Minster and got Officer Frank Worthington on the phone.

  "Any word on the case?" asked the Minster Policeman. "Hugh said you might have a lead."

  "I might. I wonder if you could look at a picture for me and tell me if you recognize the person."

  "If I can. Do you want to fax it?"

  "I'll e-mail it, if that's all right."

  "I'm at the computer now. The address is frankw@york-minster.org. I'll get it in a few moments."

  "It's on the way," I said, as I hit the send button. "I'll call you back in about five minutes."

  "I'll be here."

  I went to the kitchen and got another cup of coffee, all the while thinking about how to handle the Lindsey Fodor problem.

  After a few minutes, I went back to the phone and placed another call to the Minster.

  "Did you get it?" I asked Frank when he came on the line.

  "Just came in."

  "And do you recognize the person?"

  "I've seen her before. I just can't remember where. Should I know her?"

  "I think you may have met her. I wonder if Kris Toth…"

  "That's it!" he interrupted. "Kris' cousin. She introduced me. Said she was over here visiting."

  "That's what I needed to know. Thanks."

  •••

  Marilyn was sitting at her desk, as usual, doing the work of the church when I sauntered in.

  "You look positively gluttonous with self-approbation," she said.

  "Huh?"

  She laughed. "I heard that line in a Hitchcock movie the other night. I've been waiting all week to use it on you."

  I nodded. "It's a good one and I accept the compliment."

  "You mean it's a compliment? I take it back then."

  "Are there any heretical changes in the service I should know about before this evening?"

  "Nope." She shook her head and held the bulletin up for me to look at. "Everything seems to be back to normal. Wenceslas will be verging though."

  "That's fine. If we have to have a verger, he's the one to have. At least he has some credibility."

  "Father Barna gave me his sermon title for Easter and disappeared. He said he'd be back around six this evening."

  "That's probably good. These two services can take care of themselves. Father Tony will be here as well to help celebrate. Are all the lay-readers lined up?"

  "Ready to go. I called them myself. Brenda's been in a bit of a twirl."

  "I can imagine."

  Marilyn's voice dropped to a whisper although there was no one else in the office. "Word has it that she's looking at a position in another church."

  "It will be our loss," I said somberly. "How about the Altar Guild?"

  "The FOOSCHWAG members wouldn't have anything to do with the service, but the old Altar Guild members have stepped in for the stripping of the altar and Easter Sunday. I called them all this morning. They'll be here."

  "That's great. Thanks."

  •••

  I pulled up to the Broyhill Inn right at eleven o'clock. I parked my truck, went into the lobby and spotted Lindsey right away sitting in an armchair drinking a cup of coffee. She smiled as she saw me come in, put the cup of coffee down on the table next to her and greeted me with a hug and one of those kisses that made me wish – however briefly – that I was unattached.

  "I'm glad you could make it," she said coyly, trying hard to blush. "Would you like to come up to my room?"

  "I'd better not, Lindsey. Why don't you finish that cup of coffee? I'll get a cup and join you."

  "OK." She looked quite taken aback, but returned to her chair.

  I got a cup at the coffee station and joined her in the sitting area. I looked at her intently. She had gone from a self-assured temptress to a bundle of nerves in ninety seconds.

  "I thought you wanted to see me," she said in a quiet voice.

  "I did want to see you. There are a whole lot of things I'd like to clear up."

  "I don't have to answer your questions."

  "That's true, you don't. But I'm liable to be a whole lot more sympathetic than the York Police Authority. And let me assure you that extradition for murder is not a problem."

  Lindsey was quiet for a long moment. "I'm not a murderer."

  "I thought you might say that. I haven't decided if I believe you. You certainly haven't been honest with me."

  "That's true. I haven't. How did you know?"

  "I had a suspicion. The pills that you took on the plane. Aldactone. They're not prescribed for high blood pressure anymore. They're for hirsutism. And it runs in families. Kris had it."

  She nodded her head. "I have it, too."

  "You know that I went to see Kris' mother yesterday."

  "I know. She told me. She also said that she didn't tell you anything."

  "She didn't. Not much anyway. I did see a picture though. It was in the bathroom. A family picture with Kris and her mother, Wenceslas and guess who else?"

  "Yes, well…"

  "I'd like to get this cleared up."

  "I didn't kill Kris. She was my cousin. I loved her."

  I nodded and waited for her to continue.

  "I'd like to call my grandfather. He should be here."

  "Why don't we go down to the church? We can talk to him there."

  Chapter 19

  Kit and I flopped into the flivver and headed for the circus. These clowns were after the bishop. With the bishop dead, the Ministry of Clowns would be safe--at least for another three years. If I could get to Uncle Winky before he got to the bishop, I could save everyone a lot of trouble.

  "Draw your heater," I said. "And get ready. These clowns ain't playin' patty-cake."

  We went into the clown tent like a couple of turkeys into a Holiday Inn Thanksgiving Smorgesboard. Suddenly the lights came up, and we were surrounded. They were all there. Mr. Pickles, Tonk-Tonk, Grabby, Cheezo, Honker and Uncle Winky. Six clowns, two of us, eight guns, forty-eight bullets. Add it all up and you get sixty-four, which was the exact number of stogies I had smoked since Tuesday. I took it as a sign.

  "Glad you're here, loogan," said Cheezo. "We been waitin' for you."

  "I've got information for you boys," I said, g
rinning like a poached possum on a platter of parsnips. "I can help you sink the bishop's anti-clown agenda faster than a chicken-wire row-boat. But I want something from you."

  "What's that?"

  "You gotta back off. Take out the bishop and let everything else go."

  "Depends on what you got, shoefly," said Tonk-Tonk.

  "I've got just what you need," I said with a smile. Then I lit another cigar.

  •••

  Lindsey and I found Wenceslas in the church. He was sitting in the front pew, looking at the Resurrection Window in the front of the church, his hands folded in his lap.

  "Grandfather," said Lindsey in a quiet voice, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  "Hello, child," said Wenceslas with a smile and then nodded to me. "I suppose it is time."

  "Yes sir, it is," I said.

  "May we talk here?"

  "It's as good a place as any."

  "How much do you already know?"

  "I know that Kris Toth was part of your family. I know that Lindsey, Emil and Jelly Barna, and Joseph Meyer are part of your family. I know that Kris was planning on stealing the diamond from the chalice in the York Minster treasury and that she was also planning to steal the cross belonging to Nicholas II. I know that she made a deal with a Minster Policeman named Alex Benwick to help her get into the treasury, but was killed before she could get away. That's what I know. Here's what I surmise."

  Wenceslas and Lindsey looked at me, no expression on either face.

  "When the article appeared in the paper saying that I was going to be helping the English police with the investigation, someone, probably you, Wenceslas, arranged for Father Barna to be assigned to the church."

  Wenceslas nodded. "It was a happy coincidence that he had just become a priest. He is my sister's stepson, but he is an idiot. I hinted to the bishop that I would make a substantial contribution to the summer conference center if Emil could receive this interim appointment. The bishop said that he could not see the harm."

  "All this so you could keep an eye on me and see if I discovered the whereabouts of the diamond. It was the same reason Lindsey joined me on the airplane. It would have been easy to find out which flight I was on and book a first class seat. The plane wasn't at all full."

  "I don't know why Peppermint the Clown showed up. It's really the only thing that doesn't make sense."

  "That idiot priest wanted to have a clown service," said Wenceslas. "I needed to go to Hungary and I thought that Joseph could keep an eye on him while I was gone." He sighed deeply. "I don't know why he was killed."

  "If it's any consolation," I said, "I believe his death was an accident – or at least a series of unfortunate events. He had emphysema, a pnumothorax and heart arrhythmia. We think that Peppermint was trying to blow up that balloon when he saw the snakes, panicked and inhaled the balloon. The air rushed into his weakened lungs and ruptured some of the alveoli – the air sacs – and the surrounding capillaries. He couldn't breathe and rushed headlong into the sacristy where he had a heart attack almost immediately. Once one thing went wrong, everything snowballed. I am sorry."

  Wenceslas nodded sadly.

  "I also believe," I continued, "that in 1918, the Kaszas Imperial Circus had its last performance in Yekaterinburg. I also think that someone connected with the circus was present at the assassination of the Czar and his family."

  Wenceslas sat up straight, his blue eyes registering unbelief. "How did you find this?"

  "The legend holds that the women shot that day had sewn jewels into their clothes to keep them from the Bolsheviks. The assassins took these jewels once their gruesome work was accomplished. I think the York diamond was one of those jewels. And I also think the cross came out of Russia with the diamond."

  "I don't know why the diamond and the cross were given to the Minster, but there they remained – undisturbed – for seventy-five years. Now we have a conspiracy to steal both items. I don't know the reason, but I suspect that the motive isn't money."

  "You will not understand," said Wenceslas. "It is not part of your culture…your beliefs."

  "I can try," I said, waiting.

  •••

  "My father was at Yekaterinburg." Weceslas paused and looked up at the stained-glass window, as if making sure that all of his story was still with him.

  "He was a dwarf as well, but taller than I am and very strong. He was an acrobat and would also perform feats of great strength." Wenceslas broke his concentration and looked at me with bright eyes. "He could bend an iron bar behind his head."

  I nooded but didn't comment.

  "This is the story that he told to us. The story of the diamond and the cross."

  I looked at Lindsey. She was watching her grandfather, but I could tell she had heard this story before.

  "My father was speaking with the Czar when the Bolsheviks came for them," Weceslas continued. "He watched the Bolsheviks place the family in a line and shoot them – all except the girl and a young boy who were taken away. When the Bolsheviks had finished their terrible work, my father and several of the performers were required to help place the bodies into a mine shaft. Afterwards, those performers were shot as well and left in the mine with the royal family and their entourage. But they did not go quietly. In the deadly struggle, two of the Bolsheviks were killed. My father, in the confusion, hid in a crevice and escaped execution. Then, when the cowards had gone, he searched the bodies of the dead traitors and found the cross and the diamond."

  "He made his way back to Budapest over the next year and with him came the diamond and the cross. He thought that this wealth could buy the circus back – restore it to its former glory. It was not to be."

  The door to the sacristy opened and someone scuttled into the church. We didn't see who it was, but Wenceslas stopped speaking for a moment until we heard the door close again. Then he continued.

  "From the moment that the diamond came to the Kaszas family, it brought with it nothing but sorrow. It has always been cursed. We tried to sell it. We could not. Finally, a meeting was called of all the remaining elders of the family. It was decided that the diamond and the cross should be given to a church – a church that would keep it safe until it could be returned. The church should be rich enough that it would never need to sell the jewel. There were two churches chosen, but it was to York that it was taken. My aunt, Belle Kaszas, was living in America and was very rich. It was determined that she should give it as a gift. It would not raise suspicions. But, again, the curse. She died soon after she came into possession of the diamond. Her friend finally delivered it."

  Lindsey reached out and took her grandfather's hand. He smiled at her, and then continued.

  "The curse that followed our family lifted once the diamond and the cross were delivered to York Minster. Then, about ten years ago, it began again. We feel…the family believes…that when the bodies of the Romanovs were exhumed and buried in St. Petersburg, the curse began again. The cross and the diamond cry out to be returned to the martyrs."

  "So you made plans to take the treasures back from the Minster?" I asked.

  "These last five years. I realize now that it was a mistake. Two more deaths…and for nothing."

  "Do you know who killed Kris?" asked Lindsey.

  I nodded.

  "Can you tell us?"

  I shook my head.

  "And do you know where the diamond is?" asked Wenceslas, still hopeful.

  "Yep. But it's going back to the Minster."

  •••

  St. Barnabas had been almost magically returned to its pre-Lenten appearance. The altar was back in place. The water feature had disappeared. The paraments were red as was our tradition. We didn't need to worry about offending the ox. The pig was back home and the monkey had left the building.

  The instrumentalists and the choir started arriving for the seven o'clock Maundy Thursday service at about 6:15. The altar guild was scurrying around with last minute adjustments; Father Tony was ma
king sure that all was in order. Wenceslas was having a word with the acolytes. And conspicuous only by his absence was Father Emil Barna.

  Father Tony was the celebrant and it was a beautiful service or perhaps just seemed so in contrast with all that had come before. Either way, I was proud of the choir and, as the service ended in silence and semi-darkness, we all walked out into the warm night air with a feeling of hope and expectation – finally looking forward to Easter.

  •••

  "I knew she couldn't be trusted," said Megan, after I had told her about my afternoon. "Meeting you at the hotel! I could scratch her eyes out!"

  "That's cute," I commented. "You being so jealous and all."

  "You're just lucky you didn't go up to her room."

  "Um…yes, I am. Very lucky."

  "You didn't, did you?" she asked, her gray eyes narrowing.

  "Of course not."

  "Because you know I'll find out."

  "I know that you will," I nodded, happy to agree.

  "So you did?"

  "No, no," I stammered. "I meant that I knew you'd find out if I did, so I didn't."

  "You mean you wanted to? The only reason you didn't is because you knew I'd find out?"

  "Do you smell something burning?" I asked. "I'd better check the kabobs."

  •••

  "Bad news on Good Friday," said Malcolm Walker, making one of his semi-regular appearances at the Slab. "I just got a call from our woman applicant. She's withdrawn her name from consideration."

  "Did she hear about our Feng Shui Altar Guild?" I asked, motioning for Malcolm to take a seat with one hand while balancing a forkful of scrambled eggs with the other.

  "She did, yes," Malcolm chuckled, "but that wasn't the reason. She was offered a job teaching at Lenoir-Rhyne College starting in the fall. It's where her folks live."

  "But the other fellow is still coming?"

  "A week from today. By the way, have you seen Father Barna?"