Familiar Friend

by Cristina Sumners

  Tom’s ego, which had been feeling pretty bruised since Kit’s arrival, began to take on a warm pink glow. He only hoped it didn’t show on his face.

  “Anyway,” the Rector continued, “the two of us discussed ways we could reverse any damage I might have caused, reestablish your good standing with the congregation, and if possible get you reinstated in your job.”

  Tom was beginning to feel a lot better. “Why, thanks, Father Mark. Kathryn and a friend of mine are working on the job angle already, but if you have any ideas about reestablishing my good standing in the congregation, as you put it, I’m all ears.”

  “Well, brace yourself, because parts of it you’re not going to like. Did you know that Kathryn’s boyfriend, Kit, arrived from England yesterday?”

  “Yeah, she told me he was coming.”

  “You’re the reason he’s here.”

  “I’m the reason he’s here?”

  “Kathryn asked him to fly over here to help us. To help you. This is the situation, Tom: You’ve put up with a loveless marriage to an impossible woman for years. Everybody in the church knows it. Then along comes this young, beautiful, brilliant woman who befriends you and it changes your life. You feel young again. You fall in love with her. It’s only natural. You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t. Nobody blames you. I think most people are happy for you that you’ve got Kathryn in your life. But then when Louise went missing, you see, that’s where the suspicions came from. People started to wonder if perhaps you’d decided if you got rid of Louise you’d have a chance with Kathryn.”

  Tom, who had been getting redder in the face throughout this speech, said, “That’s crap! I wouldn’t have a chance with Kathryn even if Louise dropped dead tomorrow, even if I was younger and better looking and better educated. She’s in love with Kit.”

  “Exactly. She’s in love with Kit and you know it. And that’s the point we’re going to make to the people of St. Margaret’s this morning. That’s why Kit is here. Kathryn is not vesting and sitting up with the clergy this morning, she’s sitting in the congregation with Kit. After the service at the coffee hour, she’s going to leave Kit to you. He’ll be very conspicuous in his wheelchair, everyone will want to know who he is. You are going to take him around and introduce him to everyone as Kathryn’s “friend” from England. You will imply that they are almost engaged. Kit is in on this, he knows what to do. Kathryn, on the other side of the parish hall, will be playing the game too, saying things like, “We haven’t set the date yet.” But the main thing is that you will make it dead clear that you know all about this. This is no news to you. Furthermore, you approve of it. You like Kit. You think he’s a fine man. Tell people, if you get the chance, that he saved Kathryn’s life last summer. Can you do that?”

  “Sure I can do it. But you said Kathryn was going to be playing this game, too. And she invited Kit over here to do this. That means—” Tom covered his face with his hands. “Oh shit.”

  The Rector said uncomfortably, “I have a little confession to make there. I’m afraid that I’m the one who let the cat out of the bag. She didn’t know until I told her.”

  Tom’s hands flew away from his face. “Christ, Mark! You told her?” It was the first time he had ever called the Rector “Mark” instead of “Father Mark.”

  “Well, Tom, it was only a matter of time before she figured it out. She’s not stupid, you know. And you have been pretty obvious. In fact, I think she suspected it at some level but didn’t want it to be true, so she’s been in denial about it.”

  Tom had to know. “How did she react when you told her?”

  “First she was embarrassed, then she was distressed for you.”

  Tom closed his eyes. “Shit.”

  The Rector tactfully refrained from comment.

  After a minute Tom opened his eyes and sighed. “All right, then. So I meet them in the parish hall?”

  “You meet Kit in the parish hall. Kathryn plans to be at the other end of it by the time you get there. I think she’s too embarrassed to look you in the eye.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Tom left Father Mark’s office and went out to the nave to find a pillar to lurk behind as the congregation gathered. He wanted to make sure he didn’t wind up sitting anywhere near Kathryn and Kit. Given Kit’s wheelchair, there were only a limited number of spaces where they could sit, and he watched those diligently until he saw them arrive.

  There they were. Kathryn was taking a place in the back pew, on the outside right seat, and Kit was rolling up beside her. Hang on. What was that thing around her neck? Kathryn never wore flashy jewelry. Tom could only conclude, grimly, that it must be something Kit had given her.

  He slipped into a seat on the opposite side of the church and did his very best to concentrate on the service. He didn’t succeed very well.

  After it was over, he headed in the direction of the parish hall together with the rest of the mob, keeping a careful watch for Kit so that he might begin his introduction game, but an even more careful lookout for Kathryn so that he could avoid her. Since she was doing the same thing to him, for the same reason, they succeeded in eluding each other.

  “Good morning, Lord Wallwood,” said Tom levelly.

  “Don’t take it out on me, Tom,” Kit said. “I didn’t come up with this idea, your Rector did, and he talked Kathryn into it. I hope you’re not angry at her, too?”

  Tom bit his tongue. “No. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. You came all the way over here to help me—”

  “Don’t wallow in it, man! Let’s just get the ball rolling. People are beginning to stare. And for God’s sake, please don’t use the title!”

  “Right. Laurie! Mike! Good morning! Let me introduce you to Kit Mallowan. Kit is Kathryn Koerney’s, how do I put this, Kit? Very special friend? From England.”

  Kit shook hands with Laurie and Mike and exchanged pleasantries while Tom looked around and pulled in another couple. He was especially interested in vestry members, knowing that the notorious eight who had condemned him to Nick Silverman were on the vestry. He told Kit he was going to fetch him some coffee, and used the trip over to the refreshment table to scan the crowd for appropriate prey. As he moved away he heard Kit saying, “Put it this way. I’ve been trying to convince Kathryn that living in the English climate does wonders for the complexion.”

  He got back with the coffee for Kit, who thanked him with a dazzling smile and suffered himself to be introduced to the two vestry members Tom had snagged on his excursion.

  Laurie stepped out of the general conversation and pulled Tom aside. “Tom, how long has this been going on? Kathryn and this young man?”

  “Since last summer. You know, the parish trip to England. Kathryn went over early and she met him on a train. I think it was love at first sight.”

  “And how long have you known about it?”

  “Oh, from the beginning. She told me all about it. And don’t tell them this”—he laid a finger on his lips—“but I walked in on them the first time he kissed her. They don’t know it, because I backed out again before they saw me.” He managed to produce a conspiratorial smile.

  Laurie giggled and leaned close to him. “I won’t tell,” she promised.

  But she did tell. Not Kit and Kathryn, but five other women before coffee hour was over. Tom counted on her doing it; that was why he’d told her the story. Otherwise he would never have revisited an incident that had been so intensely painful to him. It was etched in his memory: walking around the corner of Datchworth Castle and seeing them under that tree, Kathryn clasped in Kit’s arms.

  Well, he knew from the way Laurie bustled off that she was going to tell somebody, so it had worked. So he might as well gird up his loins and use it again. He tapped Kit on the shoulder and said, “I know you’re having a good time talking to these folks, but there are some others I’d like you to meet.”

  Kit said his farewells, asked Tom to hold his coffee, and wheeled himself to the n
ext bunch of persons to be impressed. There they repeated their routine, Tom once more awaiting the opportunity to be cross-examined separately. If none of the people in the group did it now, one of them would do it later. Thus they worked their way around the room. Tom would have been extremely impressed by Kit’s performance if only he had been convinced it was a performance. But the thing was, he knew that Kit did want to marry Kathryn. So all these hints about impending matrimony were, for Kit, dead serious.

  At one point there was a lull. For once, no one was pressing in upon them; there seemed to be space on all sides. Tom suddenly felt very tired. “You know this is killing me, don’t you?” he asked.

  “I think you’re doing valiantly,” Kit replied seriously. “And I’ve always thought bravery should be rewarded, so why don’t you and I trundle along the corridor back there as if we were going to the gents and on the way I’ll tell you a little something.” He began wheeling his chair in that direction and Tom walked beside him.

  “Kathryn and I,” Kit continued, “talk on the phone every weekend. Naturally we exchange news and of course in that news people get mentioned. Do you know who she talks about more than any other single person? You. I can tell you every single bloody case you’ve worked on since you got back from England last summer because she’s bored me with the details of all of them.”

  Tom had stopped and was staring at him, openmouthed.

  “Also, you might like to know that I have invited myself over here to visit about twenty-seven times, but it’s always, ‘I’m terribly sorry, Kit, but I’m frightfully busy with my work, and you’d be such a distraction, you see, I really can’t let you come, I’m so sorry, I’ll see you over the Christmas holidays.’ But she snaps her fingers and summons me across the Atlantic on no notice whatsoever with four words: ‘Tom is in trouble.’ And do you know something? I have a terrible suspicion that the minute Tom is no longer in trouble it’s going to be, ‘Kit, dear, I’m so sorry to drag you all the way over here and then send you straight back again, but I have so much work to do, you know…’”

  Tom was still gawking at him. “You can’t possibly mean—”

  “That I’m jealous of you? Just as you’re jealous of me? That’s exactly what I mean. The feeling’s mutual. I know she’s in love with me, not you. I know that what she feels for you is just friendship. Or at least, it certainly better be. But it’s important to her. It’s very strong. And you have this thing you do together, this crime thing, and it leaves me on the outside. Even last summer, when she was falling in love with me, I felt it.”

  Tom was stunned. “If—if we were ever rude—”

  “Tom, you dolt, I am not looking for an apology. I am trying to tell you, because you are a tremendously decent bloke and you deserve to hear it, that I suspect she loves you as much as she loves me, even though it’s not the kind of love you wish it was.”

  Tom swallowed. “Uh, Kit. Speaking of tremendously decent blokes.” He stuck his hand out. Kit took it, and they shook.

  Kit suggested, “Shall we return to the party?”

  “You do that. I think I’ll, uh—” Tom jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the men’s room. “Can you manage on your own for a few minutes?”

  “I don’t think they’ll eat me.” He rolled away.

  Tom retreated into the men’s room, more to collect his composure than anything else. When he came back out into the parish hall, the disaster occurred that he had been trying above all others to avoid: He ran straight into Kathryn.

  He was preserved from complete humiliation by two things. One was the conversation he’d just had with Kit, which had fortified his ego ever so slightly; he was far from merry, but at least he was no longer wallowing in the abyss. The other was the necklace she was wearing. One glance confirmed the impression he’d formed in church: this was a gift from Kit. It had to be. He hated it. Kit had hung this godawful thing on Kathryn like staking a claim on her. The reason it saved Tom from embarrassment was that it was so attention-grabbing that it was impossible to think about anything else after he caught sight of it.

  “Good grief!” he exclaimed involuntarily.

  “Hideous, isn’t it?” she said, looking around to see that she wasn’t being overheard. “Kit thought our little charade would be more convincing if we had props, so he brought over some of the family jewels. This atrocity has a matching ring, but I drew the line at that. I told Kit a ring would be too much of a lie. What do you think? Isn’t it awful?”

  Kathryn’s condemnation of the necklace instantly made it possible for Tom to forgive it. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said mildly. “I’d say its main problem is it’s out of place. It’s in the wrong century, for one thing. It really needs a hoop skirt and a powdered wig, doesn’t it?”

  Kathryn was impressed. “Very good, Tom! It’s eighteenth century; that’s exactly what it needs.”

  “And the other thing,” Tom continued boldly, “is that it’s around the wrong neck. You should never wear a thing like that. It doesn’t suit you. Besides being inappropriate for a priest.”

  Kathryn’s eyes opened wide. Tom held his breath; had he gone too far? Kathryn sighed.

  “Oh, Tom,” she said, “would you mind giving lessons to Kit? He just doesn’t understand.”

  Tom found this so immensely gratifying, he thought he might actually start to glow. She was telling him he understood her better than Kit!

  But Kathryn was reacting differently. Like Tom, she had been spared embarrassment at their encounter by discussion of the necklace. Now she realized she had just asked Tom—poor Tom!—to instruct Kit in how to be a better lover, which was surely thoughtless, heartless, and thoroughly tacky. How could she have been so cruel?

  “I need to circulate,” she said abruptly, “and you need to get back to Kit.” She gave him a little wave and a forced smile and turned and walked away.

  Tom blinked at this rapid departure. She had been embarrassed. Surely he was the one who should be embarrassed today? Or was she embarrassed because she had paid him too high a compliment? Was she afraid he would take it the wrong way, take it as some sort of encouragement? He shook his head and went looking for Kit. He found him telling Tildy Harmon, among others, that Kathryn would make a splendid marchioness; didn’t Tildy agree?

  “I’m not sure she would,” Tildy answered. “I’ve heard all about that palace of yours. I think it would drive Kathryn apeshit.”

  As other members of the groups burst into giggles and guffaws, Tom thought, Tildy, you marvelous woman, remind me to buy you dozens of roses.

  But Tildy was the only skeptic; everyone else yielded before Kit’s undeniable charm. Tom told his story of walking in on Kit and Kathryn’s first kiss four more times, and made it transparently clear to everyone that he approved the supposedly upcoming nuptials. Kathryn, for her part, carefully circulating at least twenty feet from the two men at all times, fingered the emeralds while the ladies of the parish swooned over them, and continued, with great effort, to pretend to be looking forward to the day when she could wear them on a regular basis.

  Finally it was over. The three players met, by agreement, in the Rector’s office.

  He beamed at them, and shook Tom warmly by the hand. “Congratulations! It worked. Five people—and don’t ask me who they were because it wouldn’t be right to tell you—came up to me and said, in effect, that they had told the District Attorney they thought you killed Louise but now they’d changed their minds and they were going to call him tomorrow and say so.”

  Kathryn gave a little whoop of celebration.

  Kit rolled over to Tom and shook his hand. “I’m happy for you, Tom.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, thank God it worked,” said Kathryn with feeling, “because it was bloody awful.”

  “What, saying you were engaged to me?” Kit asked, ever so slightly offended.

  “Oh, the pretense. Letting all the old ladies paw this thing and pretend I loved it when in fact
I can’t wait to get it off.” Kathryn looked at Kit’s face and realized how rude she had been. “Oh, I’m sorry, Kit, but it’s not my style, you must see that. And it’s not at all appropriate for a priest. Surely you can see that, can’t you?”

  A little voice inside Tom was chanting, Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God, in what can only be described as a very smug tone.

  “I brought it,” Kit said in a carefully controlled voice, “because it would be appropriate for a woman who was engaged to be married to me.”

  Kathryn instantly crossed to his wheelchair, dropped to her knees beside it, and with tears springing to her eyes said, “I am so grateful to you for coming to help Tom, and I love you so much.”

  Kit laid a hand gently on her cheek and kissed her. “Think nothing of it. I love hopping transatlantic flights on eight hours’ notice to save the careers of wrongly accused American policemen. I’m thinking of making a hobby of it. It’ll keep me from excessive idleness. That’s better.”

  Kathryn was giggling.

  Tom’s inner voice, however, had changed its tune and was now chanting, Shit shit shit shit shit.

  CHAPTER 22

  It was 2:30 Sunday afternoon. Kit, Kathryn, and Tom had had time to rest from the emotional rigors of that morning, but not, in Kathryn’s opinion, nearly time enough. But they had to put it behind them because there was work to be done. The people Tom had asked her to invite were beginning to arrive at her house.

  Kathryn had recruited the people she knew personally, namely Carlos and José. With their help they had reached the other students. An appeal had been made to people’s public-mindedness: “Come help catch the killer of Jamie Newman.” But hints had been dropped about what they were going to be doing, as well, just enough to pique people’s curiosity, in case altruism wasn’t sufficient to spur them to participate. All told, they had done pretty well; eight out of the eleven people they wanted were now seated in Kathryn’s living room drinking coffee and tea and scoffing down Mrs. Warburton’s homemade orange pecan coffee cake.