Liturgical Mysteries 01 The Alto Wore Tweed by Mark Schweizer

he?”
    “No.”
    “Then it’s probably nothing. But I do need to talk to him.”
    Her shoulders slumped and she looked resigned to whatever was coming. “C’mon in then.”
    I went in the front door, sat down on the sofa. I looked around the trailer which was, as always, as neat as Matilda’s hat-pin. Ardine had made the curtains, the slipcovers, the quilts—everything—from castoffs and free remnants she got at the fabric store in Boone. It was a deal that I put together for her. I know the owner.
    Bud came in and sat down across from me. His back straight as a ramrod. He was scared. Bud was a nice, polite kid. Not the usual kid with a chip on his shoulder that came out of these hills. He had a library card and he used it almost daily. He was fourteen and had been driving the old truck since he was eleven, but we never bothered him.
    “How’re you doing, Bud?” I asked him.
    “Fine, sir,” he said, his voice quivering.
    “You know why I’m here?”
    “No, sir,” he answered softly.
    “Someone broke into St. Barnabas on Friday afternoon and stole some wine. Would you know anything about that?”
    Ardine broke in. “He was here with me all day Friday. He didn’t even take the truck into town.”
    “It’s true! I didn’t!” exclaimed Bud. “I wouldn’t take wine from the church anyway.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s awful stuff. You see, communion wine doesn’t have to taste good. It can be just about any red wine and usually is whatever’s on sale. You can get a magnum for under ten dollars. It was probably a Muscadet or something from Mogen-David.
    “If I was going to steal anything,” he went on, “I’d be looking for a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, although the taste is probably no better than a lot of burgundies or a good Spanish Rojas. I’d sort of like to have one though. Pouilly-Fuissé is a pretty good dry and fruity white Burgundy, but what I’d really be after is a Cabernet Savignon or a Zinfandel from Mayacamas. Mayacamas is a California winery and their wine is supposed to be really excellent. I wouldn’t even mind a bottle of Stag’s Leap Chardonnay. The wine is supposed to be pretty good, but I just really like the name, don’t you? You know, Gallo has a Chenin Blanc which has been knocking off premium wineries in comparative tastings, but I just have a real problem with any wine that has Gallo on the label.”
    The words tumbled from his mouth in an enthusiastic rush. I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. I looked at Ardine. She was just as bewildered as I was.
    “I’d also like to get hold of a Domaine Roux Père et Fils from St. Aubin. Apparently, their wine can hold its own in blind tastings with a lot of other Meursaults. Or a Château de Rodet from the village of Rully. I’m really hooked on the white burgundies. They’re both fairly inexpensive now and guaranteed to go up in price.”
    Bud’s French was far from flawless, most of it picked up from books, and my hand moved to my mouth to cover my smile.
    “Do you...drink a lot of wine?” I asked.
    “No sir,” he said, looking me in the eye for the first time since our interview started. “I’m only fourteen. I’m not allowed to drink.”
    I had to ask. “Bud, why did you steal those bottles of wine last year?”
    “Well,” he said, as though he didn’t know whether to confide in me or not.
    “Well, I thought I might go ahead start my cellar. You know, so that when I reached twenty-one, I’d already have a good start. I didn’t take very expensive bottles. And they always had a lot more.”
    “Where did you learn all this stuff?”
    “At the library.”
    As I stood up, I felt a tug at my arm. It was Pauli Girl. “That boy jest ain’t right. We all knows it.”
    “Bud?” I asked. “You don’t have to let me, but would you mind if I looked in your room?”
    “I don’t mind. Is it OK, Mom?”
    Ardine was still nervous. “I guess,” she said.
    We walked down the narrow hallway to Bud and