walnut--the smile, most probably a little gas from eating some dead lizard--the knowing look, a product of an over-anthropomorphizing culture. "How schnell?"
"Sehr schnell!"
"Sprechen sie English, Alice? I seem to remember that you do."
"Ja." She sank into a chair. "Vee need to find out who killed Candy. She vas taking money from different special interest groups to include zere hymns in zee new hymnal."
"How does Piggy Wilson figure into it?"
"He vants the graft, but he doesn't have zee connections. We don't sink he killed her. It vould be like killing zee golden moose."
"You mean 'the golden goose, ' Alice. Or maybe just a special goose that lays golden eggs. Any way you spread it, it's still pâté."
* * *
Kent and I bent over the body of Lester Gifford.
"He smells like roses," I said. "Nancy smelled the same thing in the church."
"It's sometimes called the odor of sanctity. "
"This is amazing," I said. "Did you do an autopsy? I don't see any incisions."
"I haven't started yet. Actually, I was sort of afraid to, you know."
"Yeah."
"I know I have to do it, but once I start, I have to finish. The organs have to come out. Everything. Then, according to North Carolina law, he has to be embalmed. Couldn't we wait until we can study him for a while? After all, he's already been dead for sixty years." I could tell that Kent was really torn.
"Here's the thing, Kent. There was obviously foul play—probably a murder—and I have to have an autopsy. If we put this guy on public display, we will, in all probability, never get one. You agree?"
"I do."
"Once you begin the autopsy, the point is moot. Correct? I mean, the church wouldn't want him if you remove his organs and, by law, you have to embalm him anyway."
"That is correct."
"So," I said, thinking out loud. "Although he wouldn't technically be an Incorruptible when you were finished, you could possibly have adequate time to do some research while he was here. That is, before he was embalmed."
Kent brightened considerably. "Yes. Yes I could. What about burial?"
"No rush."
"Next of kin?"
"Haven't found anyone."
"I'll get started then. It'll probably be Monday before I have anything."
"That's fine. I've got Nancy digging around in the public library and the newspaper archives. Maybe she'll come up with something."
* * *
I met Megan in the downtown park at exactly twelve o'clock. Sterling Park was in the middle of the square. It wasn't a large park—just a full city block square—but, in my opinion, it had everything a park should have. A lot of old trees—chestnut and poplar, a few benches, flower gardens, grass, and a white wooden gazebo placed right in the center. St. Barnabas faced east on the west side of the park; City Hall faced west across the way. There were shops and law offices surrounding the square. Main Street came in from the north, ran around the square and exited south. Addresses were therefore divided into North Main and South Main with all the addresses on the square simply designated as "On The Square." For example, the address for St. Barnabas was simply On The Square, St. Germaine, NC. This used to drive the UPS drivers crazy, but they'd gotten used to it. All the buildings had numbers, of course—they were required by law to have them for 911 calls—but no one ever used them. Most of them weren't even displayed.
"Right on time," I said as Meg walked up.
"I'm always on time."
"I meant me."
Meg smiled one of those dazzling smiles that made me glad I was the one at whom it was aimed. "Yes, you are on time. I'm very pleased. You may kiss my hand."
"Yes, mum," I said, gallantly taking her outstretched hand and brushing her fingers with my lips. "Now then. What's for lunch?"
We sat down on a bench, Meg's basket placed between us. She took the red-checked napkin off the basket and began to unpack. Two bottles of cold Harpoon Ale, turkey sandwiches on thick whole-grain bread, hot German Potato salad and a block of aged
"Sehr schnell!"
"Sprechen sie English, Alice? I seem to remember that you do."
"Ja." She sank into a chair. "Vee need to find out who killed Candy. She vas taking money from different special interest groups to include zere hymns in zee new hymnal."
"How does Piggy Wilson figure into it?"
"He vants the graft, but he doesn't have zee connections. We don't sink he killed her. It vould be like killing zee golden moose."
"You mean 'the golden goose, ' Alice. Or maybe just a special goose that lays golden eggs. Any way you spread it, it's still pâté."
* * *
Kent and I bent over the body of Lester Gifford.
"He smells like roses," I said. "Nancy smelled the same thing in the church."
"It's sometimes called the odor of sanctity. "
"This is amazing," I said. "Did you do an autopsy? I don't see any incisions."
"I haven't started yet. Actually, I was sort of afraid to, you know."
"Yeah."
"I know I have to do it, but once I start, I have to finish. The organs have to come out. Everything. Then, according to North Carolina law, he has to be embalmed. Couldn't we wait until we can study him for a while? After all, he's already been dead for sixty years." I could tell that Kent was really torn.
"Here's the thing, Kent. There was obviously foul play—probably a murder—and I have to have an autopsy. If we put this guy on public display, we will, in all probability, never get one. You agree?"
"I do."
"Once you begin the autopsy, the point is moot. Correct? I mean, the church wouldn't want him if you remove his organs and, by law, you have to embalm him anyway."
"That is correct."
"So," I said, thinking out loud. "Although he wouldn't technically be an Incorruptible when you were finished, you could possibly have adequate time to do some research while he was here. That is, before he was embalmed."
Kent brightened considerably. "Yes. Yes I could. What about burial?"
"No rush."
"Next of kin?"
"Haven't found anyone."
"I'll get started then. It'll probably be Monday before I have anything."
"That's fine. I've got Nancy digging around in the public library and the newspaper archives. Maybe she'll come up with something."
* * *
I met Megan in the downtown park at exactly twelve o'clock. Sterling Park was in the middle of the square. It wasn't a large park—just a full city block square—but, in my opinion, it had everything a park should have. A lot of old trees—chestnut and poplar, a few benches, flower gardens, grass, and a white wooden gazebo placed right in the center. St. Barnabas faced east on the west side of the park; City Hall faced west across the way. There were shops and law offices surrounding the square. Main Street came in from the north, ran around the square and exited south. Addresses were therefore divided into North Main and South Main with all the addresses on the square simply designated as "On The Square." For example, the address for St. Barnabas was simply On The Square, St. Germaine, NC. This used to drive the UPS drivers crazy, but they'd gotten used to it. All the buildings had numbers, of course—they were required by law to have them for 911 calls—but no one ever used them. Most of them weren't even displayed.
"Right on time," I said as Meg walked up.
"I'm always on time."
"I meant me."
Meg smiled one of those dazzling smiles that made me glad I was the one at whom it was aimed. "Yes, you are on time. I'm very pleased. You may kiss my hand."
"Yes, mum," I said, gallantly taking her outstretched hand and brushing her fingers with my lips. "Now then. What's for lunch?"
We sat down on a bench, Meg's basket placed between us. She took the red-checked napkin off the basket and began to unpack. Two bottles of cold Harpoon Ale, turkey sandwiches on thick whole-grain bread, hot German Potato salad and a block of aged
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