precise. No surprise there, and Jack Farragut, also new to the faculty and apparently pressed into dinner party duty at the last minute because of his position in the English Department. Ike sensed Jack wished he were somewhere else. They had that in common and in a different set of circumstances he might even like him. Farragut had that tall, athletic leanness usually associated with young men more at home riding surfboards than wearing mortar boards. The sort of young man the CIA used to recruit from campuses back when Ike worked for them.
They were joined a moment later by Monsignor Dunnigan. Dunnigan asked for sherry and immediately engaged Fisher in a lively discussion about the reaction in the Anglican Communion to the drift by conservative Roman Catholics toward enunciating a doctrine of Mary as co-Redemptrix. Dunnigan seemed to enjoy the discussion. Fisher’s responses seemed wearily polite. Down in the southern extension of the Shenandoah Valley, excursions into arcane theology did not play well. Actually, they didn’t play at all. Farragut shifted his eyes between the two men, like a man watching a tennis match, alternately confused and annoyed. Finally, he excused himself and joined the others at the opposite end of the porch. Ike went to find a waiter and another gin and tonic.
All of these activities were brought to an end when a gong reverberated through the building. Ruth collected her guests and mother-henned them into the dining room.
“Fisher,” Ike said, “a word?”
“Certainly, Sheriff. What can I do for you?” The two men stepped aside to let the others pass.
“Can you make some time available for me sometime this week?”
“Do I get a choice?”
“This is not about Templeton. It’s about my mother. She’s not well and…I don’t think she has a lot of time left. Every time the phone rings, I think this must be it.”
“She’s not well?”
“Cancer. Anyway, you know I’m Jewish, as is my dad. My mother ‘converted,’ but she was raised Episcopalian and now—”
“How’s your father holding up?”
“As well as might be expected. They were a match made in heaven, I think. Whether in yours or Abe’s, I’m not sure. Well, I was going to ask you to see her and…do whatever it is you do.”
“Certainly.”
“It’s been a long time since…well, you know, and I think she feels she might not be allowed to—”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Reverend.”
“Blake. Reverend is not—”
“I know, I know, but as I said…okay, and if there is anything I can do to—”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is a little matter of a speeding ticket your young man, Deputy Billingsly, gave me—”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to suborn a magistrate to fix that one.”
“Well then, how about rescuing me from any more theological calisthenics with the good Monsignor.”
“That, I can do. I’m expecting a phone call to pull me out of here. Shall the emergency it will call me to also require the services of a priest?”
“I have no doubt it shall, Sheriff. I can feel it in my bones. Someone, somewhere in the very near future is about to experience a crisis of conscience. Of course, the Church must make herself available.” Fisher grinned. “You won’t forget, will you, Sheriff?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, one more thing. I was looking through my things and discovered something’s missing.”
“What?”
“A gun. I left a message at your office with a woman named Falco.”
Essie, good at logging in messages, not so good at passing them on.
“What kind of gun are we talking about?”
“A .32 caliber Colt automatic.”
“You own a pistol? That seems an odd thing for a minister to own.”
“It was my father’s.”
“You father gave you a .32 Colt?”
“Yeah. I’ve never used it or anything. My mother didn’t want it in the house so I said I’d take it. Is there a problem?”
“Nothing…it’s just that a .32 Colt auto is considered a
They were joined a moment later by Monsignor Dunnigan. Dunnigan asked for sherry and immediately engaged Fisher in a lively discussion about the reaction in the Anglican Communion to the drift by conservative Roman Catholics toward enunciating a doctrine of Mary as co-Redemptrix. Dunnigan seemed to enjoy the discussion. Fisher’s responses seemed wearily polite. Down in the southern extension of the Shenandoah Valley, excursions into arcane theology did not play well. Actually, they didn’t play at all. Farragut shifted his eyes between the two men, like a man watching a tennis match, alternately confused and annoyed. Finally, he excused himself and joined the others at the opposite end of the porch. Ike went to find a waiter and another gin and tonic.
All of these activities were brought to an end when a gong reverberated through the building. Ruth collected her guests and mother-henned them into the dining room.
“Fisher,” Ike said, “a word?”
“Certainly, Sheriff. What can I do for you?” The two men stepped aside to let the others pass.
“Can you make some time available for me sometime this week?”
“Do I get a choice?”
“This is not about Templeton. It’s about my mother. She’s not well and…I don’t think she has a lot of time left. Every time the phone rings, I think this must be it.”
“She’s not well?”
“Cancer. Anyway, you know I’m Jewish, as is my dad. My mother ‘converted,’ but she was raised Episcopalian and now—”
“How’s your father holding up?”
“As well as might be expected. They were a match made in heaven, I think. Whether in yours or Abe’s, I’m not sure. Well, I was going to ask you to see her and…do whatever it is you do.”
“Certainly.”
“It’s been a long time since…well, you know, and I think she feels she might not be allowed to—”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Reverend.”
“Blake. Reverend is not—”
“I know, I know, but as I said…okay, and if there is anything I can do to—”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is a little matter of a speeding ticket your young man, Deputy Billingsly, gave me—”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to suborn a magistrate to fix that one.”
“Well then, how about rescuing me from any more theological calisthenics with the good Monsignor.”
“That, I can do. I’m expecting a phone call to pull me out of here. Shall the emergency it will call me to also require the services of a priest?”
“I have no doubt it shall, Sheriff. I can feel it in my bones. Someone, somewhere in the very near future is about to experience a crisis of conscience. Of course, the Church must make herself available.” Fisher grinned. “You won’t forget, will you, Sheriff?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, one more thing. I was looking through my things and discovered something’s missing.”
“What?”
“A gun. I left a message at your office with a woman named Falco.”
Essie, good at logging in messages, not so good at passing them on.
“What kind of gun are we talking about?”
“A .32 caliber Colt automatic.”
“You own a pistol? That seems an odd thing for a minister to own.”
“It was my father’s.”
“You father gave you a .32 Colt?”
“Yeah. I’ve never used it or anything. My mother didn’t want it in the house so I said I’d take it. Is there a problem?”
“Nothing…it’s just that a .32 Colt auto is considered a
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