handle a telephone.
After I saw her out the door, I called Josie back.
“I’m just checking to see if there’s anything you want me to bring there from civilization,” she said.
I groaned. She would be in Carlton County in another week. It was quite clear she had no intention of cancelling the trip and Keith certainly hadn’t mellowed.
I took a deep breath. “Josie, there’s something you should know.”
“In the interests of full transparency,” she chided.
“Something like that. Anyway, yesterday morning, someone…”
“Left a note in your mailbox.”
“Yes. How could you possibly know that?”
“Well, my darling brother-in-law told me so.”
“You’ve been talking to Keith?”
“Every day. We are coordinating the recall election. For Sheriff Deal,” she prompted. “Lottie, are you there?”
“Are you two nuts? Coordinating? Like heading it? I thought you and Keith were merely going to help out Copeland County residents. You barely survived this county last year and you’re going against a man who has more crazy relations than a dictator in a third world country.”
“Didn’t you tell me just a couple of days ago that we needed to do something about this man?” No mistaking the frost in her voice. I was not up to a little mini-analysis session. I headed her off.
“Yes, but I meant quietly behind the scenes, not setting the whole Fiene family against the Deals. Or perhaps I should say Deals and Albrights.”
“Well, get over it, Lottie. I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to nail that bastard’s hide to the wall.”
She would too.
Chapter Seventeen
My afternoon at the sheriff’s department was uneventful. Like the job was supposed to be. I checked some of the databases I didn’t have access to on my home computer, but could not find any records on Talesbury.
Betty Central would relieve me at five. I spent my time compiling a list of expenses and composing the weekly report for the
Gateway Gazette
. It was worded as though offenders were anonymous, but there wasn’t a person in town who didn’t know exactly who had committed an offense within minutes of the occurrence.
Sam had once threatened to send all our forms directly down to the boys at the coffee shop and save our office the work of filling them out.
About three Bishop Rice called.
“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he announced.
I laughed. “Is there any other kind?”
“The good news is the bad news, actually. The Right Reverend Ignatius P. Talesbury is really and truly a bishop.”
“So that means Tammy is really and truly confirmed.”
“Yes, possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“There are circumstances regarding Talesbury that are a bit peculiar.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Has he been defrocked? Just released from the pen?”
“No, no, nothing like that, and I didn’t mean to give that impression. He was ordained in Africa many years ago.”
“Africa?”
“Yes, his father, John Talesbury was in the Peace Corps there in the 1960s. He fell in love with another volunteer who was actually from Western Kansas. Someplace around where you built your little church.”
“Another small world story.” I emptied a box of thumbtacks and starting sorting them by color as I listened.
“Yes, but it’s complicated.”
I smiled weakly, full to the brim with daily complications.
“The father was Catholic, and mother Episcopalian. In fact, she descended from an Englishman who settled in Kansas.”
“I know a lot about these settlements,” I said. “They tried to recreate the Church of England on the High Plains. I’m working on an article about them, but go on about Talesbury.”
“Of course the mother had to agree to raise the child Catholic.”
“I knew it! Or rather, you’re the one who said Talesbury was Catholic right off the bat.”
“Not only that, but being raised in the Church abroad explains why the ways you described were old, old rituals. That is often the
After I saw her out the door, I called Josie back.
“I’m just checking to see if there’s anything you want me to bring there from civilization,” she said.
I groaned. She would be in Carlton County in another week. It was quite clear she had no intention of cancelling the trip and Keith certainly hadn’t mellowed.
I took a deep breath. “Josie, there’s something you should know.”
“In the interests of full transparency,” she chided.
“Something like that. Anyway, yesterday morning, someone…”
“Left a note in your mailbox.”
“Yes. How could you possibly know that?”
“Well, my darling brother-in-law told me so.”
“You’ve been talking to Keith?”
“Every day. We are coordinating the recall election. For Sheriff Deal,” she prompted. “Lottie, are you there?”
“Are you two nuts? Coordinating? Like heading it? I thought you and Keith were merely going to help out Copeland County residents. You barely survived this county last year and you’re going against a man who has more crazy relations than a dictator in a third world country.”
“Didn’t you tell me just a couple of days ago that we needed to do something about this man?” No mistaking the frost in her voice. I was not up to a little mini-analysis session. I headed her off.
“Yes, but I meant quietly behind the scenes, not setting the whole Fiene family against the Deals. Or perhaps I should say Deals and Albrights.”
“Well, get over it, Lottie. I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to nail that bastard’s hide to the wall.”
She would too.
Chapter Seventeen
My afternoon at the sheriff’s department was uneventful. Like the job was supposed to be. I checked some of the databases I didn’t have access to on my home computer, but could not find any records on Talesbury.
Betty Central would relieve me at five. I spent my time compiling a list of expenses and composing the weekly report for the
Gateway Gazette
. It was worded as though offenders were anonymous, but there wasn’t a person in town who didn’t know exactly who had committed an offense within minutes of the occurrence.
Sam had once threatened to send all our forms directly down to the boys at the coffee shop and save our office the work of filling them out.
About three Bishop Rice called.
“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he announced.
I laughed. “Is there any other kind?”
“The good news is the bad news, actually. The Right Reverend Ignatius P. Talesbury is really and truly a bishop.”
“So that means Tammy is really and truly confirmed.”
“Yes, possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“There are circumstances regarding Talesbury that are a bit peculiar.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Has he been defrocked? Just released from the pen?”
“No, no, nothing like that, and I didn’t mean to give that impression. He was ordained in Africa many years ago.”
“Africa?”
“Yes, his father, John Talesbury was in the Peace Corps there in the 1960s. He fell in love with another volunteer who was actually from Western Kansas. Someplace around where you built your little church.”
“Another small world story.” I emptied a box of thumbtacks and starting sorting them by color as I listened.
“Yes, but it’s complicated.”
I smiled weakly, full to the brim with daily complications.
“The father was Catholic, and mother Episcopalian. In fact, she descended from an Englishman who settled in Kansas.”
“I know a lot about these settlements,” I said. “They tried to recreate the Church of England on the High Plains. I’m working on an article about them, but go on about Talesbury.”
“Of course the mother had to agree to raise the child Catholic.”
“I knew it! Or rather, you’re the one who said Talesbury was Catholic right off the bat.”
“Not only that, but being raised in the Church abroad explains why the ways you described were old, old rituals. That is often the
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