The Framed Father

Two-2

“THERE WERE MANY PEOPLE at the picnic, Tom,” Anna says. She squeezes the mop out into the bucket, then leans it against the counter. She dries her hands and looks at me. “I was helping with the kids’ games so I saw nothing in particular I thought anything about.”

“Have you heard anything? I mean, I know you keep your ear to the ground.”

Anna wipes the counter with the towel. “Nothing specific. Just murmurings about how close they seem.” She looks at me. “I’ve heard nothing that would warrant someone writing to the Archdiocese.”

“Do you have any idea who would write anonymously?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t think of a single person, Tom. Everyone in the parish likes Father Leonard. I mean, we all think he’s a little odd sometimes—the way he speaks, his homilies can be a bit long-winded, he sometimes lapses into untranslated Greek or Latin, the fact he’s named after a science-fiction character, you know the teens call him Father Bones—but he’s been good for the parish. The young people like him. He’s done a lot of talks to the Catholic student group on campus. Overall, a nice, calming presence.”

“Someone doesn’t think so,” I point out.

Anna sighs. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“That’s what the Archbishop wants me to do.” I think for a minute. “So tell me about Rachel Watson.”

She shrugs. “There’s not much to tell about her. Her family has lived in Myerton for years. They’re members of the parish, but not active; if they attend more than Christmas and Easter, I’d be surprised.”

“She attended Myer College?”

“No, she went to school in Emmitsburg. Got her degree in business, according to her resume, and took a job with a firm in Pittsburgh. Worked there for a few years, then moved back to Myerton. She’s been attending Saint Clare’s since January.”

“How did she come to be interviewed for parish secretary?”

“She applied,” Anna says matter-of-factly. “Simple as that. We put a note in the bulletin asking for applicants. She and Fern Grumly were the only two that applied. Fern just didn’t cut it; Father McCoy didn’t like her, though I think she would have done a good job. But,” she adds slowly, “he took to Rachel right away. Came out of the interview having offered her the job. Only took about fifteen minutes.”

“You weren’t in the interview?”

“Oh, of course I was,” she says. “Had an entire list of questions for her. We kept Fern in there for about 45 minutes—may seem like overkill, but parish secretary is a sensitive job. They’re privy to all sorts of information about members, and work intimately—” she stops. “Maybe not the best word under the circumstances, but I mean closely with the priest. They need to get along, have discretion and sensitivity.”

I chuckle. “The last full-time secretary had none of that,” I say.

Anna guffaws. “Yes and look what happened. Anyway, 45 minutes with Fern, about fifteen with Rachel. I got through three or four questions when Father Leonard offered her the job.”

“Didn’t you think it was strange?”

“At the time I did. When we received Rachel’s resume, he had a negative reaction. Nothing specific, mind you, but I could tell from the way he looked and the tone of his voice when he talked about her he wasn’t too excited about her interest. So it surprised me when he offered her the job so quickly. But I said nothing. Rachel was much more qualified. And her reason for applying made perfect sense in one respect.”

“But not in all respects?”

Anna shakes her head. “In working here, even full time, she’s making less than half what she did in her previous job.”

“Leonard told me she has her own townhouse,” I say. “Does she still have family in town? Why doesn’t she live with them?”

“From what she’s told me,” Anna says, leaning forward, “she’s not on great terms with her family. They’re not exactly thrilled that she is considering entering religious life.”

“So no support, huh?”

She shakes her head. “No. Oh, her mother and father are decent people. Her father is a CPA in town. I think they just had something different in mind for their daughter. Rachel has a twin sister, Rebecca, who is married.” She pauses. “Her husband is Winthrop Myer IV.”

I whistle. Winthrop Myer was the founder of Myerton, the founder of Myer College. The Myer family is still a prominent family in town, and Myer Holdings owns much of the surrounding mountains. “So Rachel is related by marriage to the Myer family?”

Anna nods. “There is one other thing I should mention about Winthrop Myer. It’s probably nothing. But I think you should know.”

I lean against the counter. “What is it?”

She looks out the window over the sink, then turns to look at me. “Not long after Rachel’s resume came in, Mr. Myer paid Father Leonard a visit. They were in his office for about half an hour.” After he left, Father Leonard gave me a check to deposit in the Parish’s account. It was for $15,000, signed by Winthrop Myer IV.”

I stare at her. “Do you think Myer persuaded Father Leonard to hire his sister-in-law?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know, Tom. It could just be a coincidence. You know, the Myers have been patrons of the parish for generations. His great-great-grandfather helped pay for rebuilding Saint Clare’s after the fire. He’s continued to be a frequent donor, though rarely under his own name. Maybe he threatened to turn off the money?”

I exhale. “I’ll ask Father Leonard about it. What can you tell me about Rachel and her sister? Do you think the sister would have sent the letter?”

“Rachel and her sister still seem close, from what I’ve seen and what Rachel’s told me. But even her sister doesn't seem to understand her vocation. But to answer your question, I really don’t know.”

She folds the dish towel and places it on the counter. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, I suppose I must interview Rachel. I’ll contact her and try to get that done in the next couple of days. First, I’ll get settled in here. The Archbishop wanted me to let him know when I arrived, so I guess I’d better call him.”

“I’ve got the guest room all ready for you,” Anna says.

“Thanks.” I pause. I wonder if I should ask what’s on my mind. “How’s Helen?”

“I don’t really know,” she replies. “I have seen little of her lately.”

“But I thought she started attending Saint Clare’s?”

Anna shrugs. “With three Masses, she’s probably just not there at the same time I am. I mean, there hasn’t been a murder since you left, and I can’t think what else would make her miss Mass.”

I note the sarcasm and laugh. “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem this time.”