A Truth for a Truth (9 page)

“I didn’t want to tell this to a stranger.”

“He’s very bright. He would be my pick if I needed somebody.”

Hildy was twisting the handle of her purse. For some reason it reminded me of Marie Grandower twisting her shawl at the reception. I wondered if I’d be thinking of her again, once Hildy started her story.

Jack returned with coffee for everybody and muffins. I was too hungry not to dig in. Besides, I didn’t have to worry about talking with my mouth full. My job was to stay silent, and the muffins would remind me.

Jack began. “Aggie told me on the phone that the police want to talk to you about Reverend Dorchester’s death. She said you were concerned about being questioned and wanted an attorney present.”

Hildy twisted and nodded.

“To me, that says you may have things you’re worried about telling the police,” Jack said. “Is that right?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“It’s just that . . .” Hildy twisted the handle around her fingers. I was beginning to worry about her circulation, maybe even amputation.

“Take all the time you need,” he assured her.

“Win and I had words that night,” she said tightly. “After the party.”

“Would you like to tell me about what?”

Hildy glanced at me. I chewed and nodded, afraid to smile reassuringly because of muffin crumbs on my teeth.

“I found out that night . . .” Hildy’s nostrils were narrowed, but she was breathing quickly anyway. “I found out that after all these years, Win was still having an affair with Marie Grandower.” Now she stopped breathing altogether. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Still?” Jack asked. “Exactly what did you find out and when?”

At last Hildy sighed, for which I was supremely grateful.

“I found out about his affair with Marie when we lived in Emerald Springs, right at the end of his ministry here. I told Win I would leave him if he didn’t resign and get away from her. I suppose he believed me, because he did find another church and quickly.”

She glanced at me. “I guess you already knew this?”

“No.” I swallowed my crumbs. “I really didn’t.”

“I always wondered if the affair became common knowledge after we left. Maybe it didn’t. Or maybe your husband knows and just didn’t tell you.”

It would be like Ed not to tell me, but often in those situations when he’s keeping secrets, I suspect. I was betting he didn’t know about this affair, that perhaps those who did know had kept it private.

Hildy continued. “He was a good man. I want you to believe that, but that affair was his great weakness. I asked myself if I should put up with him afterwards, if I should just leave. But . . .” She shook her head. “I loved our life, and I loved him. And I knew I was doing good as his wife, that I had a talent for helping people in our churches. I didn’t want to give that up.”

I had felt sorry for Hildy after Win’s death, but not as sorry as I felt for her now. We never really know the burdens other people carry, particularly when they are so good at hiding them.

“Of course we had children, too,” she added. “They loved their father.”

I was trying not to judge Hildy’s decision, but I couldn’t help wondering what I would do in her situation.

She went on, speaking a little faster. “Anyway, of course I thought about Marie when Win and I discussed coming back to Emerald Springs. But fifteen years had passed. Win was not a well man, and I doubted an affair was on his mind. I knew Marie spent most of her time in South Carolina, and that her house here had gone up for sale. So I thought there was nothing to worry about. I always hated the way we left, because this was one of my favorite churches. Maybe I thought if we came back, we could put a better spin on things. End happily? I don’t know. There were enough good reasons that coming back seemed to make sense.”

Jack was leaning on his forearms, as if to move closer to Hildy. “And the night he died? How did you find out about the affair?”

“I didn’t invite Marie to the party, of course, but she came with Geoff Adler. I gather they often attend parties together. I was upset, but I decided to ignore her. I did, until the party’s end when I saw her in the corner of our side yard with my husband. Geoff had already gone home. Marie lives close enough to walk. No one else was out there, and Win and Marie didn’t see me. They were as close as Siamese twins.” She looked embarrassed. “Oh, I guess that’s not the politically correct way to say that.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack said. “So you suspected that the affair was ongoing or about to start up again?”

“I didn’t interrupt, but once Win came back inside, I slipped out and challenged her. She told me . . . She told me Win loved her, had always loved her, and that they’ve been together every chance they could since we left Emerald Springs. She said all those times when I thought he was at meetings out of town? He was with her!”

I was sorry I’d eaten the muffin. My stomach was rolling. I felt awful.

“We had words,” Hildy said. “Loud, ugly words, then she left. I found Win, and I told him what Marie had said. We fought. Of course, he said Marie was lying, that she’d waylaid him that night, and he’d told her as gently as he could that they would never have a relationship again. He claimed he hadn’t seen her at all through the years, except once when we’d come back here to visit. He said she waylaid him that time, too. He reminded me that moving back to Emerald Springs had been my idea, not his, and he’d been afraid of this.”

“Was that true?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

“Does it matter? If he was having a secret affair with her, we could have lived anywhere and it would have continued. Moving here just made it more convenient. And at this point, I can’t even remember who talked about moving back first.” Hildy reached for a tissue box on the corner of the desk.

“Whether he was or wasn’t having an affair doesn’t seem to make much of a difference now,” Jack pointed out. “The fact that you’d been told about one
is
important, unfortunately.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Hildy sniffed. “At least not outright. If I’d been the murdering type, I’d have wrung his neck. But I was furious. I did shout at him when he was supposed to be avoiding stress, and I left him to finish the cleanup alone, when maybe he should have been off his feet and resting.”

“Getting angry at somebody and telling them what you think isn’t murder,” I said.

Hildy didn’t look convinced. “I went for a walk. When I got back, I didn’t see Win, but the kitchen trash can didn’t have a bag inside, and it had been pulled out toward the center of the room. I assumed he was emptying it, and I was glad I didn’t have to face him just then. But when time passed and he didn’t come back inside, I opened the back door to see where he was. I even wondered if Marie had come back and they were outside together. And that’s when I found him clutching his chest by the garbage cans. He gasped my name and 911, then he fell forward and died.”

“Okay.” Jack waited, and when she didn’t speak, he added, “Anything else before I call Detective Sergeant Roussos and find out what’s going on with the investigation? Because I don’t see any point in having a conversation with the police unless the autopsy shows something we hope it won’t. Until then, this was just an unfortunate heart condition.”

“Win had so much to offer as a minister.” Now Hildy was speaking to me, not to Jack. “I knew that. Everybody knew that. But he was flawed. I just felt he had so many good things to offer anyway, I could cover up for him a little. It was my job, and I did it, even when I hated to.”

I reached over and took her hand. “I know you were doing what you thought was right.” Whether I thought it was right or not didn’t really matter now.

“Everybody’s going to know,” Hildy said glumly. “I wanted to preserve the illusion Win was almost perfect. I didn’t want this to come out.”

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed her hand in mine. It was as cold as Marie Grandower’s heart.

Finally I dropped it and stood. “I’m going to leave now. I think you and Jack should have a heart-to-heart about strategy. You don’t need me for that.”

Hildy gave a short nod. “I wanted you to hear this from me rather than from somebody in the congregation. You’ll tell your husband?”

Minister’s wife to minister’s wife. You and me against the world. And now I knew I was supposed to cushion the news when I told Ed, to make Win sound better than he had been. But I nodded anyway. “You know we’ll both stand by you, Hildy. We’ll do whatever you need.”

I was halfway to my car when I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

I stopped by the church on the way home from Jack’s office, both to see if Ed was asleep at his desk and to get papers to bring home. When we first arrived, I volunteered to be the church historian, because communing with members from the past is less risky than communing with those in the present. No long-gone parishioner withholds a pledge to the church because I inadvertently step on somebody’s toes in a committee meeting. No pledges, no toes, plus I’m a self-congratulatory committee of one. You can’t beat it.

A few years ago I had put together a scrapbook of church history, then I’d figured that since I’d worked hard to clean up our deteriorating archives, putting more bits and pieces into an anniversary book would be simple. The First Commandment for Clergy Families? Nothing ever is.

Since the moment I volunteered, I’ve been advised, chastised, and neutralized. My original plan, a simple paperback volume filled with photographs, has now been upgraded into a hardcover tome with fine print to be locally published late this summer. Why did I continue? Because if there were proceeds from the sale, all profits would go toward a new storage room, and that was the major reason I’d agreed to the project.

Good cause or not, after all the fuss, last month I put my foot down and made the church board my final offer. We would use previously written histories for the first one hundred years of Tri-C, then for the past fifty I would organize years by ministries, publishing one sermon per minister, a recap of important events during his or her tenure, and interviews and photographs if possible. We struck a deal.

Now, with my deadline approaching, I still have several ministries to complete. These days, with no houses to flip, I sift through old photographs and page through board minutes from the 1950s and 1960s. This week I hoped to complete all the documentation from the speed-dial ministry of one Frederick Yarberry, a perfectly nice man who only served two years. So far the minutes show no hint of discord. I’m assuming two particularly difficult winters led to his move. The Yarberry sermon I’ll include is entitled “Palm Trees at Christmas Time.” Maybe it
is
about the climate and terrain of Bethlehem at the birth of Jesus, but I think the title speaks for itself. Particularly since his next church was in South Florida.

I parked in front of the parish house and sprinted inside to get more records. Our secretary, Norma Beet, greeted me from her desk in the reception area. Norma has undergone a change recently. She’s joined an aerobics class and lost weight. I’m hoping that soon, she’ll trade in the cat’s-eye glasses and the dark hair dye for something less startling. Norma is blossoming.

Blossom or not, I had hoped to avoid her. Not because I don’t like her—I do—but because Norma notices and remembers every little thing. Unfortunately, she’s never afraid to share.

I greeted her and didn’t pause for a response, knowing what a pause can bring. “Is Ed in his office?”

“He’s making a parish call, or several. Yes, several, I think. People are upset about yesterday. They’ve been calling all morning.”

This didn’t surprise me, and if Ed felt chipper enough to zip around town, then I had nothing to worry about. I listened as Norma ticked off names of callers and the exact length of their calls.

She switched gears. “The lilies in the sanctuary look so terrible, we can’t use them for the Easter service—”

I cut her off before I could hear details of every wilting petal. “I was afraid of that. I stopped by the sanctuary last night. They were looking pretty droopy then.” Particularly after I’d finished with them. I did feel badly about the subterfuge, but I would have felt worse if Ed stopped breathing during his Easter sermon.

“I took the liberty of calling in an order for potted hydrangeas,” I added. “Our family will donate them.”

“I’ll tell the flower committee.”

“Let’s not. Let’s make it a surprise.” I didn’t want supplements.

“It must have been a terrible day, with the police taking the body and all.”

Norma had been absent from the service. She hadn’t lived in town when Win Dorchester was our minister, and on Wednesday afternoons she tutors at Teddy’s school, an event she hates to miss. I imagined she had already heard every detail from everybody who called, so I didn’t expand.

“It was terrible,” I agreed. “Although there was only one detective, and he was probably just there to escort the body to the coroner’s office.” Or more likely because he was interested in seeing what happened when the announcement was made.