Read Online The Countertenor Wore Garlic (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer - Free Book Online Page A
Book: The Countertenor Wore Garlic (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Schweizer
Ads: Link
Saturday, right?" she asked. "The 'Big Finish' to the Halloween carnival? I saw the flyer at the bookstore."
"Yep," I said. " Nosferatu. Five o'clock sharp. I borrowed a big screen and a projector from New Fellowship Baptist. The kids are selling popcorn and we've arranged for the Altar Guild to help clean up and get everything ready for Sunday morning."
"I'm bringing the grandkids," said Marilyn. "I'm also preparing some program notes."
"That's great! Thanks!"
"Who's going to help the vicar serve communion this Sunday?" asked Meg. "Any of the Eucharistic Ministers involved?"
"Nope," said Bev. "No one. He's doing it himself."
***
Choir practice went about as usual. Dr. Ian Burch, PhD, joined us again in the alto section and we were starting to sound pretty good. He came in early, managed to take Martha Hatteberg's chair before she got there, and relegated her to the front row. Being a charter member of the BRAs, she glared at him, but since he was still a guest, bit her lip and didn't say anything. Tiff was back from her trip and so was Sheila. They flanked Ian and both tried to be friendly, but he seemed to be only interested in speaking to one of them.
Chapter 6
The carnival was slated to begin at eleven with the costume contest, but when Meg and I arrived at ten, the kids were already pestering the folks who were running the booths to hurry up and get things rolling. Meg had business downtown, a meeting with one of her Lowcountry clients who was coming up for the weekend. I parked in my designated spot on the square—the one right in front of the police station carefully marked "Reserved for Chief Konig"—gave Meg a kiss, then got out of the old truck and surveyed the downtown activity. The door to the station opened a second later and Nancy joined me on the sidewalk.
"I heard you driving up," she said. "You might want to get that truck tuned up before winter."
"Maybe," I said, "but I think you were hearing the Sacrificial Dance from The Rite of Spring. I had the stereo on pretty loudly."
"I don't know why Meg puts up with it," Nancy said.
"Me, neither," I said. "Do we have donuts inside?"
"Is a five-pound robin fat?" answered Nancy. "Dave brought some in about a half-hour ago. We're out of coffee, though. We might have to walk over and get some."
"Come on," I said with a nod toward the Slab. "We can get a couple of to-go cups."
We walked into the café a couple of minutes later. This being Saturday, and a busy Saturday at that, there were no tables available and, judging from the line, there wouldn't be any tables available until a week from Tuesday. Someone had even taken Nancy's RESERVED sign and put it into the refrigerated pie case behind the Boston Creams. Nancy growled, but didn't say anything. Pete was nowhere to be seen, probably having his hands full in the kitchen. Cynthia, Noylene, and Pauli Girl McCollough were handling the rush with aplomb. All three were balancing coffee pots, cups, full plates, empty plates, and whatever else might be required, all the while maneuvering expertly between tables and customers in a dance that's been going on since Nooka, the first waitress, plunked a big piece of mammoth meat on the table at the Tusk and Tarpit and demanded a seashell for her trouble.
"'Morning, Hayden!" called Mattie Lou Entriken from a table against the far wall. She waved me over in her direction. "C'mere a minute, will you?"
Mattie Lou was having breakfast with Wynette Winslow and Wendy Bolling. Mattie Lou and Wynette, now both in their seventies, had grown up in St. Germaine and been best friends since they were girls in pigtails. Wendy was a newcomer, only having lived here for the last fifty years. All three had outlived their husbands and all three were matriarchs of St. Barnabas. They'd been on, and in charge of, every church committee you could think to name and if I had a question about St. Barnabas, I usually went to one of them first. Mattie Lou and Wynette could be found in
"Yep," I said. " Nosferatu. Five o'clock sharp. I borrowed a big screen and a projector from New Fellowship Baptist. The kids are selling popcorn and we've arranged for the Altar Guild to help clean up and get everything ready for Sunday morning."
"I'm bringing the grandkids," said Marilyn. "I'm also preparing some program notes."
"That's great! Thanks!"
"Who's going to help the vicar serve communion this Sunday?" asked Meg. "Any of the Eucharistic Ministers involved?"
"Nope," said Bev. "No one. He's doing it himself."
***
Choir practice went about as usual. Dr. Ian Burch, PhD, joined us again in the alto section and we were starting to sound pretty good. He came in early, managed to take Martha Hatteberg's chair before she got there, and relegated her to the front row. Being a charter member of the BRAs, she glared at him, but since he was still a guest, bit her lip and didn't say anything. Tiff was back from her trip and so was Sheila. They flanked Ian and both tried to be friendly, but he seemed to be only interested in speaking to one of them.
Chapter 6
The carnival was slated to begin at eleven with the costume contest, but when Meg and I arrived at ten, the kids were already pestering the folks who were running the booths to hurry up and get things rolling. Meg had business downtown, a meeting with one of her Lowcountry clients who was coming up for the weekend. I parked in my designated spot on the square—the one right in front of the police station carefully marked "Reserved for Chief Konig"—gave Meg a kiss, then got out of the old truck and surveyed the downtown activity. The door to the station opened a second later and Nancy joined me on the sidewalk.
"I heard you driving up," she said. "You might want to get that truck tuned up before winter."
"Maybe," I said, "but I think you were hearing the Sacrificial Dance from The Rite of Spring. I had the stereo on pretty loudly."
"I don't know why Meg puts up with it," Nancy said.
"Me, neither," I said. "Do we have donuts inside?"
"Is a five-pound robin fat?" answered Nancy. "Dave brought some in about a half-hour ago. We're out of coffee, though. We might have to walk over and get some."
"Come on," I said with a nod toward the Slab. "We can get a couple of to-go cups."
We walked into the café a couple of minutes later. This being Saturday, and a busy Saturday at that, there were no tables available and, judging from the line, there wouldn't be any tables available until a week from Tuesday. Someone had even taken Nancy's RESERVED sign and put it into the refrigerated pie case behind the Boston Creams. Nancy growled, but didn't say anything. Pete was nowhere to be seen, probably having his hands full in the kitchen. Cynthia, Noylene, and Pauli Girl McCollough were handling the rush with aplomb. All three were balancing coffee pots, cups, full plates, empty plates, and whatever else might be required, all the while maneuvering expertly between tables and customers in a dance that's been going on since Nooka, the first waitress, plunked a big piece of mammoth meat on the table at the Tusk and Tarpit and demanded a seashell for her trouble.
"'Morning, Hayden!" called Mattie Lou Entriken from a table against the far wall. She waved me over in her direction. "C'mere a minute, will you?"
Mattie Lou was having breakfast with Wynette Winslow and Wendy Bolling. Mattie Lou and Wynette, now both in their seventies, had grown up in St. Germaine and been best friends since they were girls in pigtails. Wendy was a newcomer, only having lived here for the last fifty years. All three had outlived their husbands and all three were matriarchs of St. Barnabas. They'd been on, and in charge of, every church committee you could think to name and if I had a question about St. Barnabas, I usually went to one of them first. Mattie Lou and Wynette could be found in
Similar Books
