Read Online The Last Suppers by Diane Mott Davidson - Free Book Online Page B

what had happened to the wedding cake. Marla emerged from my walk-in refrigerator and put her hands on her ample hips. “But remember I said I had more than one problem? Here’s the other: Father Olson kept the rest of the pearls. Out at his place. Twenty chokers, two thousand dollars each. The cops didn’t find them at his house.”
    “They’ve already searched the whole place?” I couldnot remember ever being so confused. Another wave of weariness swept over me. I ran a hand over the black enamel of Tom’s stove. “That’s hard to believe. Why did you … why did Olson have the pearls in the first place?”
    “He always kept the stuff for the jewelry raffle and sale.” Marla sounded disgusted. “He kept the gold chains last year and the jade the year before that. He said a jewelry thief would never scope out Upper Cottonwood Creek. I told the police to keep looking for them, but they said his house wasn’t burgled, so it’s not as if they searched every nook and cranny. It’s just that the motive doesn’t look like robbery at this point. Of course Olson didn’t have a safe. And they won’t let me or anyone else go into his house to poke around. That Olson. He was such a squirrelly packrat, he probably hid them somewhere we’ll never find.” She groaned.
    “Squirrelly packrat?”
    “Sorry, I’m mixing my rodent metaphors. You going to eat these truffles?”
    “Go ahead. Marla—Is there a church organization with the acronym P.R.A.Y.?”
    She took a bite of chocolate and munched thoughtfully. “Pray? Not that I know of, and you know if anyone would know about church organizations, it’s me.”
    “Well, when was the last time you read the story about Judas?”
    Marla finished her first truffle, looked over the tray, and chose a second, this one a plump dark mound dusted with cocoa. She popped it into her mouth, put a hand on her large chest, and frowned. “I certainly don’t know. Why?”
    “Tom wrote something down before Olson died,” I murmured. “He mentioned this P.R.A.Y. and Judas, but nobody knows what he was talking about.”
    “Judas? He wrote something about Judas? Why?” I shrugged. Marla licked her fingertips. “Let’s see, what’s today? Still Lent. I always wait for somebody to read the story to me. You know, in church. The Last Supper, Maundy Thursday, then the betrayal by Judas. No, no, it’s the otherway around. Wait a minute. You’re the Sunday School teacher, you tell me. Is that all he wrote? What was it, some kind of ransom note?”
    “No.” I’d probably already said too much. I gritted my teeth in preparation for further interrogation, but Marla pushed away the truffle tray and gazed in my direction, concerned. Clearly, she was more worried about me as a friend than she was about the details of the homicide/kidnapping investigation.
    “Goldy, want to come and stay at my place? I can take care of you. Honestly, it’s the least I can do. Matron of honor and all that.”
    “No, thanks. I have to stay by the phone. Until they find him,” I said uncertainly.
    “They’ll find him,” Marla said firmly. She inched her chair over and put her hand on my arm. “Goldy, you cannot stay here alone.”
    “You’re great, but honest. I’m not alone—Arch and Julian are with me. Talk to me about the church. Tell me how this could happen.”
    “I swear, I don’t know. Olson was just—” She gestured extravagantly, like an Italian looking for a word. “—a cute charismatic who had a good grounding in theology? I don’t know. Does that sound prejudiced? I mean, when I told him we cleared twenty thousand on the gold chains last year, he didn’t say ‘Praise the Lord.’”
    “That doesn’t help.” Twenty thousand dollars on gold chains? I felt hysteria rising in my throat and pushed it down. “With these jewelry raffles—you sell some and raffle some, right?” She nodded. “Who ordered the pearls for the fund-raiser? Do you know how many people knew they