Do Unto Others

9

The warm aroma of freshly baked kolaches enveloped me as I stepped into LuAnne’s Backerei. Kolaches are a Czech pastry, a warm, square roll with a fruit or sausage middle and topping. Every small town in east-central Texas boasts a kolache bakery, even some left over from the earliest Czech immigrants. Kolache and coffee together are the ultimate in comfort foods; the smell alone brought back memories of my grandmother Schneider’s kitchen, a tray of hot kolaches being set before Sister and me-with a gentle warning to let them cool so we wouldn’t burn our mouths. Today’s batch smelled of apple, peach, and heaven. I didn’t know LuAnne or any of the staff; there was one stout, matronly woman in the back on the phone and a trio of young girls brewing coffee, pulling fresh kolaches out of glass-fronted ovens, and ringing the cash register. If LuAnne’s had a morning rush I’d missed it. Two plump ladies in stretch polyester pantsuits sat by the door, laughing merrily over steaming cups of coffee. A circle of older men slumped by a table, watching the women chat. One man, a Dallas Cowboys cap perched on his head, held court, talking and smoking his cigarette. The other men munched on their kolaches, and it was hard to tell if they paid the slightest attention to him. They had probably heard whatever story he was telling a hundred times already. I approached the counter, bought two apple kolaches and a coffee, laced with milk and sugar. The girl who rang up my purchase smiled prettily.

I thought she was just Hally’s type. “Excuse me. Are you Chelsea Hart?” “No, she is.” The girl jerked her head toward the ovens. A girl I never would have pictured with Hally Schneider extracted a tray of steaming peach kolaches from the oven. She wasn’t pretty and I’m not being unkind. She just wasn’t Her face was bony to an extreme, gaunt and sallow. Her nose and chin were small, but sharply pointed, like a cartoon witch’s. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair, with a front tuft moussed to defy gravity. A short-sleeved blouse showed arms like rails. I moved down the counter and spoke to her, aware of the cashier’s eyes on me. “Excuse me?

Chelsea?” I said. Chelsea Hart gave me an apathetic glance and moved her chewing gum to the other side of her mouth. “Yeah? Can I help you?” she asked in a nasally drawl. “I’m Jordy Poteet. Hally Schneider’s cousin. Could I talk to you for a second?” I motioned toward a table. Chelsea blinked brown eyes at me. She glanced back at the heavy woman, who chirped into her phone, waving a lit cigarette for emphasis. She turned to me. “Sure.” I went to a corner table with my kolaches and coffee and Chelsea followed, dragging her feet along the ground. She sat across from me, propping up her bony face with bony fingers. “Kolache?” I offered her one of my apple pastries. She made a sour face, which didn’t help her cause any. “God, no. I get enough of them, believe me. What did you want?” I still hadn’t come up with a better excuse than planning some party for Hally. “Well, I understand you’re dating my cousin.” She laughed, and it was too hollow and empty to come from a teenage girl. “I don’t think one miserable evening counts as dating.” “Oh.” I was at a loss. “Sorry.

I’m planning a party for Hally, and I hoped you could help me. I thought-” “That I was Hally’s girlfriend?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Wrong. You must not know your cousin very well. I wouldn’t be the person to help you plan a party for Hally.” I took immediate refuge in the kolache, chewing it slowly to gather my thoughts.

Chelsea looked bored. I swallowed and said, “But you were out with him night before last, right?” “Yeah, I was. My evening with Prince Charming. Right.” She leaned forward and I could smell, mixing with the fragrance of coffee and fruit, a cheap, sticky perfume. “You tell your cousin something for me, okay? I don’t get asked out that often, and it don’t bother me. My own company suits me fine. But when a guy wants to spend time with me, I expect him to be with me, not off in his own world. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about being with me; it was just like he was killing time.” She leaned back. “I was surprised when Hally asked me out. He ain’t exactly the kind of boy that goes out with me. But I figured it out. I’m not stupid. He ain’t been dating anyone in school, so I figure here’s a chance for me, even though he asked me at the last minute. When we were together, he didn’t even know I was around. Just kept checking his watch all through our hamburgers. Told me the same football story three times and didn’t realize it. Even parked down by the river and he just wanted to talk.

If I want to talk I can stay home and listen to my sister.” Chelsea Hart smacked her gum emphatically. “He probably thought he was doing me some damn big favor, just breathing the same air as me. Well, I don’t need that. If he was out with me just to make some other girl jealous, he can kiss my ass.” “Can I ask you one question?” I interjected. Enough pretense. She shrugged bony shoulders. “When did he bring you home?” “Midnight. I got a curfew. I was ready to go home hours earlier, though, but he insisted on sitting and talking. Christ, what a bore he was. And if you’re having some stupid party for him, cross my name off the invite list. I don’t need him.” With that, she stormed back to the counter, leaving me with a kolache halfway to my mouth. Hell hath no fury and all that. I finished my coffee. Chelsea Hart might be as ugly as the day was long but damned if she wasn’t her own person. That would help her in life far better than comeliness ever would. Why was Hally spending time with a girl he had no apparent interest in? Where was his mind when he was on the date from hell? I had a sinking feeling that Hally was more concerned with providing himself with an alibi for Beta’s murder than with winning Chelsea’s heart. Why had my cousin gone to the trouble? What did he have to hide? I hurried out of the warm smell of the bakery, the dull throb of suspicion beginning in my heart. Matt Blalock was the last person I expected to see at the First Baptist Church, but there he was. Adam Hufnagel was helping him into his Taurus, storing the folding wheelchair and putting it in the back seat. I pulled up next to Matt.

The good reverend and Matt ignored me. By the time I was out of the car, Matt’s exhaust churned in the air and he tore out of the parking lot. I blinked at Reverend Adam Hufnagel. He smiled thinly at me. I don’t think he was pleased to see me. Adam Hufnagel was a tall, rangy man, thinner from his bout with cancer last year. He was a tough old bird and he’d beaten the disease. His hair was iron gray, the color that gives a man the look of resolve. Strong-featured, he looked more distinguished than handsome, the ideal father figure. I wondered if his wife Tamma thought of him that way. Brother Adam slipped on his smiling parson’s face for me. “Jordan!” He came forward, shaking my hand in the warm, intimate way that all clergy use. “Good to see you, son. How are you doing?” His voice, a rich-timbred instrument, oozed just the amount of concern a Southern gentleman would permit himself.

“Fine, Reverend, considering what all’s happened in the past couple of days. Do you have a minute to talk?” He inspected his watch. “Just for a few minutes. I have to meet with the ladies who are planning Vacation Bible School.” Ah. “Weren’t your wife, my cousin Janice, and Beta doing that?” He steered me toward a church side door. “Why, yes, they were. Horrible about Beta’s murder. Horrible.” “No one should die that way,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m trying to find out who killed her.” I felt his fingers on my arm stiffen for a moment, then relax.

We went down a short, tiled hallway, the walls covered with a rainbow of felt cutouts done by the Sunday school children. Crosses, trees of life, doves, hands grasping. The nursery school interpretation of religion. It seemed better than Beta’s version. Adam Hufnagel’s office was immaculate. Files were stacked neatly on his desk. Pencils and pens stood in holders, with not a single stray on the desk. An assortment of silver-framed photos ranged the credenza behind his comfortable leather chair. So much for vows of poverty. The pictures were nearly always of Hufnagels: Adam and Tamma vacationing in a sunny place, Adam and Tamma wearing T-shirts of the church’s soccer team, Adam and Tamma getting married, he looking more like her father than her husband. Adam gestured toward a seat. “When will the library reopen?” “Hopefully soon. Junebug makes that decision.” I paused. Adam Hufnagel was a little intimidating, but I hadn’t backed down over the book banning and I wasn’t about to back down now. I swallowed and said, “Is that what Matt was here to see you about? The library?”

“Sort of.” Adam smiled at me like he might at a child who’d asked if God really existed. “He wanted to know if he could use the church hall for his veterans’ meeting, since the library is temporarily closed. Of course I gave him permission, and he was very happy.” “Oh.” If I hadn’t kept eye contact with the good Reverend I might have believed it. Eyes betray us. Adam Hufnagel’s eyes darted down to my lap and back again as he spoke. He didn’t want to look at me. And when I thought of Matt Blalock and Adam Hufnagel, who’d been on opposite sides of the censorship battle, I couldn’t see Matt asking Adam for help. “Matt can be difficult, but these are veterans.” Adam shrugged, keeping his eyes steadily on me. “I thought perhaps letting Matt use the church would mend fences broken during our recent”-he fumbled for a word-“disagreements.” “Matt doesn’t strike me as a fence mender. He wasn’t exactly broken up over Beta Harcher’s death.” Adam raised palms in supplication, and it was a distinctly annoying gesture. It said: don’t ask me-I just work here. “Matt has many burdens to carry, Jordan. I hope I can minister to his needs. Now what did you want to see me about? Surely not to ask questions about Matt Blalock?” I licked my lips. I felt as nervous as the proverbial whore in church.

Grilling regular folks was one thing, but trying to worm information out of a man who was supposed to be above reproach made me uneasy. I swallowed down my unease and forged ahead. “I understand that Beta took your key to the library to get in.” “Apparently so.” Adam nodded.

“Tamma noticed it missing when the police called. Beta was here the afternoon before she died for a brief time. I don’t keep the office locked during church hours. It would have been easy for her to take.”

“Thou shalt not steal,” I intoned. “Seems she only observed commandments that were convenient to her.” “Jordan, let me be frank.”

He leaned forward over his spotless desk. “Beta Harcher was a committed member of this congregation.” Should’ve been committed, I thought, but held my tongue. “She didn’t have much of a life outside of church. Old maid, with no family left here in town. She practically ran this church for me.” He smiled but there was no feeling behind it.

“And that didn’t bother you? Tamma suggested to me that she tried to tell you what to do.” “I’m an ordained minister of the Southern Baptist Church, Jordan. I’m the one responsible for my flock, not Beta Harcher. She knew and understood that.” “She appointed herself custodian of other people’s morality quick enough, Adam.” Hell, he was on the board, wasn’t he? First names were a leveling field. I leaned forward, rudely putting my elbows on his desk. I meant to be rude.

“She was going to burn down the library. That’s the latest theory.

They found traces of gasoline on her hands. If she couldn’t ban some books, she’d burn all of them. Are you still so proud of her now, Adam?” He didn’t rattle. “No, of course not. That would have been wrong of her.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Seems to me that points the finger of blame more at you, Jordan. Quite possible you’d do anything to protect that library.” I shrugged. “Someone who doesn’t know me very well might think so.” I curled one leg up under myself and he glanced at his watch. I didn’t hurry. “Did the police tell you about the list she made?” They hadn’t. I told him about it and watched the color seep from his face. His blood traveled pretty fast for an older man. “Interesting, isn’t it, Reverend? You didn’t make the list.

She must not have been mad at you.” “You don’t know that the list is of people she had a bone with,” Adam answered. “I didn’t have any problems with Beta.” “Did your wife? She made the list. She’s not on the library board.” Neither were Hally or my mother or Matt, but I didn’t mention that. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.

Tamma and Beta got along fine. Tamma felt she ought to be in charge of certain church events as my wife. Beta disagreed. There was some conflict between them for a while, usually with Beta winning. Tamma does not usually have a confrontational personality.” “No, she doesn’t. Beta had the monopoly on that.” Adam Hufnagel raised an eyebrow at me. “They worked on their differences. I asked Tamma and Beta to serve together as chaperons at a youth group retreat over at Lake Travis at the beginning of March. They returned with their disagreements resolved, as friends.” He looked sternly at me. “I’m sure their shared love of Jesus brought them together.” “Must’ve,” I concurred politely. “And I have no idea why Beta would put Tamma’s name on this list. You’re judging Beta too harshly. Perhaps it was a prayer list. We should pray for our enemies.” I shook my head. “Maybe with me and some of the others who are on the list. But not your wife, right? You just said they were pals.” “I can’t help you. I don’t know the answer to why Beta did that.” He stood, trying to end the interview. “I must meet with my wife and Janice. We have a lot of planning to do for the Vacation Bible School.” “Just another minute, please,” I said, keeping my seat. His comment reminded me of something Tamma mentioned yesterday. “She said she’d also worked with Beta on the church rummage sale.” Adam smiled briefly as he sat back down.

“That was the first sign that their little battles were over. Beta volunteered for it, then just took it over entirely from Tamma. Tamma realized that it was important to Beta to feel busy, so she let her.”

“When was that sale?” I asked. Adam glanced at his calendar. “About two weeks ago. Beta, I’m afraid, didn’t do a very good job. She left many things undone that Tamma and I had to do at the last minute.”

“Like what?” He shrugged, impatient. “Sorting through contributions.

Pricing them. She’d made a start on some, but then it was as if she forgot to finish the rest.” That didn’t sound like Beta. If she was anything, she was thorough. She’d shown that in her war against the library. I thought hard. I hadn’t considered one important part of the formula that equalled death for Beta Harcher. Why had she died now, at that particular time? What had happened in her life that led to her death? I had only concentrated on her war against the library and me, but she might have had other mischief up her pilgrim’s sleeve. The church was her other main means of contact with her fellow human beings. Perhaps I needed to start looking for an answer there. Aside from her general involvement in the church, there was her involvement in the Vacation Bible School, the rummage sale, and the youth groups.

“Do you have a list of everyone who contributed to the rummage sale?”

Adam Hufnagel looked suspiciously at me. What was I-Herod hunting down innocents? “Why would you want that?” “I’m curious as to who donated to the church. Surely you keep a list of contributors.” “I do, but I don’t see that it’s any of your business.” “Look, Adam. You can play this the easy way or the rough way. Beta Harcher had an unusual amount of money in her banking account, enough to overflow most coffers. She hadn’t had that money long. It hasn’t been traced yet, so I don’t think she got it from stock options or winning the lottery. She was getting it from someone.” It took a moment for it to register with Adam. “Blackmail? Beta? That’s absurd.” The music of his voice was slightly off-key. “No more ridiculous than her trying to burn the library. I’m just curious about who she dealt with in the past two weeks. It wasn’t just the folks on the library board. It was people in this church.” Adam looked uncertain. I stood. “That’s okay. I can just take my story to Junebug. He doesn’t think I killed her. He’s just itching to have someone else to hand over to Billy Ray Bummel. He can get a warrant to search every record in this church.” Tamma interrupted us. She stepped inside her husband’s office, not seeing me at first, but deciphering the look on her husband’s face. Her eyes, so downcast yesterday, found me and weren’t happy. “Jordy. What are you doing here?” Her voice showed anger. “Talking to your husband,” I answered. I’m a stickler for politeness. “Bothering him, you mean. I wish you’d leave him alone.” The mouse was now roaring. I ignored her.

Adam held the power in that relationship, so it was him I dealt with.

“That list, Reverend?” He weighed it in his mind. A tongue, used to spouting Scripture and metaphor, fell silent. He walked out of the office. Tamma glared at me. “Why are you doing this? Why are you bothering us?” she demanded. Her hands balled into fists, unsuitable for prayer. “I didn’t realize looking for truth was a bother to you.

Isn’t that why we have churches?” “I used to think nicely of you, Jordy. But you’re a thoroughly unlikable person. Leave us alone.” Adam returned with a file. He sorted through the papers, found one, set the file down, and walked back out. I heard his footsteps stop, the hum of a copying machine, and the crisp sound of paper sliding into a tray.

His footsteps resumed and he entered, brandishing a paper at me.

“Here. I hope you don’t bother these people too much.” He glanced at his wife, who wouldn’t look at me. “I can’t see how this has anything to do with Beta’s death.” “Thanks. Good day, Reverend. Mrs. Hufnagel.”

I nodded to the unfriendly Tamma, and left. Walking out into the morning sunshine of the parking lot, I scanned the list quickly. It was interesting that two of the names matched two of the names on Beta’s list. I changed my plans. I went home. Sister sat in the living room, watching Mama sweep the back porch. Mama loved to do that; repetitive actions hold a fascination for Alzheimer’s patients.

It’s almost as if their repertoire of tasks is so limited, they get a sensual pleasure out of repeating endlessly the few actions they can still do well. Mama swept even the microbes off that porch, weaving back and forth for hours if uninterrupted. We didn’t want her to do it at first, but her doctor said it was decent exercise. It was better than the walking in circles that she also favored. I decided to try out a theory. No more taking folks at face value. I picked up the kitchen phone, cleared my throat, and dialed Matt Blalock’s number.

“Hello, Blalock residence.” “May I speak to Matthew Blalock, please?”

I sounded just like my friend and co-worker Gil Camden back in Boston, just watering down the Yankee accent a tad. Making fun of Yankees when you live up there tends to make you into a good mimic. At least it did me. “This is Matt Blalock.” “Hello, my name is Gil Camden. I’m a Vietnam vet who just recently moved to Bavary. I understand you hold a weekly meeting over there in Mirabeau for vets. I’m interested in attending.” “Yes, we do. But not this week.” Matt coughed. “We don’t have our usual meeting place available. We should have it back next week, and we’ll meet then. If I can get your address and phone number, Mr. Camden, I’ll-” I set the receiver gently back into its cradle. The good Reverend Hufnagel had lied right to my face. So why were he and Matt together at the church? The two of them were a pair that just didn’t match. I went up to my room and laid out my notes. Since I didn’t have enough answers about the suspects, I decided to concentrate on the victim. Beta brought death on herself; this was no random act of violence, no crime of passion. Her presence in the library at night, her attempt to torch the building, her careful list of names and Biblical verses, the unexplained money in her account pointed to some system she’d imposed on her life. Beta, in other words, was up to something and it got her killed. I was the person most attached to the library; I’m the only one who would have arguably killed for it (and I wouldn’t have gone that far). That list had kept me focused on Beta’s relationships at the library, but Mirabeau was a small town and lives overlap in other areas. I needed to cast my net further, and I’d decided to start with the church. I wrote out another list on paper: TIMETABLE OF EVENTS IN BETA’S LIFE January-Beta in hospital, accuses Ruth Wills of trying to poison her. Incident dropped. February-Beta forced off library board after censorship battle. Rough fight with bad feelings between Beta and library board and vice versa. Particular animosity between Beta and Matt Blalock.

Bob Don Goertz appointed to replace Beta. Beginning of March-Beta chaperones with Tamma Hufnagel on youth group trip to Lake Travis.

Beta and Tamma mend fences. Late March-church rummage sale. Beta drops the ball on it. Beginning of April-Beta begins planning work on Vacation Bible School with Tamma and Janice Schneider. Monday, April 7, evening-Hally Schneider takes Beta home after baby-sitting job.

Sees Eula Mae Quiff meeting Beta at her house. Tuesday, April 8-Beta deposits $35,000 in her savings account. Saturday, April 11, evening-Ruth witnesses violent argument between Beta and Bob Don at his dealership. Beta makes some threat toward someone Bob Don cares about. (Perhaps his mistress-remember his assigned quote about a damsel or two!) Monday, April 13, morning-fights with me at library.

Also present: Tamma, Eula Mae, Ruth. Monday, April 13, afternoon-at her home apparently meets with Bob Don, then Tamma. Goes to church and takes library key from Adam’s office. Monday, April 13, late night-goes to library with intention of burning it down-alone or with killer? Killed with baseball bat. I read again where Beta deposited all that money. The day after she met Eula Mae. And Eula Mae was one of the few folks in town who could cough up that much cash. Beta must’ve been dangling something over Eula Mae’s head- The palm of my hand slapped up against my mouth and I felt as stupid as a Bummel at birth. Beta did have something over Eula Mae, but it had to be something Beta didn’t know about when she made her censorship stand at the library. If Beta had dirt on Eula Mae, she’d have used it to get Eula Mae to switch her vote. The same for the others on the board:

Janice and Ruth. But Beta hadn’t. No embarrassing revelations came to light when Beta got tossed. Whatever she’d had on Eula Mae, she hadn’t had it in February. But at some point, Beta got smarter. She’d gotten $35,000 worth in smarts. Meeting late with Eula Mae. Threatening Bob Don. Who else? I tore through my notebook, back to the list of names.

Maybe this was a list of people Beta could blackmail. But then why were my name and Mama’s on it? I’d been as virtuous as a monk since coming home, and Mama could only get into a limited amount of mischief in her condition. It didn’t wash. Sister rapped gently on my door.

She’d never done that as a teenager but she’d broken her filthy habits. “You have a visitor, Jordy. Beta Harcher’s niece is downstairs.”