Harm's Reach

46

Eleanor spread out the map of the abbey on a glass-topped table by the window.

‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘Do you want to take a look?’

Ren got up and joined her. It was the same map Kohler had. She looked at the building outlines on it again: chapel, school, schoolmaster’s lodgings, theater, guest house for visitors. There was something familiar about the theater, about its design. She looked out the library window where she could see the outline of the theater being built on the grounds of the ranch.

‘Is that the same design as the one here on the map?’ said Ren.

Eleanor compared the two. ‘Looks like it is,’ she said. ‘Well, how about that?’

‘Did you give them the plans?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Eleanor.

‘Are they online anywhere?’ said Ren.

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ said Eleanor.

‘It’s a little coincidental,’ said Ren.

Eleanor looked like she was waiting for Ren to elaborate.

I have nothing.

‘Anyway, I digress,’ said Ren. ‘There’s another reason I’m here. Did you know that Burt Kendall didn’t, in fact, pay for the bus that was donated to you?’

‘Pardon me?’ said Eleanor.

‘I spoke with Detective Hooks from the Sheriff’s Office... Burt Kendall was sent a cashier’s check from an anonymous donor and asked to pretend the donation was from him.’

‘That’s bizarre,’ said Eleanor. ‘I had no idea. Why would he do that?’

‘Publicity, goodwill,’ said Ren. ‘It was from a bank in Butte and it was postmarked Cheyenne. Do you know anyone in either place who might want to support the abbey?’

‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘I mean, Lord knows all the connections our residents have, but feel free to talk to everyone. I can send an email around. You just don’t know if someone had a relative who was in poor health and wanted to pass on funds before inheritance tax became an issue... but, it’s the Burt Kendall involvement that makes no sense.’

‘I know,’ said Ren.

‘What date was on the check?’ said Eleanor.

‘March 31st.’

‘And when was it sent?’ said Eleanor.

‘More than likely on April 6th,’ said Ren.

‘April 6th,’ said Eleanor. ‘Why is that date in my head?’ She paused. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘because Delores Ward organized some protest and that was the day they were coming back.’

‘Where was the protest?’ said Ren.

‘Williston, North Dakota,’ said Eleanor.

‘Williston?’ said Ren. WTF? Where Robert Prince owns land? ‘Was it an anti-fracking thing?’

Eleanor laughed. ‘No — it was an anti-sins-of-the-flesh thing. There are two new strip clubs there to cater to all the oil workers with not a lot else to do with their money. She was joining a group of protesters outside.’

‘But why those particular strip clubs?’ said Ren. ‘When we have some perfectly bad ones here. Is Delores from North Dakota?’

Eleanor paused. ‘I have no idea where she’s from. It’s not something we talk about. People are free to be who they want to be here,’ said Eleanor. ‘We have a Clean Slate Rule. We even have a clean slate hanging in our hallway. It’s our subtle way...’

Don’t you get curious? ‘Williston... that’s a long drive,’ said Ren.

‘Yes — about eleven hours,’ said Eleanor. ‘And in the old bus, that can’t have been pleasant.’ She laughed. ‘Some billionaire oil man could have spotted the bus and sent us a pity gift.’

Ren laughed. ‘Do you mind if I just check my phone?’ she said, taking it out. She opened Google Maps and put in Denver, Butte and Williston. If a bus was traveling from the abbey to Williston, the route went right through Cheyenne. Could it be possible that one of the ladies of the abbey mailed the check to Burt Kendall that day?

‘Eleanor,’ said Ren. ‘Is Betty Locke here — did she drive the bus that day?’

‘Yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘Let me call her in.’ She reached over to an old-style phone on the table. ‘Cute, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘I think I’d like to move in here,’ said Ren.

‘The detective with the phone in the library...’ said Eleanor.

Ren laughed. I like you, Eleanor Jensen.

Betty sat down on the armchair beside Ren, her eyes bright with curiosity.

‘I believe you and some of the other residents made a trip to Williston in April,’ said Ren. ‘Do you remember... did you stop off in Cheyenne on the way?’

Betty paused. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we did. Why do you ask?’

‘Just clearing up a few details,’ said Ren. ‘What happened in Williston?’

‘I’m sorry — meaning what?’ said Betty.

‘I heard you were protesting against strip clubs,’ said Ren.

‘I have never seen anything like that place,’ said Betty. ‘There is this vast man camp outside the town and it holds — it must be — a thousand men working for the mining companies. There is nothing for them to do other than drink and fornicate. Honestly, we looked ridiculous. We did our best, but we looked ridiculous. We weren’t even treated with any kind of respect by people walking past. Poor Delores took to her bed.’

‘Wasn’t it her suggestion that you go there?’ said Ren.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Betty, ‘we should have known better. She doesn’t get out much these days, and I guess we were so happy to see her getting involved that we went along with it.’

‘And when you stopped in Cheyenne, did everyone stay together or did people go their separate ways?’ said Ren.

‘We all pretty much stayed together,’ said Betty.

‘Did Delores manage to make it out and about at all?’ said Ren. Trying to act casual...

‘Yes, I think so, but... I can’t be sure,’ said Betty.

‘OK, thank you,’ said Ren.

‘Do you think Delores has done something?’ said Betty.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Not at all. Like I said — just clearing up a few things.’

All I’m hearing is Butte, Montana, Williston, North Dakota. And Robert Prince. And Delores Ward.

Have Robert Prince and Delores Ward got some kind of connection?