Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(65)
The younger set out glasses filled with ice while the other poured a golden brown liquid into them from a pitcher.
Neither spoke, smiled, or lifted their eyes.
As the younger set down Eve’s glass, she dropped a grimy little twist of paper in Eve’s lap.
Eve moved her hand over it as the older poured the liquid.
“Herbal sun tea,” Mirium said. “We grow our own herbs, and of course, abstain from caffeine. You’ll find this quite refreshing.”
She neither spoke to nor acknowledged the other women. They slipped back into the house like ghosts.
Eve slid the twist of paper into her pocket.
“And your father? Was he on campus Monday night?”
“Of course. He’s in retreat. Perhaps if you tell me what brings you to us, I could help.”
“A woman was murdered Monday night.”
Mirium lowered her head, shook it. “The taking of a human life. Is there any stain darker on the human heart and mind? But I don’t know how that brings you to us.”
“Did you know Ariel Byrd?”
“I don’t recognize the name.” Mirium lifted a hand, this time to the single strand of pearls at her neck. “Was she a member? I can look at our files to check that if you need—”
“She wasn’t a member. The woman who found her body and reported it is. Gwendolyn Huffman.”
“Gwen?” She actually clutched the pearls now. “Oh, how terrible for her!”
“You know Ms. Huffman.”
“Yes. Since we were children. My father and her parents have been friends for years. I need to contact her, offer my support. We limit outside contact during retreat, including any electronics, but I can request a dispensation for this. Poor Gwen.”
“Yeah, poor Gwen.” Eve glanced around. “Obviously she didn’t participate in this retreat.”
“No. She’s to be married very soon, and is very tied up in the plans. Hopefully, Gwen and her husband will join us for our retreat in the fall.”
“You know her fiancé?”
“Merit? Yes. Not very well, but the order is very involved with charitable organizations, as are the Caines and, of course, the Huffmans.”
Mirium produced a tight little smile. “I’m afraid there’s little I can tell you that you’d find helpful. The Huffmans are, I’m sure you know, exemplary people. We value them. I’m very sorry Gwen had this dreadful experience, but this is the sort of secular business we shut out during our retreats.”
“Your father may be more helpful.”
“I don’t see how, as he’s been in retreat for several days. I don’t want to waste any more of your time, so …”
As Mirium trailed off, Eve watched Wilkey walk out of the trees. He glided—he was good at it—to the woman and the two young girls weeding.
He paused to speak to them. Both young girls smiled up at him, but Eve noted the woman kept her head down, and clutched their hands even after Wilkey continued on.
Mirium got to her feet as Wilkey started up those grand white steps.
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, Reverend Stanton Wilkey.”
She said it in a way, as he stood basking in the light at the edge of the porch, that made Eve wonder if they were expected to rise and take a knee.
Not going to happen.
14
He made an impression, Eve supposed. Tall, lanky on the edge of thin, with his lion’s mane of white hair waving to his shoulders. His eyes of clear and crystal blue beamed what she supposed others saw as benevolence.
He had a thin, scholarly face. As the house had made her think of a plantation, his face made her think of paintings of ancient saints and martyrs.
She considered that very deliberate.
He wore white—cotton pants, a long white shirt, and white loafers. He had long, slender feet, long, slender hands.
When he spoke, his voice came deep and soft, like a velvet cushion.
“Welcome to my home. Forgive me for keeping you waiting.”
He didn’t offer his hand to shake as he approached the table, but set one on his daughter’s shoulder.
“I trust Mirium has made you welcome until I could accommodate your unexpected arrival. Thank you, Mirium.”
Softly delivered or not, the words rang with dismissal.
Mirium’s lips twitched tight before she smiled.
She started to step back.
“It would be helpful and save time if Ms. Wilkey stays now.” Eve looked directly into those crystal-blue eyes. “We don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary.”
“How kind of you. Please sit, Mirium.”
He’d barely taken a seat himself when the two women were back. The glass, the ice, the pitcher, the pouring. The younger risked the briefest flick of a glance at Eve.
“Since communications are forbidden”—Eve let that hang an instant longer than necessary—“it would be difficult for word to get out of the compound or in. We’re here to do both.”
“I assume this is of great import.”
“Anyone needing help from the police I consider of great import.”
She assumed—hoped—her message was received as the two women returned to the house.
“Ariel Byrd requires that help now.”