24
The sister parish was in the next burb over. A place called Brighton.
Little town, much smaller than Sandford, if that were possible. A gas station, two bars, a bank, apartments, and the church.
The parking lot looked mostly empty, only a maintenance truck and a Subaru near the very back entrance. When the front door of the church remained firm, I went around the side and found the janitor smoking near a butt can. Yeah, Jill Abernathy was in, he said. Right through there and take a left.
Jill’s office sat near the boiler room behind a stack of legal boxes and some cleaning supplies. It was a small space with a checkered linoleum floor, cracked but concealed by an old maroon area rug that looked wildly out of place.
When I knocked on the doorjamb, the sole occupant startled, her chair creaking as she pushed back from a narrow desk.
“Jesus, Andy! You scared me.” As she realized what she’d said, Jill’s eyes widened, and she put one hand over her mouth. I laughed.
Jill and I had dated very briefly in high school. Nothing more than a few burgers and a movie or two. She’d been sweet and funny, but ultimately we’d decided our relationship was most definitely a friendship after a botched attempt at a first kiss that left us both shaking our heads.
“Good thing Father Thomas isn’t in today,” she said, laughing now too. “He’s not keen on blaspheming, especially here.” She’d cut the long, dark hair she’d had in high school so now it framed her face, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose the only other new addition. “The famous author back in our midst. I saw you at Mary’s funeral, but you and your dad skedaddled before I could talk to you.”
“Yeah, sorry. That was a tough one. Just needed to get Dad home.”
“Totally understand.” Her expression fell.
“You were the one who found her, right?”
“Yeah. It was . . . horrible. She was just there on the floor of the stable. I . . . I knew right away she was gone.” Jill shook her head, blinking. “Sorry. Still makes me queasy to think about it.”
“I’m sure.”
“So to what do I owe this honor?”
I glanced up and down the quiet corridor, making sure we were alone. “It’s actually about Mary.”
Jill scooted a little closer in her work chair. “Okay . . . ?”
I mentioned speaking to Robert, how his mom had seemed distant, a little frazzled in the weeks before her death.
“Probably my fault,” she said. “She was filling in for me while I was out on maternity leave.”
“Yeah, hey, congratulations by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“Boy, girl?”
“Boy. Justin Michael. Showed up in the wee hours of March tenth. He’s a little joy.”
“That’s awesome. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” Jill frowned. “Yeah, so Mary was taking care of things here while I was out. We’ve got less workload since the parish is about a quarter of the size of Sandford’s. It was still extra hours for her, though. Probably stressed her out a little. But you know Mary, never said no to anyone needing help. Still can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me neither.” I shifted in the doorway. “So you didn’t notice anything odd while she was filling in? Didn’t say anything to you that was out of character?”
Jill cocked her head. “Mmm . . . no. No, don’t think so. Why?”
“Robert mentioned she might’ve been concerned about the church finances. Didn’t know if that could’ve been part of it.” I felt bad telling her a lie, but if it came back to bite me, it was the least of my worries.
“She never said anything to me if she was. Father Thomas has been out sick more than usual lately, and Father Mathew’s been filling in for him, so both he and Mary were pulling double duty. It could’ve been just the back-and-forth between parishes that wore her down. What’s this all about, Andy?”
“Guess I’ve been having a tougher time accepting what happened. Trying to make sense of it.”
“I know. I suppose it goes to show you there’s no guarantees. Anything can happen.”
Anything can happen, and according to Murphy’s Law, will happen.
Jill and I small talked for a while longer, then I wished her and her new family well. Outside, the janitor was gone, only the smell of his last cigarette lingering in the cool air.
On the drive home my thoughts wheeled from one end of the spectrum to the other.