Murder With Peacocks(100)

"Oh, my," Mrs. Brewster muttered. "I hope we don't have to do that. The place will be swarming with caterers from ten o'clock on." She and Samantha were just getting up to leave when Mother and Mrs. Fenniman came in to share what they blithely assumed was good news.

"I've found a minister," Mother announced. "Cousin Frank Hollingworth. I don't know why I didn't think of him before. And I've gotten the vestry's permission for him to perform the ceremony at the church, just as a formality. Given the circumstances they were all perfectly understanding. Now if someone can just go and pick him up, we'll be fine."

"Where is he?" I asked, warily, as I mentally traced family trees, trying to place the Rev. Frank Hollingworth. Samantha and her mother were breathing sighs of relief. Prematurely, in my opinion. The Reverend Frank, whoever he might be, was not in our clutches yet.

"In Richmond," Mother said. "It's an hour's drive, so we'd better get someone started immediately."

"Do we have to send someone for him?" Samantha said, peevishly. "I mean, Dad would be happy to reimburse him for the mileage."

"He doesn't have a car, dear," Mother said.

"He could rent one," Samantha countered.

"I'm not sure he has a license anymore," Mother said. "And anyway, I had to promise the director of the home that someone from the family would pick him up at the door and then deliver him back tomorrow."

"Someone from the home," I said. "What home is that? A nursing home?" Samantha and her mother looked taken aback.

"Don't worry, dear. They're sending someone to look after him. To see that he takes his medication and all that."

"Mother," I said, as the light dawned, "You aren't talking about crazy Frank, are you?"

"That's no way to refer to your cousin," Mother chided. "Besides, Sarah says that he's been coming home for the occasional weekend for several months now, and he's been a perfect lamb. All the visits have been absolutely uneventful." I wondered, fleetingly, how badly three decades of being a Hollingworth by marriage had warped Cousin Sarah's definition of uneventful.

"Who is this Uncle Frank?" Mrs. Brewster asked, dubiously. "I mean, is he a duly ordained, practicing minister?" I wondered if she thought we were kidding about the crazy part. She'd learn.

"Oh, yes," Mother said, brightly. "Ordained, at any rate, twenty-five or thirty years ago."

"Is he Episcopalian?" Mrs. Brewster asked.

"Well, no," Mother said. "I can't remember the name, but it's a small, progressive-thinking denomination. Such a spiritual man. But he had to retire early and come home. He always had rather delicate nerves, and the stress of parish life was simply too much for him. He was pastor of a very large church in San Francisco then."

"Haight-Ashbury, actually," I said to Michael, in an undertone. Michael was suddenly overcome with coughing.

"He'll do wonderfully for the wedding," Mother said, handing Michael a glass of water.

"As long as he's given up his theory that wearing clothing is a sinful attempt to hide oneself from the stern but just eye of the Lord," I said. Now that I remembered who Cousin Frank was, I thought Cousin Kate would definitely be a safer bet.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Mother said, shaking her head as if to imply that I was teasing. "He's looking forward to his release so eagerly that I'm sure he won't do anything that might delay it. Of course," she went on thoughtfully, "It might be just as well to dispense with the sermon. No sense tempting fate."

"What a pity," I remarked. "I was looking forward to hearing the latest on the theological implications of UFO's and other extraterrestrial manifestations." Michael appeared to be choking in earnest; I had to pound him on the back several times before he could speak.

"If you're really stuck for a volunteer, I could go after I deliver Mrs. Tranh and the ladies to the parish hall," he offered, when he'd recovered.

"No, that's very sweet of you, Michael, but we don't want to send anyone who already has something useful to do," Mother said. "I'll have Jake do it," she decided, and trotted out to issue Jake his orders.

I think it said a great deal for their sense of desperation that Samantha and Mrs. Brewster threw themselves into the arrangements for transporting Cousin Frank without saying a word about his suitability for the role into which we'd just drafted him.

With the problem of the minister taken care of, we raced to get everything else done on schedule. We ferried everyone over to the parish hall, leaving Mrs. Fenniman at the Brewsters' to harry the caterers, decorators, and musicians until shortly before the ceremony.