Six Cats A Slayin'

“Yes, it will be,” I said as I took her arm to escort her into the church. We found Sean inside with Laura, Frank, and baby Charlie. Sean explained that Cherelle had agreed to take care of Rosie until the church service ended. He would then run home to pick up Rosie and Alex and take Cherelle to her home so she could go with her family to church.

We found a pew near the middle of the nave where we could all sit together. Church members continued to arrive, and I watched with considerable curiosity as they began to settle in their accustomed spots. I saw Dr. and Mrs. McGillivray and nodded to them. Tommy was in the choir, and I hoped to hear him sing a solo this morning.

The church continued to fill at five minutes to nine. Thus far I hadn’t caught a glimpse of Deirdre Thompson or Chip and Betty Camden. Absence on their part didn’t automatically indicate an arrest on murder charges, but they wouldn’t lightly skip this service. They considered themselves pillars of the community.

I suddenly felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Thankful that I had remembered to silence it before leaving for church, I pulled it out to see that there was a text message from Kanesha. My heart suddenly beat faster. Had she arrested someone?

I read the message, then read it again, unsure that I had grasped its full import.

Arrest attempted. Subject found dead. Suspected suicide by cyanide from vial found near body. Betty Camden.

Mutely I passed the phone to Helen Louise as the choir filed in. She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading. I supposed that the humiliation Betty thought she would face once the truth was known about Gerry Albritton was too much for her. Not to mention the disgrace of being on trial for murder, with her husband a prominent attorney from an old family.

I found out later from Kanesha that after the search warrants had been obtained, and the evening bags and clothing had been collected, they found the residue of broken glass in Betty Camden’s bag. My hunch had paid off after all. Billy Albritton confessed to destroying the Christmas decorations at Gerry’s house. He wanted to frighten her, but evidently Gerry hadn’t been intimidated in the least.

Off and on during the church service that morning, I found myself, as I often did, thinking of families. My own family, now strong and united, stood in contrast to the Albrittons, with their legacy of a sibling taken from them and the eventual devastating consequences. I wondered what had motivated Gerry to return to Athena. Had she sought revenge against her adoptive sister? Against her blood relatives, Billy and Betty? I wondered if Billy would tell his father what had become of his youngest son. Somehow, I expected not.

Kanesha also told me that, as suspected, Jincy Bruce was the embezzler. Terrified that she might be charged with Gerry Albritton’s murder, she had gone to Kanesha and confessed. Though she promised to return the money, Jared Carter was still considering whether to press charges. I hoped he would be merciful. It was Christmas, after all.

Jared had also settled the question of why he had been willing to finance Gerry Albritton’s real estate wheeling and dealing. He and Ronnie Halbert had been best friends in junior high and high school. They had stayed in touch, at least intermittently, after Ronnie disappeared from Athena. Jared had been the only friend that Gerry had trusted with the true story of her journey from Jerry to Ronnie to Geraldine.

I settled in to listen to the choir. As the familiar notes of “Silent Night” issued from the organ, I smiled. Tommy Russum stepped forward to sing. His voice rose sweetly, seemingly effortlessly, over the organ and the choir as he sang the familiar words. I listened, deeply moved, as the notes poured forth from him, pure and true. By the time the hymn ended, I knew that mine were not the only eyes wet with tears. The sheer beauty of the young boy’s voice surely had reached even the most hardened heart that morning. Nothing could have projected the spirit of Christmas more perfectly.

Later that day, after the exchange of gifts, when my family and I were in the dining room enjoying our Christmas feast, I occasionally fancied that I heard Tommy singing over the hubbub of conversation. As usual, I felt a welter of emotions, but what I primarily felt was joy. I saw it in every face I observed from my place at the head of the table, and I hoped that, in the coming months, we could all remember this day and these feelings when we needed lifting up.