With the whole story.” Mary Alice’s enthusiasm, Bell decided, was keeping her warm, in ways that even those fleece-lined earflaps could not manage. “The story of how three boys from Norbitt went out and sent that old Hitler straight to hell, which is where he came from in the first place, you ask me. We’ve been interviewing a lot of folks who have known Alvie Sherrill his whole life. Shame we can’t include his two best friends. Woulda been really special.”
“How nice,” Bell said. Now she really did have to go. Thornapple Terrace was on her way home from Norbitt, and she planned to stop in. Bonita Layman had called that morning. New information, the director said. Might be relevant.
Mary Alice was still talking. “Of course, we won’t bring up much about his daddy.”
Bell released the door handle. A few extra minutes in the cold wouldn’t matter. “Why not?”
“Oh, everybody knows about that.” For the first time, Mary Alice seemed a little reluctant to go on.
“Remind me.”
“Well…” The woman looked around. The snow-packed street was deserted, but she wanted to make sure. “Nobody much talks about him anymore. But my mother told me all about it before she passed. See, Reverend Sherrill’s father was the pastor here back in the 1930s. Until the scandal. It must’ve been hard for the family—that kind of disgrace.”
Gossip was still irresistible, Bell thought, even if it was eighty years old.
“What scandal?” she said.
After another furtive look around, Mary Alice plunged in. “Reverend Sherrill’s father was the first Leonard Sherrill. Our pastor named his own son after the man. Anyway, way back in the day, the first Reverend Sherrill had an affair with a girl who’d come to him for counseling. She got pregnant. And this was the 1930s, of course, so it was unforgivable. That girl lost the baby, which was a terrible shame, but in the meantime, once word got out, the church board fired Leonard Sherrill. Based on what my mother told me, things got real hard for the family after that. Nobody would hire him to do anything around here. Reverend Sherrill’s mother took in washing and ironing to keep food on the table for Alvie and his brothers and sisters.” She redid her grip on the stack of brochures, a thoughtful look on her round red face. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s why our pastor became a minister himself. To make up for what his daddy did to this town. Preaching wasn’t something that came natural to him, that’s for sure. He had to work real hard, way I hear it.” She arched her eyebrows. “Wish that kid of his was half that ambitious. But Lenny—well, he’s got his issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“Always in some kind of trouble. Reverend Sherrill’s done everything he can do for his boy, but it’s no use. Lots of folks say he’s part of that gang that’s been holding up gas stations. Oh, sure, you’ll see Lenny at the church a lot—but that’s just to make himself look good.”
Bell patted the pocket in which she had stowed the brochure. “Thanks for this,” she said.
“So you’ll come to the parade?” Mary Alice’s voice rose in hopefulness, like a kid standing up on tiptoes to reach the cookie jar.
Not a chance in hell, Bell thought. Out loud, she said, “I’ll check my calendar.”
* * *
Bonita Layman was waiting for her in the lobby. The director of Thornapple Terrace stood by the reception desk, her hands clasped in front of her brown wool skirt. She was frowning. The frown bit deep. It was the kind of frown that came not from simple displeasure, but from dark and troubling thoughts.
“Sorry I’m late,” Bell said. She was half-convinced that she might as well have those words tattooed on her forehead, and thus could just point to them everywhere she went. It would save time and breath.
Bonita nodded. “Do you mind coming this way?” She used a hand to indicate the secure corridor. “A member of the staff is waiting to talk to us in the lounge.” Before they set out, Bontia turned to the receptionist. “Dorothy, I need that light switch for the lamp fixed in my office. I’ve asked Travis about it multiple times. Where is he?”
“He was right here just a minute ago.” Dorothy looked around. She was perplexed. “I don’t understand it. He was working on the front door—the weather stripping is coming loose. Then your visitor drove up, and he just disappeared.”
Bell was instantly on alert: