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“Um, she could have a problem,” Jerome says.
“Izzy’ll get it together,” Tom says, although he doesn’t sound altogether convinced. “You should take some of those pictures to the Mingo, where Holly’s lady is going to speak. Give them out to the ushers and such.”
“That’s my next stop,” Jerome says.
“And pass them out to any hotels or motels you pass along the way.”
On the mound, Izzy is throwing more smoothly now, although Jerome hopes she’ll be able to put a little more mustard on her pitches when the actual game starts. Right now she’s throwing batting practice stuff, every pitch beggingclobber me.
He stands up and hollers, “Bring it, Iz!”
She gives him a smile and touches the brim of her cap.
3
Kate is turning laps in the Garden City Plaza pool. Holly is once again sitting poolside with a towel at the ready, but she also has her tablet and phone. She uses PeopleFinders to get Andrew Fallowes’s phone numbers—there are two of them. Being an experienced investigator, Holly deduces that one is probably his church office and one is his home. It’s two-thirty PM in Wisconsin, so Holly tries the church number first. A robot wishes her a blessed day, and gives her five choices. Holly pushes the one for Administrative Services, wondering how rich a church in northern Wisconsin must be to have five choices.
After two rings, she gets an actual human being. “This is Lois, and God loves you!” the actual human being almost sings. “How may I help you?”
“My name is Holly Gibney, and I’d like to speak with Mr. Fallowes.”
“May I ask how Deacon Fallowes can help you today, Holly?”
Holly has a dislike for people who use her first name on short notice; they usually want to sell her something. Insurance, maybe. “It’s of a personal nature,” she says. “Be sure to tell him my name.” Which may mean nothing to him, or a great deal.
“I’ll just put you on hold for a moment, Holly, if I may.”
“You may,” Holly says.
She waits. Back and forth Kate goes in the pool; red suit, blue water.
After thirty seconds or so, a rich baritone voice says, “This is Deacon Fallowes, Miss Gibley. How may I help?”
Sometimes, when she least expects it, Holly finds herself capable of an almost divine sensitivity, flashes of subconscious understanding she calls, with her usual (and seemingly intractable) self-deprecation, “my crazy intuitions.” She has such a flash now. Fallowes hasn’t misheard her name; he has deliberately mispronounced it. He knows who she is, and if he knows that, he almost certainly knows the mentally unstable person who has been stalking Kate McKay. Does he know what Stewart is doing? Holly isn’t sure, but she thinks he very well might.
“I’m calling about one of your parishioners,” she says. “A young man named Christopher Stewart.”
After the minutest pause, Fallowes says, “Oh, I know Chris. Know him very well. Harold’s boy. Fine young man. What about him, Miss Gibley?” He pauses a bit longer, then adds: “And where are you calling from?”
You know very well where I’m calling from, Holly thinks,but here’s a question: Did you wind Stewart up and set him on this course, or did he do it himself?
“Mr. Fallowes… Deacon… I have reason to believe that Christopher Stewart has been stalking my employer, a woman named Kate McKay. I’m guessing you know that name, as well.”
“Of course I do.” A chill has entered Fallowes’s voice. “The baby killer.”
“You can call her whatever you want,” Holly says. “Stewart threw bleach in her assistant’s face, thinking it was Ms. McKay. That’s assault. He delivered a deadly poison backstage at one of Ms. McKay’s lectures. That’s assault with intent to kill. I have reason to believe—”
“Youbelieve. Do you have any proof?”
“He has attended several of her lectures, maybe all of them. I have a clear picture of him from Iowa City. He was in the third row with his hand up. I think he’s in this city or soon will be. He is a danger to others and also to himself.”
“I reject your premise and have no idea where Chris might be,” Fallowes says, and she knows he’s lying about either one. Probably both.
“For your sake and the sake of your church, Deacon Fallowes, I hope that’s true. Because if he hurts Kate, or someone close to her, or even some innocent bystander or bystanders, the results will be grave. In a phrase I’m sure you’re familiar with, there will be hell to pay.”
“I resent your insinuations, Miss Gibney. They are accusatory.”
Finally got my name right, didn’t you?