Page 14 of A Fabulously Unfabulous Summer for Henry Milch

I decided not to ask how she knew something that ridiculous. Probably she learned it while giving a dairy farmer a hand job.

“Then how did Reverend Hessel become a reverend?”

“After he married Ivy Greene, he became more and more indispensable around the church. He played piano and organ, and then he was the choir director when Sue Langtree suddenly backed out. He’d give the sermon sometimes when Reverend Wilkie couldn’t. So when Reverend Wilkie retired, well, it was practically unanimous that Chris Hessel take over.”

“And that was how long ago?”

“Six months, maybe seven, something like that.”

“You said, he told people he had family here, but he didn’t. Nobody thought that was odd?”

“I already said he’d ingratiated himself. I don’t know. Maybe that’s not the right word. Someone brought it up once, and he said he’d never said it. He said he’d come because his family had vacationed here when he was a kid and that he’d never forgotten it. He said people must have misunderstood him. Carl remembered what he’d said, though. Hedidsay he had family in the area.”

“Maybe he does then.”

“Or he lied. He probably lied.”

“Do you have any idea why he left Chicago?”

“He said he didn’t feel safe there. He called it murder city.”

“Oh, well that’s ironic.”

Then I thought of something that would definitely get Nana Cole to give me the money. “Do you think you could help me talk to the family?”

“Ivy and Carl? No. They’re very upset right now.”

“Because Reverend Hessel was murdered?”

“Of course because he was murdered. What do you think?”

“They could be upset because they’d found out why he was lying about having family here.”

“I have to go,” she said, picking up her muffin and coffee. “I’m going to have them put this in a to-go cup.”

I thought she was being rude and a little obnoxious.

“One more quick question.”

“What?”

“Does Ivy Greene have a sister named Olive?”

She didn’t even crack a smile at my joke. Quietly, she said, “Yes, she does. HenryMilch.”

CHAPTER FOUR

When I got back to Nana Cole’s, Bev’s ancient Jeep Cherokee was speeding down the long driveway. It was narrow enough, the driveway I mean, that I had to wait out on West Shore Road until she turned toward Masons Bay and sped off without so much as a wave.

Curious. Everyone in Michigan waved. Strangers waved.

Reaching the house, I parked and went inside. One of the kitchen chairs was knocked over, two burners were on, there was food spread out on the counter. Nana Cole was walking around the kitchen collecting things, practically throwing the walker in front of her and then sort of falling into it.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do it that way. You need to take smaller steps.”

“Don’t you start. I just got an earful from Bev.”

“What did you do?”