The Reverend took a sip of his coffee, letting the conversation drop for a moment.
“My brother, Tom is coming for a sudden visit,” said Norman.
“Is that so?”
“I’m assuming you already knew about it.”
“Did you call me here to check my social calendar?”
“The force is disturbed,” said Norman.
“Star Wars reference in the middle of all this. I like it.”
“Both sides seem to be a little testy right now.” Norman glanced up at his friend, squinting. “My wife has gotten drawn into it.”
“Ah, at last we’re getting to the point.”
“A neighbor of mine, an innocent old man was killed this week while walking his dog in our sleepy little subdivision.”
“Larry Blazney, yes, I heard. Very unfortunate.”
“That sums it up in an understated sort of way. It appears they picked him up in front of my house. Did you hear that as well?”
The old priest didn’t react and kept sipping his coffee. Norman gave the back of his head a quick, nervous pat.
“Who were they really after, Father Donald?”
“Not who, so much as what. They believe Wallis has something of interest, so do we.”
“Why is that?”
“Ray Billings and his apparent suicide. I got the chance to see the corpse before he was abruptly cremated. For a suicide he really took the hard way out of here. His wife, Lilly is a good Episcopalian, you know. The official cause of death put us in quite a pickle, even the Episcopalians balk at taking your own life. We decided to focus more on the apparent side of things and give him the burial he really deserved. You know, Ray told quite a few people to get in touch with Wallis if anything happened to him. Do you know why that is?”
Norman let out a deep sigh. “No, and I’m really beginning to take a dislike to this Ray Billings. His good buddy, Stanley Woermer showed up on our doorstep looking for Wallis. What is it everyone is looking for?” asked Norman.
He was a good lawyer, never asking a question he didn’t already know the answer to. They wanted the thumb drive.
But Norman was part of the original line descended from the zwanzig and had been taught well. Trust no one completely, ever.
“Never hate the dead, Norman, bad karma,” said the Father. “What, a priest can’t make a religion joke? You look a little tired, Norman. This has been a long week and it’s only the first of many. A war has started or at least come out in the open and like it or not, Wallis has been enlisted. She just doesn’t know it yet, or does she?”
The Reverend looked up from his cup.
“No, she doesn’t really know. I was hoping to never tell her.”
“Yes, your father told me about your reluctance. I have always thought it was foolish. Knowledge is power.”
“It’s also a manipulation.”
“Very true and there is no avoiding that paradigm but better to be aware you are being manipulated than to walk into a trap, completely blind. Get some rest, you’re going to need it, particularly when Tom comes to town.”
A white paneled van drove slowly past them taking the corner and turning out onto West Broad Street.
“Things are never going to be the same around here, I fear,” said Father Donald as he watched the van gather speed. “The usual checks and balances are quickly falling away. People are starting to become desperate and old ties may soon come loose.”
“You think that van was a warning, don’t you?”
“It was at the very least a small courtesy. I had better go. We have been standing here long enough to exchange simple pleasantries.” The Reverend turned to get back into the black Lincoln Continental that had the name, St. Stephen’s in small gold scroll under the driver side handle.
Norman leaned back against his car and waited for the minister to start the engine. Father Donald put down his window and leaned out a little. “Oh, by the way, just so you know, some young zwanzig went missing earlier today with their father. The mother is sadly already dead in another apparent suicide and after she had struggled so much as a child. She had been left a kind of orphan, you see.” The Father gave Norman a long look as he pulled away.
Norman waited until Father Donald had pulled away in traffic till he placed a call to Alan Vitek. He was beginning to feel like things were slipping out of his control.
“Alan, I have a job for you. I need you to go and check on a man named, Stanley Woermer. Just see what kind of condition he’s in and get back to me. No, I don’t have an exact address but he’s an original Richmonder and with a name like that. Yes, call me as soon as you know.”
Alan took the information and hung up without another question. He had been trained to ask as few questions as possible. Questions tended to muddy up the situation anyway.
Norman had been right. Stanley Woermer’s address was easy to find. Native Richmonders never tried to hide. It didn’t matter if they were millionaires or thieves. It would have been bad manners.