“As most of you know, Paul is doing his Ph.D. dissertation on his work restoring the ancient churches in Matera,” she said to her guests, then proudly turned to her son. “Go ahead, tell them what your team is finding over there.”
“It’s a joint venture between my adviser at Harvard and the Vatican, with grants from the Italian government. Basically, we’re restoring the frescoes in some of the rock churches,” Paul said, addressing the table. “So far we’ve discovered several ancient paintings of Jesus, one of Mary, and a number of symbols common to many religions around the world.”
“Have you switched your focus to archaeology, Paul?” the Mink Woman asked.
“I’m still focusing on art history and comparative religion, but I’m specializing in ancient religious symbols and relics. I work with archaeologists to interpret what they uncover.”
“That sounds fascinating,” Mink Woman said. “Your mother said these were rock churches, right?”
“I’ve heard about those rock churches,” Rafferty said. “Aren’t they actually caves? There are supposedly hundreds of them.”
“There are,” Paul said. “All hand carved out of tufo stone. They say St. Peter preached in those caves.”
“Really,” Rafferty said. “They date back that far?”
Paul nodded. “Matera dates back even further. The Sassi district was the site of a prehistoric troglodyte settlement. It’s one of the oldest continually occupied spots on earth.”
“The tufo dries tears,” the archbishop said. “Isn’t that the phrase?”
“It is,” Paul said, sounding excited. “They think it has other healing properties as well; it’s rumored that the early Christians performed ceremonies there using methods taught by Jesus himself.”
“What kind of healing?” the Mink Woman asked. “The laying on of hands?”
“Sound mostly,” Paul said. “Different tonalities and durations. Chanting was probably a big part of it.”
“That sounds like what you do, Callie,” Towner commented.
Everyone at the table turned to look at Callie as the archbishop asked, “What is it you do?”
“Callie practices sound healing,” Towner explained.
“As in ‘Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast’?” McCauley asked, taking a spoonful of soup.
“I’m trained as a music therapist,” Callie said. “But sound healing is a little different. It removes the therapist from the equation. The sound works directly on the patient. I often use singing bowls in my practice.”
“The bowls are better for healing than for salad.” Towner winked at Callie.
Paul said, “You use salad bowls to heal people?”
“Ignore her.” Callie laughed. “I use bowls made of quartz crystal. I have one for each chakra. They vary in size and tone.”
The archbishop looked confused. “I don’t understand. They make music of some kind?”
“Are they like the small brass ones used in Tibet for meditation? You rub a wand around the perimeter to get the tone?” Paul asked.
“Exactly,” Callie said, more pleased than she’d admit. Then he grinned and she knew: It was the smile. Not the perfect blue eyes or the sandy brown hair. The smile—just a bit crooked on the right side—was what got him the girls.
“One of them brought Rose Whelan back from a catatonic state,” Towner offered.
“We don’t really know what brought Rose back,” Callie said quickly.
“I’m afraid I’m still not following,” the archbishop said.
The waiters took the soup bowls and replaced them with nuts, celery, and olives.
Paul dipped his index finger in his water glass, and then drew it around the rim of his wineglass until it created a vibrational tone. “Like this?”
The Mink Woman gasped. “Don’t hurt that beautiful glass.”
Paul hesitated.
Emily dismissed her concern. “Don’t worry. That crystal is almost unbreakable. It’s been in my family forever.” She motioned for Paul to continue.
Once again, he drew his finger around the rim until the tone became clear and strong.
“That’s a G note,” Callie said. She looked at the archbishop. “It’s associated with the throat chakra; the tones are thought to have a soothing effect on the corresponding energy center of the body. So, if you had bronchitis, for example, I might use the G, and also an F to treat the heart chakra, which rules the lungs.”
“And this isn’t normally part of music therapy?” Marta asked.
“Not traditionally, no. Sound healing is a new approach.”
“Not so new if St. Paul used it in the caves of Matera,” Emily said.
“St. Peter,” Finn corrected.
“What’d I say?”
“St. Paul,” he said, smiling at her slip.
There was goose, and venison, and every food that might have been offered in New England during the first Thanksgiving feast. And Paul had been right about the pace of the alcohol. There was endless wine, a different vintage with each course. Callie followed his lead and sipped slowly.
Eventually, though, the talk turned to Rose.
“Rafferty, got any inside information about that Halloween murder up on Gallows Hill? I’ve been seeing quite a bit online about it,” Finn asked the police chief.
“Talk about the stuff of fiction…the woman who killed him claims to be a banshee,” the author said.
“She didn’t kill him,” Rafferty said quickly. “The kid died of a cerebral hemorrhage brought on by a drug overdose.”
“Still,” Finn said. “It’s got the Salem websites going crazy. The comments sections are really heating up. They’re calling for exhumation of the bodies of the girls who were killed decades ago. Seems like they’re dying to finally pin it on that woman.”
“What?” Callie said. She’d heard there was a petition going around requesting DNA testing. She’d seen it in the paper. But she had no idea people hated Rose quite so much. She could feel Towner watching her reaction.
Rafferty looked as if he were about to take Finn down, but Towner shot him a look and interjected, “There’s no evidence Rose had anything to do with those murders. There never has been.”
“Why not do DNA testing on them? It’s the only way to know for sure,” Mink Woman said.
“Not necessarily,” Towner answered. “They could find DNA on the bodies from anyone with whom they came into close contact, before or during the murders. Isn’t that right?” She turned to Rafferty. From his scowl, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it.
“How can they find any DNA twenty-five years after the fact?” the archbishop asked. “Won’t the bodies have decomposed?”
“Some physical evidence could survive,” the author chimed in. “Their hair, for instance. And if the murderer left a hair or something like that…”
“I heard they were buried in their Halloween costumes,” Mink Woman said. “That no one paid to embalm the bodies. Wouldn’t some of the clothing have survived? There could be DNA found there…”
“They weren’t buried in their costumes,” Rafferty said.
“Well, there wouldn’t be much left if they didn’t embalm them.”