Page 98 of Booked for Murder

Of course there were. Money made the political world go round and round. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

My arms and lungs didn’t appreciate the distance to the artisan stalls, and I had to stop and rest several times before I reached my target. When I thought of a craft fair, I expected a mix of jewelry, handmade trinkets, and functional items, including bowls, plates, cutlery, and everything in between. The first stall featured handmade trinkets, the kind that sat on a shelf, looked pretty, and accomplished nothing. The glassmaker liked pretty colors, swirling a rainbow of hues together in his various baubles, but I couldn’t figure out what they did beyond sit on a shelf and take up space.

It’d been a long time since I’d owned anything with the sole purpose of sitting on a shelf and taking up space.

I wheeled down the long line of stalls, discovering trinkets of all shapes and sizes, their purposes a mystery at best. At one stall, I found a wooden carved bible, with passages lovingly etched into the exposed pages, that belonged as a centerpiece in a church or a museum. Its price tag declared it was worth fifty thousand dollars.

I could do a lot with fifty thousand dollars, including buying everything needed to kidnap an adept and having my way with him. Then again, if I targeted Bradley, I wouldn’t have to do much to lure him off, I could keep my fifty thousand, and get away with my nefarious plans with little effort.

After careful consideration, I determined I couldn’t inform anyone I’d even thought about making a run with him anywhere. His family would encourage me, my co-workers would help, and I suspected Bradley would pin a bow to one of his pristine suits to support the effort. His mother would corner me and make me sign more documents, too. The first batch of documents would be the cause of my first gray hair, a legal agreement formally engaging me to Bradley Hampton. It had laid everything out, from the engagement party to announce our upcoming marriage to the wedding date itself. The date sent an odd message—or at least made certain I wouldn’t be forgetting my anniversary, as it would take place on my birthday.

The last thing I needed was a man as a birthday present, especially one with a good track record of driving me to the brink of madness. I eyed the pricey bible, wondering if it counted as a religious artifact. Did the new bill attack religion, too? I’d been so concerned about the massive changes to society I hadn’t thought to check.

“Do you like it?” the older man prowling the stall asked, waving a scarred hand towards the wooden sculpture. “It’s my second-best piece.”

“It’s exquisite,” I replied, grateful I didn’t have to lie. “If this is your second-best piece, what is your first?”

“It’s a bible much like this one, but the pages can be turned, and the entire scripture has been carved for all to read. I taught my apprentices how to carve by having each one carve several pages, and only when they perfected their art would their contributions be added to the book,” he announced, coming to me, although he kept his distance as though afraid my wheelchair might rise up to bite him. Then he noticed my cast and relaxed. “What happened to your foot?”

“I broke it in an accident.” I regarded my cast with a wrinkled nose. “I should be out of it in a few weeks, and then I can start physical therapy with some odd medical boot, assuming everything is healing well.” As being honest made it impossible to catch me in a lie, I thought about what I could say without revealing too much.

“May you have a quick and painless recovery. What is your faith, for you to find my bible so interesting?”

No matter what I said, I would be inviting trouble over. “My family isn’t religious, but it’s still a beautiful book.”

“That’s a pity. There are many faiths for you to choose from to help you find peace. I’m multi-denominational.”

“You’re what?”

“I believe in more than one faith, although they’re all some form of Christianity. I enjoy the differences between the denominations and embrace them all.” He headed to his money box, opened it, and pulled out a variety of flyers, which he offered to me. “One from each of the churches I attend. When Senator Maybelle is in our area, she attends this church.” He pointed to one of the flyers, which declared itself as a Lutheran church located in Brooklyn. “She’ll be at the Sunday early morning service before she leaves the New York area. It’s a very welcoming congregation, although the building is old and accessing it might be difficult for you right now.”

A lot of places in New York didn’t believe in wheelchairs, although the more modern and renovated buildings made some efforts to become accessible—usually. I took the flyers, making a show of looking through them. “Thank you.” However much I didn’t enjoy the idea, checking out the churches might tell us a lot about the type of person Senator Maybelle was based on the kind of services she attended. I dug out a pen, picked a spot on the appropriate flyer, and wrote the date and time of the service and circled it as a reminder to myself. “Is there a dress code?”

“We prefer for worshippers to wear their Sunday best.”

I stared at him, unable to comprehend what he meant by Sunday best.

He chuckled. “I see your parents didn’t take you to services as a child. A pity. Your Sunday best is your best clothing. Usually, this means a tasteful dress for the ladies and a suit for the men, although a vest with a tie is acceptable. One of my other churches is more casual.” He reached over and tapped one of the flyers, and I dutifully wrote a note that the church welcomed more casual attire. “The general rule is to wear your best to services, so if your best is a good pair of jeans, that is your best, but it is generally considered to be bad form if you own better and choose against wearing it.”

“Would slacks be acceptable for a woman?”

“Generally not, but some do wear a tasteful blazer and slacks. Most women generally wear dresses. Of course, if there is an outreach program after services, we have casual Sundays, but everyone is aware of when we’re doing outreach.”

“Outreach? What sort of outreach?” I asked, well aware I’d be opening Pandora’s box.

As expected, the artisan regaled me with twenty minutes of tales of working the local soup kitchens, building homes for the homeless, and other programs his churches participated in. While they built homes for the homeless, outside of volunteering at soup kitchens, his churches didn’t become involved with homeless shelters, education for the poor, or anything I viewed as important for the members of society who needed the most help.

They stuck to the more affluent areas and tried to stamp out poverty, but only among those they deemed worthy.

Instead of asking why the churches avoided the more destitute parts of New York where they could do the most good, I listened, smiled, and wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. When his lecture came to a close, I turned the conversation to some of the smaller of his wares, including carved figurines depicting religious figures and various other religious symbols I hadn’t realized were religious symbols until I’d asked what they were.

A rosary, each wooden bead lovingly etched with some symbol or another, caught my attention, and I pointed at where it hung tucked into some corner. “That’s a rosary, isn’t it? Catholic?” I guessed.

“It’s a mala rosary. I blended elements from Hinduism, Buddhism, and Catholicism to create it. There are 108 beads, but I have carved the mala with Catholic and Christian symbols and meanings. I opted to marry these religions in particular, as they often share similar beliefs expressed in different ways. This is meant for mantra style of prayer.” He pointed at a rose-draped cross decorated with a tassel. “The image of Christ is a symbol of salvation, and I have used wood from an olive tree to carve the beads, for it represents the promise of peace.”

“It’s a beautiful work of art.”

“It is one of my lesser pieces,” he admitted. “Flawed from its very conception. Some things simply do not marry well, and these elements are among them.”