Doc - Mary Doria Russell [148]
“I was wondering if I might have a minute of your time,” the Jesuit said with a refined-sounding German accent. “I would like to ask a few questions about some money Johnnie Sanders might have left in your care, if that would be convenient.”
Which caused Belle to prick up her ears, and don’t think she didn’t notice the way her father made clear that it wasn’t a bit convenient, letting his attention be interrupted three or four times for things that one of the clerks could have done perfectly well, like quoting prices for a cowboy who wanted “a bran-new rig,” and penciling a long order on some brown paper for a trail boss, and generally stalling around like anything.
Suddenly international papist conspiracies were less intriguing than her own father’s odd behavior, so just to see what would happen, Belle said in her best Helpful Hannah voice, “Daddy, I’d be happy to take the gentleman into the back until you have time to speak to him.” And before her father could say no, she asked the priest, “May I offer you a cup of coffee, sir?”
Well! That changed her father’s mind about what would be convenient and when, because he took the priest right back into the office and closed the door behind them. But Belle was determined to find out what was going on, so she stood right by the door to listen and didn’t care a rap if anybody saw her do it, either.
The priest’s voice was pretty quiet, but her father’s had a sort of carrying quality to it. Belle was familiar with some of what he was saying, so it was easy to figure out what she couldn’t hear. Bob didn’t know anything about any money, but allowed as how Johnnie might have booked his cash and put it in the safe without mentioning it. Bob himself used to keep all the transactions in his head, but he was out of town a lot, what with being a state representative and so on, lot of responsibilities, you see. He’d trusted Johnnie to do the books in his absence. Then the boy died in the fire just as the cattle season was picking up steam, and Father von Angensperg could see for himself how busy the store was. Bob had been more careful about accounts back when he had business partners in the old days, but since he bought out Charlie Rath and Henry Beverley, he’d gotten careless because there was nobody else to answer to, and that was why he’d hired Johnnie to take over the books in the first place.
Now, it was Belle’s observation that when people gave a whole lot of reasons for something, it was because they were trying hard to make sure you didn’t notice something else. And she was trying to figure out what her father was covering up when he said, “I haven’t really looked at the account books since Johnnie passed on. What kinda figure are we talking about here, do you know?”
The answer was so startling that her father repeated it, and Belle gasped, which set off one of those coughing spells that had been giving her trouble lately. It was probably just hay fever, which doctors said now wasn’t really a fever and didn’t have anything to do with hay, but Belle did feel awfully warm, at night especially, and she would be glad when the first frost hit because she expected she’d feel better after the goldenrod died back.
She was still coughing when her father opened the door and frowned at her like he knew she’d been eavesdropping and didn’t like it, but he couldn’t say anything about it because he was still talking to the priest.
“Well, I sure don’t know anything about a sum of money like that, but I’ll check into it for you, and I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” he said. Except he had a sort of stiff look on his face that meant, Hell will freeze solid before I tell you anything about my books, you Catholic fiend. You probably want that money for the pope.
Belle could tell that Father von Angensperg wasn’t a bit fooled either. He thanked her father for his time, though his eyes were on Belle as he spoke, and he had that look of compassionate concern again, which gave Belle the cold creeps because she didn’t know as there was anything