Divine Evil

cast-iron stable boy, black-faced, red-liveried, with a permanently sappy grin. Davey Reeder had once done some carpentry work for them and stuck his lunch pail on the statue's outstretched hand. Min had failed to see the humor of it.
    Inside and out, Min's home was neat as a pin. For today, the monthly Ladies Club luncheon, she'd even gone down to the florist and bought a centerpiece of lilies and greens. Out of her own pocket. Of course, she'd see that their prissy accountant found a way to deduct it.
    A penny saved was a penny left to spend.
    “James. James. I want you to come in here and take a look. You know how I value your opinion.”
    Atherton stepped out of the kitchen into the dining room, smiling and sipping coffee. He studied his wife in her new pink dress and flowered bolero jacket. She'd worn her diamonds and had had Betty give her a rinse and her best bouffant. She'd had a manicure and a pedicure. Her pink toes peeked out of her size ten heels. Atherton kissed her on the tip of her nose.
    “You look beautiful, Min. You always do.”
    She giggled and slapped playfully at his chest. “Not me, silly. The table.”
    Dutifully, he studied the dining room table. It was fully extended to seat the eighteen expected guests. On the damask cloth were the correct number of Corelle dinner plates with their tiny painted roses. She'd set out little fingerbowls of lemon water, just as she'd seen in a magazine. In the center were the lilies, flanked by the cellophane-wrapped candles.
    “You've outdone yourself.”
    “You know I like things to look nice.” Eagle-eyed, she walked over to hitch a hold out of her shell pink brocade draperies. “Why, last month when it was Edna's turn, she used plastic plates. I was mortified for her.”
    “I'm sure Edna did her best.”
    “Of course, of course.” She could have said more about Edna, oh, indeed she could. But she knew James could be impatient. “I wanted to make today extra special. Some of the ladies are just frantic, James. Why, there was even talk about having a self-defense course—which, as I told Gladys Finch when she brought it up, is very unladylike. I'm just worried about what they'll think of next.”
    “Now, Min, we're all doing what we have to do.” He winked at her. “You trust me, don't you, Min?”
    She blinked at him, eyes bright. “Now, James, you know I do.”
    “Then leave it to me.”
    “I always do. Still, that Cameron Rafferty—”
    “Cameron's doing his job.”
    She snorted. “When he's not sniffing around Clare Kimball, you mean. Oh, I know what you're going to say.” She waved her pudgy hand at him and made him smile again. “A man's entitled to his free time. But there are priorités.” She smiled up at him. “Isn't that what you're always saying, James? A man has priorities.”
    “You know me too well.”
    “And so I should after all these years.” She fussed with his tie. “I know you're going to want to scat before the girls get here, but I'd like it if you'd stay just for a few minutes. The newspaper and the television station are sending people. You wouldn't want to miss the opportunity. Especially if you're going to run for governor.”
    “Min, you know that hasn't been settled yet. And”—he tweaked her chin—“it's between you and me.”
    “I know, and it's just killing me not to brag on it. The idea that the party is considering you for a candidate. Not that it isn't richly deserved.” She brushed lovingly at his lapels. “All the years you've put into this town.”
    “My favorite constituent. I'll stay awhile,” he said, “but don't set your hopes on the governor's mansion, Min. The election year's some ways off,” he reminded her when he saw her face fall. “Let's just take it as it comes. There's the door. Why don't I get it so you can make a grand entrance?”
    Clare was late. But it was better than not showing up at all, which is just what would have happened if Gladys Finch hadn't called and asked Clare if she needed a ride. It was hardly a wonder she'd forgotten after she discovered the sculpture missing from the garage.
    Kids, she told herself, and wanted to believe it had been kids playing a prank. But deep inside there was a fear that it was something much more deadly.
    All she could do was report the theft, which she would do the minute this damned luncheon was over.
    Why that piece? she wondered. Why that nightmare image?
    She shook off the thought and concentrated on what she had to do