Page 86 of The Children of Eve

Cutler indicated that Loucilla should feel free to respond.

“Miss Mertie,” said Loucilla. “But she ain’t been in since Thanksgiving.”

“That would be Mertie Udine,” Cutler clarified. “I believe she’s Mr. Seeley’s personal assistant.”

“Of course,” said Bern. “Mertie knows what she’s doing. Nevertheless…”

He let his concern at Seeley’s lack of involvement hang unspokenyet audible to him that hath ears to hear. He moved on to discuss the playlist of songs on the iPod, which he said he’d assembled because he’d heard that music could be helpful or comforting to those tested by God in the manner of Mr. Howlett. After more polite chitchat, Cutler gave signs of wanting to be on his way, George Whitefield Whittier having delighted him long enough.

“Actually,” Bern added, “I’m not here solely to pay my respects to Mr. Howlett. As I was explaining to this kind young woman here, I’m also one of those responsible for ensuring that Mr. Howlett is well looked after, and for signing off on the relevant expenses.”

At this Cutler shifted into more obviously obsequious mode, allied to a defensiveness now that the subject of money was out in the open. Seven thousand dollars a month wasn’t chump change and Cutler wouldn’t want to lose residents—not even to death, if that could be postponed for as long as possible.

“I can assure you that Mr. Howlett’s care is second to none,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” said Bern, “especially now that I’ve seen this place for myself. But if you have a moment before I leave, I’d like a quick conversation about how those of us who knew him in his prime might be of greater assistance. It may even be appropriate to increase the payments, if that would help.”

Again, Bern lowered his voice. He placed a hand on Cutler’s shoulder.

“I’m distressed to learn that Mr. Howlett has been wanting for visitors,” said Bern. “He deserves better. It doesn’t say much for the Christianity of those responsible, and I’m not sparing myself in that regard. The only consolation is that he’s in the right facility and being watched over by the right people—and at the right price,” he added.

Bern figured he had pushed the correct buttons, but was assured of it when Cutler replied “Amen,” either instinctively or calculatedly, it didn’t matter which.

“Amen,” Bern echoed.

“Amen,” added Howlett, who was awake again, and Bern wassurprised by the strength of his voice. On that word, at least, it barely faltered. Bern beamed down at him, and Howlett beamed back vacantly. Bern took Howlett’s right hand in his and squeezed it gently. Howlett’s skin was cold and slightly moist, the bones, unencumbered by spare flesh, palpable beneath. It reminded Bern of holding an uncooked chicken leg.

“Looks like he recalls you,” said Loucilla.

“Then I’ll sit with him, if I won’t be in the way.”

Loucilla positively glowed.

“I’m sure he’d like that very much.”

LOUCILLA, AIDED BY Amale orderly, commenced checking on the other residents, some of whom had their attention focused on the big-screen television on the wall, where TV Land was showing the first of that afternoon’s episodes ofGunsmoke. Cutler returned to his office, promising that all Howlett’s records would be available for scrutiny at Bern’s convenience.

“Printed, please,” said Bern. “I’m old-fashioned that way.”

Bern took a seat in the armchair beside Howlett. He wished the dotard no injury, and even felt a degree of resentment toward Seeley on Howlett’s behalf. Whatever corporate structure Seeley had instituted required Howlett as a figurehead, which probably meant that, every so often, Howlett might have to make his mark on a document, perhaps witnessed by Cutler or a tame lawyer, everyone pretending that this stooped little bird of a man was somehow compos mentis enough to comprehend what he was signing. Then again, Seeley could have consigned Howlett to somewhere far worse than Shining Stone, which implied some residual affection. It made Bern more curious to meet Seeley, even if he would be forced to kill him soon after.

Bern placed a pair of padded headphones over Howlett’s ears and pressed the iPod’s play button, keeping the volume low at first so as notto cause any alarm. Only when he saw Howlett grin and heard him hum along tunelessly did he increase the sound. He stayed with Howlett for an hour and pretended not to notice when the old man cried.

LATER, IN CUTLER’S OFFICE,Bern used the information supplied to him by Elena Díaz to assuage any remaining reservations Cutler might have had about his bona fides. Since Bern was already familiar with account details and dates of payment, Cutler saw no difficulty in allowing him access to everything else, going back to Howlett’s admission fifteen years earlier. At that time, according to the paperwork, the Nashville Codex Corporation was based in Belle Meade, but those premises were sold shortly after Howlett arrived at Shining Stone. All this Bern had discovered through his own efforts. What he still didn’t know, and what Cutler’s documentation failed to reveal, was where the NCC might currently be based.

The contact number supplied by Seeley to Shining Stone was the same as the one on the NCC’s website. It wasn’t linked to any billing address, so was virtually guaranteed to be a prepaid account and contract-free; it was one thing for a man like Seeley to be contactable, but another to be locatable. The cost of Howlett’s care was covered by a shell company based in the Bahamas but paid for from a U.S. bank account. The company would have been required to provide proof of a physical address in the United States to open that account, though a mailbox might have sufficed. But a firm couldn’t produce ornate Bibles from a mailbox, not unless it was farming the work out to angels who could also dance on the head of a pin. Bern took in the shelves behind Cutler. Alongside the file boxes, folders, and books on elder care was a leather-bound Bible with fresh gold stamping on the spine. A thought struck Bern.

“Has Mr. Seeley donated Bibles to Shining Stone?” he asked.

“Not to Shining Stone,” Cutler replied, “but he was kind enough to offer some to my church.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Did you collect them, or did he drop them off himself?”

“Oh, there were too many for him to deliver unaided. Our church is one of a number involved in missionary work across Tennessee and the contiguous states. We hand out Bibles to the poor and the homeless. We also provide clothing and food, but man cannot live by bread alone.”

“So how did the Bibles get to you?”

“We collected them,” said Cutler. “From the house in Madison.”

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