25
Evers
At precisely 7:00 pm the next evening, Evers stepped to the pink marble stoop in front of St. Michael’s rectory, flanked by Japanese yews and spreading junipers, and rang the doorbell. The fragrance of red geraniums clustered in clay pots filled the quiet evening air.
A robust Father McKenzie, his thick neck folding over his collar, opened the door and greeted his guest. The jovial, good-natured priest offered a limp hand that Evers shook. “Let’s go into my study.” Evers followed the waddling priest, although he could have found the study himself. He visited the rectory many times. They entered a large room walking on thick, burgundy tartan plaid carpeting. Rich, hand-rubbed walnut paneling covered the walls. The gold damask drapes had been drawn against the sun’s glare. A copy
