Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

raised his eyebrows. “Do you think,” he asked dramatically, “that he prefers beer to wine at communion?”
    “I’m not making a big deal out of it, Burke.” She knew his flippancy was a defense, but it still irritated her.
    He stood up and led her out of the pew. As they headed toward the doorway, three or four more worshipers entered the building. “How much time have we got?” asked Burke.
    “Fifteen minutes,” came the reply.
    They reached the doorway. “I’ll go first,” said Mary Ann. “We’ll just stroll out naturally, like we’re getting some fresh air or something.”
    Burke winked and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
    Mary Ann tugged at the heavy door and led the way into the dark. As casually as possible, she checked out the people chatting in the courtyard in front of the cathedral. The man with the transplant was not there.
    She took Burke’s arm and reentered the cathedral. “It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “There’s nowhere else he could’ve gone.”
    “Unless …” Burke turned and pointed to the elevator just to the right of the entrance. Set back in the shadows, it had totally escaped their notice. “It must go up to the bell tower or something.”
    “To what ?”
    “Beats me. Quasimodo, maybe?” He reached out and pushed the button.
    “Burke! What are you doing ?”
    “We can’t stop now, can we?”
    The elevator door slid open suddenly, spilling profane fluorescent light into that inky corner of the cathedral. Burke gripped Mary Ann’s arm and pulled her into the elevator. The door closed immediately.
    “Burke, we could get in trouble.”
    He didn’t answer. He was examining the control buttons. “There’s 2 and 3 and LL,” he said. “LL must be Lower Level. Let’s try 2 for starters. It’s more celestial to go up, don’t you think?” He pushed the 2 button. Nothing happened.
    “C’mon, Burke. Open the door.”
    “Wait a minute.” He tried the 3 button. The elevator didn’t budge.
    “Burke!”
    “One more.” This time the LL button got them moving. Down. The ride took less than ten seconds. The door opened onto a lighted hallway. Burke stepped out, taking Mary Ann with him. The elevator abandoned them.
    “It’s just the gift shop,” whispered Mary Ann. A series of windows along the hallway offered a glimpse of the religious emporium. Mostly St. Francis statuary and felt wall hangings with hippie peace-and-love mottoes.
    The shop was in semi-darkness, but Burke tried the door. It was locked. So were the other two doors in the hallway. The elevator was the only way out. Burke grinned sheepishly at Mary Ann, then pushed the Up button. Nothing happened.
    “Aha!” said Burke. “Mr. Tyrone Transplant must be on the way down.”
    Mary Ann’s blood froze. “Down here?”
    Burke smiled. “Down from 2 or 3. Obviously, he went up instead of down. He’s probably getting off on the ground floor right now. That is, unless someone else is using it.”
    “But how could he have gone up, when we could only go down?”
    The answer came to her in a single dizzying flash, just as the door of the elevator opened.
    They boarded the elevator in silence and rode to the main floor. When the door opened, Mary Ann moved to the control panel and pushed the Close Door button. Burke stared at her in bewilderment.
    “Push the 2 button again,” she said.
    He did. Nothing happened.
    Her hands moved to the nape of her neck and unfastened the latch on the gold chain he had given her in Mexico. She handed him the key, then pointed to a slot on the control panel.
    “See if it fits” she said.

The Way Out
    E DGAR AND ANNA, HUH?”
    D’orothea’s smile seemed almost maternal as she sat by DeDe’s bed and held the new mother’s hand.
    DeDe beamed. “You saw them, huh?”
    “You betcha. They’re magnificent, hon. And one of each. How perfect can you get?”
    “Would you tell my mother that?”
    D’orothea frowned. “She couldn’t handle it, huh?”
    “You might say that. She told me I should have had an abortion.”
    “I thought she was Catholic.”
    “She is,” muttered DeDe. “She’s also from Hillsborough and a member of the Francisca Club. Those things have a dogma all their own. One of their most well-known tenets is that you don’t have a baby with slant eyes.”
    D’orothea squeezed her hand. “Don’t even think about it, hon.”
    “I have to. I have to live with it.”
    “Do you?” D’orothea’s eyes challenged her.
    “I can’t run