by Douglas Hall
Below the plaque was a large-framed oil portrait of a smiling avuncular man identified as Pastor Sammy Proctor by the brass name plate underneath.
She was greeted by a camera-ready, smiling, Stephanie Brockhurst who identified herself as executive assistant to Reverend Paul Proctor. She was a statuesque bottled blond with her hair styled in a chignon highlighting her high cheekbones. The A-line dress, that was not off the rack, was accentuated by a cultured South Sea and Tahitian pearl graduate necklace with matching earrings. They were a thank you gift from Pastor Paul on the fifth anniversary of Sammy Pines opening for her loyalty and hard work.
“My name is Stephanie Brockhurst and what a pleasure it is to welcome you to Sammy Pines.”
“I would like to book a cabin for a couple of weeks if you have a vacancy.”
“You are in luck, miss, or is it Mrs?”
“It was Mrs until the divorce came through. I kept my married name and everyone calls me Bethany,” Mandy replied with a laugh as she began setting up her cover story.
“Bethany it is. You can call me Brock. Everyone does. Tell me how did you hear about Sammy Pines? We always like to know how our first-time guests found us.”
"I was shown a copy of Child Waiting and was fascinated with the stories. They are so challenging and what a worthy cause fighting juvenile conjunctivitis.
“It came at the right time after my divorce. I have no family, and there is nothing to keep me in Canada anymore, so I quit my job and decided to travel across the States, and here I am.”
“I know you will find your stay at Sammy Pines restful and invigorating,” Brock tapped the desk bell, and a young woman appeared through a side door.
“Your cabin is ready and waiting for you. Janice will be pleased to show you around the grounds, on your way to your cabin, once we get you booked in. On your bed, you will find our daily activity sheet. Please, feel free to take in any or all the events listed. Dinner is promptly at six, and I’ll book you a seat overlooking Lake Hagerman. The sunset is absolutely beautiful at this time of year. I’ll also introduce you to Pastor Paul.”
“Just one thing more. We require one week in advance. It will be seven hundred dollars with state tax included.”
Seven one-hundred-dollar bills were placed on the counter.
While Brock was processing the booking, Mandy looked around the reception room.
To the right of the front door was a wall with framed pictures. Each one was a group picture with Brock, and she assumed Paul Proctor standing in the middle.
“That’s an interesting collection,” Mandy casually mentioned.
“We have a staff picture taken every year and like to show our staff off. I see you’ve parked out in front. Might I ask if you are planning to use your car while here?”
Mandy shrugged, “I hadn’t planned to. I have nowhere to go and no one to see. I am making a clean break from everything and everybody in my past, to, hopefully, start over again.”
Brock placed a registration card in front of Mandy and said, “Please fill in all the lines.” She had memorised everything needed for her cover story down to the licence plate number and began filling in the card. When finished, she signed Bethany Walker at the bottom and handed the card to Brock who scanned it and handed it back.
“We require everything filled in including: phone number, home address, e-mail address, contact to call in case of emergency and licence number.”
“That’s all the information I can give you. I gave up my apartment, cancelled my e-mail service. My parents are dead, and I was an only child. There is no one left to care whether I live or die. Once I leave here, I intend to travel head for Colorado. I hear it is a beautiful state. I might decide to settle down there and start a new life there.”
Mandy had cleverly established her cover story and was laying it on with finesse. She watched Brock’s facial expression for any sudden change, but there was none as she picked up the phone and a young girl appeared.
“Gail, would you please take Miss Walker and her suitcase to Cabin 36 after she moves her car to guest parking.”
“I’ll have a receipt for you in the morning if you will stop by the desk.”
“Before I leave, could I donate to Child Waiting? I should have done it after I finished up the divorce settlement, but it slipped my mind.”
“Why, of course. How generous of you. How much would you like to donate?” Brock opened the receipt pad.
“Would five hundred be acceptable?”
“Indeed, it would. Pastor Paul will be so grateful. Every bit helps those poor children in Africa. The budging wallet as the bills were counted out didn’t pass Brock’s notice.”
As Mandy walked to her cabin with Gail, she tried to engage her in conversation but failed as all she received in answer to her questions were ‘I don’t know’ or ‘you’ll have to ask Brock’.
She watched Gail heading back to the administration building, and as soon as she disappeared through the door, she knew what to do. She called West to tell him she was in and give him directions to her cabin.
West wanted to know if she was grilled for information when she booked in and congratulated her when she told him how she handled it when asked to complete the registration card. She also described Stephanie Brockhurst and gave her opinion that she was anything but the traditional administrative assistant. She looked forward to being introduced to Pastor Paul at dinner and ended the report saying the latest edition of Child Waiting was on the bed pillow.
West found her description of the wall of pictures interesting and asked her to have a close look to see if she could spot someone who looked like Cindy but not to take chances which could trigger questions.
He ended the call quickly when Mayfield entered his office with a budging file which he dropped on his desk like a hot coal.
Mandy made good use of the time she had before dinner to unpack her suitcase and made use of the bureau drawers and closet. It would give the appearance that she could be settling in. The rest of the time was filled reading Child Waiting and making notes. Among her many acquired skills was analysing and breaking down information into concise point form.
WEST AND KING were immersed with the voluminous computer printout Jayden Mayfield had reluctantly given them. It was stacked in two piles on the cabin table with West concentrating on Sammy Pines and Pastor Paul’s financials, while King waded through Pastor Sammy’s last two years. It was eye-smarting grunge work equal to the mind-numbing stakeouts both had been on.
King stretched and removed his glasses which he dropped on the table, “I’ve searched probability files, e-mails and phone records trying to tie a person of interest into this investigation but I am batting zero.”
“Haven’t you come up with anything?” West asked as he put down his high liner.
“Just confirmation of what we already know from what Interpol sent us about Pastor Sammy, and the financial manipulations which saw his religious empire collapse and got him time in prison for money laundering. I’ll bet he never thought he would end his days in a Boca Raton extended care home. It should be more than enough to give us a springboard to Pastor Paul and Sammy Pines and how close Interpol was with its analysis.”
“From what I’ve seen, it looks like Pastor Paul is no slouch at playing the system as well but that’s no surprise. He learned it from the master,” added West.
“Found anything that we can use to suggest a direct tie-in between Pastor Paul and Cindy Madison?” King asked.
“As near as I can calculate,” West adjusted his glasses, flipped a page on his writing pad and read a highlighted section, “she was the means of funnelling close to forty thousand into Pastor Paul’s coffers over the last two to three years beginning with a thousand a month, increasing to two and now seven big ones. I’ll ask Madison next time I talk to him if I am close, but I’ll bet I am. That makes her a major player when the average annual contributions are in the ten to twenty dollar a month range.”
&
nbsp; “I would have thought it would be more?” King suggested.
“I’m just talking about the supporters of Child Waiting. There are some regular three and four figure donors to Pastor Paul’s ministry and Sammy Pines. Culpepper told us he travels a lot like his father did holding what he calls evangelistic crusades in large churches around North America including Canada, and they pay off. Believe me he is a machine for making money, and then there is Sammy Pines. At seven hundred a week, it is a cash cow as well. I am sure the guests are asked if they would like to leave a donation for the lord’s work when they leave.”
“How do you know that?”
“I will put money on it. These people never miss a bet to squeeze out the last dime, especially from people they will probably never see again.”
“What next?”
“It will take Mandy a few days to get acclimatised and accepted, so let us put the time to good use. Tomorrow morning, I’ll pay another call on Mayfield and rattle his cage with what we came up with, and you can leave for Boca Raton to visit Pastor Sammy in his retirement home. It’s my guess that he and his son are in constant communication either by phone or visits, and he may know something about Cindy Madison and let it slip. It’s a long shot but worth following up. The way you drive, you can be there late afternoon, check into a motel, have dinner and see him during visiting hours which are seven to nine. If you get everything of value, you could be back here by noon if you leave around five. If not, stay over and have another go at him.”
“Why don’t you come with me, it would be a nice break?”
West shook his head, “I would, but I don’t want to leave Mandy alone. In case, something hits the fan, I have to get her out of there.”
While West and King were talking, Brockhurst was in Proctor’s office giving him a rundown on their new guest.
“From what you tell me, she sounds interesting and would make an invaluable asset to your staff now that you are short a bookkeeper. Best of all she comes with no baggage and knows nothing. Let’s keep it that way.”
“I think she is above and beyond bookkeeper?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Don’t know but I get the feeing there is more to Bethany Walker than just a divorcee who wants to start a new life. That girl has money for openers.”
Proctor rubbed his chin, “That donation is a surprise, don’t see many that size from first-timers.”
“I saw her wallet when she paid the deposit, and it is stuffed.”
“What do you make of her?”
“I, honestly, don’t know. I’d like to think that she is for real.”
“Well, then start there. Make friends and see if she opens up to you.”
“I would feel uncomfortable offering her the bookkeeper’s job. It would have to be something more. That woman has class and is not a pencil pusher, believe me.”
“Well, then offer her Office Manager with all the perks that go with it.”
Brockhurst reacted, “I thought I was the Office Manager?”
“Not any longer, I’ve just bumped you to General Manager.”
“I thought I was your Administrative Assistant?”
“You are that as well and lot more!”
Ten
MANDY COULD NOT HELP but notice the plaque hanging on the wall over the bed with Christ cradling a small lamb and Safe in the Arms of Jesus in italic letters underneath. “Paul West,” she breathed, “what in hell have you gotten me into this time?”
Her next introduction to life at Sammy Pines came at dinner as everyone stood up when Pastor Paul walked into the room with Brockhurst at his side and stood behind a chair at the head of the dining room table. “Good evening, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Shall we join hands and sing Grace before we partake of what I am sure will be bounties from heaven.”
The lady next to Mandy took her right hand and the man on the other side her left. Mandy never felt so uncomfortable or out of place.
Following dinner, she was introduced to Pastor Paul who welcomed her warmly and said he looked forward to having a chat with her before too long. When she returned to her cabin, she called West and brought him up to date. He was pleased with how she appeared to be settling in and laughed when she told him about singing grace and suggested that with her voice, which he heard many times around the office, she would add a touch of class to the proceedings. Her reply, which bordered on the rude, caused West to give a mock expression of shock in response. They both laughed.
Getting serious he asked her if she had come across any staff that resembled Cindy Madison. She told him she was too busy trying not to look stupid and out-of-place to study faces. One of Mandy’s many acquired skills was remembering faces from a photograph and picking them out of a crowd. It was an acquired skill that enhanced many investigations. West suggested again that she should have a closer look at the staff pictures hanging on the reception wall and be careful not to draw attention. She had studied Cindy’s graduation photograph the night before she left for Sammy Pines and mentioned her high cheekbones and sculptured eyebrows. Before closing off, Mandy asked what he and King were up to, and he gave her a brief update. He was going to see Mayfield again first thing in the morning, and King would be going to Boca Raton to visit Pastor Sammy. It was a long shot but worth the effort if it paid off.
JAYDEN MAYFIELD received a sound reprimand from the bank’s head office, and had no intention of getting another one. He fervently hoped that he had seen the last of West and King and recoiled when the closed door to his office opened and West walked in unannounced.
“I am not allowed to speak to you or your partner,” snapped Mayfield. “If you have any further questions, I’ll give you a name and phone number to call at head office.”
West set his recording device on the desk and sat down, “I am not here to ask you any further questions about Sammy Pines’ business with your bank. I want to know what you can tell me about your personal relationship with Pastor Paul and his father.”
Mayfield went on the defensive, “I only knew Pastor Sammy and now Pastor Paul on a business basis. There is nothing personal in my association with either.” Mayfield was decidedly uncomfortable and ended it with a caustic, “Deputy West, I have nothing to say so please leave! It could cost me my job if head office heard that I was even talking to you.”
“I am not here as an Alabama deputy. I am here as a private investigator from Canada.”
“I don’t care who you are, where you came from or why you are here. Are you going to leave my office or shall call Sheriff Culpepper and demand that he orders you to leave?” Mayfield’s face flushed in outrage.
West leaned over the desk and picked up the receiver of Mayfield’s phone and held it menacingly in front of his face. “He is in his office right now. Call him! You are playing hardball with the wrong man, sir. I am investigating the missing of a young woman, and I am following up every lead and one of the strongest came from Interpol. It pointed to The Agronomy Bank of Alabama which had a direct involvement with the money laundering conducted scam by Pastor Sammy Proctor.”
Mayfield expelled a lungful of air, “I told you all I knew about Pastor Sammy and the unfortunate happenings which occurred long before your young lady went missing. I have nothing more to say on the subject.”
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Pastor Paul?”
“You mean on a personal or business basis?”
“Personal or business,” parroted West.
Mayfield frowned; it was the patented frown he gave to a questioner when reluctant to answer.
“Come now, Mr Mayfield,” West pressed, “that can’t be a difficult question?”
“I am trying to recall. I talk to most of the bank’s corporate customers at one time or the other, but how can you expect me to remember everyone I spoke to in the past?”
“I’m not asking about everyone, I am asking about a specific one, Pastor Paul Proctor.”
Still stalling Mayfi
eld asked, “It would have been about the Sammy Pines account, but I can’t recall exactly when that was or what we spoke about.”
West knew he had Mayfield scrambling and bore in, “Very well, I have explored the business side of your relationship with Pastor Paul, now let’s move to the personal. When was the last time you and Pastor Paul socialised?”
“I told you I never mix business with pleasure.”
“So, you did. Has Pastor Paul ever been to your home for any reason, say being a guest at dinner?”
Mayfield’s expression was revealing. He glared at West and said nothing.
“You have just answered my question. A week ago, two weeks ago, when?”
Mayfield stared at the recording device. “Honestly, I can’t put a date or time on it.”
“When was the last time you spoke to Pastor Proctor on the telephone?”
“I don’t have that kind of memory; I’d have to check my daily log.”
It was textbook unrelenting questioning the like of which Mayfield had never experienced.
West reached for his briefcase and took out a single sheet of paper. Let me save you the bother. “Is 555-452-2462 your iPhone number?”
Mayfield blanched, “That is my private number. How did you find that out?”
“I check your phone records for that number.”
“You can’t do that. It is an invasion of privacy.”
“I can and I did. Sheriff Culpepper presented probable cause to the judge and got a warrant to retrieve your iPhone and home telephone records for the past two months,” nodding to the phone on the desk, he added, “your direct line as well. He also obtained a warrant for the phone records of Pastor Proctor’s cell phone and Sammy Pines business phone.”
“I take umbrage.”
“Take what you like but the judge accepted what Sheriff Culpepper told him and issued the warrants. Do you want to change your answer about the last time you talked to Pastor Paul?”