Buyer's Remorse

by Lori L. Lake

  "I can only imagine. An accusation like that could kill a career such as yours."

  "Damn straight, pardon my French. I immediately handed over the whole kit-and-caboodle to Reverend Trent, and who did he appoint to continue my campaign?"

  "Let me guess—Victoria Bishop."

  "Exactly. Meanwhile, I tried to track down where this rumor started. I went to Councilman Mueller, but he refused to discuss it other than to intimate shameful things about my moral state. I talked to a couple of others who'd been at the meeting where Mueller originally raised the topic. Neither of them would go on record. Both told me they didn't want to cross Mueller. Said they'd deny it if I repeated their comments, but they each told me that Mueller and Victoria Bishop were cozy and thick as thieves. One of them said she wondered if Victoria had her eye on Mueller. He's a widower and one of the wealthy ones I specifically focused on for a sizable donation.

  "It ended up taking me a couple of weeks to extricate myself from that mess, and the entire time, every time I saw Victoria, she'd smile this wicked, mean smile, kind of like she was saying, 'Hey, hon, didn't I get the best of you?' And then she up and announced she'd inherited some money and would be gifting the church with fifty thousand for the Victoria Bishop Roof."

  "They're not really going to call it that, are they?"

  "Mueller proposed it right in church. And she preened and blushed and got all weepy about it, so yeah, I guess so."

  "Amazing."

  "No kidding. Now she's donated money before, but in much smaller amounts. Fifty bucks here, a hundred there, but never this kind of dough."

  "Have you actually seen the money?"

  "Who, me? Are you kidding? I'm now persona non grata. I'm getting the suspicious eye from many people in the congregation. I'll probably spend the rest of my time on staff being accused and suspected of this, that, and everything. To make matters worse, Victoria took the ministry team out for dinner to some fancy restaurant to celebrate reaching the goal, and I wasn't invited. I'm the fourth member of the team! Sure, I'm a lay minister, not ordained, but Reverend Trent has never left me out of a single ministry event."

  "This sounds very painful."

  Jo Ellen's eyes flooded with tears. She looked away and picked up her can of soda. "I'm trying to decide whether I need to start a search for a new job."

  "So you have no way of knowing if this alleged fifty thousand has been received by the church?"

  "I do know that the roofing company requested substantial money up front for materials, and the secretary told me Victoria instructed her to write out a check from the church's bank account on Friday."

  "Does Victoria Bishop have access?"

  "I don't think so. But I don't know. I've been cut right out of the loop. If you don't mind me asking, why are you investigating this?"

  Leo debated what to tell her. Jo Ellen Wiesniak seemed like an honest, trustworthy person, but she was in a lot of pain. Leo didn't want her to confide in anyone, even a trusted confidante. She couldn't afford for any details to take some strange path back to Bishop.

  "I can't go into it right now. I wish I could. The one thing I can promise you is that whatever I find out I'll share with you." She pulled a small notebook from the breast pocket of her blouse. She asked for and wrote down Jo Ellen's home and work phone numbers. "Do you know where Victoria Bishop lives?"

  "I've never been to her house. She's always used a post office box, so I don't know if that's actually the address where she lives. That's what's so weird. Why would she come all the way to this side of the Twin Cities to go to Saint V's when there's a perfectly good Missouri Synod Lutheran church less than a mile from her address?"

  "A good question. Do you happen to have a picture of her?"

  "No," Jo Ellen said. "If I did, it'd probably be unrecognizable on my dart board. Oops!" She put her fingers to her lips to cover a slight smile. "Did I say another uncharitable, un-Christian thing? How terrible of me."

  The humor was infectious, and Leo grinned with her. "Don't worry. I won't tell."

  Jo Ellen glanced at her watch. "Oh, no," she grumbled. "I've only got half an hour to get cleaned up and over to my sister's for a baby shower."

  Leo stood. "I'm sorry I took up so much of your time. Thanks for the Sprite."

  "No, no, please. Don't worry. I'll get there in time, and believe me, it was good that I got all that off my chest." She rose, started to reach out to shake, then let her hand drop. "Hey, it just occurred to me that you should talk to Jim. Jim Lucas, I mean. He's one of the two associate pastors. Victoria did something to him, too."

  "Oh? Do you know what?"

  "No. But something. He's scared to death of her. I remember a time when he was all high on her, lighting up whenever she came around and sharing lots of admiring looks. He couldn't stop talking about what a wonder she was. But in the last year—no, probably more than that—he changed completely. I don't know what happened between them, but I know it's not good. He practically runs whenever he sees her coming."

  "You make it almost sound like an affair."

  Jo Ellen's expression was troubled. "Hmmm, that's exactly the tone. I guess I put it out of my mind and tried not to think of it that way, especially since his wife is the sweetest woman. They seem so devoted to one another, but you know what? That's exactly the kind of thing Victoria would do. She's sneaky."

  "Have you got an address for Jim Lucas?"

  "Sure do. Oh, and if you like, I'll hunt around at church tomorrow and see if I can find a photo that has Victoria in it. She doesn't like to have her picture taken, but we've had a ton of barbecues and welcome dinners. She's got to be in one of them. Write down your e-mail address, while I go get Jim's address."

  ARMED WITH THE address for Jim and Sarah Lucas, Leo drove off to locate Laurel Street in Saint Paul. Victoria Bishop, mystery woman. Who was she? The difference between Reverend Trent's glowing evaluation of her and Jo Ellen Wiesniak's experience was so extreme that Leo didn't know what to make of it. Was Victoria Bishop one of the most adept con artists on the planet? Or had some terrible misunderstanding occurred?

  One thing was clear, Reverend Trent confirmed that he and the ministry team had eaten at Chez René, and the meal was definitely paid for by Bishop, using Eleanor's Visa. At the very least, Bishop was guilty of theft. Perhaps she bought the credit card on the black market. Leo had to admit it was also possible that Ted Trimble gave it to her.

  Could they be in league with one another? Men did a lot of stupid things for women, and if Bishop was half as manipulative as Jo Ellen had described, Ted could have fallen for her and done things he wouldn't ordinarily do.

  A hazy outline was starting to assert itself, and what Leo was seeing was a Black Widow kind of woman, someone who beguiled people, tricked and deceived, then took advantage of them. Could that be right? Or was it an exaggeration? Maybe Bishop had nothing to do with the murders. But she had used a stolen credit card. If she needed to steal to take the ministry team to dinner, wasn't it strange that she'd committed such a large lump sum to Saint Vladimir's for the roof? What was that all about?

  Leo stopped in front of a gray bungalow with a columned porch extending across the front of the house. Past the porch rail, she saw a glider. Someone sat on it, rocking. She got out of the car wondering why anyone would sit outside in this muggy heat. At least the house faced east and the porch was shaded.

  A middle-aged man in shorts and a bright orange t-shirt slumped on the glider. He held a half-eaten apple in one hand.

  "Hello," she called out as she made her way up to the porch.

  He rose, chewing the apple, frowned, and forced a swallow. "Hi. How can I help you?"

  She introduced herself as she came up the stairs. He gestured to a wood Adirondack chair across from the glider, and she examined it skeptically. Once you got down into those things, they were comfortable, but they were never a lot of fun to get out of. She lowered herself to the edge and perched.

  "I'm here to talk
about Saint Vladimir's, the roof, and Victoria Bishop."

  He gulped so hard she saw his Adam's apple bulge. "What do you want to know?"

  "For starters, have you talked to Reverend Trent today?"

  "No. My wife and I just returned from a fishing weekend about an hour ago. We missed today's service. Has something happened—to Victoria Bishop? Or the roof?"

  Was that a glimpse of hope on his face? The expression flitted by so quickly Leo couldn't be sure. "There's definitely something odd going on regarding the roof. We—"

  The front door opened and a round, pleasant face peeked out. "Jim? You need anything?" She glanced politely toward Leo, and her curiosity was clear.

  "No, darling. Well, wait a minute. Could you bring us some lemonade?"

  "Sure." The door smacked shut.

  "I'm investigating Victoria Bishop, Mr. Lucas. I've talked to Jo Ellen Wiesniak, and she thought I ought to touch base with you."

  He flushed a deep red and stuttered a moment before finally getting out a high-pitched, "Me? Why me?"

  "Something's not quite right regarding Ms. Bishop, and I'm hoping you can help me."

  "Oh, my…"

  Leo bit her tongue and let the guy think. Suddenly Lucas was sweating profusely. He ran a hand over his bald head and shuddered.

  The front door opened, and in a firm voice, Leo said, "Let us pray. Please, Pastor."

  Jim Lucas immediately bent forward and intoned a rambling prayer asking for strength and courage during difficult times. Mrs. Lucas stood in the doorway, two glasses in hand, and respectfully inclined her head, too.

  When he said, "And this we pray in Jesus' name," Leo joined him in a resounding "Amen."

  Sarah Lucas bustled forward and offered her an ice-filled glass beading with drops of water. She was a short, round woman with graying brown hair and intelligent eyes. She wore a multicolored, calf-length skirt and a sleeveless blouse.

  "I'll need just a few more minutes of Pastor Lucas's time," Leo said. "I apologize for interrupting your Sunday."

  "Think nothing of it," she said. Turning to her husband, she said, "Let me know if you need anything else, hon."

  He grasped her hand for a moment, a look of defeat on his face. With her head held high, Sarah Lucas marched into the house. Leo could tell the woman knew something was up, but she was too polite to embarrass her husband with questions.

  The lemonade was tart and refreshing. Leo set the glass on the arm of the chair. "Back to Victoria Bishop, a woman who seems to be a sore topic today."

  "What is it you want, Ms. Reese?"

  "Apparently many in the congregation think the woman is a gift from God, but others tell different stories."

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on bony knees. "It would be unseemly of me to tell tales out of school."

  "Let me make some guesses, then. You can confirm or deny. Victoria Bishop came to the church, and she was a breath of fresh air, like no one you'd ever met before. She was pretty and helpful and oh-so-charming. You fell for her hook, line, and sinker. She sank that hook deep, reeled you in, and once you'd been somehow compromised, she changed completely."

  Jim Lucas sat clutching his lemonade, his face horror-stricken. She felt sorry for him.

  "I apologize for being so blunt, Pastor Lucas. I can tell by the look on your face that I'm not far off the mark."

  "Not at all," he whispered. "She dropped her mask and became a devil."

  "What did she want? And what did she threaten?"

  "She said she'd go public. Tell the congregation, tell my wife." Haltingly he said, "Last year—in the spring, we chaperoned the church kids at the National Youth Gathering. We—I—" He closed his eyes and winced as if in pain.

  "I understand, sir. She took advantage of you. Got you in a compromising situation. What happened then?"

  "After—after that, she was—she held it over my head."

  "What did she demand in return?"

  "She wanted free rein on the finance committee. She wanted me to support her for a position on the church council. I hated to do it. She said she'd tell my wife, so I had to."

  He was near tears.

  "Look, Pastor, I don't care about what happened intimately between you and Victoria Bishop, and I'll keep this confidential if I'm able to. I'm not sure your experience with her will come up, but I want you to tell me one thing. What is your assessment of her? Try to put aside your feelings as a man and think about it solely from the angle of a church leader and minister."

  He swallowed and stared out toward the street for a full minute before finally turning back to meet her gaze. "I never thought, as a man of God, that I'd say this, but she's one of the most intensely evil people I've ever encountered. Pure evil. If her goal was to get on the finance committee and be part of the church's guiding council, she could have asked me, and I'd have helped. Instead, she sought to humiliate me. Nothing I've said since last spring could convince her otherwise, and in fact, she twisted it all around like it was my fault. Suddenly, she was the victim, and I was some sort of oppressor, guilty of God only knows what. Please, Ms. Reese, please understand."

  "I do. You're not the only person she's abused and betrayed."

  "Oh, my Lord, I feel sorry for anyone else going through this kind of hell. I succumbed to her wiles once. Just one time. It was wrong, and I've prayed and asked God's forgiveness. I don't know how I'll ever forgive myself. But I don't deserve this terrible campaign she's carried out against me. Since the youth conference, she's made a point of seeking me out, smiling knowingly, as though we shared a naughty secret, as though she'd vanquished my ethics, my morals. Which, indeed, she has. And the worst of it is that by her unspoken actions, she managed to give enough hints for my wife to suspect what happened. That's why we went away for the weekend—so I could confess to my wife and ask forgiveness. I hope God will forgive me."

  He set the lemonade glass on the floor and leaned forward, head in hands. The picture of Victoria Bishop had sharpened in focus, and Leo felt a wave of cold fury toward the woman. How many men had she done this to? How many lives had she destroyed? How many churches and employers had she defrauded? Leo suddenly felt the intense desire to get every bit of information she could about this woman and contact the FBI or the State Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. This extortionist, this murderer and rip-off artist wasn't new at this. The level of sophistication, the extorted silence, and the damage left behind was too calculated, too precise. She was a master. Bishop had no doubt done this before, and she'd probably do it again. She had to be stopped.

  "Anything else you can tell me, Pastor Lucas?"

  He sat up, took a deep breath, and suddenly looked resolute, as though he were ready to face things head-on. "Why, yes. There is one more thing. She said she'd tell my wife everything if I didn't give her an alibi for last Monday night."

  "And you told the police she was with you."

  "I did. I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth, and I've been debating for days whether to retract it. While we were gone, I prayed about it and decided to return home and tell the truth, no matter what the consequences."

  "So she wasn't with you?"

  "No. I have friends in the ministry who will verify where I was, and she most certainly was not with me."

  Leo said, "You've been so helpful. I'm sorry to put you through this, but with any luck at all, your ordeal will soon be over."

  He sat back on the glider, looking subdued. "I don't know if it'll ever be over."

  "Don't count on it. I think you'll see your whole world change dramatically once we get her out of your church."

  "I'll pray for that."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ELEANOR KNELT IN front of a dresser, rooting at the back of the bottom drawer to pull out the last of some clothing. Callie had cram-packed the dresser full, and Eleanor was boxing up the items and getting them ready for Goodwill. Despite her periodic weepiness, she felt considerable satisfaction. All day she'd been working in fi
fteen- and twenty-minute spurts, then sitting down to rest and recover from crying. She'd accomplished more than she'd expected.

  The armoire was full of necklaces and earrings. Most of them she would save for Callie's daughter, Olivia. Eleanor had requested Callie's rings from the funeral director. Now she opened the armoire and put the sealed plastic ziplock inside, retaining just the one ring that she had bought for Callie all those years ago. She slipped it on the ring finger of her right hand and admired their two birthstones on either side of the diamond.

  "Miss Eleanor?"

  "Yes?"

  Habibah Okello stood in the doorway. "Are you coming for dinner? Dottie is serving now."

  Eleanor rose slowly to her feet, grasping the top of the dresser to pull herself erect. "I'm feeling all rickety tonight."

  "Yes, ma'am. I can understand."

  "I have a few more things to do here, Habibah, so I may be late. Don't have Dottie wait. If this takes me too long, I'll pop out to a restaurant later. I'm making such good progress though."

  "You are! I cannot believe how much you have packed."

  "Slow and steady wins the race."

  In the distance, Eleanor heard the ring of a telephone. "Uh-oh, that's probably for me." She hastened across the hall and paused at the entrance to her suite. Was she finally strong enough to cross the threshold?

  Habibah looked at her oddly as she headed toward the café, and that sealed it. Eleanor stepped into the room and grabbed the phone.

  No one said anything for a moment, then she heard a woman's voice. "I almost hung up. I thought no one was home."

  "I'm here."

  "Is this Eleanor Sinclair?"

  "Why yes, who's calling?"

  "This is Bonnie Yarborough. I work at Saint Vladimir's Church. Some children playing in our churchyard found a credit card with your name on it." She read off a number. "Is that yours?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "Lucky I found you listed in the phone book then. The church is open until nine p.m. for Bible Study. Would you like to come by and get this tonight?"