Secret Sisters

by Tristi Pinkston

  “He sometimes takes the bus,” Eden answered sheepishly. “I didn’t think of that, either.”

  “It’s okay, dear,” Ida Mae said, giving her a squeeze on the knee. “You were under a lot of stress. We understand.”

  “So what happened then?” Arlette prodded.

  “Well, that’s when you got there,” Eden said. “He was being all gruff and tough-guy-like and I was claiming my innocence, and the next thing I knew, Ren and Nick burst in, and then you guys, and it was all over.”

  Arlette reached out and patted her granddaughter’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “Me too, Grandma.”

  They finished their meal in silence. The bishop recovered enough to peel his sandwich off his tie and make some effort to eat it. Ren didn’t say much of anything, but went through three sandwiches and two diet sodas. Ida Mae was glad to see Arlette finish hers as well. They all felt better after the rest and some nourishment, but she wouldn’t feel completely at ease until they’d spoken with the police captain and figured out all the loose ends.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  And that’s what happened,” Captain Wright said three hours later.

  His phone calls made, the interrogation begun, and a sandwich in his stomach, the captain looked a lot happier, Ida Mae thought. Poor Bishop Sylvester looked very much the worse for wear. She wondered if his medicine was somewhere on his person, and if they’d be able to find it if he suddenly took a fit.

  “Your Relief Society presidency brought down a drug ring that’s been operating in Tulsa for some time,” the captain went on. “The Tulsa police have been working this case diligently, but couldn’t trace where the drugs were coming from. Turns out, they were being supplied from right here in Salt Lake City.”

  “I knew it was drugs,” Ida Mae said.

  “How did you know?” the captain asked her.

  “Well, it was either that or diamonds, and James Bond isn’t real,” she explained.

  Captain Wright raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he said, “The Tulsa police have offered a substantial reward, which will be sent on to you. They are also planning to give you the key to the city in a special ceremony.”

  “They got that all organized so quickly?” Ida Mae asked. “I’m impressed.”

  “It’s still being discussed,” he clarified. “They’ll be in touch.”

  “So, how did you get here so fast?” Ida Mae asked Ricky, who swallowed the remains of his third drink before replying.

  “I’d been in Salt Lake all day and had just left for home when you rang me,” he said. “I decided I’d better turn around, and when I heard the call come over the scanner, I wasn’t too far away.”

  “Well, I’m glad you finally listened,” she told him, and he went beet red.

  *

  The entire membership of Secret Sisters sat on padded chairs in the stake president’s office. President Adams looked grim, but then a twinkle lit his eyes.

  “This has been a most unusual case,” he said, looking at the papers on the table in front of him. “I can’t say as I’ve ever seen a group of people break so many laws and yet do so much good at the same time. I’ve had to call Church headquarters to get advice on this one—there’s just no precedent.”

  “We know we caused a lot of trouble,” Ida Mae told him. “We’re sorry.”

  “And you should be,” President Adams said. “I can’t believe all the sneaking around and spying you did. Captain Wright told me he wasn’t sure if he should hire you or have you arrested.”

  “We can’t possibly accept the job,” Arlette informed him. “It just wouldn’t work out.”

  “I’m pretty sure he understands,” President Adams said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But sisters, we really do need to talk. I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to release you from your callings.”

  “But why?” Tansy asked, her eyes filling with tears.

  “You ladies have been the best Relief Society presidency the Second Ward has ever had, but you broke the law,” President Adams said. “I can’t allow you to hold positions until your debt to society has been paid.”

  “I understand,” Ida Mae said stoically. “When do our jail terms begin?” She could probably bring enough books with her to last a few months, and she could have more brought in, and—

  “You’re not going to jail,” President Adams said, interrupting her. “I’ve spent hours on the phone with the police captains in both Salt Lake City and Tulsa. I’ve also been in touch with Brother Mangrum in the stake—he’s a lawyer, you know. He’s agreed to represent you and he’s going to ask for a lighter sentence, given that you did help solve a major crime. If his plea bargain is accepted, you ladies—Eden and Hannah included—will give a thousand hours each of community service and you’ll check in with a parole officer once a week, and that will be the extent of your sentence.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Tansy said, and the other ladies nodded their heads.

  “Keep in mind, that’s what he’s going to ask for,” the president said. “Nothing is set in stone, and I can’t make any promises.

  “Now, as for you, young man.” President Adams shook his finger at Ren. “Your aunt and her friends made me think a little harder than I’m used to, but you?” He looked down at his desk again. “You really muddied the waters.”

  “I wasn’t trying to complicate things,” Ren said.

  “What do you mean?” Ida Mae asked.

  “Well, do you want to tell her, or should I?” President Adams asked Ren.

  “Let me.” Ren turned to Ida Mae. “I met with Bishop Sylvester and President Adams last night and asked about serving a mission.”

  Ida Mae startled. “You want to serve a mission?”

  Arlette piped up. “I didn’t think you could,” she said bluntly.

  “I’m not bad, Arlette. I’m just drawn that way.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Arlette whispered to Eden.

  “It’s a movie quote. I’ll explain it later,” Eden replied.

  President Adams held up a hand. “We talked with Ren quite extensively, and we both feel that after six months of regular church attendance, he’ll be ready to serve a mission. He’ll squeak in just under the age limit. His tithing is paid in full, he has nothing to confess to Church leadership—he just needs to get himself active again.”

  Ida Mae blotted her face with a tissue. Her heart was so full, it almost hurt. “I’m glad,” she managed to choke out.

  Ren leaned over and kissed her on the check. “Me too.”

  “Plus,” the president continued, “that six-month delay will give Ren time to finish his own community service. That is, if he puts in about two hours a day, and if the judge agrees.”

  That reminded Ida Mae. “What will happen to Nick?”

  “They don’t know yet. It’s only been a few days since this whole thing hit the fan, and they’re working through the evidence. I talked with Captain Wright, and he’s pretty sure Nick will have to spend some time in jail. But as he’d had a change of heart and was coming for help, and as he testified against the men behind the whole thing, he’ll be able to plea bargain for a lesser sentence.”

  “And Mary?”

  “We don’t know yet. But whatever they decide, the stake will step in and take care of the home and children. Never fear.”

  “Maybe that could be part of our community service,” Ida Mae said.

  President Adams nodded. “I think that would be a wonderful idea.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. “There’s one more matter to discuss.”

  Ida Mae took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a letter, promising the delivery of a check for ten thousand dollars in a few weeks.

  “What’s this?” she asked, completely confused.

  “That’s reward money for bringing down the drug ring,” President Adams explained. “The police asked me to pass it on to divide between y
ou.”

  “But we can’t accept this,” Ida Mae said, and everyone else nodded their heads in agreement.

  “I think you should,” President Adams said. “Ren’s going to have mission expenses, you know.”

  “I have a life insurance policy from my mother,” Ren told him. “I think spending it on a mission would be the best possible use.”

  “Well then, Ida Mae, why don’t you use that money to go pick up Ren from his mission, wherever he serves?” the president suggested.

  Ida Mae nodded thoughtfully. “I think I could do that. As long as the other Secret Sisters come with me.”

  “It’s a deal,” Tansy said.

  Epilogue

  Mr. Phillips and the other men who ran the warehouse confessed to setting up the drug ring and to hiring James Jeffries to be the courier, paying off the employees who had been roped into service. But when James got a little too big for his britches and wanted a larger piece of the pie, that’s when he took his drive into the river, his brake line having been cut. No money—wet or otherwise—was found in the car at all. Ricky imparted this news reluctantly—he couldn’t get over the idea that Ida Mae had brought down a drug ring, of all things, and she couldn’t get over how fun it was to make him feel sheepish. She pressed him for information on Nick and Mary’s sentences, but he couldn’t divulge anything he didn’t know himself.

  “For crying out loud, Ida Mae, these things take time!” he told her. “As soon as I know anything, I’ll tell you. But it’s not an overnight decision.”

  Brother Mangrum’s plea bargain worked and the Secret Sisters cheerfully fulfilled their six months of community service, finding it to be similar to their work in the Relief Society presidency. Very little had changed in their daily routine, except they no longer had to coordinate visiting teaching, arrange for substitute teachers, or choose the hymns to be sung with each lesson.

  Ren put in his papers and got his mission call to serve in Mexico. Ida Mae pressed her copy of his assignment into her journal, running her fingers across the words. She couldn’t wait to see what kind of missionary he’d be, and to start sending him care packages. She made a mental note to check international shipping rates on cases of mayonnaise.

  Tristi Pinkston is the author of over a hundred published books written both as herself and as her pen name, Amelia C. Adams. She has presented at writing conferences and events all over the country, and she has worked as a freelance editor and author mentor since 2002.

  She’s the mother of four wonderful children, the wife of one very patient man, and the taker of innumerable naps. If she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys watching good movies and ignoring her housework.

  You can learn more about her at www.tristipinkston.com, and she can be reached at tristipinkston@gmail.com.