by Glen Ebisch
Clarissa nodded, trying not to look guilty.
“How did you happen to drop by?” Elise asked. “Neither one of us has ever attended your church.”
“I was taking a walk around the neighborhood and stopped to admire the architecture. Your mother kindly invited me to sit with her a while,” Clarissa said.
“I see. Mother can be very friendly. She loves to meet new people. Well, I’d better get this stuff in the refrigerator,” Elise said, reaching down to pick up her bags. “I hope to see you again sometime, Reverend Abbot.”
Neither Clarissa nor Doris spoke for a minute or so after Elsie went inside.
“She doesn’t like it when I talk to people about the past,” Doris whispered. “She thinks everyone who comes to see me is either a reporter or a gossipmonger. That might have been true in the first few years, but now, it’s usually just folks who are curious about the history of Shore Side.”
“I suppose it’s because your daughter is still sensitive about what happened back then,” Clarissa mused.
“Yes. She hates thinking about those days.” Doris gave her a small smile. “But that’s the time I remember best. Some days I can’t remember yesterday, but fifty years ago is clear as a bell.”
Clarissa stood up and put out her hand again. “Well, I’d better be going now,” she said. “It was wonderful talking with you.”
Doris put her frail hand in Clarissa’s. “I enjoyed it, as well. Stop by again some time. If I’m not out on the porch, just ring the doorbell. I’m usually around, unless I have a doctor’s appointment. That’s usually the highlight of my week nowadays.” She chuckled good-naturedly.
Clarissa waved when she reached the sidewalk and got a cheerful wave from Doris in return. As she walked back toward the parsonage, she thought over what she had learned. Royce Llewellyn had certainly been a philanderer and a short-tempered bully. But he had also been a man of some charm—he’d managed to attract an intelligent woman like Doris, after all—and he had been a caring father. But with his long list of enemies, it wasn’t any surprise that the police had found the case hard to solve fifty years ago. It would be even harder today when many of the principals were probably dead. But if David Ames had indeed been murdered, that had happened only yesterday, and Clarissa had a suspicion that solving his murder would lead back to Royce Llewellyn’s killer.
But, she warned herself, as Detective Baker had made clear, this wasn’t any of her business. So why was she so interested? Deep down, she knew that it was because David Ames had needed her help. He was the first person who had come to her for assistance in her new church, and she had failed him. If she had been more convincing as a pastor, maybe he would have told her his secret, and he’d possibly still be alive.
She couldn’t make it up to David, but at least she could do what she could to find out what had happened to him. She’d just have to be careful, that’s all.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Clarissa stood at the door at the end of the church service, shaking hands with people as they left. She felt pretty pleased; she thought her sermon on how self-centeredness prevents us from relating to others and to our community had gone well. Also, it was another beautiful day, and as she stood in the doorway, she could smell all the wonderful scents of spring.
Clarissa was also happy to find that she recognized a fair number of the people filing past her, and could even recall many of them by name. She made a careful point of saying each of their names, and listening attentively to any corrections. Those who hadn’t been in attendance last Sunday stopped to introduce themselves and welcome her to the area. So, all things considered, the line moved rather slowly.
“How are you doing, Pastor?” Detective Josh Baker asked her with an appraising glance when his turn arrived.
“Just fine,” she replied, shaking his hand.
“No bad effects from the other night?”
Clarissa shook her head, feeling guilty that she had already gotten more involved in the Ames case than he would have wanted.
“Good,” Baker said, giving her hand a pat. “I’ll let you know if we find out anything new about what happened to Ames. I should have something by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you,” she said as he left, glad the police were keeping her in the loop.
Finally, Clarissa could see the end of the line. In last place was a rather handsome man in his early thirties whom she had never met. When he reached her and extended his right hand, she glanced down at his left and saw that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“That was a wonderful sermon. There’s a lesson that I really have to take to heart,” he said after they’d shaken hands.
“Are you particularly self-centered?” Clarissa asked without thinking.
He blushed slightly and smiled. “Probably not more than most. But we all get too caught up in being at the center of our own little universes.”
“You’re right about that. I know that I do.” She paused. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Clarissa Abbot.” She felt a little silly extending her hand again in introduction, but committed to the gesture.
“I’m Andrew Corrigan,” he said as he shook her hand once more. He didn’t seem at all perturbed. “Actually, I was wondering if I could stop by and see you some time,” he added.
Clarissa wondered for a moment if he was asking for a date. It was certainly a unique setting in which to make the approach.
Her confusion must have shown on her face because the man quickly said, “On business! . . . I need to see you on a business matter.”
“What kind of business?” Clarissa asked, somewhat suspiciously.
Andrew shook his head and smiled. “I’m doing this pretty badly. Let me start at the beginning,” he said. “The law firm I work for, Corrigan and Bailey, represents the Shore Side Community Church, and there’s a legal matter that I’d like to discuss with you. We’d been talking to Reverend Hollingsworth for several months, urging him to get the church to make a decision, but he kept putting us off. This is a time-sensitive matter, and I’d really like to discuss it with you.”
“I can’t make any business decisions for the church—the church board has to do that—but I can certainly meet with you, get the information, and convey the matter to the board,” Clarissa offered. “I’m free tomorrow. How about ten o’clock?”
“That will be fine,” Andrew said with a relived smile. “You’re much easier to deal with than Reverend Hollingsworth.”
“Good,” she said. “Well, I look forward to having a very cordial relationship with your firm.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along famously. And I really did enjoy the sermon.”
Clarissa blushed. “Sorry I teased you about it.”
He grinned. “The first step in being less self-centered is being able to take a little teasing.”
Clarissa smiled and shook his hand one final time. “Until tomorrow.”
When she’d made certain that no one remained in the church, Clarissa walked down the steps to the front walk. A number of congregation members were standing around in small groups, conversing. Not wanting to intrude on any of them, she stood there for a moment alone.
“Who’s the hunky guy?” Ashley asked, sidling up to her. She was dressed in a severe black suit, which made her look like a funeral director on Halloween.
“The church lawyer,” Clarissa replied easily.
“Too bad. I thought maybe it was more personal.” Suddenly Ashley looked stricken. “Sorry, I guess you’re not supposed to be interested in that sort of thing.”
“I’m a minister, not a nun.”
“Oh, okay. So . . .”
“Most ministers get married.”
“But they’re guys.”
“So?”
Ashley smiled. “I get your point. What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, as my aunt would say.”
“Precisely.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky, and there will be a lot
of church legal business to discuss,” Ashley said with a wink.
“As a matter of fact, he’s got an appointment with me for tomorrow at ten,” Clarissa said.
Ashley grinned. “You do work fast.”
“It’s purely business!” Clarissa protested.
“That’s what they all say. Oops, there’s my aunt waving to me. Time for me to drive her home so we can enjoy a giant roast with lots of artery-clogging gravy.”
“That sounds good.”
“Only if you don’t plan on having a long future.” Ashley snorted. “I was a vegetarian before I moved in with my aunt.”
“Couldn’t you still prepare your own food?” Clarissa asked.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “The kitchen is off-limits to everyone but my aunt. Plus she insists that I need to be fattened up, or I’ll never find a man. Like I care.”
“Don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Ashley said with a grin. “But any guy interested in me will have to get over a lot more than my being a few pounds underweight.”
Clarissa smiled. “You’d be surprised what people can get over when the chemistry is there.”
“You might be right about that.”
After Ashley walked away, Clarissa headed back to the empty parsonage. She had insisted that Mrs. Gunn take Sundays off to be with her friends and family. After some wrangling, the woman had finally agreed, but only if the meal she prepared for Saturday night was large enough to double for Sunday’s dinner.
Clarissa went up to her bedroom and changed out of her robe and clerical garb before heading back downstairs. She knew there was a large casserole in the fridge that she had barely put a dent in last night, but she had other plans. Her conversation with Doris Llewellyn had given her an idea, and she decided to go to lunch at Maggie’s Luncheonette in the hopes that she might get to meet Royce Llewellyn’s old girlfriend.
Clarissa had a pretty good idea of where the luncheonette was located, so she cut across town toward the ocean and hopped up on the boardwalk to head downtown. The sun was warm and bright, with the temperature in the mid-seventies, so it was the perfect day for a stroll. There was a gentle breeze off the ocean, and she saw that a number of people had already set up on the beach. The ocean was probably still cold, but it would be a nice day to wade in the waves and sunbathe.
Although her fair skin was inclined to burn if she got too much exposure, Clarissa enjoyed lying on the beach under an umbrella. But the thought of doing it by herself made her feel lonely. Aside from Ashley, she had no acquaintances in town her own age, and she somehow didn’t see Ashley as the beach bunny type. But, she reassured herself, she’d only been in town a week or so. Surely she’d quickly make friends.
Clarissa knew that she was really missing Tyler. Both of them had been studying to be ministers, and they’d dated steadily during their last two years of seminary, eventually considering themselves engaged. Then, about three months ago, right after they’d gotten their position assignments—the breakup.
Still too painful to think about, Clarissa pushed it out of her mind, and concentrated instead on the beautiful day.
About a quarter of a mile along the boardwalk, she noticed a sign across the road announcing that she’d arrived at Maggie’s Luncheonette. She left the boardwalk, crossed the street, and headed into the restaurant.
There, she took a table for two. When the waitress finally came along—she was quite busy with tourists having late breakfasts—Clarissa ordered a tuna on rye and a cup of tea.
She glanced around the small eatery and saw a woman in her seventies, who looked vigorous and fit, busy seating people and helping the two waitresses clear the tables. She heard one of the customers at the counter refer to her as ‘Maggie.’
When the people at the table next to Clarissa paid their bill and left, Maggie came over to clean their table.
Clarissa cleared her throat and the woman looked at her. “An old acquaintance of yours died just the other day: David Ames,” she said. It was a bold move, but how else would she get the information she was looking for? She owed it to David.
Maggie paused and stared hard at Clarissa. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. And who are you?” she demanded.
“The pastor at the Shore Side Community Church,” was Clarissa’s reply. “I went to see David in the hospital because he was a member of the congregation. He died shortly after I talked with him.”
The older woman sat down across from Clarissa. “Who would have thought Dave was a churchgoer?” she said. “Well, none of us is getting any younger, and folks like Dave and I are kind of getting up there. And from what I’ve heard, Dave never treated his body like a temple.” She frowned. “So you just thought you’d stop by and fill me in on his death?”
Clarissa ignored the touch of sarcasm. “You knew him pretty well from when you worked at the hotel, didn’t you?” she pressed.
“Oh, sure, he was one of the bartenders. He could be a real funny guy when he wanted to be, but he had quite the temper if you rubbed him the wrong way.” Maggie gave Clarissa a shrewd glance. “But you probably know all about his fight with Royce, and I’m sure the good folks at church had told you about Royce’s murder.”
“I’m sure his death must have been very upsetting to you.”
Maggie stared across the room. “I know that most people thought that I was just his little piece of fluff on the side.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Hard to imagine me that way now. But I was quite a looker in my time, and Royce really cared for me. It wasn’t the same as it had been with all the ones that came before me. If he hadn’t been murdered, we’d have ended up together.”
Clarissa nodded, wondering how much of that was self-deception. “David told me that he had some information he wanted to pass on,” she said. “He didn’t say what it was about, and as far as I know, he died without telling anyone.”
“And you’re wondering whether it had anything to do with Royce’s murder because a lot of people suspected Dave of being involved.” Maggie leaned back in her chair. “Well, I never believed that, and I told him so the first time I saw him after the killing. But Dave always acted a little shifty, so it could be that he knew more about it than he was willing to admit.”
“But he never hinted to you about what he knew?”
She shook her head.
“If you didn’t think David killed Royce, who did you think was responsible?” Clarissa asked.
Maggie frowned and twisted the cloth in her hands. “Why are you asking all of these questions? What’s it to you? You weren’t even born when all of this happened.”
“I feel bad that David never got to tell anyone what he obviously wanted to get off his chest. He wanted the truth to come out and so do I,” Clarissa explained.
“Sometimes knowing the truth doesn’t help anyone, honey. But for what it’s worth, I always figured that his wife, Doris, killed Royce because she knew the day was coming fast when he’d be leaving her for me.”
“She thinks you did it because Royce was going to drop you like he did all the others.”
Maggie’s lips formed a tight line, and she quickly got to her feet. She grabbed the arm of a passing waitress. “This one will be taking her meal to go,” Maggie said, nodding at Clarissa.
“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Clarissa said.
“I’m not offended. I know what I know. And I think this is something you should keep out of.” Without saying another word, Maggie walked to a door in the back of the restaurant and headed into the kitchen.
The waitress quickly brought Clarissa her sandwich in a plastic box and her tea in a cardboard cup. After paying, Clarissa walked across the street to the boardwalk and sat down on a bench to eat her lunch and watch the ocean.
The sandwich was good, but her thoughts were unsettled. Nevertheless, she was determined to get to the bottom of this. For David’s sake.
Chapter Eight
Monday morning, Clarissa was already in her offi
ce working on next Sunday’s sermon when Ashley walked into the outer office and stood in her doorway.
“Morning, Boss,” she said in greeting.
“Good morning,” Clarissa replied. “How was your roast beef dinner?”
“Okay, I guess. At least the EMTs didn’t have to come with a defibrillator to revive me.” Ashley gave her a long look, picking over the young minister’s outfit. “A dark red silk blouse, huh? We’re a bit more stylish than usual today. That should impress the legal beagle.”
Clarissa smiled. “I just felt like dressing up more this morning.”
“I know, I know. There was no special reason.”
Clarissa quickly changed the subject before Ashley could tease her further. “Have you found a file on Mrs. Dalrymple’s computer marked ‘legal?’” she asked, but Ashley shook her head. Clarissa sighed. “I was hoping to get a little background on what this matter might be about before the meeting.”
“Well, there could be a whole set of legal files buried under some other title. Mrs. Dalrymple’s way of doing things was a bit eccentric. I’ll take a look,” Ashley offered, and disappeared around the corner to do just that.
Clarissa sat back in her plush leather chair, courtesy of Reverend Hollingsworth, and thought about the Ames case. She wasn’t sure what to do next, and thought that she might benefit from bouncing ideas off of someone else. But it was hard to know whom to talk to. Detective Baker had told her not to tell anyone that David Ames had possibly been murdered. Still, without talking to someone, she didn’t know what her next step should be.
She heard the keyboard clacking in the outer office, and it occurred to her that, although she had only known her a couple of days, Ashley was the person she knew best who probably had no connection with the town back in the time of the Llewellyn murder.
Clarissa got out of her chair and walked into the outer office. She paused in the doorway to talk to Ashley, who looked up from her computer.
“Do you remember when you took this job, I told you that there would be some things that had to be kept confidential? Things that you can’t even tell your aunt?” Clarissa asked.