by Glen Ebisch
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
Ramona looked off into space. “I recommended someone to Reverend Hollingsworth five years ago when we hired Jack, but the Reverend wasn’t interested in hiring a woman for the job.”
“Is she qualified?” Clarissa asked.
“She graduated from the local vocational school where she studied construction, and she’s worked with several different contractors around town. She markets herself as a handyperson in the local newspaper, and does all sorts of jobs, large and small. Older women in town who need something done rely on her.”
“Is she a member of the congregation?”
“No, but most of the folks in the church know her because she’s also got a fine voice, and we’ve occasionally hired her for solo parts at Christmas and Easter. She’s also a veteran. She was in Afghanistan, I believe,” Ramona said.
“What’s her name?”
“Samantha Jones.”
“Can we hire her without a vote of the board?” Clarissa asked.
“We can bring her on for a probationary period of six weeks, pending a full board vote,” Ramona replied.
“If you think she can do the job, let’s hire her,” Clarissa decided. “As you say, things do need to be done. Now that you mention it, Mrs. Gunn was just saying the other day that the sink in the kitchen is getting slow to drain.”
“That’s the downside of these old Victorian homes. They need constant care. I’ll have Samantha give you a call and set up a meeting. You should meet with her before deciding on whether to give her a try.”
“Sounds good. Now, what’s the status on this land deal?” Clarissa asked.
Ramona sat back and sighed. “We’ve had the land for years, and it’s never been a problem,” she said. “The taxes on it were almost nonexistent because it was undeveloped, and birders and other wildlife enthusiasts were the only ones who wandered out there. We had it posted as ‘no trespassing’ for insurance purposes, but never enforced it.”
“But now someone wants to buy it and put up a high-rise condo.”
“And they managed to get the city council to go along with it.”
“Does the church need the money?” Clarissa asked.
Ramona laughed. “Who couldn’t use five million? But actually, the church is pretty secure financially. From what we take in on Sundays and our investments, we can easily meet our expenses. Our Friday dinners during the tourist season are pretty successful, and we get a nice rent for the use of the church hall for lectures during the off-season.”
“So there’s no pressing need for the money?”
“No,” said Ramona. “Of course, it would enable us to do more for outreach to the growing immigrant population in the county and to help school children living in poverty.”
“But it would also outrage environmentalists and the folks who want Shore Side to remain the way it is,” Clarissa pointed out.
“A big high-rise condo would be the first of its kind in Shore Side, and many people think that it would create a slippery slope, leading to more and more of them being built until the nature of the town is changed forever,” Ramona said.
“What’s your opinion?”
“I’ve lived in Shore Side all my life, and I like it the way it is. It’s a unique and special place. I’d hate to see it change for the sake of allowing a developer to make a killing.” Ramona shook her head.
“Sounds like a project to stay away from to me,” Clarissa said.
“I agree, but not everyone sees it that way. The church board is pretty evenly split. Most old-timers are against it, while the more recent residents tend to favor it. Your influence may be decisive.”
Clarissa frowned. “I’m not sure I have much influence. People hardly know me.”
“The pastor’s opinion is always important. It comes with the position.” Ramona grinned. “Some people think you speak for God.”
Clarissa grinned back. “I wish I had that kind of confidence in my opinions.”
“Just as well you don’t, or you’d be insufferable like Reverend Hollingsworth.”
“He was that bad?”
“Worse,” Ramona said. “At any rate, I’m trying to get the board together for a special meeting on the land issue. Does Thursday evening work for you?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Maybe we can get this settled once and for all, now that Reverend Hollingsworth is gone. He kept delaying the vote by claiming that we needed more information, but I think he was just playing for time in the hopes of swaying more board members to the side of taking the money.”
“Won’t we still need the entire congregation’s vote on a matter of this importance?” Clarissa asked.
“Yes,” but the board’s recommendation is usually accepted,” Ramona said.
They stood and Clarissa escorted Ramona to the door. Then she turned back to where Ashley was studying the computer screen.
“I’d like you to use your computer skills to find out all you can about Kenneth Rogers,” she told the younger woman.
“The old country singer?” Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I think he went by Kenny,” Clarissa remarked. “No, this guy is a property developer, particularly active along the Jersey shore.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
Clarissa smiled and returned to her office. She worked on her sermon for the rest of the morning. She had frequently been told by more experienced ministers that, upon arriving in a new placement, you’d be quickly judged based on how nice you were and how well you preached. So she spent a great deal of time polishing what she wanted to say about the important issue of personal loss.
When she returned to the parsonage for lunch, Clarissa found Mrs. Gunn staring dolefully into the sink.
“It get slower every day,” the woman said. “Now that Jack’s gone, do you think we should call a plumber?”
“Ramona suggested that we give Samantha Jones a try as sacristan,” Clarissa said.
Mrs. Gunn sniffed. “She’s got a beautiful singing voice, and I’ve heard she can fix things. But this seems to me like a job for a man.”
Clarissa smiled to herself, wondering what it was about a clogged sink that required a Y chromosome. “Is it hopelessly stopped up?” she asked.
Mrs. Gunn shook her head. “Just very slow.”
“Well, let’s see if Samantha gets back to me by tomorrow. If she does, I’ll have her take a look at it before paying a plumber.”
Grudgingly, Mrs. Gunn agreed.
After lunch, Clarissa went up to her bedroom and changed into her formal attire of a dark blouse and slacks along with a navy jacket.
“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Ashley said when Clarissa returned to the office.
“Not quite, but I am going to console a widow.”
“Sorry, I forgot,” Ashley said with a blush. She was eating salad out of a blue plastic container while simultaneously moving the mouse cursor across her computer screen.
“You can go out for lunch if you want; just put the answering machine on,” Clarissa said, gesturing to her setup.
Ashley shook her head. “I’d rather eat here. I’ve started bringing my own lunch. At least that way I get one healthy meal a day. It’s okay that I use the fridge to store stuff in, isn’t it?” she asked, nodding toward the dorm-sized refrigerator in the corner of the room.
“Of course.”
“I’ve also found out something about this guy Kenneth Rogers, along with learning more about country music than I ever wanted to know.” She rolled her eyes.
“What have you got?” Clarissa asked.
“Rogers spends a lot of time in court. He’s currently got cases pending where individuals or towns have sued him for a variety of reasons, from shoddy construction work to ignoring town zoning ordinances. But more importantly, he’s also under investigation by the state for violating environmental regulations. Unless he’s very lucky, this guy could end up in a whole lot of trouble
.”
“Would you print out copies of everything you’ve found, so I can take them with me to the church board meeting on Thursday?” Clarissa asked.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Ashley replied.
“Well, I’m on my way to see Marcie Spurlock,” Clarissa said, heading for the door.
“I don’t envy you that job.”
“But it’s an important one. If a person’s faith doesn’t comfort them in times like this, I don’t see much point in it. Do you?”
“I guess not,” Ashley admitted with a thoughtful expression.
***
The woman who opened the door when Clarissa knocked appeared to be in her mid-forties and introduced herself as Tammy McGuire, Marcie and Jack’s younger daughter. She said her mother was in the living room, and guided Clarissa down the hall and into a room in the front of the bungalow.
Clarissa introduced herself to Marcie while Tammy went off to make tea. Marcie was a plump woman with a pleasant, open face that Clarissa thought probably smiled a lot, but wasn’t smiling now.
She expressed her condolences, and said that although she hadn’t known Jack for long, he had seemed like a good man.
Marcie’s eyes filled with tears. “He was a wonderful husband, and a good father.”
“How many children did you have?” Clarissa asked, pulling out her notebook to take down some notes for the eulogy.
“Three. Two daughters, Tammy and Melissa, and one son, Jerry. We also have six grandchildren.”
“Perhaps you could tell me about Jack’s life?” Clarissa asked.
Marcie looked confused. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Why don’t we start with how you met?”
Tammy came into the room with tea and cookies. She poured the tea, and then discreetly left the room.
As suggested, Marcie began with how she and Jack met, and before long, she was caught up in the story of their life together. Clarissa thought they sounded like a happy couple that had survived the normal ups and downs of life with love and companionship. Every time Clarissa heard people recount this kind of life, she thought how much she wished for something similar for herself: a long-term loving relationship with someone who was both lover and best friend.
When Marcie was done, Clarissa said, “It sounds like Jack had a very fulfilling life.”
The woman sighed. “But too short. He should have lived longer.”
“Yes, a sudden death is always shocking.”
“But I think you’re right, he did have a good life.” She smiled. “Jack always said that marrying me had saved him from a wasted life.”
“Why did he say that?”
Marcie sighed and sipped her tea. “When he was younger, Jack made some bad choices in friends. He was close friends with David Ames, as you know, and I’m sure that man would have gotten him in trouble if they’d stayed friends.”
“He was also friends with Owen Chandler, wasn’t he?” Clarissa asked.
“Yes, the three of them were thick as thieves,” Marcie said, then looked slightly horrified at what she’d said. “Not that I think they ever committed any crimes.”
“I don’t know Owen Chandler,” Clarissa remarked.
“He was a worthless layabout,” Marcie said. “His parents gave him everything when he was growing up. He was spoiled silly, and never did a lick of work. I’m sure he’d be destitute now if they hadn’t left him The Admiral’s Rest B&B. But it’s still in business, so maybe he’s more industrious now than he used to be—although I find that hard to believe. Jack was well rid of the both of them. I’m afraid I insisted that he stop going out drinking with them once we were married. I also got him started going to church and hanging around with a better class of people.”
Clarissa nodded. “As you know, David Ames wanted to tell Jack something the other night, but he died before we could find out what it was,” she said. “Do you think Jack had any idea what David wanted to tell him?”
Marcie shook her head. “Not that he ever told me,” she said. “Jack didn’t even want to go see him when you called. But I insisted. I said to him that Dave might not be your friend now, but he once was. Now he’s dying, and you can’t just ignore him. Not that I really wanted him to ever see the man again.”
“Did Jack seem upset at all in the last couple of days?” Clarissa asked.
Marcie thought for a moment. “When he came back from doing some work on the church the other day, he was very quiet. I asked him if anything was wrong, but he said he was just tired.”
Clarissa paused, uncertain how hard to push. “Did Jack ever mention anything to you about David Ames and the Royce Llewellyn murder?”
“I grew up in Shore Side, so I heard the rumors at the time Llewellyn was killed that he’d had a fight with Dave,” Marcie said. “I didn’t put much store in them, but it was just another reason why I didn’t want Jack associating with the man. Jack did tell me that he and Owen were Dave’s alibi, and if not for them, he might have been in a lot of trouble.”
“I only ask because Jack seemed so uncomfortable about seeing David again,” Clarissa clarified.
“Jack didn’t like to talk about those times. All he ever said to me about Dave is that it was always a mystery where he got the money from to live as well as he did.”
Clarissa thought that might be a good piece of information to keep in mind.
“How did you happen to be there when Jack fell?” Marcie asked, setting down her teacup.
“I had called him a little while before, and said I had a couple of things to discuss with him. He invited me to meet him on the job. But I got there only seconds before he fell.”
Marcie reached over and touched Clarissa on the arm. “I’m glad you were the one who found him. If he was aware of his surroundings at all, I’m sure he found your being there a great comfort.”
Clarissa smiled, patted Marcie’s hand, and hoped that was true.
Marcie cleared her throat. “We’ll be in touch when we find out when the funeral will be,” she said. “We’ve called Zelonik’s, of course, but they said that the medical examiner hasn’t released the body yet. I gather they’re talking about doing an autopsy. I hate to think about them doing that to Jack. Why would they go to all that trouble over an accident?”
“Maybe in the case of an accident they have to establish the cause of death,” Clarissa suggested.
Marcie shrugged. “I’d just like to have it all over with, and that can’t happen until Jack’s at rest.”
Clarissa nodded. But she knew that wouldn’t happen until his killer was caught.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Clarissa went over to her office right after breakfast. Ashley was already there, and she asked how the conversation with Marcie Spurlock had gone.
“Naturally, she was upset, and we talked most of the time about Jack’s life,” Clarissa informed her. “I got plenty of information for my service at the wake.”
“Nothing helpful on the Ames’ murder?” asked Ashley.
“Apparently, Jack didn’t talk a lot about that period of his life because Marcie didn’t really approve of his being friends with David Ames and Owen Chandler. The only interesting thing I learned is that David apparently had some secret source of income.”
“Maybe he was dealing drugs, or something like that.”
“I suppose anything is possible,” Clarissa said. “According to Detective Baker, David wasn’t above cutting legal corners. But if he had been dealing drugs for all those years, I’d be surprised if the police weren’t aware of it. Shore Side is a pretty small place. I think a local drug dealer would at least be known by reputation.”
“So you think it was something more secret?” Ashley asked.
“That’s my guess,” Clarissa replied. “Look, I’m going to be away most of the day today. I’m going to visit an old friend up in the Asbury area. I don’t think anyone should be wandering in looking for me, so maybe you could devote some time to seeing if
you can find anything about the Llewellyn murder, David Ames, Jack Spurlock, or Owen Chandler.”
“Sure thing, Boss. You know, I think I’ve heard of Owen Chandler,” Ashley remarked. “Doesn’t he own a B&B in town?”
“That’s the guy,” Clarissa said, heading for the door. “Print out whatever you can find and put it on my desk. I’ll take a look at it tonight when I get back.”
“Drive safe,” Ashley called out as Clarissa left.
After turning her car out of the church parking lot, Clarissa headed north out of town. She crossed the bridge that separated Shore Side from the mainland and got on the Garden State Parkway heading north. The traffic was usually pretty sparse at the southern end, and wouldn’t thicken until she was closer to Toms River, so Clarissa had lot of time to think about what had been happening so far.
David Ames obviously knew something significant about the death of Royce Llewellyn, even if he wasn’t the actual murderer. Perhaps he knew the identity of the killer and had been blackmailing that individual for the last fifty years. But what had motivated the murderer to suddenly stop paying and start killing?
Clarissa went over the events of David’s last day in her mind. He had talked to her and asked to speak with Jack Spurlock. After she left, he had possibly called someone from his hospital room. What if Ames had called the person he was blackmailing, and said that he was going to pass on his secret to someone else? To Jack Spurlock? That would certainly explain why the killer had murdered Ames and then Spurlock. They must have been driven frantic at the idea that the blackmail would never stop.
Did that mean the killing would stop now that Jack was dead? Clarissa wondered. Or would the killer suspect that Jack had passed his secret on to someone else? And who would that someone else be? The only name that came to her mind was Owen Chandler, the other member of the Three Musketeers. He would definitely be the next person she talked to.
As she went further north, Clarissa began to think about her parents, who lived in northern New Jersey. She had stayed with them for a couple of weeks after her graduation from seminary and before taking up her post in Shore Side. There had even been the opportunity for a get-together with her two older brothers, one of whom was a physician and the other doing something in finance in the city. It was nice being together as a family again, even if only for an afternoon.