by Glen Ebisch
After Clarissa had told her parents that she and Tyler would not be getting married as planned, they had tactfully avoided the issue for the rest of her visit. Even though the breakup consumed many of her waking hours, she had no desire to talk it over with anyone. Her feelings were still too raw. Also, her parents had always liked Tyler, and she wasn’t sure whose side they would take once they learned the cause of the breakup. She was sure they would profess to support her, but deep down in their hearts, they might be sympathetic to his point of view. Clarissa didn’t feel she could deal with people taking sides on the issue, even now.
She got off the Parkway at the exit for Belmar and headed east. Twenty minutes later, she turned down Belmar’s main street, hoping that she could remember the location of the restaurant she and Pat had eaten at several years before.
Fortunately, it still looked much as it had and was easy to find. When she went inside, Pat was already seated at a table near the window. She stood up and gave Clarissa a firm hug, then stood back and gave her a lingering look.
“Aside from appearing a bit tired, I’d say that your new position agrees with you,” she announced. “The sunshine has definitely put a bit a color in your cheeks; they had gotten way too pale from all those hours spent in the library.”
“And you look good, as always,” Clarissa said. Pat was a slender woman who always dressed fashionably, and kept her gray hair cut stylishly short.
Pat smiled. “My continuing battle against age. I’ve come to accept that I’m getting older, but I refuse to allow it to limit me any more than absolutely necessary.”
They sat and both ordered glasses of white wine when the waitress stopped at their table.
“How did your talk go?” Clarissa asked after the waitress left.
“It was mercifully early in the morning, at nine, so I made my presentation, answered a few questions, and immediately headed out,” Pat replied. “I find that my patience with academic conferences has lessened over the years. The only reason I go now is to speak with women who are active in the ministry and feel they need guidance.”
“What was the topic of your talk?”
“Being a Woman Minister: Its Effects on Marriage.”
Clarissa winced at the title.
Pat reached over and grasped her wrist. “Sorry, I know that must cut close to the bone.” She paused. “I saw Tyler on campus a few weeks ago. The church he’s assistant at is only about half an hour away from campus. He asked me how you were doing. I told him that I hadn’t seen you in six weeks, but the last we’d talked, you were enthused about your new job.”
“Does he like his new job?” asked Clarissa.
Pat shrugged. “I’m sure he’d prefer to have a church of his own, but apparently the pastor is willing to give him lots of responsibility, particularly with the church youth.”
“Good.”
“But he didn’t seem happy,” Pat said. “When he asked me for information about you, it was like a man in the middle of the desert begging for a drink of water.”
“I miss him too, but it just didn’t work out,” Clarissa said.
“Tell me to mind my own business if you want, but what happened?” Pat asked. “I thought the two of you were ideally suited and really planned to make a go of it.”
Clarissa sighed. “I haven’t really told people what happened, but I think you may understand better than anyone else,” she prefaced. “We knew when we met in seminary that the time would come when we would be assigned to different churches, and we’d either have to live apart, or one person would have to give up his or her dream of being a minister. We promised each other that whoever got the better job would be the minister and the other would come along as the spouse. But when I got my own church and he got a job as an assistant pastor, he balked at the idea of giving up his career and following me. And I refused to be a pastor’s wife.”
Pat nodded. “The job of being a pastor’s spouse used to be a thankless one. You ended up doing almost as much work for the church as your mate did, but had none of the authority or respect. Plus, you had the responsibility for the bulk of the childcare on top of everything else. In the old days, the role of minister’s wife was taken for granted because the congregation thought they were hiring a couple rather than just one person.”
“Do you blame me for not wanting to take on that role?” Clarissa asked.
“But things aren’t that way anymore,” Pat told her. “Even thirty years ago, when I started preaching, no one complained because my husband had a job teaching high school.”
“That’s because he was a man.”
“That’s true,” Pat admitted. “But today, I don’t think a congregation would object to the wife of the pastor having a job outside the home.”
They paused in their conversation as the waitress came to the table with their wine and took their order. After she left, they continued again.
“Maybe you’re right, but that isn’t really the problem,” Clarissa said. “I don’t want to have just any job, I want to be a pastor. I just feel that it’s the right job for me, and the one that allows me to make the most of my talents.”
“And I’m sure Tyler feels the same way.”
Clarissa nodded. “It was our shared goal that brought us together as a couple. We wanted the same thing. That’s why we promised to follow the one with the better position. If Tyler had gotten to be pastor of a church and I hadn’t, I’d have gone with him and made the most of it. I don’t know what I would have done, but I would have found something worthwhile to do with my life. But when it went the other way, Tyler wasn’t willing to do that for me. I think he must have felt all along that my promise was more binding than his, and his role in our relationship was more important and took precedence. That’s why I broke up with him. I don’t think he really took my wishes seriously. He just pretended to.”
“You thought he was a more modern man than he turned out to be when push came to shove,” Pat said.
“I guess you could put it like that.”
“I understand why you feel the way you do, and you are certainly justified,” she said. “But I doubt that Tyler meant to deceive you. He probably truly believed when he made that promise that if the time came when he had to give up the ministry to follow you, he would do so. But when the moment came, he couldn’t do it. We often misjudge ourselves even more than we misjudge others.”
“So what are you saying?” asked Clarissa.
“Only that you should forgive him and not hold a grudge,” Pat answered. “He’s disappointed himself even more than he’s disappointed you.”
“I’ll work at doing that,” Clarissa sighed. “But there still doesn’t seem to be any way for us to be together, and I think we both have to move past that possibility.”
Their food arrived, and they both ate in silence for several minutes.
“There is one thing I do know,” Pat said, sipping her wine. “It is very difficult to be a pastor when you’re all alone; it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman. When Marcus died, I felt a sense of loss even beyond the normal sadness of losing a spouse. It’s hard to support others when there is no one to support you. Suddenly, there was no one in whom I could confide, no one who really understood me and with whom I could share my deepest feelings. That’s part of the reason why I left the ministry and became a professor. I didn’t have the strength to lead a congregation anymore. I still don’t.”
“Did you ever consider remarrying?” Clarissa asked.
Pat grinned. “All the time. But apparently a lot of men find me somewhat intimidating. However, I do have a boyfriend now—although ‘boyfriend’ is an odd term for someone over sixty. He’s a professor who joined the faculty at the seminary last year, and we’ve taken a liking to each other.”
“That’s wonderful!” Clarissa exclaimed. “I look forward to meeting him.”
“You will the next time you visit the university. I’ll make a point of it.”
Clarissa
smiled. “And I have a date for this Friday with the church lawyer,” she told her mentor.
“A real date? Not a business meeting?”
“The real thing.”
“Well, I won’t insult you with the usual lecture about being careful on the rebound,” Pat said. “I know you’ll think before you leap. If there is no practical way for you and Tyler to be together, then it’s time for you to move on, and I wish you the best of luck.”
Clarissa thanked her. “There is something else that I wanted to discuss with you, which sort of relates to the job,” she said.
“How to deal with the church board?”
Clarissa smiled. “That will be for a future lunch, I’m sure,” she said, and then went on to give Pat an abbreviated version of her investigation into the death of David Ames. When she finished, Pat’s brow was wrinkled with concern.
“I can understand your feeling of responsibility,” the professor said slowly, “but it really wasn’t your fault that this man refused to confide in you. In my experience, people only tell you things when they are good and ready to do so. You shouldn’t feel responsible for his death. Delving into what happened to him could be dangerous, and it would probably be best left to the police.”
“On one level, I know all that, but I still think that I should somehow be trying to find out what David wanted to tell me,” Clarissa insisted. “And I don’t think the police are as motivated as I am.”
Pat paused and spoke carefully. “When you start out as a minister, your enthusiasm often gets the better of you, and it’s easy to get too involved in the life of the congregation,” she said. “Every problem seems pressing, and you want to help solve each and every one. But quite quickly you learn that you have to keep some professional distance, or else you’ll burn out. Also, people will begin to resent your involvement in their lives. They want the church to be there for them when they need it, but not to be intrusive.”
“This is a one-time thing,” Clarissa replied. “You have to admit that puzzles like this don’t come along every day. I just have a burning need to solve it.”
“You were one of my brightest students, but also one of my most stubborn.” Pat chuckled and shook her head.
Clarissa smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
Pat reached over and took her hand. “I won’t even try to change your mind, but at least promise me that you’ll be careful?”
“I promise you that I’ll be as careful as I can possibly be.”
And she meant it.
Chapter Thirteen
Clarissa was back in Shore Side by six o’clock. She and Pat had spent an hour after lunch talking about old times and the challenges Pat was confronting, both in the classroom and from the administration of the seminary. Clarissa came away happy that she was not part of such a large, bureaucratized institution. She was answerable to the church board, and ultimately to the congregation of the church, but at least she didn’t have anyone whose paid job it was to oversee her activities.
Because she wasn’t very hungry after having had a large lunch, she didn’t bother heating up the spaghetti sauce Mrs. Gunn had prepared, and just had toast and tea for supper. Clarissa knew she would face a scolding in the morning from the woman, who would once again accuse her of being too skinny and not eating enough.
Neither one was true. She ate plenty, and had stayed slender because she had been an athlete in both high school and college. In fact, she warned herself, she had better get back to running soon, or else she’d pack on some unwanted pounds.
When she’d finished her light supper, she walked over to her office. Not bothering to put on a light in the outer office, she went directly to her desk. Ashley had left a message that the company that supplied fuel oil to the church had called with their new rates for next winter. Clarissa made a mental note to pass it along to the financial board of the church, which handled such things. There was also a message that Ramona Russell had called to say the church board meeting was definitely on for tomorrow night at eight in the church hall. Clarissa knew she had to put some time in tomorrow preparing for that.
In the middle of her desk was a pile of printouts Ashley had left for her. They were obviously the fruits of her research into the various subjects Clarissa had assigned to her. The largest stack concerned Kenneth Rogers’ various real estate deals. Clarissa promised herself that she would study them in the morning and decide which ones to copy for the church board meeting.
The local newspaper printouts covering the Llewellyn murder yielded little that Clarissa hadn’t already learned from her previous conversations with Detective Baker and Maggie Preston. Llewellyn had been shot in his front doorway. His wife found the body, and nobody saw the attacker. One of the articles mentioned that David Ames had been a person of interest, but his name disappeared from the later stories as the investigation had foundered.
On David Ames himself, all Ashley had discovered was a recent photograph of David at the opening of a new restaurant in town, standing next to a woman named Sharon Meissner. Since he had his arm around her waist, Clarissa thought they were probably more than mere acquaintances.
Ashley had found nothing about Jack Spurlock, and the information on Owen Chandler was limited to a picture from the newspaper showing him standing in front of a large gray Victorian, which was described as The Admiral’s Rest, his newly renovated B&B. Clarissa paused to wonder where Owen, who had been described by Marcie Spurlock as a lazy hanger-on, had managed to get the money to renovate the inn. Perhaps his parents had left him a sizable chunk of cash along with the inn. Or perhaps he was getting his money from another source.
While she was brooding on that question, Clarissa heard a noise in the outer office. It had gotten dark while she was going through Ashley’s research, and she had left the lights off in her office, as well, so turning on the lights as she went into the outer office left her momentarily blinded.
Before she could even see if anyone was there, a figure charged into her, giving her a forceful shove. Losing her balance, Clarissa fell backwards and landed hard on the linoleum floor.
“Forget about David Ames,” a muffled voice demanded. Clarissa glanced up and saw a hooded figure in a ski mask standing over her.
Even though she’d taken harder hits playing lacrosse in college and touch football with her brothers on autumn afternoons, the unexpectedness of the attack left Clarissa momentarily stunned. By the time she climbed to her feet, her attacker had run out through the open door.
Clarissa went outside onto the path to the church, but the deepening twilight revealed no one nearby. Clarissa went back into the office, locked the door, and turned on all the lights. She knew this was locking the barn door after the horse had escaped, but psychologically, it made her feel better.
She sat behind her desk, feeling both frightened and angry. Her heart was beating rapidly, and it took her several moments to calm down.
What should she do next? Clarissa asked herself. Although tempted to simply go to bed and decide how to handle the whole thing in the morning, she recalled her conversation with Pat and her promise to be careful. She didn’t think that leaving the attack unreported was in keeping with that promise. This had significantly raised the risk level of her investigation, and she really should notify the police promptly. She also knew that Detective Baker would be less than pleased to discover that she hadn’t heeded his advice to stay out of the matter, but she’d just have to take her medicine.
Clarissa called the police station. When she said the attack had something to do with the Ames case, her call was immediately put through to the detective’s cell phone.
“Where are you right now?” he asked as soon as she had explained what had happened.
“In the church office,” she answered.
“Keep the door locked until I arrive. Don’t open it for anyone else,” he said in a businesslike tone bordering on curt.
Clarissa agreed. She quickly cleared the printouts about the Ames case fr
om her desk so Baker wouldn’t see the full extent of her involvement in the matter. Then she sat down and thought how she could downplay her activities without lying.
A few minutes later, there was a loud rap on her door. She went back to the outer office and asked who it was.
Detective Baker identified himself. She let him inside and led him towards the back office, but he stopped her.
“This is where the attack took place?” he asked, surveying the room.
Clarissa said it was, and he carefully examined under the pieces of furniture and along the floor, clearly hoping to find something that the attacker had dropped. When he had completed his unsuccessful search, they went into her office.
Although tempted to retreat behind her desk, she pulled her chair out and sat directly across from him. Baker asked her to describe exactly what happened, and she did.
“You hadn’t locked the door to the outside office?” he asked.
“No.”
He raised a critical eyebrow. “A woman alone at night should keep the door locked.”
“It is a church,” Clarissa pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Okay. I’ll be more careful from now on,” she promised.
“Can you describe your attacker for me?” Detective Baker asked, taking out a small spiral notebook.
“At least my height. Fairly strong. Whoever it was gave me a good solid shove.”
“Man or woman?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“What about the voice?” he asked.
“Too muffled. It could have been a man or a woman putting on a deep voice,” she replied.
“Did you smell anything? Perfume? Aftershave?”
Clarissa shook her head.
Baker sighed. “Aside from going to see Jack Spurlock on the day he died, have you had any other involvement with the Ames investigation?”