by Glen Ebisch
After a perfunctory reading and approval of the minutes of the last meeting, they moved on to the one item of old business: whether to sell the land to KR Construction.
As soon as Ramona introduced the subject, Harry, a short, bald, fireplug of a man in his fifties, said that he saw no reason for a prolonged discussion of the matter. “This is like found money,” he said. “The church could certainly discover uses for it, and I’ll bet we can easily get six million if we negotiate aggressively. I see no reason to bat this back and forth all night.”
Clarissa studied him, wondering if he was already aware of Rogers’ willingness to raise his offer to six million. Might he be the developer’s man on the board? That would explain how Rogers had known they were having a meeting tonight on the issue. It might be worth checking whether Harry was driving a fancy new car.
Ramona brushed aside Harry’s attempt to speed things along by insisting that each member say something on the matter. Two of the older women and the younger one deferred, saying they wanted to hear other peoples’ opinions first. Clarissa guessed that, in the end, they would go whichever way the prevailing wind seemed to be blowing.
Jackson, who wore a denim shirt and jeans, diffidently raised his hand. “I think we have to consider the environmental impact that a high-rise will have on the Shore Side ecosystem,” he said. “From what I’ve heard, the town council did a pretty sketchy impact study, so we don’t really know what this will mean for the environment.”
Harry snorted his disdain. “You can save a lot of trees and help a lot of people for six million. The only thing that land is good for now is mosquitos.”
One of the older women, Marion Blesser—Clarissa remembered she was a retired high school history teacher—gave Harry a disapproving look. “I think that in addition to the environment, we have to consider how a high-rise would change the nature of Shore Side,” she said. “One of our charms is that we haven’t gone over to fast food restaurants and a beach lined with condo towers. Allowing one high-rise condo might soon lead to others, and before long, this wouldn’t the Shore Side we love anymore.”
“That’s a question best left to the town council,” Harry said. “And they’ve already approved the project. Why should we second-guess them?”
Marion straightened her shoulders and stared across the table at him like he was a fresh schoolboy. “Because sometimes, a church has to act as the conscience of a community and keep it from going astray,” she said severely.
Harry simply smirked.
“Does anyone else have anything they’d like to say?” Ramona asked.
“I do,” Clarissa said.
“She’s only an ex officio member of the board and doesn’t have the right to vote,” Harry protested.
“But she certainly has the right to speak,” Ramona said.
“I don’t see why,” Harry grumbled.
“Because that’s what our bylaws say,” Ramona responded. “And I don’t remember you ever objecting when Reverend Hollingsworth spoke, often at great length.”
Several of the women around the table rolled their eyes.
“Okay, okay, let her speak,” Harry said with a wave of his pudgy hand.
Clarissa stood. “I’d like to pass around the results of some preliminary research that I’ve done into other projects developed by KR Construction up and down the shore,” she said. She passed out the handouts and gave everyone a few moments to study them. “As you can see, KRC has become mired in a number of legal disputes on many of its projects due to their negative environmental impact and the shoddy quality of construction.”
“Some of these issues haven’t been resolved in court yet,” Harry objected. “The charges could be false.”
“But if you read the information carefully, some have already been decided against KRC. And I think there is a very real question as to whether the church should be involved with a company that has such a checkered history,” Clarissa countered.
She looked around the table and saw a number of people nodding agreement.
“Every construction company has its problems. It comes with the territory.” Harry shook his fist at everyone in general. “I can’t believe you folks are going to be stupid enough to pass up six million.”
“Nonetheless, the pastor raises a good point,” Ramona said. “Does anyone have anything else to say before we put the matter to a vote?”
She was greeted with silence. Slips of paper were handed out to the board members, and after a few minutes, she collected the completed ballots.
“The vote is five to two against selling the property to KRC,” she announced.
“Well, I guess that answers my question. You are stupid enough to pass up six million,” Harry said, his face turning red. He stood up and stomped out of the room.
The board then moved on to new business, which consisted primarily of assigning responsibilities for an upcoming tag sale, and the meeting was swiftly concluded.
“You did well,” Ramona said softly to Clarissa afterwards. The others were scattered in private conversations around the room. “Sometimes presenting facts does make a difference.”
“It convinced everyone but two,” Clarissa remarked.
Ramona nodded grimly. “Harry and Kenneth Rogers are thick as thieves, and the other vote was from Miranda,” she said, subtly nodding toward one of the older women who had stayed silent throughout the meeting. “Harry is her cousin, and she always votes with him.”
“So, we did a good thing?” asked Clarissa.
Ramona shrugged. “Harry is a big contributor to the church. You never know—if he gets angry enough, he may take his money and go elsewhere.” Then she smiled. “I say good riddance. I think we did a very good thing.”
“Let’s hope the congregation goes along,” Clarissa said.
“Most likely it will. We’ll find out at the all-church meeting this Sunday after the service.”
Clarissa nodded, but she felt proud nonetheless. She had done a good thing here, and the matter would turn out, one way or another. If only solving murders were this simple!
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Clarissa was sitting at the kitchen table, eating an egg and two large pieces of a substantial multigrain toast that Mrs. Gunn insisted she consume as part of her “putting meat on her bones” program.
“So I gather that the church board decided not to sell the land,” Mrs. Gunn said. She was working at the sink and looked over her shoulder at Clarissa for confirmation.
“That’s right. How did you know?” Clarissa asked between bites of toast.
“Marion Blesser gave me a call last night,” Mrs. Gunn replied. “She was pretty happy about the way things went. She said you were the one who convinced people to vote against the sale.”
“I just presented the facts about Kenneth Rogers’ past projects. I didn’t express an opinion.”
Mrs. Gunn grunted doubtfully.
“What was your opinion on the sale?” asked Clarissa.
“I never trust easy money. If you didn’t work for it, somehow you’ll end up paying for it in the end,” Mrs. Gunn said sagely. “Reverend Hollingsworth was always telling me how wonderful it would be for the church, but I was always suspicious. Any deal that sounds too good to be true usually is. Look at all those old folks who get scammed out of their savings because they’re convinced they’ll get something for nothing. Life doesn’t work that way.”
“That’s a good attitude to have,” Clarissa agreed.
Mrs. Gunn went back to her work and Clarissa began slowly chewing on her second slice of toast, wondering if there was any way she could dispose of it without being rude.
“Do you happen to know a Sharon Meissner?” she asked after swallowing. “She was a friend of David Ames, and I want to talk to her to get some information for the funeral, since David didn’t have any family.”
“I know Sharon, but I didn’t realize she was a special friend of Dave’s. She must be about twenty year
s younger than him—but she is a widow, so maybe she was just lonely,” Mrs. Gunn mused. “From what I’ve heard around town, plenty of women thought that Dave was fun. I could never see it myself. Sure, he liked to kid around, but he never did more work that he had to do.”
“Do you know anything more about Sharon?” Clarissa asked to get Mrs. Gunn back on point.
“I see her picture in the local paper a lot. She goes to all the social events around town, probably to make contacts for her job. She’s a realtor, so she needs to know folks.”
“Do you know which agency she’s associated with?”
Mrs. Gunn shook her head. “There’s so many around town, I never keep track of them.”
Clarissa kept eating, wondering how she was going to get in touch with the woman. She suspected that if David had revealed the source of his mysterious income to anyone, it would be to a girlfriend.
Mrs. Gunn turned around and gave Clarissa a long look. “So, how are you getting along with Ashley?” she asked.
“Very well. She’s smart, organized, and pleasant to work with,” Clarissa replied.
Mrs. Gunn nodded her head. “Good. Poor Ashley hasn’t always had it easy.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, from what her aunt tells me, she was bullied a lot in school. She never fit in easily and was very bright. Some kids didn’t like her for being different, and others were jealous of her for being so smart. You know how kids are; some of them are just natural bullies, and Shore Side can be a little closed-minded.”
“I’m surprised she ever came back here once she had left,” Clarissa said.
“Well, her parents died within a year of each other, both from cancer,” Mrs. Gunn said. “That left her aunt all alone down here. So I think she moved back mostly to be with her. Her aunt’s health isn’t the best.”
“I got the impression from Ashley that she lost her job and her aunt took her in.”
Mrs. Gunn smiled. “That’s just Ashley being Ashley. She always acts tough, and wouldn’t want people to think that she was ever doing something for somebody else.”
“Sometimes the best people are those who don’t shine a light on their virtues,” Clarissa observed.
“Agreed. I’m just happy that the two of you are getting along.”
Clarissa nodded. She was more than glad she’d hired Ashley. “On another subject,” she said, “you won’t have to prepare anything for my dinner tonight. I’m going out.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Gunn stared at her with a raised eyebrow.
Clarissa wished she were strong enough to ignore that silent query, but she knew she wasn’t. “I’m having dinner with Andrew Corrigan, the church lawyer,” she admitted.
“Discussing business?”
Clarissa blushed. “I’m sure business will come up.”
Mrs. Gunn set her mouth in a firm line. “I know his father. He and Arthur Bailey have had a law firm in town for years. But . . . I’ve never heard anything bad about them,” she admitted grudgingly.
“I’m sure that’s why they’re the church lawyers,” Clarissa said.
“I heard the boy had come back to town. He was working up in New York, wasn’t he?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Well, of course your life is your own, but just remember that people in town have a tendency to gossip,” Mrs. Gunn warned. “Your life will be an open book. And, being a minister and all, they’ll gossip even more than usual.”
“Don’t worry,” Clarissa said. “I’ll observe all the proprieties.”
Mrs. Gunn stared at her, as if wondering whether that was true.
After grudgingly finishing her second piece of toast under the housekeeper’s watchful eye, Clarissa went over to the office. There, she sat behind her desk, thinking about the sermon she had planned for this Sunday. Normally she’d already have it done, but between preparing for the board meeting and keeping up her murder investigations, she’d gotten behind schedule.
She was in the process of jotting down some notes when Ashley popped her head in the doorway.
“So, how did things go last night?” the younger woman asked. “My aunt already told me the result of the vote, but I want the blow-by-blow.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Clarissa said, leaning back in her chair. “I presented the evidence that you got for me—thanks again for that. And then the board was swayed to vote against KRC’s offer. Harry Blanchard wasn’t happy and walked out of the meeting.”
“Harry was born unhappy. I went to school with his two sons. They were equally miserable human beings,” Ashley said matter-of-factly.
“It’s probably not easy having Harry for a father.”
“I suppose not. Another reason why Harry wanted the sale to go through is that he’s a commercial realtor, and he was probably hoping this was the beginning of the commercial development of Shore Side.”
“He should have recused himself from the vote if he had a conflict of interest,” Clarissa said with a frown.
Ashley gave a grim smile. “That would be expecting him to have some integrity.”
“What’s done is done,” Clarissa said with a wave of her hand, and then changed the subject. “I was wondering if you could get me the phone number of a Sharon Meissner. She’s a realtor here in Shore Side.”
“Should be easy. All I have to do is check out the websites for the ten or so realtors in town until I find her number,” Ashley said. “Planning to buy a house? I thought you got the parsonage for free.”
Clarissa motioned for Ashley to come in the office and sit down. She then told her everything she had learned from her interview with Owen Chandler.
“Wow!” Ashley exclaimed. “You did make some progress. Now you know that Ames was blackmailing a killer.”
“I don’t exactly know it, but it seems like a reasonable suspicion,” Clarissa said.
“Chandler’s lucky to still be alive.”
“I warned him of that.”
“So now you’re thinking that maybe Ames told his girlfriend who the killer is?” Ashley asked.
“Maybe,” Clarissa replied. “David Ames wasn’t a big talker, at least not when it came to things he wanted to keep secret. But everyone slips up once in a while. I’m wondering if maybe he dropped a hint.”
“Pillow talk,” Ashley said with a grin.
“Something like that.”
“Speaking of which, isn’t your date with Andrew the Hunk tonight?”
“Mrs. Gunn has already warned me that the entire town will be watching, so I have to be every inch the lady,” Clarissa said primly.
“That’s the trouble with Shore Side, it’s filled with spies. Where are you going to dinner?” Ashley asked.
“I don’t know. He’s picking the place.”
“Maybe you’ll be lucky, and he’ll take you somewhere fifty miles outside of town where you can kick up your heels. I’ll look forward to hearing about it.” Ashley smiled at the startled expression on Clarissa’s face. “Of course, only the expurgated version. My ears are too young to hear all the steamy details.” With a final laugh, she left the office and closed the door behind her.
An hour later, Clarissa was putting the finishing touches on her sermon when her phone rang. It was Ashley, who told her that she had a call from a Samantha Jones.
“Hello, Ms. Jones,” Clarissa answered once Ashley had transferred the call.
“Hi, Reverend Abbot. I received a message from Ramona Russell saying you were looking for someone to replace Jack Spurlock as the church’s maintenance person,” a woman said in a deep, smooth voice. “It was certainly a shame about Jack. I worked with him on a couple of projects. He was a good man.”
Clarissa agreed. “You came highly recommended by Ramona,” she said, “so I thought we should get together and see if we can come to an arrangement.”
“That sounds fine. I’ve got a small job I’m finishing up in your neighborhood. Could I come by and talk with you in about an hour?�
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“Perfect,” Clarissa responded.
After she’d hung up, she returned to working on her sermon, which was on spring and the rebirth of life. She’d gotten her church assignment too late for the Easter service this year, so she was going to visit a similar theme in a different context.
The phone rang again, and this time Ashley told her that Ramona Russell was on the line.
“Hi, Clarissa,” Ramona said. “I’m calling because I’ve heard that Harry Blanchard and a couple of his friends have been calling members of the congregation, urging them to override the board decision and pass the land sale at our church meeting on Sunday.”
“Can he do that?” Clarissa asked.
“He’s within his rights to call others and express his opinion. All I can do is mount a phone campaign by the people on our side to vote against the sale.”
“That sounds divisive.”
“It is, but we can’t have Harry overriding the board and getting his own way. Otherwise he’ll keep doing it, and before long, he’ll be running the church,” Ramona said. “The next time, he might override the board on something even more important.”
“Such as?”
“Such as you keeping your job. I’m sure that there’s nothing Harry would like to do more than replace you with a clone of Reverend Hollingsworth.” Ramona paused for a moment, and then went on in a softer voice. “But don’t be concerned. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to get his way.”
Troubled by the conversation, Clarissa hung up the phone and stared at the mahogany walls. Only her third week on the job in her first church, and she was already mired in a bitter controversy. She knew that however this issue turned out there were going to be long-run implications. But maybe peace and serenity were too much to ask for when running any institution made up of flawed human beings.