Murder in the Second Pew: A Pastor Matt Hayden Mystery

by K. P. Gresham

  “It’s been said that I use unacceptable language in my ministry here.” He looked directly at Elsbeth. “I apologize if that has offended anyone, but I’ve only tried to speak the truth. And today, I think I shall use one of the three forbidden words in the Lutheran Church.” He smiled amicably at the congregation. “You know what those three words are, of course.” They looked at him expectantly, knowing that he liked to tell a joke.

  Wishing he was, Matt counted the words off on his fingers. “Evangelism.” At this people chuckled. “Stewardship.” That made a few squirm in their chairs. “And Revelations.”

  The reference to the last book of the Bible brought the congregation to an uncomfortable silence. For most of them, the book of Revelation was an obscure look into the future not to be fully understood in this life.

  Matt nodded at them reassuringly. “Not to worry. I’m going to quote one of the more understandable passages for you today. Revelation, chapter seven, verse seventeen. ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’ That’s our job, my family. While we are here on Earth, we are the hands that will comfort those who mourn, we will wipe away the tears of those who are in pain.

  “It is not our job, however, to spread gossip and assert innuendos on matters we have no real knowledge of. That falls under the eighth commandment, where we shall not bear false witness against others.” Matt looked straight at Elsbeth. If possible, her face was redder than it was yesterday when Angie dared to set foot in Elsbeth’s beloved church.

  “So let’s not spend our time wondering why evil has visited Wilks. Let’s reach out to those who need our help. You all know Sherylene and the Seegler children, Deborah, Rebecca and Joshua. You know the challenges in their family with Joshua. You know the problems all farmers are having right now in this drought.

  “Jesus said, ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.’ Well, folks, that means there is something we can do in this horrible situation. We can reach out to the Seegler family and comfort them.

  “But it’s not just Owen’s family who needs comforting. Most of you know that Callie Mae Platt’s daughter’s body was found in the Colorado River earlier this week. Callie Mae is hurting. A wound ten years old has been reopened, and folks, it never healed. Comfort Callie Mae.”

  He said a few more words and quoted a few more Bible verses. Matt knew, however, that the die was cast. He had thrown down the gauntlet with Elsbeth. And he had been true to what the Lord would have him say.

  After the sermon, Matt sat down and the organist began playing the next hymn. Then came the time for the installation of the new church council. Norm Krall led the way up the aisle, the rest of the members falling in behind.

  Everyone was painfully aware of Owen Seegler’s absence.

  Matt said a pretty good prayer, he thought. Asked them to pledge to represent the congregation faithfully and humbly. He made the mark of the cross on each one’s forehead with the oil that Pearl had hurried to find.

  All in all, he thought the service had gone fairly well. Except, of course, for the evil eye coming from Elsbeth Novak. She had stalked back to her car with footsteps that should have caused tremors.

  Norm Krall was huddled with the church council members under a nearby tree. He motioned for Matt to come over and join them.

  “Got anything on this evenin’, say around six?” Norm asked.

  “Nope,” Matt answered.

  “We need to reconvene yesterday’s council meetin’. There are papers that must be signed for the bank, now that Owen…won’t be here. Legally, the council has to vote on who is authorized to do bank transactions.”

  Matt nodded, grateful that Norm was on top of business. Well, there was a reason that the members kept electing him president every year. “Since the church is off limits, do you all want to meet at the parsonage?” he asked.

  ***

  That evening, Norm Krall and the other church council members arrived promptly at six o’clock for the council meeting. Matt half expected Elsbeth to be attending as well, but instead Pearl Masterson joined the group.

  She saw the questioning look on Matt’s face and smiled. “Elsbeth is at a rally for Jimmy Jr. with Mothers Against Drunk Driving. He calls her in sometimes to events where wives would usually be expected to go.”

  “And you’re here because…?”

  “Because Elsbeth wants to know every word that’s said tonight. Especially out of you.” Pearl shook her head. “You really stirred her up this morning, Pastor. Honestly, I don’t know how this is going to work out for you.”

  As the members took their seats around his front room, Matt noticed they were unusually quiet. Surely they weren’t upset about his sermon this morning.

  “First things first, Preacher.” Norm Krall glared. “What the hell did you do to us today?”

  Matt stood firm. “What else do you think God would want me to talk about?”

  “Talk?” Harold Larsen, the church secretary, almost squeaked. “I can handle Elsbeth. Tell me what the devil you’re going to do about this!” He pointed to his face.

  Norm chimed in. “I have to lead the Fourth of July parade in two days. Do you think I want the town to think I’ve joined some sort of cult?”

  Confused, Matt looked at Norm. That’s when he saw his council president’s forehead. Matt paled, then looked at each member in turn.

  All of them had a burn-mark in the shape of a cross on their foreheads.

  “What happened to your faces?” Matt demanded.

  “Don’t ask us. You’re the one that anointed us this morning,” Norm said, and the group nodded its agreement.

  “But I…” A sudden chill ran down his back. “Pearl, where’d you get the oil we used this morning in the installation?”

  Pearl shifted in her chair. “Well, I couldn’t drive all the way back to my sister’s to get some.” She was nervous, and Matt’s trepidation grew.

  “Fair enough.” He kept his tone patient. “Where did you get the oil?”

  “Most places are closed Sunday morning. You know, the grocery stores and all.”

  “Pearl, where did you get the oil that Pastor Hayden used to anoint us?” Norm Krall demanded.

  “Well, Angie serves a brunch kind of thing on Sundays, so I knew the Fire and Ice House was open—”

  “Oh, Lord,” Matt bowed his head, already knowing the answer to what he was about to ask. “Did you tell Angie I needed the oil?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “And she’s the one that went into the kitchen to get it for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Matt got up from his chair and went to the kitchen’s refrigerator where he had put the leftover oil. He pulled out the small bottle and poured a tiny amount into his palm and tasted it. Then choked.

  “Pastor, are you all right?” Norm was immediately alert.

  Matt went to the sink, filled a glass with water, and downed it quickly.

  “Folks,” he said, when he could finally breathe. “I believe you’ve all been anointed with jalapeńo-infused olive oil.”

  The eight members looked at each other, studying the burns on each other’s foreheads.

  “Well,” Norm finally said. “I guess we’ll start this new business year all fired up.”

  Matt was gratified that most of them chuckled. On the other hand, he was left with the realization that, compared to Elsbeth’s mad, Angie’s anger would burn him up like a chicken at a Yankee barbecue.

  Chapter Eighteen

  An Honest Moment…Finally

  As was his daily routine, Monday morning Matt Hayden walked the two blocks to the Wilks Post Office, opened the overly large brass box at the bottom of the row, removed the church mail and then closed the door, dialing the combination lock to a neutral position.

  Matt knew he could count on his secretary to perform the task, but he liked having a reason to get out in the community, say good morning to folks, maybe stop for a cup of coffee at Callie Mae’s Cafe.
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br />   Well, that probably was a thing of the past.

  Today’s journey was even more of a challenge as he’d walked down Mason Street, past the Fire and Ice House. It was difficult fighting the urge to glance in and see if Angie was working the bar.

  Maybe he’d start asking Ann Fullenweider to pick up the mail after all.

  He stopped at the stone desk in the post office lobby, thumbed through the mail, and was pitching the junk when he heard the bell above the door jingle.

  “Mornin’, Pastor.” James W. was dressed in full sheriff attire. Once again Matt wondered how that khaki shirt kept from bursting at the seams, it was pulled so tight across James W.’s chest. “Got time for a chat?”

  Something was on the sheriff’s mind. Matt tucked the mail under his arm and followed James W. across the street to sit at one of the benches in the town square under the historic Muster Tree.

  Around them, Wilks was in a furor preparing for the next day’s Fourth of July celebration. Shopkeepers whose businesses lined the square were hanging flags every twenty feet along the boardwalk. In the bandstand at the center of the park, a group of kids were blowing up helium balloons, letting the bandstand’s Victorian roof capture them. A flatbed trailer being hauled by a farmer rattled by. Matt supposed it was the one they were expecting at Grace. Its purpose was to carry kids from the church’s day care in the parade.

  James W., however, noticed none of these things. He was a man on a mission, Matt could see. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  “This Owen Seegler thing just doesn’t add up.” James W. tipped up his hat, then winced at the sun beating through the tree’s canopy.

  “What doesn’t add up?” Matt asked.

  “The man had every reason to die, but he didn’t pull the trigger.”

  “Say again?”

  “I’ve just been briefed by the Rangers. They ran his financials. Owen was in debt out his earlobes—this drought was the death knell for his farm. He didn’t have a penny left, but he had a girl goin’ to college and another fixin’ to get married. He’d even used up the fund he and his wife had arranged for Joshua to be cared for after they passed on.”

  “Are you talking bankruptcy?”

  James W. shook his head. “I’m talkin’ life insurance. The one thing he had was life insurance—mortgage insurance on the farm, long-term care for the kid, life insurance for the wife and girls. Him dyin’ is the best thing that coulda happened for that family.”

  Matt stared at James W. “You’re not suggesting anyone in the family offed him?”

  “That doesn’t feel right,” James W. agreed, “but that kind of money is a powerful motive.”

  Matt studied the sheriff. “You’ve got someone in mind.”

  James W. nodded. “I’m startin’ with Deborah’s fiancé. The family stands to get a lot of money out of this murder, and he’s about to become a member of that family. Frankly, he’s about to become the new man of the house, the way they think about things in Texas.”

  Matt pictured Deborah’s fiancé when the poor guy had been doused in communion wine a few weeks back after Warren tripped on the altar cloths. Most murders were conducted by family members, Matt knew, so James W. had to go down that road.

  “I think it’s very convenient that her fiancé has been out of town since the murder,” James W. continued. “Even if he does live and work in Austin, wouldn’t he want to come to Wilks to comfort the wife-to-be?”

  “Have you talked to him personally? On the phone?”

  “I don’t want to give him any reason to be suspicious,” the sheriff said. “Can’t figure why the Rangers aren’t more interested in him.”

  “Any idea when they’re going to release Owen’s body to the family?” Matt asked.

  “Well, the Rangers can get things done pretty quick. We already got part of the tox report back. Owen didn’t have any drugs or alcohol in his system. And he hadn’t eaten breakfast.”

  At that moment James W.’s phone went off and he answered it. “Be right there,” he said, then folded it shut. “Gotta run, Pastor.”

  “Something up?” Matt asked.

  “Must be the full autopsy report on Owen Seegler. I told Richard to have somebody call me when it came in.” James W. stood.

  “Has the autopsy come back on Melinda Platt yet?”

  James W. shook his head. “They had to call in a forensic anthropologist for that one. Bones too old.”

  He pushed his sheriff’s hat back in place. “I might need you to go with me to Sherylene’s when I have to tell her the autopsy results.” He shot Matt a meaningful look. “And maybe the fiancé will finally be there, consoling the bereaved.”

  ***

  On the way back to the church, Matt stopped in at Callie Mae’s Cafe. He refused to be a coward about running into the woman, and perhaps she’d softened in her feelings toward him in the last week.

  The moon catcher on the yellow-curtained door clinked as he walked in. Callie Mae stood by the cash register at the end of the counter, talking with an elderly male customer. When she saw Matt, she excused herself and slammed the cash register door shut.

  “Pastor,” she said coldly, as she walked up to him.

  “Callie Mae, I came by to see how you’re doing.”

  She saw the mail tucked under his arm. “If you’re lookin’ for your mornin’ cup of coffee on your mail run, you can forget about gettin’ it in here.”

  “Callie Mae, let’s not go on like this.”

  “My place. My rules. Get out.”

  Matt felt his face redden, and he gave her a pleading look. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “If you want to help, find out from that sheriff friend of yours when they’re goin’ to release my baby’s body. Don’t worry, though, her funeral won’t mess up your schedule. I’m not gonna let her within ten miles of your precious church.”

  “Callie Mae—”

  “I think of all the times I was at Sunday mornin’ service, prayin’ that she was okay, and now I find out that all those years she was dead, just thirty feet away.” She started to cry.

  “I think you’d better go,” the elderly gentleman at the counter said. He glared at Matt. “Callie Mae, I’d like one more cup of coffee after all.”

  “All right, Henry.” Without looking at the preacher, Callie Mae turned her back on Matt. He was left with nothing else to do but leave.

  He walked back out into the hot Texas sun and bypassed the sounds of laughter coming from the kids playing with the balloons.

  What had he been thinking?

  He shook his head, determined to stay away from the Fire and Ice House, when he heard Aaron Rodriguez calling to him from across the square.

  “Mornin’, Pastor! Could you use a cuppa Joe?”

  It was wonderful seeing a friendly face at that moment, and Matt happily nodded and called back, “Sounds great!”

  Aaron Rodriguez had done a fine job of cleaning up the Sinclair Station since taking over ownership. He’d put in a small market where locals could purchase chips and soft drinks and even hot dogs. The chairs where customers waited while their cars were repaired were new and clean. He’d even put a small TV up in the corner for their convenience.

  If only the man could lose the scent of gasoline that followed him wherever he went.

  Matt took the coffee Aaron offered and sat down on one of the new chairs. It was quite comfortable. “I’m glad you landed in Wilks,” he said.

  Aaron laughed, showing many dimples in his dark cheeks. “Means you’re not the new kid in town anymore, eh?”

  “Well, that’s true, but don’t forget, Mandy Culver has only been here a week longer than you.”

  “I like this town.” Aaron poured himself a cup of coffee. “Like this place.”

  Matt looked out the tall picture windows. “You sure have a view of just about everything that goes on around here.”

  “Which means I stay in my customers’ view as well. Helps business bein’ vis
ible.” Aaron studied his coffee, then looked back at Matt. “Pastor Hayden, you’re a good man.”

  At that moment, Matt didn’t exactly feel that way. He appreciated the station owner’s efforts. “I have my days.”

  He must have looked more troubled than he realized coming across the square.

  “I have to tell you, I sure was surprised to hear about Owen Seegler,” Aaron said.

  “Same here,” Matt agreed. “The man didn’t have an enemy in the world as far as I could tell.”

  Aaron nodded. “Makes you wonder if the killer knew he was shooting Owen.”

  Matt slurped his coffee. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the church was dark, right? And Owen was shot in the back of the head.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Well, if Owen wasn’t the right victim, it makes you wonder who has the kind of enemy that would want him dead?”

  Matt caught his breath. Was it possible that Owen wasn’t the intended victim? Matt stared hard at the gas station owner, but Aaron was focused on stirring his coffee. “Are you suggesting someone might fit that bill?”

  “Course not. I’m just saying that if I had those kind of enemies, I’d be very careful going forward.” The phone near the cash register rang and Aaron smiled apologetically as he picked up the receiver. “Sinclair Station. May I help you?” He stood a little straighter. “I understand, Mrs. Novak, but I don’t have anyone here that can cover for me right now.” He paused again. “Well, yes, ma’am, I could do that if you don’t think this will take long.” One more pause. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right over.”

  He hung up the phone and turned back to Matt. “Sorry, Pastor. Apparently the river’s gone shallow behind Sheriff Novak’s place and the landscapers found a car mired in the mud. Mrs. Novak wants it out of there…” He shot Matt a sardonic glare which mimicked Elsbeth’s scathing look perfectly. “…Now.” He picked up his “Will Return At” sign and put its clock to eleven a.m. “The queen beckons.” He pointed at the cup in the preacher’s hand. “On the house,” he said, and disappeared into the garage.

  Walking out the station’s front door, Matt considered what Aaron had said. Had Aaron been delivering a warning or making a threat of some kind? Or had it been merely coincidence that Aaron had suggested Owen was not the intended victim in Matt’s presence?