Magnolia Moonlight

by Mary Ellis

  Michael pushed up the window and stuck out his head, becoming an easy target for the hooligan in the alley. “Who’s down there?” he shouted.

  “Your partner.” Beth’s voice drifted skyward. “Why aren’t you answering your buzzer? I’ve been standing here for ten minutes.” She moved from under the overhang to the Dumpster.

  With her red hair curly from the rain, she would have looked adorable if not for her frown. “No need to break my window just because the buzzer’s broken. They’re coming tomorrow to fix it.”

  “How do you know when you have company, Preston?” she called, arching her neck and shielding her eyes from the rain.

  “Never had any so far. You’re my first guest. Why didn’t you call me last night with an update?”

  Beth lifted both hands in supplication. “Could I please come upstairs so we can discuss this out of the rain?” Her voice intensified with each word.

  “Sure. Why didn’t you just say so?” He shut the window, released the door lock, and pulled on a sweatshirt. His daily exercises hadn’t yet produced bodybuilder results, but he could feel his endurance and stamina improving. When he opened the door to the hallway, Beth was at the top of the steps, shaking like a poodle.

  “Come in, Miss Kirby. Did you not notice today was Saturday?” He handed her a towel for her hair.

  “Until Nate comes home I’m the boss, and I mandate Saturday a workday. You’re not a nine-to-fiver anymore.” Beth headed straight to the coffeemaker. “I didn’t call you last night because I played rummy with my dad until midnight. I seldom get to spend much time with him. However,” she drawled, filling a mug to the rim, “I’ve already been on the phone with Mrs. Dean. She returned from her sister’s last night and said we could come over this morning, as in now. So go put on something classy.” She flourished a hand at his workout clothes. “I’ll tell you about my conversation with Detective Lejeune along the way.”

  Michael grabbed his coffee and bolted to the bathroom for a shower. Odd how working weekends hadn’t been half as appealing at his old job. Not even while engaged to the office assistant.

  “Is it okay if I have some of this apple Danish?” Beth shouted from the kitchen.

  “Eat all you want. There’s juice in the fridge too.”

  Ten minutes later, he yanked on clean clothes and towel dried his hair. “Are you sure Mrs. Dean knows I’m coming too?” he called.

  “Yep. I smoothed things out between you two. Just don’t say or do anything to annoy her.”

  Michael appeared in the doorway. “That implies I can recognize annoying statements in advance. How’s this? Decent enough?”

  “Wow, the speed at which men get ready astounds me. Yes, chinos and a polo shirt are perfect.” Beth popped the last bite of pastry in her mouth. “Thanks for breakfast, Mike. I escaped Hotel California before mealtime.”

  “You’re welcome.” Picking up his briefcase, Michael opened the door for her. “Ready to go?”

  “I’ll drive since we’re in a hurry. You look nice, by the way.” Beth ran down the steps at breakneck speed.

  “Thank you, Miss Kirby. I’m hoping for a good report to the boss. Tell me about your visit with Detective Lejeune and Chief McNeil.”

  Beth drove so fast Michael barely had time to process the conversation before they arrived at the Deans’.

  “Here’s our plan,” she said, braking to a stop in the driveway. “Alice said you may check her husband’s computer in his office. She’s furious about what Buckley had been doing behind the pastor’s back. While you’re digging up dirt on Ralphie, I will talk Alice into an exhumation of her husband’s body and convince her to pay for it.”

  “Can’t I help with my newfound tact and finesse?” He winked as he slicked the damp hair back from his face.

  “Let’s postpone your demonstration of those skills for another day. I need you to comb through Paul’s emails to board members. Look for anything having to do with the finance manager.” She jumped out of the car.

  “Will do. I’m the man for the job.” Michael trailed her up the walk.

  “Ready?” Beth waited a split second and then knocked.

  Whether he was ready or not, the widow swept open the door. Although perfectly groomed in a tailored suit, Alice looked as though she hadn’t slept well in days.

  “Good morning,” she murmured. “Please come in. Mr. Preston, you know the way to Paul’s study. Beth, you and I can talk in the family room. I have a carafe of coffee waiting for us.” She turned and led the way through the house.

  Michael had to slink off, coffeeless, down the hallway. But his endeavors in the pastor’s study were not in vain. He soon found emails between Reverend Dean and several board members about Buckley’s devious scheming. The copy machine whirred as he printed off page after page of potential evidence, including one major break in the case. Like a schoolboy hoping to impress his teacher, Michael couldn’t wait to show Beth.

  For the next hour he combed through the pastor’s private correspondence, gaining insight to a man he knew only in death. The picture which formed was of someone dedicated to his faith, tireless in serving his church, and fully committed to his wife and daughter. Michael saw no signs of dementia. Just the normal mental commotion from juggling too many balls in the air.

  “Are you about done, Mr. Preston?” A voice over his shoulder broke his concentration.

  Michael turned to see Alice in the doorway with Beth hovering behind her.

  “I am, ma’am. And I believe we have enough for the police to get an arrest warrant for Mr. Buckley.”

  “You found proof that snake was poisoning the board against Paul with lies about Alzheimer’s?” she asked.

  “Yes. A string of emails between Buckley and several board members. One of them didn’t buy into the allegations and forwarded the entire thread to Reverend Dean. Buckley was definitely trying to regain control of the building fund.”

  “I knew something was bothering Paul, but he refused to discuss it with me. I’m in your debt, Mr. Preston,” she said, meeting his eye. Then she reached for Beth’s hand. “Thank you for your kind words, Beth. Please keep me informed of any new developments.” Alice turned on one high heel, cutting short the warm-and-fuzzy moment. “If you’re finished in here, I’ll see you to the door.”

  Michael shoved the printouts into his briefcase and followed Beth down the hall. On their way to the car, she returned his earlier wink.

  “I take it you have good news too?” he asked.

  Beth waited until they were inside the car to hoot with joy. “Alice not only agreed to the exhumation, but is willing to pay for it as well. She fears Buckley might flee the country with the congregation’s money if he’s not caught soon. Her only stipulation is that her daughter not be told.”

  “Well done.” Michael slapped her on the back. “Buckley bolting for the border is a distinct possibility. His passport is up-to-date, and he speaks both French and Spanish.”

  Beth started the car and pulled into traffic. “You learned a lot about Mr. Wheeler-Dealer in a short amount of time.”

  “I don’t watch much TV. What comes next?”

  “With the exhumation going forward, I’ll call my friends on the Vicksburg police force. One of them might be willing to contact the state medical examiner to speed things along.” Beth stopped at the end of the block and swiveled to face him. “You find anything else on the computer other than proof Buckley was stabbing Paul in the back?”

  “I believe I hit the mother lode,” Michael murmured, trying to prolong the drama. He nodded at a young mother pushing a stroller in the crosswalk.

  Beth arched one eyebrow. “Spill your guts, Preston. Or as soon as these witnesses are gone I’m beating it out of you.”

  He made a dismissive cluck. “You do realize I’ve been back to the workout room several times.”

  “You do realize I hit every can along the fence rail dead center.”

  “True. Okay, I found a recent email fro
m Pastor Dean to one of the elders. Attached was an Excel file showing Buckley had transferred sixty thousand dollars to his personal account.”

  “No kidding?” Beth pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “No kidding. Sixty thousand from the building fund into the joint account of Tamara and Ralph Buckley. Tammy is his lovely wife of twenty-six years, by the way.”

  “We’ve got him on grand theft!”

  “Even better. When Reverend Dean read Ralph’s slanderous emails, he looked deeper into the guy’s financial shenanigans. Up until that point, he thought Buckley simply invested too aggressively. That’s when he found the bank transfer and demanded, in an email, that Ralph replace the funds immediately. Buckley went to talk to him the next day, unaware that Reverend Dean had already sent proof of the theft to another board member.”

  A slow smile bloomed on Beth’s face. “We’ve got motive for murder.”

  “We’ve got motive, all right. And while we wait for autopsy results, the police can keep him in jail on the theft charge. Old Ralphie isn’t taking off with sweet little Tammy.”

  Beth turned onto the road along the river. “Well done, Preston. I’m recommending you for a raise when Nate gets back. You’ve all but tied a bow on this case.”

  Michael hoped his blush blended into his tan. “In the meantime, why don’t you buy me lunch? And I’m not talkin’ the drive-through lane.”

  “Fine, but let’s eat fast. I can’t wait to talk to Jack. Correction, for both of us to talk to him. He will soon be eating crow instead of a double cheeseburger and fries like us.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Beth would have given anything not to speak to Jack in front of her partner. She knew it would not go well. The detective would try to demean her, embarrass her, and undermine whatever evidence they had found. But considering Michael’s progress in the last few days, there was no way she could exclude him.

  She waited until they were at the restaurant and had ordered lunch before punching in the cell number supplied by Chris.

  Jack picked up on the first ring. “That you, Nancy Drew? Or are you Sherlock Holmes along with your sidekick, John Watson?”

  “It’s Beth Kirby with Michael Preston, and you’re on speaker, so don’t say anything unprofessional. The chief promised full cooperation.”

  “Of course he did. And you’ll receive every bit of cooperation I’m capable of.” Jack’s cackle set Beth’s nerves on edge. “What did Mrs. Dean say?”

  “She agreed to an exhumation. In fact, she insisted if it will shed light on her husband’s killer.”

  “Clinical depression, temporary insanity due to a guilty conscience, fear of exposure over some misdeed—any one of those could be the killer, but he acted alone. And when Paul Dean didn’t succeed the first time, he simply tried again.” Jack spoke with the ambivalence of a cynical veteran.

  Beth paused as a young woman delivered their tray of burgers and Cajun fries. “I don’t think so, Jack. And because Mrs. Dean’s willing to foot the bill, we’ll get that second opinion.”

  “I’ll begin the paperwork for the Mississippi crime lab and alert Doc Pallota. The local coroner needs to be present when we open the grave. I suppose you and Preston want to be there for the festivities.”

  “Of course we do. While you do that, I’ll contact friends on the force in Vicksburg. Maybe their medical examiner might want to drive down.”

  “Why am I not surprised you have friends on the force in Vicksburg?”

  “Why wouldn’t I have friends in the police department? I was investigating a case involving a caregiver stealing from an old lady. Plenty of cops are willing to work with PIs.”

  “Including this one,” Jack said. “When the chief tells me to play nice, I do what I’m told. But let me ask you something, Beth. Any of those cop pals wear skirts? You know, women?”

  Beth doused her half of the fries with catsup as her temper flared. “What does the fact Vicksburg has mainly men on the force have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing. Just asking a simple question.” Jack chuckled like an old friend, something he never was. “Involving Vicksburg is a waste of time. If there’s been a possible crime, that body has to go to Jackson. Period. Anyway, your second opinion is going to match the first. I spoke with Natalie Purdy at the church. She told me Pastor Dean had been forgetting to write down plenty of appointments lately. Not just this one time as you implied to Chief McNeil.”

  Beth lifted her gaze to Michael, who shrugged and shook his head. “Wait for the full autopsy, Jack, with your usual open mind.” Beth’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

  “Fine. If that’s it, I’ll call you with the date and time of the exhumation.”

  “There’s something else. Michael found emails to Buckley on Reverend Dean’s computer insisting that Buckley pay back the money he stole. We found proof that he transferred church money into his own account. Paul was ready to blow the whistle. That’s why Buckley went to see him that day. Ralph Buckley is the church finance—”

  “I know who Buckley is,” snapped Jack. “How much money are we talking? If it’s just a couple hundred—”

  “Sixty thousand dollars.” Beth interrupted, taking her turn at rude behavior. “That’s reason enough to murder someone, especially if they would regain control of the remaining assets.”

  “Let me look at your so-called evidence. I’ll decide whether or not we have a beef with the finance officer.”

  Beth grinned at Michael over her sweet tea. “You won’t be disappointed, but time is of the essence. We believe Buckley to be a flight risk. Where should we meet you?”

  “I’m staring at you two gumshoes right now. Look to your right.”

  Simultaneously, Beth and Michael swiveled toward the window. Jack Lejeune was parked at the curb, munching a burger he must have bought at the drive-through window. “Are you following me?” Beth screeched into the phone.

  “In your dreams, Kirby. How many places to eat lunch do you think this town has? Here I was, enjoying my midday break, and who do I spot thirty feet away? We’re destined to be joined at the hip.”

  “Doomed, not destined. Come inside and meet Michael.”

  Tossing his trash into a barrel, Jack sauntered in with his usual arrogance. Michael watched him as though memorizing the details.

  “Be prepared for anything,” Beth warned under her breath.

  But the detective was a model of manners. “How do you do, Mike. Jack Lejeune. I’m looking forward to working with you.” The two men shook hands, and Jack made small talk for a few minutes.

  Finally, Beth cut him off. “Give it a rest, Jack. Mike’s from Brookhaven, not Natchez.”

  “In that case, did you discover the gym inside the Grand Hotel?” Jack gestured for Beth to scoot over and then sat down in the booth. “I’ll tell management you’re helping law enforcement, and they’ll waive your monthly fees.”

  “I work out there four times a week, so I appreciate that.” Michael grinned with joy not commensurate with saving thirty bucks.

  “That’s awfully nice of you, Jack,” Beth cooed. “In the meantime, take a look at these.” She cleared a spot and laid three computer printouts across the table.

  The detective picked up the papers one at a time, studying each one carefully. “Good work, Preston,” he said upon completion. “Did you obtain permission to collect evidence from both the church and the Deans’ home computer?”

  “I did,” said Michael, his lunch forgotten.

  “Then we’ve got enough to arrest Buckley for grand theft. Unfortunately, Miss Kirby, this does not implicate the guy for murder. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

  “I know that, Einstein.” She tapped the papers into a pile and handed him the file. “But it’s enough to arrest him. If the judge denies bail because of Buckley’s risk of flight, you can keep him locked up until the crime lab completes the second autopsy.”

  Jack picked up her tea and sniffed. “What have you been drinkin
g? No way will a judge deny bail to an upstanding, churchgoing member of the community. You’re fishing without a pole or bait in the Great Salt Lake.” He smiled smugly at Michael. “In case you haven’t heard the news, that lake’s got no fish.”

  Beth collected her dignity and rose to her feet. “Let’s go arrest Buckley. Then we’ll worry about making a more serious charge stick.” She tossed the rest of her meal away, her appetite vanishing in Jack’s company.

  He gave her a head-to-toe perusal. “You would still be a cop today—a good cop—if you could only separate fact from fiction. I’ll call the chief to get the wheels turning on the arrest warrant. Stay close to the phone. I’ll call you when the warrant’s ready. Then we’ll meet at Buckley’s house. He’s probably home on a Saturday afternoon.” The detective left the restaurant with as much swagger as he entered.

  On their way back to the office, Michael said little, but his mind seemed to be whirring a mile a minute. Beth couldn’t bad-mouth Jack without revealing their past history, something she wasn’t prepared to do. So she allowed her partner to be impressed with a petty, lazy, narrow-minded blabbermouth. For the rest of the afternoon they caught up on paperwork and filled Nate in on their recent progress with the case.

  When they reconnoitered three hours later in front of Buckley’s house, Jack continued on his best behavior. “I appreciate your work on this, Mike, but I’ll take the lead at this point.”

  “You’ve got it, Detective.”

  “Keep your weapon holstered, Kirby,” Jack said to her when they reached the front steps.

  The door opened before Beth could reply. “You guys want my mom or my dad?” asked a sullen-faced teenager.

  “Your father, please, young lady.” The detective smiled at the girl.

  “I’ll show you where he’s at and then I’m outta here. You’d better not have blocked my car in.” She issued a rather dire warning to fully armed adults.