Do Unto Others

by Jeff Abbott

  He inspected his watch. “Just for a few minutes. I have to meet with the ladies who are planning Vacation Bible School.”

  Ah. “Weren’t your wife, my cousin Janice, and Beta doing that?”

  He steered me toward a church side door. “Why, yes, they were. Horrible about Beta’s murder. Horrible.”

  “No one should die that way,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m trying to find out who killed her.” I felt his fingers on my arm stiffen for a moment, then relax.

  We went down a short, tiled hallway, the walls covered with a rainbow of felt cutouts done by the Sunday school children. Crosses, trees of life, doves, hands grasping. The nursery school interpretation of religion. It seemed better than Beta’s version.

  Adam Hufnagel’s office was immaculate. Files were stacked neatly on his desk. Pencils and pens stood in holders, with not a single stray on the desk. An assortment of silver-framed photos ranged the credenza behind his comfortable leather chair. So much for vows of poverty. The pictures were nearly always of Hufnagels: Adam and Tamma vacationing in a sunny place, Adam and Tamma wearing T-shirts of the church’s soccer team, Adam and Tamma getting married, he looking more like her father than her husband.

  Adam gestured toward a seat. “When will the library reopen?”

  “Hopefully soon. Junebug makes that decision.” I paused. Adam Hufnagel was a little intimidating, but I hadn’t backed down over the book banning and I wasn’t about to back down now. I swallowed and said, “Is that what Matt was here to see you about? The library?”

  “Sort of.” Adam smiled at me like he might at a child who’d asked if God really existed. “He wanted to know if he could use the church hall for his veterans’ meeting, since the library is temporarily closed. Of course I gave him permission, and he was very happy.”

  “Oh.” If I hadn’t kept eye contact with the good Reverend I might have believed it. Eyes betray us. Adam Hufnagel’s eyes darted down to my lap and back again as he spoke. He didn’t want to look at me. And when I thought of Matt Blalock and Adam Hufnagel, who’d been on opposite sides of the censorship battle, I couldn’t see Matt asking Adam for help.

  “Matt can be difficult, but these are veterans.” Adam shrugged, keeping his eyes steadily on me. “I thought perhaps letting Matt use the church would mend fences broken during our recent”—he fumbled for a word—“disagreements.”

  “Matt doesn’t strike me as a fence mender. He wasn’t exactly broken up over Beta Harcher’s death.”

  Adam raised palms in supplication, and it was a distinctly annoying gesture. It said: don’t ask me—I just work here. “Matt has many burdens to carry, Jordan. I hope I can minister to his needs. Now what did you want to see me about? Surely not to ask questions about Matt Blalock?”

  I licked my lips. I felt as nervous as the proverbial whore in church. Grilling regular folks was one thing, but trying to worm information out of a man who was supposed to be above reproach made me uneasy. I swallowed down my unease and forged ahead. “I understand that Beta took your key to the library to get in.”

  “Apparently so.” Adam nodded. “Tamma noticed it missing when the police called. Beta was here the afternoon before she died for a brief time. I don’t keep the office locked during church hours. It would have been easy for her to take.”

  “Thou shalt not steal,” I intoned. “Seems she only observed commandments that were convenient to her.”

  “Jordan, let me be frank.” He leaned forward over his spotless desk. “Beta Harcher was a committed member of this congregation.”

  Should’ve been committed, I thought, but held my tongue.

  “She didn’t have much of a life outside of church. Old maid, with no family left here in town. She practically ran this church for me.” He smiled but there was no feeling behind it.

  “And that didn’t bother you? Tamma suggested to me that she tried to tell you what to do.”

  “I’m an ordained minister of the Southern Baptist Church, Jordan. I’m the one responsible for my flock, not Beta Harcher. She knew and understood that.”

  “She appointed herself custodian of other people’s morality quick enough, Adam.” Hell, he was on the board, wasn’t he? First names were a leveling field. I leaned forward, rudely putting my elbows on his desk. I meant to be rude. “She was going to burn down the library. That’s the latest theory. They found traces of gasoline on her hands. If she couldn’t ban some books, she’d burn all of them. Are you still so proud of her now, Adam?”

  He didn’t rattle. “No, of course not. That would have been wrong of her.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Seems to me that points the finger of blame more at you, Jordan. Quite possible you’d do anything to protect that library.”

  I shrugged. “Someone who doesn’t know me very well might think so.” I curled one leg up under myself and he glanced at his watch. I didn’t hurry. “Did the police tell you about the list she made?”

  They hadn’t. I told him about it and watched the color seep from his face. His blood traveled pretty fast for an older man.

  “Interesting, isn’t it, Reverend? You didn’t make the list. She must not have been mad at you.”

  “You don’t know that the list is of people she had a bone with,” Adam answered. “I didn’t have any problems with Beta.”

  “Did your wife? She made the list. She’s not on the library board.” Neither were Hally or my mother or Matt, but I didn’t mention that.

  “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Tamma and Beta got along fine. Tamma felt she ought to be in charge of certain church events as my wife. Beta disagreed. There was some conflict between them for a while, usually with Beta winning. Tamma does not usually have a confrontational personality.”

  “No, she doesn’t. Beta had the monopoly on that.”

  Adam Hufnagel raised an eyebrow at me. “They worked on their differences. I asked Tamma and Beta to serve together as chaperons at a youth group retreat over at Lake Travis at the beginning of March. They returned with their disagreements resolved, as friends.” He looked sternly at me. “I’m sure their shared love of Jesus brought them together.”

  “Must’ve,” I concurred politely.

  “And I have no idea why Beta would put Tamma’s name on this list. You’re judging Beta too harshly. Perhaps it was a prayer list. We should pray for our enemies.”

  I shook my head. “Maybe with me and some of the others who are on the list. But not your wife, right? You just said they were pals.”

  “I can’t help you. I don’t know the answer to why Beta did that.” He stood, trying to end the interview. “I must meet with my wife and Janice. We have a lot of planning to do for the Vacation Bible School.”

  “Just another minute, please,” I said, keeping my seat. His comment reminded me of something Tamma mentioned yesterday. “She said she’d also worked with Beta on the church rummage sale.”

  Adam smiled briefly as he sat back down. “That was the first sign that their little battles were over. Beta volunteered for it, then just took it over entirely from Tamma. Tamma realized that it was important to Beta to feel busy, so she let her.”

  “When was that sale?” I asked.

  Adam glanced at his calendar. “About two weeks ago. Beta, I’m afraid, didn’t do a very good job. She left many things undone that Tamma and I had to do at the last minute.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged, impatient. “Sorting through contributions. Pricing them. She’d made a start on some, but then it was as if she forgot to finish the rest.”

  That didn’t sound like Beta. If she was anything, she was thorough. She’d shown that in her war against the library. I thought hard. I hadn’t considered one important part of the formula that equalled death for Beta Harcher. Why had she died now, at that particular time? What had happened in her life that led to her death? I had only concentrated on her war against the library and me, but she might have had other mischief up her pilgrim’s sleeve. The church was h
er other main means of contact with her fellow human beings. Perhaps I needed to start looking for an answer there. Aside from her general involvement in the church, there was her involvement in the Vacation Bible School, the rummage sale, and the youth groups.

  “Do you have a list of everyone who contributed to the rummage sale?”

  Adam Hufnagel looked suspiciously at me. What was I—Herod hunting down innocents? “Why would you want that?”

  “I’m curious as to who donated to the church. Surely you keep a list of contributors.”

  “I do, but I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

  “Look, Adam. You can play this the easy way or the rough way. Beta Harcher had an unusual amount of money in her banking account, enough to overflow most coffers. She hadn’t had that money long. It hasn’t been traced yet, so I don’t think she got it from stock options or winning the lottery. She was getting it from someone.”

  It took a moment for it to register with Adam. “Blackmail? Beta? That’s absurd.” The music of his voice was slightly off-key.

  “No more ridiculous than her trying to burn the library. I’m just curious about who she dealt with in the past two weeks. It wasn’t just the folks on the library board. It was people in this church.”

  Adam looked uncertain. I stood. “That’s okay. I can just take my story to Junebug. He doesn’t think I killed her. He’s just itching to have someone else to hand over to Billy Ray Bummel. He can get a warrant to search every record in this church.”

  Tamma interrupted us. She stepped inside her husband’s office, not seeing me at first, but deciphering the look on her husband’s face. Her eyes, so downcast yesterday, found me and weren’t happy.

  “Jordy. What are you doing here?” Her voice showed anger.

  “Talking to your husband,” I answered. I’m a stickler for politeness.

  “Bothering him, you mean. I wish you’d leave him alone.” The mouse was now roaring.

  I ignored her. Adam held the power in that relationship, so it was him I dealt with. “That list, Reverend?”

  He weighed it in his mind. A tongue, used to spouting Scripture and metaphor, fell silent. He walked out of the office. Tamma glared at me.

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you bothering us?” she demanded. Her hands balled into fists, unsuitable for prayer.

  “I didn’t realize looking for truth was a bother to you. Isn’t that why we have churches?”

  “I used to think nicely of you, Jordy. But you’re a thoroughly unlikable person. Leave us alone.”

  Adam returned with a file. He sorted through the papers, found one, set the file down, and walked back out. I heard his footsteps stop, the hum of a copying machine, and the crisp sound of paper sliding into a tray. His footsteps resumed and he entered, brandishing a paper at me.

  “Here. I hope you don’t bother these people too much.” He glanced at his wife, who wouldn’t look at me. “I can’t see how this has anything to do with Beta’s death.”

  “Thanks. Good day, Reverend. Mrs. Hufnagel.” I nodded to the unfriendly Tamma, and left. Walking out into the morning sunshine of the parking lot, I scanned the list quickly. It was interesting that two of the names matched two of the names on Beta’s list.

  I changed my plans. I went home. Sister sat in the living room, watching Mama sweep the back porch. Mama loved to do that; repetitive actions hold a fascination for Alzheimer’s patients. It’s almost as if their repertoire of tasks is so limited, they get a sensual pleasure out of repeating endlessly the few actions they can still do well. Mama swept even the microbes off that porch, weaving back and forth for hours if uninterrupted. We didn’t want her to do it at first, but her doctor said it was decent exercise. It was better than the walking in circles that she also favored.

  I decided to try out a theory. No more taking folks at face value. I picked up the kitchen phone, cleared my throat, and dialed Matt Blalock’s number.

  “Hello, Blalock residence.”

  “May I speak to Matthew Blalock, please?” I sounded just like my friend and co-worker Gil Camden back in Boston, just watering down the Yankee accent a tad. Making fun of Yankees when you live up there tends to make you into a good mimic. At least it did me.

  “This is Matt Blalock.”

  “Hello, my name is Gil Camden. I’m a Vietnam vet who just recently moved to Bavary. I understand you hold a weekly meeting over there in Mirabeau for vets. I’m interested in attending.”

  “Yes, we do. But not this week.” Matt coughed. “We don’t have our usual meeting place available. We should have it back next week, and we’ll meet then. If I can get your address and phone number, Mr. Camden, I’ll—”

  I set the receiver gently back into its cradle. The good Reverend Hufnagel had lied right to my face. So why were he and Matt together at the church? The two of them were a pair that just didn’t match.

  I went up to my room and laid out my notes. Since I didn’t have enough answers about the suspects, I decided to concentrate on the victim. Beta brought death on herself; this was no random act of violence, no crime of passion. Her presence in the library at night, her attempt to torch the building, her careful list of names and Biblical verses, the unexplained money in her account pointed to some system she’d imposed on her life. Beta, in other words, was up to something and it got her killed. I was the person most attached to the library; I’m the only one who would have arguably killed for it (and I wouldn’t have gone that far). That list had kept me focused on Beta’s relationships at the library, but Mirabeau was a small town and lives overlap in other areas. I needed to cast my net further, and I’d decided to start with the church.

  I wrote out another list on paper:

  TIMETABLE OF EVENTS IN BETA’S LIFE

  January—Beta in hospital, accuses Ruth Wills of trying to poison her. Incident dropped.

  February—Beta forced off library board after censorship battle. Rough fight with bad feelings between Beta and library board and vice versa. Particular animosity between Beta and Matt Blalock. Bob Don Goertz appointed to replace Beta.

  Beginning of March—Beta chaperones with Tamma Hufnagel on youth group trip to Lake Travis. Beta and Tamma mend fences.

  Late March—church rummage sale. Beta drops the ball on it.

  Beginning of April—Beta begins planning work on Vacation Bible School with Tamma and Janice Schneider.

  Monday, April 7, evening—Hally Schneider takes Beta home after baby-sitting job. Sees Eula Mae Quiff meeting Beta at her house.

  Tuesday, April 8—Beta deposits $35,000 in her savings account.

  Saturday, April 11, evening—Ruth witnesses violent argument between Beta and Bob Don at his dealership. Beta makes some threat toward someone Bob Don cares about. (Perhaps his mistress—remember his assigned quote about a damsel or two!)

  Monday, April 13, morning—fights with me at library. Also present: Tamma, Eula Mae, Ruth.

  Monday, April 13, afternoon—at her home apparently meets with Bob Don, then Tamma. Goes to church and takes library key from Adam’s office.

  Monday, April 13, late night—goes to library with intention of burning it down—alone or with killer? Killed with baseball bat.

  I read again where Beta deposited all that money. The day after she met Eula Mae. And Eula Mae was one of the few folks in town who could cough up that much cash. Beta must’ve been dangling something over Eula Mae’s head—

  The palm of my hand slapped up against my mouth and I felt as stupid as a Bummel at birth. Beta did have something over Eula Mae, but it had to be something Beta didn’t know about when she made her censorship stand at the library. If Beta had dirt on Eula Mae, she’d have used it to get Eula Mae to switch her vote. The same for the others on the board: Janice and Ruth. But Beta hadn’t. No embarrassing revelations came to light when Beta got tossed. Whatever she’d had on Eula Mae, she hadn’t had it in February.

  But at some point, Beta got smarter. She’d gotten $35,000 worth in smart
s. Meeting late with Eula Mae. Threatening Bob Don. Who else?

  I tore through my notebook, back to the list of names. Maybe this was a list of people Beta could blackmail. But then why were my name and Mama’s on it? I’d been as virtuous as a monk since coming home, and Mama could only get into a limited amount of mischief in her condition. It didn’t wash.

  Sister rapped gently on my door. She’d never done that as a teenager but she’d broken her filthy habits.

  “You have a visitor, Jordy. Beta Harcher’s niece is downstairs.”

  THE YOUNG MISS HARCHER WASN’T WHAT I expected. Although I hadn’t given it much thought, when I’d heard Beta had a niece it wasn’t hard to imagine some tight-lipped, proper young clone of Beta. Apparently self-righteousness and primness aren’t in the genetic code.

  The girl was around five feet eight, with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and a finely featured face. Her eyes were blue as a jay, and they darted around with the same cunning and speed. Her figure was firm and shapely under the black T-shirt and faded, acid-washed jeans she wore. She also wore large, funky turquoise earrings and black cowboy boots. I guessed she was young, around twenty-three.

  Mark had come in from the backyard. As Sister and I came down the stairs, the girl laughed at something he said, a high, musical bell of a giggle. He blushed madly and kept gawking at her. I obviously needed to have a talk with that boy when all this calmed down. Had Sister explained the facts of life to him? Lord, all my responsibilities.

  I kept those facts of life firmly out of my head as I introduced myself. I’m not sure she did.

  “Well, Mr. Poteet, you sure don’t look like any librarian I ever met. I’m Shannon Harcher.” Her hand was cool and firm in my grasp.

  “Please, sit down,” I indicated the sofa.

  She did, neatly, and I sat next to her. I glanced at Sister, asking with my eyes for some privacy. Sister made herself comfortable in the easy chair. Mark leaned against the wall, trying to look older and nonchalant. It didn’t work.

  “My sympathies on your aunt’s death,” I said, not knowing what else to say.