Christmas Can Be Murder: A Chaplain Merriman Christian Cozy Mystery (Chaplain Merriman Christian Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

by Jacob Lee

  Mike grinned at me. "Yeah, well, we all know Maisy," he said. "She's a weird old bat, isn't she?"

  I kept a grin on my face, even though what I really wanted to do was lecture the young man about respect for his elders and the dangers of judging others. "Oh, I kind of like her," I said. "She's definitely a character, that much I'll agree with. Be sure and tell Clark about it, and give him my best. I'm going to go and see if I can find out where Brenda's son is staying, I'd like to check up on the boy, being a man of God. It's a terrible thing, to lose a parent, especially when you only have one, and it seems even worse at Christmas time. I don't think anyone even knows who the boy's father is, do they?"

  Mike shrugged his shoulders. "I sure don't," he said, "and the way everybody else talks, I think it was some kind of big secret she was keeping. The boy's over at his grandpa's house, that's where they took him. Gavin, Brenda's daddy, him and his new wife took him when they found out about her being dead, last night."

  I smiled and nodded. "Ah, yes, he would be next of kin." I didn't know Gavin Hawley, but a lot of local speculation seemed to paint a picture of him as a sort of home-grown Al Capone, here in Boone County. If we had a local gangster, that would be him. I had heard stories that he was involved in everything from chop shops to drug dealing and even money laundering. "Well, be sure and pass that on to Clark, and tell him I'll see him again soon." I started to turn away, and then stopped and looked back at Mike. "You, um, wouldn't happen to have her father's address, would you?"

  Mike nodded. "Sure enough," he said, checking a note on his desk. "He lives over in Long Creek, right where County Road 56 hits Highway 412. Big monster of a house that's shaped like a barn. You can't miss it."

  I nodded my thanks and turned to walk out the door. Something cold and wet landed on my nose, and I realized that the sky was spitting snow. That would be great for the Saturday parade, but it wasn't so wonderful for riding a Harley. It wasn't falling heavy, yet, and the road would be warm enough that it wouldn't stick, so I got on the bike, buttoned my coat and rode out of town towards Long Creek. I wanted to get there before Clark found out I was sticking my nose where he didn't figure it belonged.

  Mike was right, and I had no trouble finding the huge house that not only was shaped like a barn but, rather obviously, had actually been one at some time in the past. The stories about Gavin having millions of dollars seemed to have some truth to them, for converting an old barn to a three story marvel of a mansion as beautiful as the one I stood before, would certainly take quite a lot of the stuff. He could probably afford it, though; Hawley Construction was a big name around the area, and had been winning a lot of major building contracts for several years. They'd built everything from the new City Hall in Harrison to some resort hotels up in Branson, Missouri, a half hour away to the north.

  I knocked on the door, and a young blonde woman answered a moment later. She was obviously either drunk or stoned, and since it was only lunch time, I was taken slightly aback.

  "Hi, there," I said. "I'm Chaplain Dexter Merriman, I'm the one who found Brenda last night and went to check on the little boy. I understand he's here staying with his grandfather? I just wanted to stop by and see how he's doing."

  The young woman shrugged her shoulders and stepped aside to let me enter. Instantly, I heard a child crying somewhere upstairs, and a man shouting for the young woman to "go and shut that brat up!" The woman looked toward the sound of his voice, then glanced back at me and giggled.

  Alarmed, and worried about the boy, I pushed past the girl and went toward the sound of the crying. It was coming through a closed door at the top of the first flight of stairs; I opened it to find the child standing in the middle of the room, sucking his thumb and crying in what sounded like pure terror, and it was obvious he had wet himself. The young woman caught up with me, yelling at me to stop and get out, but when she saw the boy standing there with his pants obviously soaked, she seemed to forget me completely and began screaming obscenities at him, then raised her hand as if to strike him, and I had all I could take.

  I caught her wrist and pushed her back without even thinking about what I was doing, then snatched the boy up into my arms just as Brenda's father, Gavin, came rushing up the stairway. He had a look of a heavy drinker himself, and was definitely not sober, nor was he a small man. He blocked the doorway and glared at me.

  "You want to tell me just what in the Sam Hill is going on, here?" he asked. "Just who the heck are you, and what are you doing in my house?"

  The young woman turned to Gavin, and he put an arm around her and pulled her close to him. I suddenly remembered what Mike had said, about Gavin and his new wife taking the little boy in, and realized that this must be the new wife he mentioned.

  "Baby," she said, "I don't know who he is, he just pushed right past me and came running in here!"

  "It's all right, Tiffany," Gavin said. It struck me that he was probably at least as old as I was, if not older, while Tiffany appeared to be in her late teens or very early twenties, at the most. I decided to ignore her, and speak to Gavin.

  "Mr. Hawley," I began, "I'm Chaplain Merriman, the man who found your daughter when she was killed last night, and took care of your grandson until the police arrived. Now, I'm not trying to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong, but it appears to me that the boy is in your way, that he's perhaps more responsibility than you need to be dealing with right now. If you like, I could probably make a phone call and arrange for someone to take care of him for now so that you won't have to…"

  That was as far as I got, before Gavin let go of his wife and took a step toward me. "You listen to me," he said, threateningly. "That boy is my grandson, and I will do with him as I darn well please. Ain't you or nobody else gonna come in here and try to tell me how to take care of my grandson! You understand that, preacher man?" He stomped his way to me and reached out to take the little boy, who was by this time screaming in what I took to be abject terror, and I turned to try to keep him out of Gavin's reach. “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, “You give me that kid, right now!”

  “Mr. Hawley, please,” I said, dancing around in a circle while trying to get him to listen to reason. “Look, your wife is obviously in no condition to be taking care of a child, and you shouldn't have to be burdened with it...”

  “I'll burden you!” he yelled, and swung a ham-sized fist at my head, but I ducked it. I was more afraid he'd manage to hit the child than me, for I'd been a boxer in my younger days and knew how to take a punch, but it was at that moment that we were suddenly joined by several other people.

  Five

  Clark Rodgers had gotten back to his office only a few minutes after I'd left, and Mike had told him what I'd had to say about Maisy. He'd also mentioned that I was asking about the child, and it took Clark all of thirty seconds to figure out where to find me, so he'd called the sheriff's office and arranged for a deputy to meet him at Gavin's place—Long Creek is outside of his jurisdiction—and then rushed out to try, as he explained to me later, “to keep Gavin Hawley from forcing us to find a new Santa before Saturday, since the one we had would be laid up with a bunch of broken bones!”

  At that moment, however, I was glad to see them, because they pulled Gavin away from me and the deputy held him back while Clark began to apologize to him for my interference, but Gavin wasn't listening.

  “I want you,” he said, “to arrest that bastard for trespass, and lock him up in the jail! He ain't got no right to come in here and tell me how to raise my grandkid!”

  “Clark, as a Minister, it's my duty to report child abuse when I know of it! I didn't trespass, because Mrs. Hawley opened the door and invited me in. And when I heard the boy screaming, I came into the room to make sure he was okay, and I'm pretty sure a court would clear me of any wrongdoing on that score! I'm making an official recommendation that this child be removed from this home, because he's suffering abuse and neglect at the hands of his grandfather and this—this child bride of his!
”

  Clark grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the room, still holding the boy, and hustled me down the stairs to the kitchen. I was protesting that we had to do something for the child, but he kept telling me to shut up, so finally I did.

  As we entered the kitchen, the deputy followed, but Gavin and Tiffany Hawley went into some other part of the house, to my surprise. The deputy came over to us and said, “Clark, this guy's right; that kid don't belong here. I already called Family Services in, they oughta be here in ten minutes or so.”

  Clark nodded at him, still holding on to my arm. “Yeah, Bob,” he said, “I'm with you on that. I just need to have a talk with Dex here, okay?”

  The deputy nodded and walked away. A second sheriff's car pulled in just then, and a female deputy came inside and asked if the child I was holding was the one that Family Services was called about. Clark said he was, and she took him from me as an ambulance came into the driveway. The paramedics were sent, it seemed, to make sure the child wasn't harmed, and would look for any signs of actual physical abuse.

  Clark got my attention and looked me in the eye. “Now, you listen to me, and you listen good, Dex! I didn't want to let Gavin have the boy last night, but he was next of kin, so there wasn't anything I could do at that moment. The only good thing to come out of your nosiness is that we can get FS involved now, and get the boy away from that bastard and his druggie wife! The problem is that by storming into his house, you ran the risk of getting yourself shot, and it would have been his word against yours whether he had the right to shoot you or not. And how much weight do you think your word would carry if you were dead? We've been after Gavin for years, and all you're gonna do is mess up a long term investigation...” He suddenly trailed off, as he realized he was saying too much. “Look, forget you heard that!” he said. “Dex, you just gotta stay out of this, okay?”

  Clark spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing me, and finally calmed down. The Family Services people showed up about then, and Clark told me to get on my bike and go home. “And don't worry about Gavin and his trespass charges, I'll get him chilled out over that. You just go home, Dex, and stay out of this whole mess, okay?”

  I nodded and got on the Harley. The snow was still falling, and the road was wet, but nothing was sticking or freezing, so I could handle it.

  There's something about a cold ride that makes you think, and I did a lot of it as I rode back into town. I could admit to myself that I was the overly curious sort, but maybe Clark was right, and the last thing I should be doing was sticking my nose into a police investigation, and a murder investigation at that! What was wrong with me? I wasn't the kind to do this sort of thing, or at least, I never had been—unless you count that whole confession-obsession thing, and that was just a matter of wondering who had told me what. Heck, according to some Priests I knew, they suffered from it too, so it couldn't be that big a deal, right?

  I went home and let myself in, and Baggins informed me that I'd been gone long enough for him to need a treat to celebrate my return. I got down the little box of treats I always kept for him and shook a few into my hand, then sat down in my favorite chair and let him jump up on my lap. He settled himself and contentedly ate the treats right out of my hand, purring the entire time, and I found myself wishing I could find that state of mind that would allow me to purr with contentment.

  Unfortunately, that was a gift that God only bestowed upon cats, and was one of the many reasons why some cultures have thought cats must be some form of deity, or the favored pets of deity. I sighed instead, and set Baggins down so that I could have a cup of fire cider to take the chill out of my old bones.

  I had an appointment with three of the ladies from the parade committee at two, so I thought about making myself a light lunch and then decided to go eat in town, instead. I called Norma Kelly, one of the ladies I was to meet with, and asked her if the three of them might want to join me for lunch at the Diner, and she giggled like a schoolgirl as she said she was sure they'd all love to. I left it to her to call the others, and began the process of bundling up for the ride into town.

  I already had on a pair of long johns, with a pair of heavy Levi's and a big flannel shirt over them, but now I added a thick fleece jacket, then covered that with the long, leather duster that went almost to the floor. The flaps that hung down around my feet had straps to anchor them to my ankles, which kept them from getting into the spokes of my wheels, and I topped it all off with a leather pilot's cap, the kind with the ear flaps that come down and fasten under your chin. That kept my ears from freezing off as the cold wind rushed by them, and since I was rather fond of my ears, I considered it a necessity.

  I was the first to arrive at the Diner, but Norma showed up a few minutes later, and she had Letha Waters and Betty Miller, who happened to be Mike the cop's mother, with her. I stood as I greeted the ladies and we all sat at the big round table near the front of the place. That suited me fine, since it was right in front of the window and I could keep an eye on the Harley as we ate.

  Aw, c'mon, it's a '48 Panhead! Do you know how many guys would steal a bike like that, just to be able to say they had ridden one? I didn't let her out of my sight very often, and even then only if there was no way I could help it.

  “Dexter, it's so nice of you to offer to buy us lunch,” Letha said, and I smiled.

  “It's my pleasure,” I said. “I was thinking about lunch and about our appointment, and I thought I'd see if we couldn't just combine the two.”

  “Well, it's certainly sweet of you,” Betty added. “I don't get to eat out often, so this is quite a treat, and with the most charming man in town!”

  I blushed and smiled, making the ladies happy. Each of them was single—Letha and Betty were widows, and Norma's husband had run off with his secretary ten years earlier, and all three were around my age, so they'd all made it plain that they'd be willing to entertain me as a suitor. Somehow, I had managed to avoid any entanglements so far, and I wanted to keep it that way. I never willingly met with any one woman alone, so that none of them might get the idea that I was favoring one over another. I still missed Nervy, and there were many reasons why I didn't want to marry again, or at least not anytime soon.

  “Thank you,” I said, “but let's get our orders in and then we can talk business. Everyone know what you want?” Since almost everyone in town ate at the Diner now and then, we all knew the menu, so it didn't take long to let the waitress know what we wanted. I ordered the rib eye steak, a favorite of mine, while the ladies all went for the special of the day, which was Yankee Pot Roast. Once we'd gotten the sweet tea we'd all asked for, I offered to let Miss Norma take the floor.

  “Well, Dex,” she said, “we just wanted to get together with you and make sure that everything is ready for the parade. I mean, is the suit fitted and everything? Do you have enough padding for it? Is there anything else we need to address?”

  I smiled and winked. “Well,” I said, “padding isn't a problem, I come with plenty of that already built in.” I slapped my ample belly to emphasize the point, and all three ladies tittered. “The suit will be a perfect fit, I'm sure, and I can't for the life of me think of anything else that might need to be done to get me ready. I'm pretty sure it's all been taken care of, to be honest.”

  Letha grinned. “All that padding is from eating your own cooking,” she said. “Now, if you had a good woman to cook for you, you'd be in a lot better shape!”

  “Oh, I don't know,” I said with a forced laugh. “Nervy was a fine cook, and I got pretty well padded a long time ago. I think maybe it's just that God thinks I need to play Santa, so he's got me in character all the time, don't you?”

  Betty reached over and patted my arm. “And he couldn't have chosen a better person for the job,” she said. “Dexter, this town has come to life since you came here, I do declare. Why, last year we couldn't find anyone to do half the things that you volunteer for, like playing Santa for the kids, or helping out with the yo
uth at church the way you do.”

  “Oh, it's all my pleasure,” I said, wondering how I could get them off the subject—and then it hit me. “Right now, I just feel so bad for that poor young woman who was murdered last night, don’t you? Did any of you know her very well?”

  Three sets of eyes rolled as one, and I knew I'd hit the jackpot in my search for information. If you really want to know something about someone in a small town, find the local gossip circle and ask an innocent question, then sit back and enjoy the ride!

  “Well,” Letha said, “that was Brenda Hawley, you know. Oh, she was always a wild one, she was, and always in trouble of one sort or another when she was a girl. Her mother took off when she was only four, bless her heart, and that father of hers was probably the worst kind of parent she could have had. He's rich, and it seems like he thought the way to take care of his daughter was to just give her whatever she wanted.”

  “Lord, yes,” Betty chimed in, “she was spoiled rotten, she was, then she took off for the city when she was only eighteen, about ten years ago. She went to New York and tried to make it as an actress, but she ended up coming back here. I hear tell she was just living in one of her daddy's rent houses, and supposed to be writing a book, but all I seen was her livin' off her daddy's money again.”

  Norma tsk'ed. “Now, she wasn't that bad, and none of us ought speak ill of the dead. Since she had that little boy, Colton, she's actually settled herself down a lot. She was going to church now and then over in Harrison, I heard someone say, and I was glad of it. A child that little needs a grounding in the Gospel, you know.”

  Letha nodded. “That's true, since Colton was born, she turned over a whole new leaf. She took good care of that child, I can say that for sure.”