Ruel nodded. "That is brave of you, Honey."
She placed her hand on his shoulders in a gesture of affection. "When you are outed as a wrongdoer sometimes it is a blessing. I think the best thing to do is to acknowledge your faults to others and your sins to God and ask for his forgiveness. It is the best thing to do."
She left and the closing door was the only sound in the room.
Ruel looked at both Josiah and Nolan and then sighed. "I have never overseen such a mass exodus from a church leadership."
"Me neither." Nolan murmured. "But then again I am new to this."
Ruel closed his eyes and when he opened them they were red and wet. "You know, Honey is right. I am going to have to do the same."
"What are you talking about?" Josiah asked urgently. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Oh yes, I did." Ruel rubbed his hand across his face, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, I didn't kill my wife but I did something that was not right. I have to tell Ashley first and then the conference. It is a strong possibility I may no longer be working here at Primrose Hill."
Nolan and Josiah looked at each other.
"Ruel," Josiah said hesitantly.
Ruel stood up. "For the time being, Nolan, you are in charge. Your first order of business is to find yourself a church board."
****
"Going somewhere, Norma?" King was leaning on her car when he saw Norma storming towards him in the church parking lot.
"Yes." Norma snapped. "What is it, Kingsley Hartley?"
"Regina Tharwick." King straightened himself from the car lazily. His hard, weather-worn features looked deceptively calm.
"What about her?" Norma disarmed the car and reached for the door handle.
King grabbed her arm. "What did you do, Norma? You were not content with selling people to the highest bidders; now you are into murder?"
"Get your hands off me," Norma said haughtily. "What on earth did you tell that girl about me? I don't sell people and I did not kill Regina Tharwick."
"Her autopsy said that she died from anaphylaxis. An extreme form of allergic reaction. In her case it was peanuts and milk. Well, peanut milk...she almost died from this before. Somebody knew that."
Norma pulled her hand from his roughly. "Sorry for your loss. Now move."
King hissed his teeth. "I gave her a report on seven persons. Only two were still in her belongings, Ruel Dennison and Honey Allen. Now, as I am hearing, your church board has seven persons, so that leaves four files which were taken from her: Norma Kincaid, Owen Kincaid, Conroy Coke and Josiah Coke. The new pastor Nolan Ramsey didn't have a file and is clean."
Norma snorted, "so what?"
"One of you from the four gave Regina peanut milk to drink and then watched her as she suffocated and died. That is heartless...can you imagine that person watched as her throat swelled up, her breathing got labored and she passed out from lack of oxygen? All without touching her. Then someone took the rest of the files. You are my first suspect. It seems like somebody who doesn't want the police snooping into their business would do."
Norma stiffened. "You are barking up the wrong tree, Kingsley Hartley. I own an employment agency, that’s all. I am a mere recruiter. I put the right employees with the right employer. Most of them are grateful for my services. Human trafficking is a wild leap from that."
King looked at her coldly. "And you call your self a Christian. I don't get it."
"And you call yourself a detective," Norma rejoined, "I don't get it."
She levied that barb at King and he stepped back as she got in her car. She rolled down her window.
"You know, the other day when Regina was confidently rattling off her list of wrongdoers, I heard more than four names. There was also Ashley Dennison, her ex-lover.
"And if I were any sort of detective I would find out about Lyn Skinner, her housekeeper and the one with access to the house. Surely you have other people to look into or you are going to let them slide because you are so fixated on me?"
She sneered at King. "You leave my family alone. That is a warning."
*****
Ashley was washing dishes very slowly and staring outside at the landscape. She glanced at the clock. It was a little after six and the sunlight was dancing on the wet leaves outside. The brief shower of rain earlier was welcomed. It was raining every other day now and she was feeling grateful but listless. She couldn't stop thinking about Regina.
It had only just sunk in that she had really disappeared from the face of the earth as she had carelessly said before. Her eyes had become fixated on one particular leaf hanging by just the tiniest string of a spider web.
She watched it as if she was in a trance and was jerked out of her reverie when she heard a knock on her gate. She had to get it, because Jorja had holed herself up in her room all day. She had only stirred to get some food after Ruel left for his emergency board meeting and then had scurried back to her place of solace as if somebody had stones waiting for her at every turn.
She dried her hands on the towel. The tension in the house was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Yesterday, Jorja hadn't eaten because Ruel was determined that she should talk to him about her pregnancy. Ashley had taken her temperamental car to the garage to avoid the tension in the house.
Ashley felt as if she was watching the drama from afar. She was feeling detached. Detached by Regina's death, detached by Jorja's pregnancy. She was just going through the motions, feeling emotionally drained.
She pulled the curtains and saw a tall, gray-haired gentleman at the gate. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and dark brown pants. He was patiently knocking the gate with little energy. She opened the door and saw that his face had several deep lines on it, especially in the middle of his forehead. He looked like a man that frowned a lot. He also looked tough and he had a military walk. Very erect and purposeful.
"The name is King, Ma’am," he said when she gave him a tentative good evening.
"How may I help you?" Ashley asked, looking down at herself. She was in a ratty cloth track suit that had once been black but was now washed out. Her hair was a mass of frizziness. She didn't have the energy to comb it.
King advanced up the walkway and looked at one of her veranda chairs. "May I sit?"
"Okay," Ashley said ungraciously. Just who was this King?
"I am investigating Regina's death," he answered her silent question. He ran his hand over his face.
Ashley sat on the chair opposite him and looked at him curiously. "How did she die? That has been the question on everybody's lips."
"She had an anaphylactic reaction to peanut milk." King watched her closely when he said it. "Something that could have easily been handled with a shot of epinephrine. Somebody must have given her the milk and watched her as she had a reaction to it."
Ashley kept her face neutral. "Wow."
"The coroner is estimating death at around seven o'clock Saturday evening."
"Ah." Ashley nodded.
"Where were you?" King asked. He had not moved his bloodshot eyes from her. Not even a second. Ashley felt as if she was in a fish bowl.
"Seven o'clock?" Ashley crossed her arms. "I was here, at home. It was after church. Jorja was here too. I guess she can vouch for me."
"Mmm," King murmured. "Where was your husband?'
"He was still at church." Ashley shrugged. "There was a meeting, I think, with some persons who were very disturbed by what Regina had said that morning at church."
"What exactly did she say?" King leaned closer.
Ashley squinted, trying to remember the scene on the church porch. "When I came on the scene, Norma Kincaid was there with her son Jack. Norma was looking really angry. Angrier than I had ever seen her. Oliver Allen was standing with his mouth hanging open and Josiah had a stack of papers in his hand.
"Regina was standing in the middle, flailing her hands. She announced that Ruel was a murderer, Honey Allen was a liar, Conroy Cok
e and Owen Kincaid were guilty of sleeping with Jorja—that's Ruel's kid—and that I was her ex-lover."
"Mmm." King flexed his fingers. "How did that make you feel?"
Ashley shrugged. "I just wanted her to shut up, as Norma was yelling for her to do."
"Did you want her dead?" King was not beating around the bush, obviously.
"No." Ashley looked him in the eye. "Not then. I can't speak for the past, though. Sometimes, I would practically wish it and now that she is gone, I feel so...numb. She was poison for me, a stalker. She wouldn't leave me alone but...death is so final and so...I don't know...I am not sure what to feel."
"Mmmm." King leaned back in his chair.
"If only she had just left quietly instead of so dramatically in typical Regina style, she would still be alive now. I wouldn't feel so..."
"Guilty." King finished hoarsely.
"Maybe there is a bit of guilt," Ashley said. "She'd be alive if she hadn't followed me up here. Do you really think somebody fed her peanut milk?"
"Yes." King nodded. "Somebody who knows of her allergies."
"That would be everybody." Ashley looked at King, "Regina had a reaction to something or the other and they carried her to the clinic. Honey Allen has been telling everyone who cared to listen that Regina was ill and what may have caused it."
King sighed. "Thank you, Honey Allen, for giving someone the perfect murder weapon."
Chapter Eighteen
Day two. King was not finding it easy to prove his theory that Regina was murdered and that did not sit well with his police friends and the head detective Barnes in particular.
His theory was touted as too far-fetched and ridiculous. The head detective had told him as much.
"Who would want to kill her, really, Mr. Hartley? She was just a visitor to the area. Primrose Hill residents are the quietest, most law-abiding citizens in Jamaica. No one would ever think to do such a thing. What happened was tragic and not usually seen but obviously it was an accident. She drank peanut milk and died."
He was leaning back in his chair, an indulgent smile on his face as he regarded King, and that set his teeth on edge. Barnes was a toddler compared to him and yet he was treating King as if he was some dimwitted child.
"They have motive," King grunted. "The pastor is a murderer. He killed his first wife."
"Allegedly. Based on deductions that you fed to Miss Tharwick that have no basis in reality."
King didn't want to hear that. He realized that he had made some broad suppositions and had given them to Regina, but he was almost sure he was right about Ruel.
"The first elder slept with the pastor's daughter."
"Allegedly," Barnes pointed out with vigor. "Owen Kincaid is a man of impeachable stature in the community. That is a really wild accusation that Miss Tharwick announced to the public."
"But was it wild enough to get her killed?" King asked.
Barnes narrowed his eyes. "But why kill her? The information was already out in the open and is easily provable or disprovable in nine months?"
"Maybe he didn't want anybody poking around their business." King was getting frustrated and it was showing in his voice. "They own an employment agency that is facilitating modern day slavery."
"Do you have proof?" Barnes folded his arms and looked at King lazily.
"Of course," King nodded, "I have a few persons who have been placed by Norma Kincaid who can tell you what she does. She carries her victims to Kingston. They have an agent there; his name is Briggs. He does a physical of the candidate. They are treated well. They then travel with Norma Kincaid to the States, where another agent takes over. He assigns them jobs all over the world. They work and are bound to him for years. They have to pay almost sixty percent of their checks over to this agent.
"After a few years they are offered some options, give a kidney, work at a strip club—that sort of thing—and then you'll be free. If that isn't human trafficking I don't know what is."
"Hmm." Detective Barnes nodded. "If you can bring in some witnesses I will have somebody verify the allegations."
"Good," King murmured. "Josiah Coke is next on the list."
"What did Josiah do?" Barnes refrained from rolling his eyes but King could see that he was close to doing so. Barnes was making it obvious that he was humoring him.
"He got his job through Norma Kincaid."
"Is he one of your witnesses for this human trafficking?" Barnes was enjoying himself now, and King was reminded briefly why he disliked dealing with the country police. They were all a bunch of sycophants and amateurs.
"No." King frowned. "Josiah Coke is a financial prodigy. He was working for Prism Financials and then he stopped suddenly and returned here to live. He single-handedly built up his father's fledgling farm. I am still ascertaining why he left but I believe it had something to do with money laundering."
"Tell you what." Barnes had the gall to wink at him. "When you have solid evidence against these people and not vague beliefs and innuendos, I will be prepared to do something about it. In the meantime, the chief okayed you to have Clarke for two more days as a courtesy to lawyer Tharwick. If you find nothing by tomorrow you are on your own."
He got up, signifying the conversation to be over, and led King through the dingy hallways of the station and out into a bleak grey day.
"It's gonna rain." Clarke joined him outside the station. He was eating a sandwich. "We need it, all we can get."
"We also need a solid lead in this case," King murmured.
"Say, did you check where the brand of peanut milk that she was drinking was sold?"
"It's a popular brand." King shrugged. "Everybody sells it. The housekeeper has a case of it in her top cupboard."
"Mmm." Clarke walked behind him. "Well, there is an easy way to get this cleared up, if you are sure that it’s murder as you said."
"What way?" King asked. He was feeling surly.
"You won't like it." Clarke warned. "It is not in any police procedural book ever written."
"Just get to the point," King snapped at him.
"You can cast lots," Clarke said cautiously. "I have seen it done; it works. You have so many suspects and they all go to the same church. Maybe you can have God solve the mystery for you."
King stopped and looked at Clarke, searching to see if he had lost his mind.
"No, I will not cast lots. I am a detective. I detect and I am going to solve this case by tomorrow."
"From your mouth to God's ears," Clarke murmured.
*****
King's first stop for the day was Honey Allen. She was not at home but her son was. He was repotting some of the yellow flowers at the front. He said his name was Oliver and he politely offered him something to drink.
King declined. The boy was not a suspect, and though he didn't have any known allergies he was not going to eat or drink anything from the people of Primrose Hill.
"Where was your mother at seven Saturday evening?" King cut to the chase quickly.
"In bed," Oliver said easily. "She left church earlier that morning, and when I got in she was in bed. She hadn't moved since Regina lambasted her in front of everyone."
Oliver shrugged. "That was mean of Regina. I liked her but that scene was ugly."
King nodded impatiently. "What time did you get home from church?"
"Six-ish." Oliver frowned. "Why?"
"Did you pass by the Skinners’ house?" King asked, willing the boy to say yes.
"Yes." Oliver nodded. "I did."
King did a jig in his head. Yes!
"Did you see anything unusual about the house?"
"No," Oliver said and then frowned. "Well, not the house exactly."
"Then what?" King couldn't hide the eagerness from his voice.
"I thought it odd when I saw Jack at the top of the hill. He walked with me to the gate here and then went back." Oliver shook his head. "It had just struck me as off at the time. Maybe because Jack is usually at church with his parent
s, but I guess it wasn't that odd since they didn't return for the evening program. So neither did he."
"That's Jack Kincaid?" King confirmed.
"Yes." Oliver nodded, "apart from that though, it was an ordinary evening."
"Thank you." King nodded to Oliver. "You have been a big help."
"You are welcome, I guess." Oliver went back to his plants and King moved away, his heart singing; he had a lead and he was almost certain now what had happened. He looked at his watch; he had agreed to meet Clarke at the Skinners’ house in fifteen minutes.
Lyn Skinner had agreed to meet them there.
Chapter Nineteen
Ruel was dressed and on the veranda in the early part of the morning. He hadn't slept a wink that night. He knew what he had to do. He had known from the very day that he saw Ashley and lusted after her that he couldn't have her but he had thrown all caution to the wind and now...it was time to let her go or beg her stay.
He shuddered and the morning wasn't even cold. Every day he had thought about it and every day he said one more day.
One more day.
One more day.
Until he was one year into his relationship with her. A year he wouldn't forget. He still thought that she was perfect for him but it had come too late, for both of them. She was not going to be happy with him when he told her. She was going to feel deceived. Today she was going to feel lied to and betrayed. He couldn't spare her that.
Today was the day when he would lose everything important to him. Maybe, just maybe, he could delay the inevitable for one more day, but he squashed that thought. It wouldn't be fair that Nolan, the young pastor, would be left to sink in his second month on the job.
It wouldn't be fair to his congregation; some of them were already shaken by the accusation that he killed his first wife.
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