by Edie Claire
"Thank you for your concern," Noel answered sweetly. "But I'll be all right. I'm keeping my location a secret for now—until I find out what happened." She paused a moment, then flashed the full force of her doe-eyes at Bess. "I'm here because I thought you might know."
Bess's eyed widened. "Me?" she proclaimed innocently. "Oh, no. I'm afraid I'm as much in the dark as anyone. I never even believed that the reverend had enemies! Not till it happened, at least. He was such a good man."
Leigh watched her aunt's nose, certain that it would start to grow at any moment. It was unsettling to see just how convincing a liar Bess was. What else had she lied about lately?
Noel's eyes, suitably crestfallen, dropped to focus on her boots.
"I'm so sorry," Bess continued. "Why would you think I might know something?" She paused a moment, then spoke with new enthusiasm. "Did Humphrey tell you that I did? Perhaps I know something and don’t realize it!"
Noel slowly brought the red-rimmed doe-eyes back up to Bess's face. "I talked to him on the phone," she said softly. "After the fire."
"He called you in Africa?" Leigh questioned. She hadn’t meant to interrupt, but she couldn't help wanting the catch the woman in an outright lie.
"No, dear," Noel answered tolerantly. "I've been in the country for weeks now, raising funds for the mission in Kananga. I was working my way over from the West Coast. I called him last weekend at the church, and he told me that he feared for his life. I headed straight out here—but I didn’t tell him that." Her voice caught. "I wanted to surprise him."
Leigh reminded herself that it was highly unlikely this woman really was a devoted wife. Otherwise it was a sad story, bad acting or no, and the situation was depressing enough already.
"What did he say?" Bess prompted, undistracted from her own agenda.
Noel blotted her eyes again. "He said that someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail through his window, and that you were there. He thought you might—well—know something."
Leigh watched in amazement as the eyes of the doe morphed—ever so subtly—into those of a vixen. Her blood chilled a little. So that was it.
Bess didn't flinch. She met the woman's eyes evenly, her voice as sugary sweet as ever. "I'm afraid I can't help you. I've told the police all I know about the fire. I'm just happy I was able to reach the dear man in time—though in the end, I suppose we all let him down." Her eyes radiated regret at his death, and Leigh knew that was one emotion her aunt did feel sincerely. "We should have taken him more seriously when he said his life was in danger. But none of us believed him."
Noel listened to this speech with a flat, unflinching stare, but when Bess finished speaking with no trace of guilt or paranoia, the doe-eyes returned quickly. "When I left the church the other day, I didn't know where to go—who to talk to. I just found a motel and stared at the ceiling. I didn't think I could go back to the church and face all those people again. But Reginald had told me how you lived right behind the church, so when I felt like I'd gotten myself together enough—I came here."
Leigh hung on Noel's every word, trying not to get lost. A minute ago it seemed the woman was ready to pick up right where Humphrey had left off—with a little hint of extortion. But she had backed off quickly. Perhaps she was just fishing?
"I was hoping that you could tell me—. I mean—" her voice trembled. "I still don't know how my husband actually died."
Bess and Leigh looked at each other. It was still an open question.
"I'm afraid no one really knows yet," Leigh answered. A silence followed as she thought about how to explain, but oddly, Noel nodded her head, not seeming surprised.
"Will there be a memorial service?" she asked, her voice cracking again.
"The church staff had already started planning a funeral," Bess assured. "But of course, the arrangements will be up to you now."
Noel shook her head, tears dropping freely now. "I can't think about that—I'm sorry. The church should do what it thinks best. Reginald would want it that way. He has no other family. Just me." She raised her head a bit to show a rally of strength. "Will the service be soon?"
"As soon as possible," Bess said soothingly. "But I'm afraid we do have to wait until the coroner's office releases the body. There's an investigation going on, you know."
The words were no sooner out of Bess's mouth than it happened. Noel's carefully applied exterior seemed to shatter, her face draining instantly of all color and vim. A guttural sound escaped her lips, followed by a short, sharp intake of breath.
"Noel!" Bess said in alarm, leaning forward on the couch. She reached out and touched the woman's knee, then shook it vigorously. "Noel!"
Leigh reached their guest at the same time. "Mrs. Humphrey? Are you all right?"
It was several seconds before Noel moved. Then she jumped up suddenly, grabbed her coat, and hugged it tightly around her. "I have to get out of here," she announced, and before Leigh or Bess could say another word, she was out the door, into her Monte Carlo, and gone.
***
"What happened to her?" Leigh asked incredulously, watching the car speed off down the salt-covered road.
Bess, who had managed to rise from the couch by herself and was now standing tentatively on one foot, sat back down again. "That was quite a performance," she said thoughtfully, motioning for Leigh to join her. "Right up to the end. Now that was real."
Leigh nodded as she sat back down. "I agree. Something you said gave her quite a shock. I just can't imagine what."
"I said that there was an investigation going on," Bess recounted. "What could possibly be so surprising about that? She said herself she thought he was murdered!"
"She certainly did," Leigh said thoughtfully, "right off the bat." She paused. Something hadn't seemed right about that, and now it struck her just what. "Wait a minute. Noel said she hadn't talked to anybody since she left the church yesterday. But nobody told her then what had happened to Humphrey. I just said he had passed away. It could have been a heart attack—or a car accident, for all she knew. In fact, I don't think she even asked! I suppose she could have heard about it on the news later, but—" She broke off in midsentence as another thought struck her.
"Aunt Bess," she said anxiously. "The last thing you said to her—you mentioned the coroner. You said that the body hadn't been released yet."
Bess stared at her niece in confusion. "So? Don't they always do autopsies in murder cases?"
Leigh was silent for a moment. "You said you thought that Humphrey had been planning a disappearing act all along, and that Noel might have been a part of it, right?"
Her aunt nodded.
"Well, maybe you were right. Maybe Noel Humphrey came to town expecting to find her husband missing. Maybe she even expected that he would be presumed dead."
Bess's pupil's widened in understanding. "But she wouldn't be expecting a body at the coroner's office, would she?"
Leigh shook her head. "Not if she assumed he was still alive."
Both women sat in silence, digesting the concept, and Leigh felt another wave of guilt. If her theory was right, they had insensitively broken the news of Humphrey's death to his wife not once—but twice. And judging from the depth of her reaction just now, she might very well have really cared for him.
Leigh tried not to dwell on the thought, but took a deep breath and launched into a retelling of what she had learned from Warren and Katharine the night before. Not surprisingly, her aunt instantly assumed Humphrey had died of natural causes.
"I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation!" Bess said with relief. "To think that I even considered that a church member could have—" She stopped herself. "Ridiculous! Now all we have to do is figure out how Noel fits into all this. And try to keep Ted Hugh out of jail, of course. I'm sure I can convince the shelter board not to press charges—if that will help." She looked at her niece with new hope. "The church may just survive after all—as long as the congregation never finds out that Humphrey was a fraud in the
first place." Her eyes suddenly turned serious. "And I'll need you to help me keep that secret, kiddo."
A powerful knock gave both women a start. "Good heavens!" Bess said, craning her neck towards the door as a large shadow fell over the stained glass windows. "Who can that be?"
Leigh jumped up, recognizing the silhouette—and the knock—immediately. Her stomach churned. Seeing Maura Polanski at the door was normally a cheerful affair—but not now. Not here. She opened the door and wordlessly invited the detective in.
"I'm glad you're here, Koslow," Maura said, a bit stiffly. "I was hoping to catch you and aunt together."
Leigh nodded. From the miserable look on the detective's face, she gathered that her wish to stay off the Humphrey case had not been granted. Evidently the department had discovered that one of their own had an "in." Naturally, they'd expect her to use it.
Leigh looked at her friend sympathetically, knowing that being asked to harass her and Bess was probably only half of the requirement. "Have you talked to Warren this morning?" she asked anxiously, showing the detective to the couch.
Maura nodded solemnly. "Ted Hugh's been charged with breaking and entering. He's on his way to the county jail now."
Bad memories washed over Leigh like a backed-up garbage disposal. She shuddered. "I was hoping Katharine could avoid his being arrested," she thought out loud.
"She might have if Hugh hadn't started spouting off obscenities at Hollandsworth," Maura answered heavily. Then, as if shaking off bad memories herself, she changed the subject. "I'm here because I'd like to talk with your aunt for a minute." She turned to the woman sitting on the couch beside her and nodded a greeting. "Ms. Cogley, I hope you don't mind."
"Call me Bess. And shoot," the older woman said with a smile.
Leigh didn't sit. She preferred to fidget.
Maura smiled politely back. "I've been talking to the homicide detectives assigned to the Humphrey case, and they're having a bit of a problem."
Bess blinked her eyes innocently. "Oh?"
"They've interviewed the staff and all the members of the executive board of the First Church of the New Millenium, as well as several other members of the congregation who seemed to be particularly close to Humphrey."
Bess nodded, not appearing in the least anxious. "And?"
"And," Maura continued in a casual tone, "both the detectives commented on the same two things. First, that everyone they talked to seemed genuinely surprised by his death, even though he told the congregation just last Sunday that he thought his life was in danger. And second, that everyone seemed to like Humphrey personally, even though most admitted to a few things that bugged them about him. Everyone, that is, except for the people on the executive board."
Bess's eyebrows rose. "The board? You mean they didn't like him, or they didn't say anything bad about him?"
Maura watched Bess closely. "The board members all said glowing things about Humphrey. But both the detectives had the same impression—that none of them could stand the man."
Leigh bit a fingernail. The description, she was sure, would describe her aunt's testimony perfectly. Maura probably already knew that. But the other board members, too?
Bess seemed equally perplexed. "You—I mean they—the other detectives—thought the board members didn’t like Humphrey?"
Maura nodded. "I was hoping you'd be willing to tell me why that is."
Leigh tried to catch her aunt's eye. This was the perfect moment for her to spill it. It would make everything so much easier. No one was going to press charges against her for being a snoop, and filling the detectives in on the fraud angle could help them find the real killer. If there even was a killer.
But Bess kept her eyes firmly on her splinted ankle, lifting them only to answer Maura in a soft, sincere voice. "I wasn't at all fond of Reginald Humphrey," she admitted. "But that was just a personal thing. He's done a wonderful job of building up the church. And as for why the other board members wouldn't like him, I'm really not sure. I thought they did like him. Or at least respected him." She paused a moment, deep in thought.
Maura sat quietly and waited. Leigh watched her aunt's eyes, and decided her words were sincere, at least about not knowing what the other board members had against Humphrey. She seemed genuinely perplexed.
"Now that I think about it," Bess continued, looking at Maura again, "the dynamics of the board were odd at times. I've been on lots of boards—I know how things go. There are always disputes. But this was the smoothest running board I've ever been on. Humphrey suggested something, and everybody pretty much agreed with him, even when I would have thought they wouldn't."
She was quiet again, and Maura cut in. "Do you have any idea why that might be?"
"No," Bess answered quickly. "I always assumed it was because they valued his opinion, or at least because they didn’t feel strongly enough to go against the majority. But now I don't know."
She paused another moment, then started. "Oh, no, I should have mentioned! His wife was just here. I'm sure you want to talk to her, don't you?"
"Humphrey's wife?" Maura clarified, pulling out her notepad. "Do you know where she's staying?"
Bess shook her head. "She said she was staying at a motel, but she didn't say which one."
Maura scribbled something. "I'll pass that along," she said gratefully. Then she looked Bess straight in the eye. "I hope if you think of anything else that might help, you'll let the detectives know. More often than not, when people try to hide the truth—even with good intentions—it only makes more trouble. We're just trying to figure out whether or not a crime was committed here, to make things safer for everybody. If you could pass that on, I'd appreciate it."
Bess returned Maura's steady gaze, her eyes respectful. "Thank you, detective. I'll do what I can."
Maura thanked Bess for her time and rose to leave, and Leigh nervously walked the detective out onto the front porch. "You're back on the case, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly, once the door had closed behind them.
"Not officially," Maura answered, her voice pained. "Hollandsworth sent me out here because it's clear the board members are hiding something, and he thought—since I had a personal connection—that maybe I could help."
Leigh surveyed her friend's slightly slumping shoulders with dismay. This wasn't the old fire-and-brimstone, law-and-order Maura Polanski she knew and loved. That Maura would have reamed out both her and Bess for withholding information, and probably enjoyed it. This Maura had lost something. Her self-confidence.
Overlooking Humphrey's body in the freezer might be understandable—but that didn't mean Maura wasn't catching hell over it. And though she was used to deflecting barbs about everything related to being a stoic, 210-pound policewoman, she wasn't used to making mistakes.
Leigh bit her lip. She herself had plenty of expertise in that area, but unfortunately, it was nontransferable. Maura was just going to have to prove herself.
And this case might be the test.
"Bess really doesn't know what's going on with the other board members," Leigh assured. She wanted to say more, but she couldn't—not yet anyway. She exhaled in frustration. "Look, Maura. We all want the same things here, including Bess. Warren's uncle didn't kill anybody, and if Humphrey was murdered, we all want to find out who really did do it. So there shouldn't be a problem here. There won't be a problem. I promise."
She paused, wondering if it was clear she was trying to convince herself as well as her audience.
Maura looked back at her, her eyes stern. "I just hope whatever it is your aunt is covering up isn’t something that could clear Ted Hugh."
Leigh had no answer to that. She was hoping the very same thing.
Chapter 16
When Leigh walked back into the farmhouse after seeing Maura off, Bess had already started making phone calls—undoubtedly to spread the still unproven theory that Humphrey had died of natural causes. Hopefully, she was also trying to get the breaking-and-entering charges again
st Ted Hugh dropped.
Deciding not to disturb her, Leigh walked past into the kitchen, poured herself a drink, and took it to the sun porch. Narrowly sidestepping a paw swipe from Punkster—who was lying in wait behind a potted plant—she made her way carefully to the gliding loveseat. She put her drink on the floor, sat down on one end, and promptly fell over on her side, one cheek shmooshed against the vinyl cushion.
Perhaps she could think better horizontally, she reasoned. She needed to think. Covering up suspicions that Humphrey was a fraud was one thing. Covering up the near certainty of it, particularly in the middle of a potential murder investigation, was another. She no longer had any doubts that Reginald "Money" Humphrey had been a con artist—it was irritating that he had passed the test of not recognizing his old army buddies, but there were too many other strikes against him, Noel herself being a big one. The First Church of the New Millenium had undoubtedly been donating money to support her, which meant that Humphrey had been cheating the congregation in at least one way. There were others, she was sure.
But what if Humphrey really had died of natural causes? Wishful thinking aside, it was probably less far-fetched than his being murdered, she reasoned. After all, even if Humphrey had been stealing from the church in any number of creative ways, no one seemed to be aware of it, even now. And even if they were, murder was a rather drastic reaction. Why not just call the police? Of course, the fact that Humphrey was killed at the church didn't necessarily rule out murder by an outsider. That was another can of worms entirely.
Leigh thought a while longer, then decided she'd thought enough. Likely or unlikely, if there was any chance Humphrey had actually been murdered, covering up information was playing with fire. Now how could she convince Bess of that?
She walked back into the house, foolishly exposing a chunk of calf to Punkster's left hook on the way. Bess was in the middle of a lively conversation, and Leigh couldn't help but eavesdrop as she settled into the recliner.