by Edie Claire
The board members looked at each other uncomfortably. "I suppose," Betty Ivey said calmly from her seat, "that most people have a few secrets in their past. And there's a part of you that wants to get past them, but can't. Humphrey preached constantly about the pitfalls of the encumbered soul. How unresolved guilt can ruin your life. He was very convincing. He was also very patient. I counseled with him for six months before I decided to be honest with him about my past. I thought it would make me feel better. And it did, at first."
"The same thing happened to me," Sam broke in. "I confessed something, and he was very understanding. I felt much better. It was weeks before the suggestions started coming in. My board appointment. The 'understanding.'" His voice cracked with rage. "God—how I hated that man."
Leigh felt her hands start to shake a little. Partly because she hadn't had any lunch, and partly because her blood was running cold. Reginald Humphrey had been blackmailing everyone else on the church board. Any one of them could have killed him to keep their secret safe.
"At first I was sure that Ted had killed him," Ed said after a pause. "Humphrey had just hit him up a while ago, and he nearly went wild. He was so furious—he just couldn't handle it. I'm sure Humphrey himself regretted that move. But I believed Ted's story when I heard it. Somebody else got to him first."
"That's all we need to say, I think," Sam answered firmly. "I don't know who killed the son of a bitch, and I don't care. I assume no one else here does either. If the congregation wants to believe he died of natural causes, then so be it. None of us let on to the detectives about the blackmail. Right?" He looked around the room warily, but everyone in the circle shook their heads. "Fine, then. There's no motive. Maybe the coroner will actually rule the death accidental, and we can all just get on with it."
Bess cleared her throat. Her voice was still a bit thin, but it picked up steam as she went along. "I didn't know about the blackmail," she admitted. "Humphrey tried the confession thing on me lots of times, but I just laughed it off and told him my life was an open book. I never thought anything about it, which was stupid of me. But I did suspect he was a fraud. In fact—I've been trying to prove it." She went on to explain the photograph of the recruit known as "Money," her own role in the fire, and Leigh's findings in the mini-storage. The board did not seem surprised.
"He set the fire himself, then," said Ed sulkily. "We should have known. I believed somebody was trying to kill him, frankly."
"So did I," said Sam. "I was sorry they failed."
Bess spoke up again. "I didn't tell anyone about my suspicions because I didn't want the congregation to know—ever. I was hoping to collect enough evidence to force him out peacefully."
"What matters now," Ed broke in, "is where we go from here. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have no intention of letting that little vixen get her hands on any more of this congregation's money. If we have to come clean with the whole story, so be it."
"No!" the younger woman shouted, jumping to her feet. "I won't go along with that! I'll say you're all lying!" Her panic-stricken face erupted into tears, and Betty Ivey jumped up to soothe her. Whatever Humphrey had on her, Leigh thought sympathetically, must be a doozy.
"No, Merry, dear," Betty cooed. "No one in this room will allow anyone's secret to get out. We're all in this together. Am I right?"
The other board members nodded eagerly. "That's not what I meant at all," Ed insisted impatiently. "Nobody has to know Humphrey was blackmailing us. We can come up with something else. Hell—all we have to do is prove that Noel's mission is a fraud, and then it'll be clear he was stealing the church's money."
"And it will be clear that the First Church of the New Millenium—and to many of our members, religion in general—is a dishonest, self-serving waste," Bess argued, raising her voice. "The new members will all quit. They'll never go to another church again. Is that what we all want?"
The board members looked at each other guiltily. "Bess is right," Betty Ivey said finally. "There's got to be a better way."
"There is," Bess said, her eyes shining again. "I know just what we can do. We've got to expose Noel as a fraud, but then we can go a step further. We can convince the congregation that she fooled everybody—including Humphrey himself!"
Sly smiles erupted around the room. "Of course!" Betty Ivey said excitedly. "We can say that she was a dishonest little trollop who seduced Humphrey and married him for his money. He believed she was in Africa when she was really off cavorting with other men—and living off the money the church sent her for the mission!"
"I could do that," the woman named Merry said optimistically, through a few lingering tears. "I'm in charge of all our outreach funds, anyway. I could say that Humphrey sent it dutifully to a post office box in Nevada or somewhere, thinking that it would be forwarded to the mission."
"Perfect!" Ed complimented. "Where did it go, anyway? And what about all those other worthy causes we were supposedly supporting?"
Merry's face darkened. "You don't want to know."
"No, we don't," Bess said firmly. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is that we stop the swindling without losing the church. I've already been talking to a pastor friend of mine in Wisconsin. He's looking for a new charge—if we can get him in quick, all this just might work."
"We're going to lose people no matter what," Sam commented. "Some of them just liked Humphrey."
"Of course," Bess responded. "But it's the best we can hope for. Now are we in this together or are we in this together?"
Leigh looked around the circle. Every head was nodding.
***
"Absolutely not," Bess said emphatically, when she and Leigh were alone in the parlor. "Maura Polanski can't start investigating Noel's 'mission.' The detectives are bound to turn up evidence that Humphrey was a fraud, too, and that would ruin everything!"
Leigh sighed deeply. Being stuck in the middle was getting old. She was sitting on top of a sizable fraud scandal that she could hand to Maura on a silver platter—and which could probably help boost her friend's temporarily sagging self-confidence, not to mention her reputation with the other detectives. But she could only tip Maura off at the expense of a cause her aunt believed in.
"Maura's not an idiot, Aunt Bess," she argued. "She was at the church earlier. She heard Noel's speech. She's already suspicious."
Bess's lips puckered, and Leigh argued on. "It's only a matter of time before she checks out the mission and finds that it doesn't exist. But that doesn't have to be a problem."
"Not as long as she doesn't start investigating Humphrey, too," Bess reasoned. "Which she will if you blab about the mini-storage." She took a breath. "Look, kiddo. I know you want to help your friend out. So go ahead. Tell her anything you want to about Noel. Just don't mention the mini-storage, or the fact that she was trying to blackmail me about breaking into the parsonage. If the police can nail her for soliciting funds under false pretenses, she'll be out of our hair. Whatever she says about Humphrey being in on it—the board can refute. I don't think the congregation will believe Noel over us."
Leigh bit her lip. It was better than nothing. Bess was right—Maura didn't strictly need to uncover Humphrey's fraud, only Noel's. And she could do that without searching the mini-storage.
"Bess Cogley," came a now-familiar, crabby falsetto voice. "I need to talk to you." Evelyn Ewing had opened the door to the parlor and was quickly advancing on Leigh and Bess. Despite her steady gait, she looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't like to admit such things at my age," she continued, reaching them and taking a seat. "But I don't know what's going on. Do you?"
Bess blinked. "How do you mean?"
Evelyn stared at her, hard. "I distrusted that phony little Jezebel from the beginning. You know I did."
Bess didn't respond, but Leigh nodded. She remembered the older woman's skepticism when she had run into Noel at church the morning before. That attitude hardly fit with the dramatic presentation she had just made to the co
ngregation on the woman's behalf. There was only one possible explanation. Noel had to be blackmailing Evelyn. Perhaps Humphrey had passed a few nuggets along to his wife after all?
"I still don't trust her," Evelyn said with a sigh. "But I saw what I saw."
Bess and Leigh exchanged glances. "Evelyn," Bess began seriously. "Don't try to fool me. I know you've got all your marbles and then some, even if you try hard not to act like it. You can tell me the truth. Noel forced you to make that speech. Didn't she?"
The older woman's eyes widened. "Forced me?" she asked with surprise. "Mercy, no. That hussy couldn't force me to do anything. I did it for Reginald."
Bess threw Leigh a puzzled glance, which was returned in kind. "Humphrey told you to lie for him?" Bess asked Evelyn.
The older woman sat up straight, her eyes defensive. "What are you talking about? Nobody makes me do anything—certainly not lie. What I said this morning was the absolute truth, though I was sorely tempted not to say it."
Bess let out a frustrated breath. "Evelyn," she said firmly. "You can go on all you want about communicating with JFK and all that other paranormal nonsense, but we both know it's just a game. Now, can you look me in the eye and tell me that Reginald Humphrey really did appear to you in a dream and tell you to give money to some bogus mission? Can you?"
Evelyn Ewing's proud chin rose. "Yes," she said heavily. "I can."
Chapter 21
Bess and Leigh looked at one another, each hoping the other could make sense of Evelyn Ewing's claim. Both were disappointed.
Bess tried again. "Can you tell us exactly what you saw?"
"I already did," Evelyn said testily. "But I will tell you this. Seeing Reginald—it was different this time."
"Different how?" Bess said hopefully.
The older woman's face tightened with tension. "Different real. The other time I saw him—it was like I was having a dream. That's how it always is with the visitors. Sometimes a day dream, sometimes a night dream. But this time, I was sure I was awake. Or leastwise, I thought I was. It was night, and I'd been sleeping, but I woke up because I heard a noise. There was a light outside my window, and I could see him there, out in my garden."
Leigh's heart beat faster. "You could hear him? Did he look normal? Did he sound normal?"
Evelyn shook her head. "Not really. But there's usually something a little off kilter about the visitors. He looked just like he was alive, but he was awfully pale. And there was some kind of light around him. His voice wasn't quite right either—loud and a bit fuzzy, like he was using a microphone, only he wasn't. He was just standing there talking to me." She swallowed. "For a minute, I really did think it was him. I thought the police were wrong about him being dead." She turned to Bess, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "Do you think that could be?"
"Absolutely not," Bess responded, with more confidence than Leigh felt. "I saw his body, Evelyn. Trust me—the man is dead. Could it have been someone else pretending to be Humphrey? Maybe in his clothes, with a mask, or lots of makeup?"
Evelyn thought long and hard. "Maybe," she said finally. "I see well enough since my cataract surgery, but the light was funny. And I'd been asleep." She paused a moment, her face darkening. "I shouldn't have said anything."
Leigh agreed with that assessment, but wisely kept her mouth shut. The older woman rose. "I don't like to think I've been tricked," she said, her voice testy again. "But if that woman is a missionary, I'm Florence Nightingale."
***
Leigh and Bess were on their way back to the sanctuary when they ran into Maura alone in the hallway. Leigh felt a surge of panic. "Where's Noel?" she asked.
Maura shook her head. "Can’t hold her, Koslow. It'll take some time to prove the mission doesn't exist. As for her role in Reginald Humphrey's death—it's looking like it doesn't matter."
"But she'll take off!" Leigh protested.
Maura nodded calmly. "Probably. But at least she won't have anybody else's money with her. She hasn't started collecting yet, has she?"
Bess shook her head. "I don't think so. The board just met. We're not recommending that people support her."
Maura nodded. "That's wise."
Leigh's mind sprang back to the detective's earlier statement. "What do you mean about Noel's role in Humphrey's death not mattering?" she asked.
Maura took a deep, official-sounding breath. "I just talked to Hollandsworth. He's hoping to set up a brief meeting with the church board later this afternoon. The coroner's report is in." Leigh immediately opened her mouth, but Maura held up a hand. "Don't ask me, Koslow. I don't know any of the details. It's Hollandsworth's bag." She paused a moment, then seemed to relent somewhat. "I can tell you this. As far as I know, it sounds like good news for Warren's uncle."
Leigh smiled. Good news? There was a switch. "Should I call Warren and tell him?" she asked hopefully.
Maura cracked a slight smile. "Knock yourself out. But his lawyer probably already knows."
She would. Leigh bristled, then felt guilty. She should be happy that Ted's legal nightmares—and Warren's associated headaches—were ending. What difference did it make who gave him the good news?
"Go and see him, kiddo," Bess said with a grin. "My ample powers of persuasion will be needed here for a while. And there'll be plenty of folks around to give me a lift home if I need it. Go."
"Are you—"
"Go."
Leigh went. She drove the Cavalier out of the still-nearly-full church parking lot and made a beeline for her apartment building. She wondered what Warren was up to. After the scene she had made last night about wanting to talk to him, would he be expecting her? She looked at her watch. 1:03 pm. It was later than she thought. It was a sad state of affairs when she could miss lunch and forget about it.
She knocked on his door for five painful minutes before giving up. Why couldn't he be home? The longer she waited to talk to him, the more out of hand things with Katharine Bower were going to get. She turned away from his door with a dismal sigh. Where was he?
Perhaps with Ted and Shannon. They'd probably all gotten wind of the coroner's report already. Maybe they were having a celebration. Maybe Katharine was with them, too. It was a happy thing.
She moped up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, gave Mao Tse a cat treat, and consumed some stale cheese curls and an orange. Why was there never any food in her apartment? Warren always had food.
Willing herself not to dwell on that topic, she focused her thoughts instead on making sense of Evelyn Ewing's claims. Noel must have been behind the "apparitions" somehow. She had to be. No one else profited. But could she really make herself up to look like Humphrey? Leigh's brow furrowed. They were roughly the same height, but it was hard to picture petite little Marlo/Mary passing for a man.
It was much easier to picture her gunning the Monte Carlo toward the state line. There was no doubt she would be long gone by the time Maura had anything concrete on her. Leigh allowed herself a smile. Having Maura corner Noel at the church had been a real coup. Only a complete fool would try and swindle money from a church with a full-fledged fraud detective looking on. Noel would pack up her motel room and—.
A picture fought its way into Leigh's mind. There had been some electronic equipment in the mini-storage, but not knowing a synthesizer from a boom box, she hadn't paid much attention. Whatever it was, Noel had the key to it. Could it have been audiovisual equipment? Could Noel have created the apparitions with some kind of video projection?
Leigh thought a moment, then shook her head. That would mean Humphrey would have had to arrange the whole thing before he died. Otherwise why use a tape? He could be the apparition himself. That same cold chill started creeping up her spine again, and she fought it back down. No. Reginald Humphrey was dead. End of story.
Noel had been responsible. Noel had tried to profit from Humphrey's death by scamming the congregation herself. She faked the apparitions somehow, and she could have faked a man's voice when she
had made the threatening call to Bess. Of course she believed her husband had been murdered! Why wouldn't she? With Humphrey blackmailing everyone on the board, there was plenty of motive to go around. He had nothing strong on Bess, true, but she was clearly taking action to gather dirt on him. It wasn't too much of a stretch for Noel to assume that Bess was aware of everything. The ringleader of a conspiracy.
Leigh looked at her watch again and fidgeted. She couldn't just sit in her apartment all afternoon waiting for Warren to come back. Hollandsworth would be making his announcement at the church soon, and she planned on being there. She patted Mao Tse on the head and picked up her car keys. She would make one extra stop as well.
***
The odds of finding the same employee on duty as the last time Leigh had visited the S.P.E. Mini-Storage were slim, but for once she got lucky. She recognized the attractive, dark-skinned young manager immediately, and offered him her best smile. "Hello. I'm Leigh Koslow. I was here yesterday afternoon, helping Noel Humphrey look through her husband's things."
The man returned her smile, but his eyes glinted in a way that told her he remembered things a little differently. "Yes," he said politely. "What can I do for you?"
"There were some items in the mini-storage that Humphrey wanted to donate to the church, and Noel asked me to come pick them up. She said she would notify you in advance that it was okay." Leigh hoped the nervous twitter in her voice wasn't too obvious. She hated lying, but none of the half truths she had come up with on the way over had seemed satisfactory.
The man's eyebrows lifted slightly. "I'm sorry, Ms. Koslow. But you two must have your signals crossed." His words were polite, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. He didn't believe a word she was saying.
Her hopes fell. Why couldn't Humphrey have picked a mini-storage with a dumb manager?