Jolly Dead St. Nicholas

by Carol A. Guy

  “Oh, my. So you do suspect Reverend Underwood.” Brenda’s voice trembled slightly.

  Sitting up, Daniel turned sideways so he could look at her. Brenda did the same, tucking one leg up under her. “I need to ask you some questions, Brenda. Did you overhear that argument between Jerry Hatfield and Underwood on Friday morning? My mother says you came out of your office about that time.”

  Brenda met his gaze. She looked a little forlorn. “She asked me the same thing. I really didn’t hear it. The office door was closed because I was running the announcement sheet for the bulletins. I think the printer must have helped to drown out their voices.”

  “What made you come out of your office then?” Daniel took another sip of wine.

  Her cheeks turning a little pink. “After I finished running the sheets I needed a potty break.”

  He grinned at her. “Sorry. Tell me this, though. Did you ever hear Underwood and Jerry arguing?”

  Now her expression was troubled. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, Daniel. It could mean nothing.”

  He felt his senses go on alert. “Tell me, Brenda. This is no time to hold back information.” His tone was a little sharper than he intended. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t like it. “Just tell me, please,” he said more gently.

  She got up. “I think the water is boiling. I need to put in the pasta.” She quickly left the room. When she returned she sat down beside him, this time a little closer. “I’m sure this means nothing, but I did notice something. You know that Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Henshaw come…came into the church every Monday morning at nine to count the offering money. They used the parlor. Then, Mr. Hatfield would make the deposit on his way to his insurance office. Without fail, every Monday morning Reverend Underwood would go into the parlor to say good morning to them. Sometimes they’d talk for a while. Over the past few months, though, Reverend Underwood hasn’t been doing that. In fact, it seemed to me he went out of his way to avoid running into them.”

  “Into them or just Jerry Hatfield?” Daniel muttered, thinking out loud. He watched her closely. He knew he was pushing her but he needed to know the truth. “What’s your opinion?”

  Brenda seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t like this, Daniel. My job has certain confidentiality issues, you know that.”

  “I’m not asking you to betray a confidence. Just tell me what you saw. This is a murder investigation, Brenda,” Daniel reminded her.

  She took in a deep breath then slowly let it out. “I think he was avoiding Jerry Hatfield. On several occasions when Mr. Hatfield left to make the deposit, Mr. Henshaw would go to the pastor’s study and they’d chat.”

  “Have you heard any rumors about Underwood and Susan Hatfield?”

  She ran a hand through her hair. As it feathered out and fell back into place, that floral fragrance again floated his way. “I’ve heard a few unkind things. No one said anything directly to me, but I’ve overheard some of the women talking. I try not to listen to gossip. It can be very destructive.”

  “What kind of things did you hear, Brenda?”

  The timer dinged in the kitchen. She got up, gathering the wine bottle along with the two glasses. “No more of this, Daniel. Tonight was supposed to be for us to enjoy each other. I’m not going to waste it like this.” She flounced out of the room.

  “Oh boy, now I’ve done it,” he murmured as he got up to follow her.

  He helped her get the meal on the table in silence. Once they were seated, he said, “This looks great. More wine?”

  She held out her glass but didn’t look at him. He helped himself to spaghetti while she served up the salads. The asparagus was still slightly firm, just the way he liked it. Fresh, yeasty dinner rolls slathered with butter lifted his spirits.

  “You’re right, Brenda. No more shop talk. I’m sorry,” Daniel finally said halfway through the meal. He noticed she was picking at her food. “Did I tell you how good you look tonight?”

  A small smile crept over her face. “No. This is a new outfit, too.”

  “The color suits you. I like your hair down like that.”

  The smile widened. “Thank you.”

  “You also smell very good.”

  “I know.”

  He stretched out his leg, touching hers under the table. She gazed at him, the candlelight dancing in her eyes.

  He felt a little foolish yet very powerful at the same time. She did that to him. “What’s for dessert?” he ventured.

  Her lips curled up in a seductive grin. “Me.”

  * * * *

  Daniel’s bedroom contained heavy dark furniture that included a free standing armoire along one wall. A multicolored oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. As he lay next to Brenda listening to her soft even breathing he had a heightened sense of well-being.

  Brenda stirred beside him and opened her eyes. The only illumination in the room was from a small lamp on the nightstand that cast an amber glow over the room.

  “I lied, you know,” she said sleepily.

  “About what?” He turned toward her, running a finger down her bare arm.

  “Dessert. I have something very special.” Rolling away, she got up.

  “I can’t wait,” he said to her retreating form as she wrapped a silk robe around her body, tying it at the waist.

  She returned shortly carrying a lacquered wooden tray. Daniel sat up when he saw what was on it—a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries along with two glasses of white wine.

  “You, sir, are in for a real treat,” Brenda said as she put the tray on the nightstand. “This chocolate will melt in your mouth. The strawberries are at a perfect ripeness, even if they aren’t home grown,” she told him with a wink.

  Standing beside the bed, Brenda took one of the plump berries from the bowl, feeding it to him. Daniel sighed as the delicious combination of flavors seemed to burst inside of his mouth.

  She handed him a glass of the wine. It glowed a rich gold as the light hit it. “It’s Frascati. It’s wonderful with fruit.”

  She helped herself to a strawberry before sitting down on the bed beside him. The strawberries were addictive. He ate several more, sipping the wine with appreciation. It was the perfect complement to the fruit.

  Later, as sleep pulled at him, Daniel decided that if things kept going this well with Brenda, next Christmas he’d be slipping an engagement ring on her finger.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adelaide arrived at the church on Monday morning just as Reverend Underwood was pulling his blue Nissan into the parking lot.

  Well, that pretty much confirms my theory that he spent the night elsewhere.

  Normally the minister just walked across the street from the parsonage to the church. If he had to make hospital calls later, he would just retrieve his car from his own driveway.

  The snow had stopped after depositing a five-inch blanket of white over what was already on the ground. Snow plows had cleared the streets quite efficiently overnight. Everything looked crisp and clean. She could well imagine that the falls would receive a lot of visitors this week, since Christmas was only two weeks away. From now until Christmas Eve, the town would be full of strangers. It was always an invigorating time for Adelaide, who loved the vitality of the season. This year, however, a gloomy pall seemed to hang in the air as residents tried to deal with the awful murder of one of Crescent Falls’ leading citizens.

  She caught up with the minister at the door leading directly from the parking lot into the sanctuary. She knew he always used that entrance because he could then slip into the hallway leading to his study through a back doorway.

  He hesitated in the small foyer once he became aware of her presence behind him. “Oh, Adelaide, I didn’t see you in the parking lot.”

  He looked haggard and unkempt. His thick hair was sticking up at odd angles in several places. He’d also missed a few spots when he’d shaved. His eyes were a little puffy, as though from lack of sleep. “I visited Fran
yesterday, Douglas,” she said without preamble, “I know she’s leaving for good.”

  “I suppose the news is probably all over town by now,” he replied, his broad shoulders slumping even more.

  He walked along the back rows of pews to the hallway. After unlocking the door to his study, he said. “Come on in.”

  She stepped around him. He shut the door behind them. “Maybe I should leave the door open. We wouldn’t want any more rumors to start circulating.” His expression held no humor. He flung his keys on the desk, then took off his topcoat and hung it on an ornate looking coat rack in the corner.

  The study was furnished much as it had been for decades, with a broad walnut desk, two metal file cabinets, a striped loveseat, maple end table, and brass table lamp. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall.

  “Have a seat, Adelaide. Is there something you want to talk to me about?” He sat down behind his desk in an oversize leather swivel chair.

  “Actually, I came to make sure the unsold items from the bazaar are properly packed away. Ethel and Carl boxed them up on Saturday night, but I’m sure with all the confusion, some things were…well, I just want to be sure they’re…secured.” Adelaide could see his attention was elsewhere. He was fiddling with a ballpoint pen, twirling it around on the desk blotter, watching it as though mesmerized.

  “Fran thinks I killed Jerry Hatfield.” Douglas finally said.

  Adelaide leaned forward in the loveseat. “You have to admit, there are a lot of unanswered questions.”

  He made a huffing noise. “You’re talking about Susan, I assume.”

  They were interrupted by a discreet knock on the study door. Brenda poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering if you were here, Reverend Underwood.” She nodded a greeting Adelaide’s way.

  “Do you need me for anything, Brenda?” Douglas asked rather sharply.

  Brenda blinked several times, her gaze flickering to Adelaide then back to the pastor. “No…I just wondered…I’ll leave you two alone.” She backed up a step, closing the door.

  Douglas kneaded his forehead with one hand. “I’m sorry about that. This whole thing has turned my world upside down.”

  Adelaide wondered if he was referring to the murder of a parishioner or the discovery of his infidelity.

  There was a commotion in the hallway, footsteps clearly discernible, voices loud enough to be heard through the thick, oak door. All of a sudden Brenda came into the room. “The police are here. They have a search warrant.” She handed the paper to Douglas.

  The calmness with which the young woman had delivered both bits of news told Adelaide that Brenda already knew about this, no doubt through Daniel.

  The phone on Douglas’s desk rang. “It’s my direct private line.” He snatched up the receiver. “Yes? Well they’re here too, Fran. I don’t know what to tell you. Just let them do their thing.” A small smile crept over his face as he listened. “Really. Well, don’t expect me to be sorry.” He slammed down the receiver. “They’re searching the parsonage too. The moving van is due any time. They told Fran she can’t move any of those boxes until they’ve gone through them all.” He emitted a small chuckle. “Even her brother, the smart lawyer from Columbus, can’t get around that one.”

  Adelaide turned to say something to Brenda only to find her gone. At that moment, Officer Ray Butler entered the room. “You both need to leave,” he commanded.

  Adelaide left at once with Douglas right behind her. Suddenly feeling warm, she took off her coat, looping it over her arm. She exited the short hallway into the main corridor. She could see two other officers searching the office, while another one was just entering the parlor. She figured the basement would be next, so she hurried down the stairs, making a beeline for the closet where the Henshaws had stored the unsold Christmas bazaar items. Everything seemed to be in order. She did a quick search of all the boxes, sealing them again once she was finished. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find. Surely not the murder weapon?

  She returned to the main floor just as her son, Daniel, came in through the front door. The look on his face was grim. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her. “What are you doing here, Mother?”

  “Making sure the things left from the bazaar are packed away properly,” she replied, breezing past him. She found Brenda with Douglas in the parlor, sitting side by side on one of the sofas.

  “They’re finished in here, so they said we could wait—” Douglas began then stopped short.

  Adelaide noticed for the first time that her son was behind her. He held a clear plastic bag in his hand. The telltale orange stripe across the top had the words “Evidence” printed in bold letters. Inside the bag was an object Adelaide recognized on sight.

  Daniel strode over to Douglas, stopping just inches from where he sat. “Ever seen this before, Reverend?” He held the bag up for him to see.

  Adelaide watched the minister’s reaction. There was shock, surprise then realization.

  Brenda drew in a sharp breath, one hand resting over her heart.

  Douglas seemed to have lost the power of speech. He stared at the silver letter opener, his mouth agape, eyes wide. “No. It can’t be.”

  “Recognize this, Brenda?” Daniel turned his attention to her, waving the bag in front of her face.

  Brenda looked up at Daniel, then over at Douglas. “It looks like…but it can’t be. Is that blood on it?”

  Adelaide moved closer to examine the item. “I recognize that letter opener. Reverend Preston opened his personal mail with it. Anything addressed directly to him…he was very particular it be put on his desk unopened.” Adelaide had seen their former pastor use it several times during his seven years at Crescent Falls UMC. “It is very distinctive.” Through the plastic, she examined the long, flat blade that ended at an ornate handle—roses on a vine on the front side, no design on the back side. “It’s sterling silver, I recall him telling me that. The handle is solid, not hollow.”

  Brenda said, “That’s right. I thought he took it with him when he left. He said it was very old, dating back to the late 1800s.”

  Daniel glared down at Douglas. “How about it, Reverend?”

  Douglas exhaled a ragged breath. “I found it in the lap drawer of the desk in my study when I moved in.”

  “Well, we found it in the bottom of your garbage can at the parsonage,” Daniel told him.

  Douglas’s hands were shaking, his eyes wide with astonishment. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. You see we searched the alleys yesterday and there was no can sitting outside behind your house.” Daniel said.

  Douglas rubbed a hand over his face. “Fran insisted we keep it in the tool shed in the backyard until late Sunday night, so animals wouldn’t get into it and make a mess between pickups. I guess she or that brother of hers must have put it out. I wasn’t there last night. I stayed at a motel.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Well, unfortunately that doesn’t help your case. The letter opener was most likely put there right after the murder, where it remained until we found it today. How did it go, Reverend, did you put it in the can, way down deep inside, knowing it wouldn’t be found by your wife and hoping the trash would be collected before we discovered it?”

  Douglas’s face reddened. “That’s crazy! Why would I hide a murder weapon that could be traced to me in my own garbage can?”

  “Well, maybe that’s something we can discuss further. You need to come along to the station.” Daniel signaled to Sergeant Ray Butler, who was now standing in the parlor doorway.

  “You’re arresting him?” Adelaide asked.

  “We’re taking him in for further questioning, for now. After we find his fingerprints on the handle, then we’ll arrest him,” Ray snapped as he led Douglas out the door.

  “Of course my fingerprints will be on it. I use it all the time to open my personal mail.” Douglas protested as he was hustled down the hallway to the main entrance.

  Adela
ide turned to Daniel. “He’s right. His fingerprints are bound to be on that letter opener.”

  “We’re searching the Hatfield’s house and the insurance office, too. We’re confiscating computers. We’re building a good case,” he told her.

  Brenda got to her feet. “I’ll unhook the computer in my office. You’ll want that one too, I’m sure.” She headed for the door.

  “Did Underwood use that computer?” Daniel asked her.

  Turning to face him, she replied. “No, not that I know of. He had no need to, since he had one in his study.”

  “Let it go for now. I don’t want to shut you down completely here. If we need to take a look, we can do it later.”

  Brenda sighed. “Good. I mean I don’t want to impede your investigation, but I am in the middle of several projects.”

  Daniel left the parlor, walking toward the front door.

  Adelaide followed, almost running into Officer Ed Lucas as he entered the small hallway, no doubt on his way to confiscate the preacher’s computer. She stepped back to let him pass. He muttered something that sounded like “Not a good day for your church, is it?” as he hurried by.

  Brenda caught up with Adelaide at the front door. “Now what do we do?”

  “Just go back to work, Brenda. I’m sure people will be calling with lots of questions once word gets around about what just happened here. Don’t talk to the press. Simply tell concerned parishioners who call that the police are still investigating. As for Fran moving out, I don’t see how we can sugar coat that, since half the town will see the moving van loading up most of the belongings from the parsonage once they get the go ahead from the police.”

  Brenda quickly headed for the church office. “I’ll think of something reassuring to say, don’t worry, Adelaide.”

  At that moment Carl and Ethel Henshaw came strolling along the sidewalk, stopping in their tracks as Ray Butler shoved Douglas into the back of a waiting squad car. Daniel carried the plastic evidence bag in his hand as he climbed in beside Ray.