by Carol A. Guy
Before she could respond, Douglas joined them. He wore a pair of jeans with a yellow sweater. “Why don’t you have dinner with us, Adelaide, It’s almost ready.” His voice sounded stronger than the last time she’d spoken with him. He also looked better. His hair was neatly trimmed, his eyes clear and bright. James being here was obviously having a good effect on Douglas.
“By all means!” James said heartily. He took her coat, hanging it in the small closet near the front door.
Adelaide’s stomach gave a growl, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d had no time to even grab a finger sandwich at Susan’s after the funeral. “I think I just might take you up on that.”
James returned to the kitchen, leaving Adelaide alone with Douglas. She wasted no time. “I need to ask you something, Douglas. Mind if I sit down?”
He blushed. “I’m sorry. I have no manners evidently. Add that to my many sins, I guess.”
Once they were seated side by side on the sofa, Adelaide said, “I need to know if, during the months of September, October or November, Jerry ever discussed a decrease in the cash offering.”
“Not that I recall.” He looked a little confused. “Was it a matter of concern for him?”
“Evidently. He mentioned it to Carl. He also said something to Susan. He said he was worried but that he hoped to make it right…without involving the police.”
“If giving was down a little I’m not surprised, now that you mention it. People have been struggling since L&C closed.” Douglas met her gaze. She saw no deception there.
“But you didn’t have any conversations with Jerry about it? Did Susan mention anything about what he said to her?”
Douglas’s lip lifted slightly in a half smile. “I’m afraid I was…distracted during that time. Under the circumstances, I often tried to avoid direct contact with him. As for Susan, our conversations were more on a personal level.” His smile turned into more of a grimace. “No sense being coy about it now, is there? The whole town, police included, plus the D.S. and the bishop know about our affair. By the way, I was served with divorce papers today. Fran isn’t wasting any time.”
“Tell me something else, Douglas. Do you have any idea when Jerry found out about your involvement with Susan?”
“I know exactly when it was. The Thursday before he was killed. I understand you overheard the argument I had with him in the hallway outside my study on Friday. Evidently, he and Susan had that big fight on their front porch the night before that Ethel Henshaw overheard. Jerry followed Susan to church when she left for choir practice. He caught sight of her coming out of my study later. I’m sure he saw all he needed to confirm his suspicions. Evidently other church members have seen things too, which they were all too happy to share with the authorities. And here I thought we were being so discreet. Truthfully, considering all the evidence the police were able to assemble, I’m surprised I’m not languishing in a jail cell right now.”
“I’m so sorry, Douglas.”
“We were careless and stupid. We e-mailed each other love notes constantly. I’m sure by now the police have a nice file of those e-mails from both our computers.” He ran a hand over his face as though trying to wipe away haunting images.
“Yet I heard from a reliable source that your in-laws don’t believe you killed Jerry.”
He emitted a hoarse chuckle. “Too bad they don’t have any influence with the district attorney in this county.”
James came back into the room. “Dinner is served. Come on, my herb roasted chicken is the best in the state, even if I do say so myself.” He glanced from one of them to the other, a questioning look on his face, but said nothing more.
The meal lived up to its reputation. The chicken was golden brown yet tender, the new potatoes buttery and full of flavor. The delightfully savory green beans were still a little firm, just the way Adelaide liked them. Dessert was lemon pound cake sprinkled with powdered sugar.
Adelaide ate like she was starving, but she noticed that Douglas was picking around at his food. Their earlier conversation probably spoiled whatever good mood he’d managed to muster. On the other hand, James kept the conversation going as he talked about his sons Matthew and Luke, one a veterinarian, the other a teacher in Cincinnati.
Adelaide left the two ministers at eight o’clock. On the way home she called Daniel, but his cell phone went straight to voice mail. When she called the station, she was told he’d left for the day about an hour earlier. She debated about whether she should go by his place, finally deciding against it. These days she could never be sure he would be alone, what with Brenda now having a key. So, in the end, she went home to Oscar and that hot bath.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The weekly edition of the Crescent Falls Tribune on Thursday morning carried a front page story about Jerry Hatfield’s funeral. It was like a who’s-who of town society. Julie Buckner Simpson had outdone herself this time. Adelaide sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and nibbling on a croissant as she read the article with mounting disdain. It had the tone of a tabloid expose’ with lots of innuendos loosely strung together with various conjectures. One of those conjectures was who would replace Jerry Hatfield on town council. There were lots of opinions on that one, although Julie didn’t mention her sources by name. The front runner for the empty seat seemed to be Tim Hunter, the local auto repair shop owner. Also expressing an interest, according to Julie’s rambling prose, was Zelda Jackson. Adelaide snorted with disgust.
Not a chance! Thank goodness it is up to the mayor to appoint someone. Now how does that by-law read? Oh yes, council members can nominate, but the mayor makes the final decision. Carl is mayor. He’d never let a gossipy busybody like Zelda on the council. Tim, however, would be a good choice if he’d accept.
At the end of the article Lloyd Fletcher was quoted as saying We need someone with an eye to the future, not someone who wants to stay stuck in the quagmire of provincial thinking.
In other words, someone in favor of building a casino in Crescent Falls. Obviously Lloyd won’t be backing either Zelda or Tim for that seat. I wonder who he has in mind.
Reading the article below the fold, Adelaide was again aghast. Julie featured the murder investigation, quoting sources within law enforcement. The gist of it was that Douglas Underwood most likely killed his lover’s husband to clear the way for the two of them to be together. The life insurance policy was mentioned, of course, making the insinuation clear that money was a secondary motive. That in turn implied that Susan was an accomplice. Fran Underwood was mentioned, including the fact that divorce papers had been filed. Julie covered herself well by using the word alleged more times than Adelaide cared to count when referring to Douglas.
Adelaide finished her coffee. Getting up from the table, her croissant half eaten, she tossed the newspaper into the trash can. She wrapped the rest of the croissant and put it in the refrigerator.
Oscar meowed loudly from his favorite spot on the dining room windowsill. She joined him, looking out at the white landscape. Today was sunny with no more snow predicted in the near future. Of course this was Ohio, so that could change in a heartbeat.
Christmas is almost here. Dear Lord, we need for this nightmare to be over by then. The real killer is out there somewhere, all too willing to let Douglas take the fall.
James Preston’s assumption that she was working to clear Douglas preyed on her mind. She needed to get her thoughts organized, bounce ideas off someone. A sit-down session with Daniel was in order. Maybe her son wouldn’t welcome her assistance, but she felt she had to try. There were some things he needed to know. She stroked Oscar’s head as he continued to make little clacking noises. The cardinals were crowded around the bird feeder, which was nearly empty. She made a mental note to fill it on her way out this morning.
* * * *
It was almost ten o’clock when Adelaide entered the police station. She waved a greeting at dispatcher Mindy Cooper, who was taking a call. Walki
ng between two rows of desks, she saw that Lieutenant Luke Fagan was just hanging up his phone. She stopped for a moment.
“Mrs. McBride.” He got to his feet. “How about a cup of coffee? You look chilled to the bone.”
She glanced toward Daniel’s office. He was on the phone. It didn’t look like he was very happy with the conversation. “I see Daniel’s busy. I think a cup of coffee would be great.”
She wasn’t really that cold, since she was wearing a pair of blue woolen slacks, a red sweater, and her down filled jacket. But she did want to talk to Luke for a moment, privately.
Luke motioned her toward the kitchenette, next to her son’s office. “We’ve got muffins and donuts from Dora’s Diner this morning. I think that apple cinnamon muffin has your name on it.”
She’d always liked Luke. He was an honest, hardworking man. He’d made the transition from the large Columbus force to this smaller one effortlessly five years earlier. “So how is Betty? She wasn’t at the Historical Society meeting Monday evening.” She sat down with her coffee at small oak table in the corner. The muffin looked good, especially since she’d left most of her croissant untouched at home.
“She wasn’t having a very good day Monday, sorry to say. The MS is getting worse. The doctor is trying some new treatments. We’re hopeful.” He brought his coffee mug to the table, sitting down opposite her.
Betty Fagan had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis four years before. With two children to raise, it was a devastating blow to the couple. “I’m so sorry, Luke. How are the kids doing?” Frank was now sixteen, Pamela twelve.
“Hanging in there. Frank wants to get a job after school. He’s interested in auto repair, so Tim Hunter has offered to let him work in the shop on Saturdays.”
“What about Pamela?”
“She’s mother’s little helper. Such a bright, positive girl. Heck, she’s a young woman now. She’ll be thirteen in two months.”
“You’ve done a wonderful job with those two.” It was true. Both of the Fagan children were active in St. Rita’s youth fellowship. They also volunteered their time at the community thrift store and food pantry.
Luke’s expression grew somber, his brow furrowing in a frown. “It’s hard, Adelaide. Betty and I both know where this disease is heading. There’s no cure. She’s determined to see both of the children graduate high school.”
Adelaide didn’t think he sounded too positive about that happening. “You have to keep hoping, keep believing. Betty is a fighter.” She reached across the table, patting his forearm.
Daniel walked into the kitchenette, hesitating just inside the door. “I thought I saw you out in the squad room, Mother.” He was carrying an empty mug, which he proceeded to fill with coffee.
“Before you ask me what I’m doing here, Daniel, I’ll tell you. I have some information you might find interesting, something I heard after Jerry’s funeral yesterday.” Adelaide got up, taking her mug to the small sink. She washed it thoroughly, then turned it upside down on a dishtowel to finish drying.
“Let’s go into my office,” Daniel said. “Luke, want to join us?”
Luke took his coffee and headed for the door. “Betty has a doctor’s appointment this morning. I need to take her. I put in for the time off.”
Daniel nodded. “Right. I remember now. Sorry. I’ll bring you up to speed later.”
Once they were settled behind Daniel’s closed door, Adelaide said, “Is there a reason you wanted another officer to sit in?” She looked over her shoulder into the squad room. All but a couple of the desks were vacant.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Not really. Besides, Ray and Judy are out. They’re the only three officers helping with this investigation right now.”
Adelaide eyed him acutely. “Why are they the only ones helping you?”
Daniel leaned forward, putting his arms on the desk. “Because they’re the only ones on this force I can trust. Someone here has been leaking information to the press.”
“Yes, I read the articles this morning in the Tribune.”
“Julie didn’t pull that inside information out of the air. Someone fed it to her. So, you have some information for me?”
“Before we get to that, I know you took the computers from the pastor’s study, the parsonage, the Hatfield’s home and office. Did you find anything incriminating on them?”
“You know I can’t discuss that with you.” Daniel shuffled some papers on his desk.
“What about cell phones? I’m sure you checked those out also. I mean, people can use cell phones like computers these days. I’m not really up on that sort of thing, but—”
Daniel held up his hand. “Stop, Mother. I’m not going to discuss this with you.”
“Okay, on to the reason for my visit. Something was bothering Jerry in the months before he died, and it wasn’t Susan’s affair with the preacher. I know this for a fact. He was worried that something was wrong at the church. He confided as much to Susan. He also mentioned it to Carl Henshaw and Harold Purcell. He said something about justice could be best served by allowing the person to make things right.” She watched him closely for a reaction. When his expression remained inscrutable, she continued. “I think it has something to do with church finances. Perhaps theft. Around Thanksgiving, he told Susan there was a situation at the church that he hoped to handle without involving the police.”
Daniel didn’t act surprised. “We already know that. The widow Hatfield told us all about it earlier this morning, with her attorney present, of course.”
Adelaide felt her pulse quicken. “So what are you doing about it?”
“Alex Shane worked his magic on those computers. There were lots of love notes between Susan Hatfield and Douglas Underwood starting in early October. He also found an encrypted file on Jerry’s computer. Further probing revealed it was a spreadsheet.”
“It could have been connected to his business,” Adelaide suggested.
Daniel shook his head. “No. We contacted Marsha Burns; she’s never seen it before. Plus it was only on his laptop, the one he kept in his study at home.”
“What did it reveal?”
“Like I said, it was encrypted. Alex Shane is working on it with some forensic accountants. I do need to tell you we got a warrant to examine the church’s financial records. Brenda’s running the reports right now. Evidently those records are kept on the computer hard drive in the church office.”
“So you do think there could be another motive for the murder besides the romance between Susan and Douglas.” She told him what Carl had noticed concerning the money from the bazaar. “It could be someone was stealing from the offering plates between the time the money was put in the safe on Sunday and the time Carl and Jerry came in to count it on Monday morning.”
“I asked Brenda who had the combination to the safe. She gave me three names.”
Adelaide felt her stomach tighten. “I know who they are.” Her elation turned to dread.
“Then you know that Douglas Underwood could still be the murderer, only now he has two motives.”
“But, think about it, Daniel. The amount couldn’t have been significant on a weekly basis, or it would have been very obvious. Do you really think Douglas would need to pilfer the church offering and bazaar proceeds for what had to amount to no more than petty cash?”
“That’s another reason why the DA is reluctant to authorize a quick arrest. He wants all the evidence in before we make that move. We’re looking at all the angles, believe me.”
Adelaide did believe him. But underneath it all she had to wonder if the police and the prosecutor were just trying to fit this latest revelation around the case they already had against Douglas. When she mentioned this, her son glared at her.
“We will go where the evidence leads us, Mother.”
Adelaide got up. “I’m going to do some investigating on my own, Daniel. I wondered for a short while, but now I don’t believe for a mom
ent that Douglas murdered Jerry. And I certainly don’t think he was stealing money from the church.”
“You might be right. But someone killed Jerry Hatfield and so far all roads seem to lead to the preacher,” he told her grimly.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Vernon called Adelaide at a little after four Thursday afternoon, inviting her to dinner at his place that evening. She almost declined again, then changed her mind. She needed a social evening with a dear friend.
On a whim, she dug a sapphire-blue dress out of the back of her closet. It was made of a medium-weight silky material with long sleeves and a rounded neckline. She seldom wore dresses, but tonight she felt like breaking with tradition. She chose to accessorize with a string of pearls and matching earrings. Remembering she had a pair of shoes that matched the dress, she rooted around in her closet until she found them.
After slipping on a pair of rubber boots over her shoes, Adelaide donned her full-length cashmere coat. Locking the front door behind her, she began her walk to Vernon’s home located on Buckeye Street, less than a block from her own. The night was clear, the air frigid. Above her, stars twinkled like scattered diamonds against the inky black sky. As she climbed the three steps onto his front porch and rang the bell, she glanced through the multi-pane front window at his blue spruce Christmas tree, its multi-colored lights blinking merrily.
Vernon opened the door and smiled. Tonight he wore a pair of navy blue slacks with a red sweater. As she stepped into the oval foyer, she could smell the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen. She took off her coat and hung it in the cedar closet next to the door. They never stood on formality when visiting each other’s homes. They’d been friends too long for that.
Vernon’s two-story white frame house was built shortly after the end of World War II. Adelaide had always thought it was oddly designed, with one bedroom downstairs, the other one taking up half the attic space upstairs. The only bathroom was on the first floor across from the bedroom in a short hallway that ended at a floor-to-ceiling, arch-shaped window.