“Really? I didn’t know he was handy at that sort of thing. But he’s so much like his uncle in other ways that I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“He helped a friend lay tile before, so he’s going to handle the new tile flooring in the kitchen and laundry room by himself. He’s also going to paint several of the rooms and build on a new back porch. I think the only other projects he has in mind are refinishing some of the hardwood floors and updating the appliances. He’s already ordered all new furniture from the Nebraska Furniture Mart over by the Legends shopping area in Kansas City, Kansas.”
“I can’t wait to see the old farmhouse when it’s all completed,” I said, sincerely. We had looked at the place with him last fall and found it to have a lot of character and even more potential. “Did he have a new master bath built on like he said he was going to? I know he wasn’t wild about having only an old claw-footed tub, and no shower.”
“Yes, the new bathroom has a tiled shower, a whirlpool tub, and Jack and Jill lavatories. He left the antique tub in there for nostalgic reasons. They also added a large walk-in closet. He’s particularly proud of the new toilet. He was told you could flush sixteen golf balls down it all at one time,” Wendy said with a laugh. “So if you ever have sixteen golf balls you’re anxious to get rid of, just let Andy know. I’m sure he’d love to put the new toilet to the test.”
I laughed along with Wendy. I was delighted to see her in such a cheery mood. She was always more upbeat when she was with Andy. I knew she’d be heartbroken if her relationship with Andy didn’t result in a more permanent partnership. I would be too. I loved both of them and would like nothing better than to see them marry and produce some grandchildren for me to spoil. For now, though, I listened as my daughter chattered on.
“Anything new on the murder case?” I finally asked when she was through elaborating on Andy’s move to the ranch. I didn’t expect much out of Wendy. Once the C.O.D. was determined, the county coroner’s office was pretty much out of the investigation.
“Not much that I know about. One of Pastor Steiner’s daughters, Paula Bankston, stopped by the office here today to pick up a copy of the autopsy report. She told us it was urgent. She said she needed a couple of copies of the death certificate too, but I informed Paula she’d have to get those through the funeral director. I also got the information on her dad’s services from her.”
“Why would his daughter need a copy of the autopsy report so urgently? I can understand needing copies of the death certificate.”
“I don’t know,” Wendy said. “Probably just wanted it for her own curiosity. It’s not that uncommon for members of a deceased one’s family to ask for a copy, particularly when a homicide is involved. We get that request fairly often. The family often wants to know every single detail involving the death of their loved one. They may even need a copy for legal reasons, because they’re usually extremely keen on seeing the killer brought to justice, or sometimes just to prove to an insurance company that the death wasn’t a suicide.”
“Oh, of course. Well, I can understand why they’d be interested, especially in these circumstances. And there’s sure to be some legal ramifications when all is said and done. So when’s the funeral?”
“The visitation is Monday night, six to eight, and the funeral is to be held Tuesday morning at ten. The services will obviously be held at the Rockdale Baptist Church. Paula told me they’d found a temporary replacement for her father named Robert Zimmerman, but everyone supposedly calls him Reverend Bob,” Wendy said. “He’ll be the interim pastor until a full-time one can be hired.”
“And he’ll preside over the funeral services?”
“Yes, and at church services tomorrow. He’s from Topeka, so it’s quite a drive for him, and he doesn’t want to move here and take the job permanently. He actually took Pastor Steiner’s job when Steiner left his church in Topeka to come minister at the Rockdale Baptist Church. So he knew Steiner personally. That Topeka church has a recently retired back-up pastor, and he’ll fill in for Reverend Bob while Bob presides over the services at your church.”
“So Reverend Bob will step in to fill Steiner’s shoes?”
“Yes, but only for the time being. Like I said, he’ll be there on Sundays until they find a permanent pastor for the church, so eventually he’ll go back to his church to relieve the retired minister. Pastor Bob lives just a couple of blocks from Teddy, Steiner’s oldest son, the one Wyatt told me had a drug problem. Teddy still lives in Topeka, where all Steiner’s kids grew up, but he’s in Rockdale right now being questioned by the police. It’s a small world, huh?”
“Yes, it really is,” I said. “I’m amazed all the time by how everyone seems to be connected in one way or another. I believe if you talk to anyone long enough you’ll discover there’s some person you both know in common. I ran into a fellow in a small café in Albuquerque, New Mexico, when I was there for the annual balloon fiesta a few years ago. We were discussing the specials that day at the café and I happened to mention my favorite taco sauce was Spanish Gardens. Turned out the fellow’s grandfather owned the Spanish Gardens Company here in Kansas City. How’s that for a small world?”
“You discuss your taco sauce preference with total strangers?” Wendy asked, amused with my story.
“Safer than discussing religion or politics, don’t you think?”
Wendy chuckled. “Anything’s safer than those two subjects.”
“Say, honey, why don’t you stop by for dinner about six? Wyatt and our three guests will be at supper too. We’re having turkey and dressing, like I told you earlier.”
“And mashed potatoes and gravy?” She asked.
Mashed potatoes had always been my daughter’s favorite food. She was thin by nature, but still too skinny for my taste. She’d picked up a few pounds in the last year, but not quite enough. Her face had a tendency to look haggard and drawn when she was tired. I tried to force food down her every chance I got. “If you come, I promise I’ll make potatoes and gravy. I’ll even make one of those green bean casseroles you like so much.”
“How can I refuse an offer like that? I’ll see you guys at six.”
* * *
“Please call me Reverend Bob,” the minister said, as he shook my hand at the entrance to the sanctuary Sunday morning after Stone had introduced us. “Reverend Zimmerman just doesn’t suit me as far as I am concerned. You have my condolences on the loss of your former minister. It’s a terrible tragedy and a great loss for both Rockdale, and the entire theological community. Pastor Steiner was highly regarded by all the other clergymen in the area. I held him in great regard myself.”
“Yes, we still can’t believe the murder happened,” Stone said as he shook hands with Reverend Bob. “We can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm Pastor Steiner in any way.”
“I can’t either. He was a gentleman of the highest caliber. Despite the reason I’m here, it’s nice to meet you, Stone and Lexie.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too. Thanks for filling in on such short notice. I’m sure the congregation will all still be in shock at the services this morning. I know I sure am,” Stone said.
“As I am,” I added. “We can’t tell you how thankful we are that you’d fill in for him the way you have. I assume you’ll be taking care of all of his responsibilities and scheduled appointments until the replacement minister is hired.”
Reverend Bob nodded absentmindedly, as he was turning his attention to the next couple in line. I was trying to be as polite and friendly as I could to him, hoping I could talk Reverend Bob into marrying Stone and me in a few days time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell by his response if he felt obliged to fulfill all of the duties Pastor Steiner had lined up on his calendar, including that of officiating at weddings, of course.
We stepped forward to keep the line moving and selected one of the middle-of-the-room pews to take a seat in. I ended up next to the outside aisle, which I preferred in case I needed to go use the restroom in th
e middle of a sermon. I probably would need to go at least once to adjust my over-sized panty hose, which were dealing me fits.
I couldn’t help but admire how handsome Stone looked in his charcoal gray suit. The color complemented his light blue eyes and silver hair perfectly. We’d dressed more formally than usual because of the circumstances. I’d even donned one of only a handful of dresses I owned. I’d probably owned the dress for twenty-five years, but it still fit, and it was such a plain and simple design, it would probably never go out of fashion. My wardrobe didn’t exactly scream “fashion” to begin with. I wasn’t going to get too concerned about the way I dressed until blue jeans and t-shirts went out of style.
The panty hose I was wearing were probably five years old, and I practically needed an owner’s manual, and a refresher course, to figure out how to get them on. I was already uncomfortable and hoping—no praying—for a short sermon.
While Reverend Bob continued to welcome members of the congregation, I glanced around and waved at a number of people I recognized. Just as the line at the entrance was thinning, Wendy showed up. I hadn’t expected her, but I wasn’t altogether surprised she’d decided to attend our church on this special morning, the first service without our beloved Pastor Steiner. She’d been to Rockdale Baptist with us several times in the past year. Like all the others filing into the church, Wendy conversed with Reverend Bob for a short while before joining us.
Wendy sat down on the other side of Stone, and she and I whispered back and forth for a minute or two. She pointed out Thurman’s youngest daughter, Paula Bankston, who sat in the front row on the opposite side of the room. Paula sat with another lady and two men, who I thought were probably all children of the late pastor. They all bore a resemblance to each other, and to the pastor, with their light-reddish hair, slim frames, and fair skin.
Reverend Bob Zimmerman began his sermon by honoring Pastor Steiner with a eulogy and the lighting of several candles. I fidgeted in my seat, tugging on the panty hose that kept creeping down into my out-of-style black heels. I’m sure the heels were in the height of fashion, back in the 1980s, when I still cared what everyone else thought about my appearance. But back then I must have not been too concerned about comfort, because the heels were causing my feet to hurt like crazy. My arches were cramping and my toes were beginning to go numb. I slid the shoes off and pushed them under the pew in front of me.
During the eulogy, I noticed Paula Bankston stand up and step behind the curtains that surrounded the elevated stage and pulpit. I was certain she was overtaken by grief and wanted privacy to compose herself. It was undoubtedly in very poor taste, but I wondered if this wouldn’t be a good opportunity to get a word with her. I could express my sympathy, comfort her in her sorrow, and maybe even find out some tidbit of interesting information. It wasn’t likely but, if there was a thread of possibility, I was willing to chance it.
I slipped my heels back on and excused myself, whispering to Stone and Wendy that I needed to use the restroom and adjust my panty hose. Fortunately Wendy didn’t offer to accompany me as she frequently did. The restroom was located to the left of the stage, right behind the first panel of velvety curtain. I walked quietly up the outside aisle and ducked behind the curtain. Instead of going through the door to the restroom, I continued on around the back of the stage where I found Paula standing alone. She turned to face me as she heard me approach, but made no effort to acknowledge my presence. I could have been a stain on the curtain I was standing next to for all the attention she gave me.
I’d expected to find a sobbing, distraught woman, but instead Paula seemed to be in deep thought as she held a cell phone up to her right ear. She listened intently for a few seconds and then I heard her say her brother, Teddy, was up from Topeka and staying at the Sands Motel. She said she was surprised he’d even bothered to show up for church.
“That’s what I’m thinking too,” Paula spoke into the phone. Then she closed the phone and shoved it back into her purse just as I extended my hand toward her. I withdrew it once I realized she had no intention of shaking it.
“Hi, I’m Lexie Starr. Are you one of Pastor Steiner’s children?” I asked, as if I’d just come across her accidentally behind the curtains and was making pleasant conversation.
Paula nodded, and then reluctantly introduced herself. She didn’t appear to need comforting so I just offered my condolences and told her how fond my fiancé and I had been of her father. I informed her the pastor had been about to unite us in marriage the following weekend. “Now, of course, our wedding plans are up in the air.”
“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding,” Paula said. She sounded polite, but hardly interested. “I’m naturally very sorry this had to happen and upset your plans.”
“I’m not concerned at all about having our plans altered,” I said. Liar, liar, pants on fire. “The tragic loss of your father is all that concerns me.”
“Thank you.” She started to turn away from me, so I continued speaking.
“I think you might have met my daughter, Wendy, at the county coroner’s office yesterday. She’s the medical examiner’s assistant.”
“Wendy? Yes, I did meet her in passing,” Paula said, still seemingly distracted by the phone conversation she’d just participated in. It was obvious she wasn’t anxious to discuss my daughter with me. “She seemed like a nice young lady.”
“Well, I think so. Wendy said you’d stopped there to pick something up. Let’s see, what was it?” I was hoping to get some kind of response out of her, perhaps why she was interested in obtaining a copy of the autopsy report. Wendy had told me she hadn’t simply wanted the information the report bore, but insisted on a paper copy of it. Paula remained silent, staring at me now as if she was wishing I’d dissolve and melt down into my black heels, like my panty hose seemed to be doing. Why had I bought panty hose that were three sizes too big? Had I been planning, at the time, to pack on thirty or forty pounds?
“Oh, yes, now I remember,” I said, as if it had just come to me. “She said it was a copy of the autopsy report you were requesting.”
Again Paula remained silent. I had to wonder why she didn’t want to talk about it. Wendy had assured me it was not an uncommon practice for a family member of the deceased to request a copy of an autopsy report. Did she have something to hide? Was she afraid of what the autopsy report might show? Was she a person of interest in the case as far as the detectives were concerned? I was beginning to put her high on my own list of suspects.
“Yes, well, I’ve got to get back to my seat,” Paula finally said. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Starr. We’re having a luncheon at my house, following the funeral service Tuesday morning if you’d like to join us. Nothing fancy, just some catered barbecue and side dishes.”
I was taken aback by the offer. I would have assumed she’d only invite family members and close friends. I also hadn’t realized she lived in Rockdale. She was turning to leave so I thanked her for the offer and told her we’d most likely attend, and wished her well. Then I headed back the opposite direction, toward the restroom door. I really did have to pee and adjust my hose, and I wanted to get back to my seat before Stone and Wendy got concerned about why I was taking so long. I could ask someone for directions to her house at the funeral. Nothing short of severe chest pains would prevent me from being at that luncheon. Minor or moderate chest pains could be overlooked for at least as long as the luncheon lasted.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Paula had an alibi for the time of her father’s murder. From watching a lot of C.S.I. Miami and N.C.I.S. shows, I knew the spouse was usually the prime suspect, unless they had a rock-solid alibi that could be verified. Steiner’s wife had predeceased him. But other family members, such as the victim’s children, were also often suspects until the detectives could put the smoking gun into someone else’s hand. I didn’t think it would hurt speaking with as many of Thurman’s children as possible.
But for now I had to rush back to
my seat. It was dark behind the red velvet curtains, my feet were throbbing in the too-tight heels, and I didn’t see the cord snaking back from the microphone at the pulpit where Reverend Bob was speaking. Just as I reached the cord my bunching panty hose slid further down toward my knees, causing the crotch to end up about mid-thigh. This caused me to pitch forward slightly and catch the toe of my left heel under the power cord.
I swear I saw my life pass before my eyes as I began to fall in what seemed like slow motion at the time. I was grasping blindly for the curtain to grab and catch myself, when I heard a ripping sound as the fabric tore and I lurched forward, falling through the torn curtains on to the chancel. I felt something twist in my left wrist as it tightly clutched a strip of shredded velvet.
I then heard a collective gasp from the congregation, and a shriek from the stage. I’m sure Reverend Bob felt as if he was being ambushed, and the same fate would befall him as had befallen the former minister. He probably thought there was a serial killer on the loose, who was targeting Baptist ministers. Unfortunately, the group gasp and the reverend’s shriek were the last sounds I heard for several long seconds. As my foot had become tangled up in the power cord, the cord had pulled away from the electrical socket in the back wall of the stage. There was no power to the pulpit. The congregation now sat in mortified silence, still gun shy from the murder of their former pastor.
As soon as Reverend Bob was convinced I wasn’t trying to attack him from behind, he rushed over to check on my welfare. I knew my wrist was injured, but I didn’t want the embarrassment of an ambulance coming to collect me at the church. I told him I was fine, and apologized for disrupting his sermon. I couldn’t have been more humiliated. Stone and I seriously needed to consider attending the new church in town from this point on. I didn’t know if I could face anyone in the Rockdale Baptist Church again, especially Reverend Bob, who probably thought I was the village idiot. I’m sure he would love nothing better than to officiate my wedding in a few days. I decided this was not a good time to ask him.
Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 04 - With This Ring Page 8