by Glen Ebisch
“Fair enough. I’ll have to make it up to Roger.”
“Taking off your mask and giving him a big smooch might help.”
“And risk getting the virus?”
“Faint heart never won fair sergeant.”
Clarissa grinned under her mask. “I’ll think about it.”
Clarissa went into her office and spent the next hour finalizing the draft of the newsletter. When she was done, she took it out to Ashley. They were in the middle of going over it when the phone rang and Ashley answered.
“She says it’s Karla’s sister Cheryl,” Ashley told her, covering the mouthpiece.
“I’ll take it in my office.”
“Hi, Cheryl,” Clarissa said a second later, picking up the phone.
“Hi. Uh, I hope you don’t mind my calling you at work. I got Brenda to give me your number. I didn’t know you worked at a church.”
“I’m a minister.”
“I see.”
There was some talking in the background, and Clarissa guessed that Cheryl was sharing the news with her sister Rhonda. She could hear Rhonda say, “Just hang up. She won’t help us.” Cheryl must have argued the other side because when she came back on the phone she said, “My sister and I were wondering if you could help us.”
“In what way?”
“Well, last night Rhonda and I went out to a number of bars showing a picture of Karla to anyone who would look, and we found a bartender at The Rim Shot who saw her there with George. They were sitting at a table talking, then, according to the bartender they seemed to start arguing. He said Karla walked out, and a few minutes later George followed her. Don’t you think that sounds suspicious?”
“Possibly.”
“Rhonda thinks that George followed her back to where she was staying and killed her.”
“What time was it when this argument took place?”
“Around nine o’clock.”
“The police think Karla died around midnight, so there was plenty of time for her to meet someone else after leaving George.”
She heard Cheryl talking to Rhonda, then Cheryl came back on the line.
“Rhonda still thinks it was George,” she reported.
“Have you told the police that you have a lead?”
Cheryl hesitated. “We didn’t think they’d be happy to know that we’ve been conducting our own investigation.”
“Maybe not, but they might get more information from the bartender than you can. He may have seen more than he wanted to tell you. Plus George’s picture was in the local paper this morning, so they might get more information from others during the day. ”
“Rhonda’s pretty angry at the police. She doesn’t think they’re doing enough. She says we should solve this on our own. We’ve already got a list of restaurants and bars to check out tonight. Brenda told us that you’ve helped the police solve a couple of crimes recently, so we were wondering if you’d come along. Having someone local could be a big help.”
Clarissa paused to think. “All right, I’ll join you. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out where your sister went after she left The Rim Shot.”
“Thanks, Clarissa. I’ll let Rhonda know. She’ll be pleased.”
Somehow Clarissa doubted that.
“Where shall we meet?” Cheryl asked.
“How about at Brenda’s real estate office around nine? We all know where that is. They have a large parking lot. We can leave a car there and just take one. That will be more convenient.”
“Sounds fine. See you tonight,” Cheryl said cheerfully, as if they’d just arranged a celebratory party.
Clarissa wandered into the outer office and told Ashley about her conversation with Cheryl.
“Are you sure getting more involved with those two is a good idea? They sound like a couple of loose canons.”
“They are a bit, but I can appreciate why they feel the way they do.”
“Sergeant Rudinski won’t be happy when he finds out that you’re conducting your own investigation.”
“I suppose not,” Clarissa said vaguely.
Ashley gave her a shrewd glance. “You aren’t going to tell him are you?”
“Only if we discover something. Then, of course, I’d have to let him know.”
Ashley shook her head.
“What’s the matter? I’m not lying to him.”
“You’re concealing your activities. That’s a really subtle distinction.”
Clarissa sighed. “I know. But if I tell Rudinski, he’ll feel he has to tell Lieutenant Baker, and Baker will put pressure on the sisters to leave town. One thing Baker doesn’t like is having civilians interfering in a police investigation.”
“Except when it’s you.”
“He’s barely tolerated me in the past, if you remember. He certainly wouldn’t like the three amigas wandering around town interrogating hostesses and bartenders.”
“I see your point, but remember this could get you in a lot of trouble with Rudinski. Your relationship could be at stake,” said Ashley. “And you haven’t had a great track record with those lately.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m trying to walk a narrow line here between helping the sisters and offending the police.”
“Good luck with that,” Ashley said, shaking her head.
Chapter 13
Clarissa spent the rest of the morning doing home visits. Many people who would normally be in nursing homes or even hospitals now were confined at home because of the pandemic, so she had to visit them there. In some ways this was better because people were more relaxed outside of an institutional setting and more willing to talk about what was on their minds. The drawback was that they talked longer, so Clarissa found herself returning from her last visit well after noon.
As she strolled along, she noticed a couple sitting on a bench with their backs to her. She immediately knew by the black dress that the woman was Ashley, and she was talking with a man. Unable to see the man’s face, she was unable to tell anything about him. But the two of them were clearly engaged in an intense conversation. Respecting their privacy, Clarissa walked past without stopping. She wondered if Ashley had been meeting this man repeatedly, and if that accounted for her leaving the office for lunch so frequently in the last week or so. Clearly, Ashley wasn’t ready to tell her about him, so she’d just have to be patient and wait to find out.
“Well, I was wondering what happened to you,” Mrs. Morgan said as Clarissa entered the kitchen.
“Morning visitation. You know how that goes. It takes as long as it takes.”
“Some of these old souls have no one else to talk to, so when the minister comes around, they talk her ear off.”
“That’s part of the job.”
“Your predecessor didn’t think so. The only time he visited members of the congregation was when he was trying to get donations for some project he’d taken an interest in.”
Clarissa said nothing. She knew that was true, but she didn’t want to encourage negative comments about another minister.
“I bought some nice ham for your lunch today,” Mrs. Morgan announced, putting a plate with an overstuffed sandwich and some chips and a pickle in front of Clarissa.
“Well, that looks quite . . . substantial.”
“After listened to all those folks, you have to restore your energy.”
“This will certainly do it,” Clarissa said, picking up a half, knowing that would be all she could eat.
“When’s this month’s newsletter coming out? Several people have already been asking me about it.”
“It isn’t the first of the month yet. It’ll be out in the mail by the beginning of next week.”
“You know how people are. When they get anxious to see something, they forget about the date. They want all the latest news. Of course, they also like to read your reflections.”
Clarissa always included a short essay in the newsletter on some current topic of interest. Staying in touch with the congregation was a good w
ay of keeping them involved in the church and active in their support.
When she finished lunch–––all too soon from Mrs. Morgan’s point of view–––Clarissa headed back to the office. Ashley was behind her desk seeming pretty much the same as usual. Clarissa reconciled herself to waiting for the time when Ashley would reveal her secret friend. The phone rang just as she entered her office, and she picked it up immediately.
“Hi, this is Jonathan Porter.”
“Hello, Jonathan,” she replied. She internally scolded herself for feeling excited at hearing from him.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been in contact with Rebecca’s parents, and I’ve arranged for them to meet with Rebecca tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. I’m planning to be present, and from what Rebecca told me, I gather that you’re willing to participate.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“I think it’s be a good idea to have an impartial, outside representative present for the meeting, so I’m pleased that you’re willing to do it. Plus, Rebecca seems to have taken a liking to you, and would really like to have you there. She’s very nervous about this meeting. Her father in particular has a tendency to fly off the handle, and she’s hoping he’ll be less willing to do so if a legitimate minister is present,” Jonathan said with a soft chuckle.
“All the more reason for me to be there then.”
“Good. I’ll see you at three. If the meeting doesn’t take too long, maybe we’ll have a chance to chat afterwards.”
“That would be nice,” Clarissa said, feeling her pulse quicken.
I really should control myself, she thought, this is turning into an unhealthy obsession. But controlling my actions is a lot easier than controlling my thoughts.
*****
That evening Clarissa pulled into the parking lot of Triple M Realtors. A large SUV was already parked there. Rhonda opened the driver’s door, took one look at Clarissa’s tired sedan, and suggested that they use her car. The three women sat in the car with the interior light on, perusing the list of the bars and restaurants that the sisters had developed. Clarissa eliminated several that she knew were already closed for the season, and suggested a rank order starting with those that would most likely appeal to single people. Cheryl and Rhonda agreed, and they set off for their first stop at a bar called Rikki’s.
They had no luck there or at the next three places they tried. It probably didn’t help that Rhonda slammed the pictures of George and Karla down on the bar and glared at the bartenders as if to accuse them of serving underage patrons. All of Clarissa and Cheryl’s smiles did little to change the confrontational atmosphere. The bartenders would glance at the photos dutifully and shake their heads, leaving it unclear whether they really hadn’t seen either of the people or just didn’t want trouble. Clarissa was left hoping that the police would have more luck in the search for the elusive George.
All of that changed when they arrived at The Railroad Spike, a noisy bar popular with people of all ages who didn’t care whether they heard each other or not. There were enough people in there without masks and huddling close together that Clarissa thought she could see the Covid virus floating through the air. She made a mental note to have Sergeant Rudinski keep an eye on the place for its failure to comply with state regulations.
Rhonda had the pictures out of her pocket and was striding toward the bar when Clarissa stopped her. She snatched the pictures out of her hand, saying, “Let me give it a try.”
The bartender, a tall, slender guy in his twenties, glanced up when Clarissa approached the bar. She gave her most dazzling smile, hoping some of it was visible under the mask.
“What’ll it be?” he asked.
“Hi, my name is Clarissa. What I’d really like is a little information,” Clarissa said. “I’d appreciate if you could take a look at these pictures. We got separated from our friends along the way. They said they were going to come here, and we were wondering if they’ve been and gone.”
The bartender gave Clarissa a suspicious look, and she tried to increase the wattage of her smile.
“I haven’t seen the woman,” he said, after looking at the photos for a moment. “But the guy you want is right over there.”
Clarissa following the direction he nodded. She saw George sitting at a table by the door with a woman. Before she could do more than pick the pictures up from the bar and try to warn the sisters to be discreet, Rhonda had spotted him as well and marched in the direction of the table. When she was still fifteen feet away, she shouted out “George!” loudly enough to make some people spill their drinks.
Without a second’s hesitation and with admirable speed, George bolted from his chair and ran toward the door with Rhonda hot on his heels. When Clarissa got outside, she could see George running down the street with Rhonda quickly gaining on him. Clarissa had flats on, so she began to run as well. Rhonda was very fast, and she was soon only a couple of feet behind George. She lunged forward and tackled him around the waist. As they went down George twisted to the side, and Clarissa heard Rhonda’s head hit the sidewalk. George was up in a second and continued running, although by now he was staggering a little and holding his side. Clarissa paused a second when she got to Rhonda.
“Are you okay?”
“Get him,” Rhonda said, her lips pressed tight with pain.
Clarissa began to run harder. She was soon gaining on George, who was clearly winded and on the verge of collapse. Just as she was wondering how to stop George, who was quite large, without suffering the same fate as Rhonda, he veered off the street and headed for a car. Soon he had keys out of his pocket and was opening the door. With a burst of speed, Clarissa caught up with him and shoved him against the side of the car. With his last bit of energy George pushed her away, and she fell to the ground.
“You’re not going to get away with murdering Karla!” Clarissa shouted.
George pulled the car door open. “I didn’t do anything to Karla. I loved her,” he said, jumping in the car. Clarissa tried to open the door but it was locked, so she had to give up and watch him drive away.
With a sore butt, Clarissa slowly walked back to where Cheryl was standing with Rhonda.
“You let him get away,” Rhonda said, her eyes filled with tears of anger.
“Do you have a pen and paper?” Clarissa asked Cheryl.
Cheryl dug in her bag and handed Clarissa the items. Clarissa wrote down a number.
“I got his license plate.”
“What do we do now?” Cheryl asked.
“We call the police,” Clarissa replied, not looking forward to confronting Baker and Rudinski but knowing it had to be done.
Chapter 14
The next morning Clarissa was sitting in an interview room at the Shore Side police station. The officers who’d responded to the call last night had taken down their statements and let them go, but the first thing this morning, Clarissa had gotten a call from Rudinski. He sounded his most official, and told her in no uncertain terms that Lieutenant Baker wanted her to come down to the station to make a more detailed statement this morning. Cheryl and Rhonda were sitting in the waiting room of the station when she arrived, not looking particularly happy. Clarissa hadn’t had a chance to do more than exchange a few words with them when an officer called them inside and put Clarissa in a separate interview room from the sisters. She’d been sitting there for half an hour wondering if this was a form of punishment or whether Baker wanted to get the sisters’ version of the facts first.
Finally, Baker and Rudinski entered the room and sat on the opposite side of the table from her.
“Now, Pastor Abbot,” Baker began. “I’d like to hear what happened last night at The Railroad Spike.”
Clarissa gave her version of events, trying to provide as much detail as possible. The Lieutenant had a folder in front of him and glanced at it occasionally as she went along. Clarissa wasn’t sure whether he was comparing her narrative with that of the sisters or to the stat
ement she’d given to the officer last night. When she was done, she folded her hands on the table and sat there silently.
“Is that your complete version of the events?”
“Yes,” Clarissa said, suddenly wondering if she’d left anything important out.
Baker stared hard at her. “I want you to know, Pastor, that I’m very unhappy with your role in this bit of amateur detecting. If you’d left the police to do their job, we would very likely have George Evanston sitting in a cell right now.”
“I doubt it,” Clarissa replied. “You forget that it was the sisters who found the bartender who’d seen Karla and George together that night. So you wouldn’t have known he was even in town if not for them. And it was the sisters and myself who found him last night, and I got you his license plate number. Perhaps it was inappropriate for me to engage in amateur detecting, as you call it, but if I hadn’t gone along, the sisters would have done it without me and they might not have called you last night. So you should be thanking me for keeping an eye on them.”
She looked at the two men, cursing the presence of the masks. It prevented her from reading their expression and knowing what they were thinking. She hoped that at least Rudinski had a small smile playing along his lips. Everyone sat there for a minute not speaking.
“Evanston is probably long gone by now, so having his license plate is no help to us. We’ve notified the police in Montclair to pick him up as soon as he gets home and arrange for him to be transported back down here for questioning. That should solve the case.”
“Why do you think that?” Clarissa asked.
Baker held up his hand and began counting on his fingers. “He’s involved in a contentious divorce with the victim; he’s been stalking and harassing her; he followed her down to Shore Side; and finally, he had an argument with her the night of the murder and was seen following her out of the bar. I have a feeling that once we search his car and home we’ll find even more conclusive evidence, like maybe a murder weapon or her missing phone and possibly laptop.”
“But he told me that he didn’t hurt Karla,” Clarissa objected.