Praying for Peace

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “What exactly does my face look like?”

  “Like this.” She pushed her mouth up toward her nose.

  I grimaced. “Oh, that’s icky.”

  “That’s why I’m asking.”

  “It’s going to be public soon enough, so I’m sure I can say something.”

  “About you finding old Acel Grimes at the church?”

  My eyes widened. “Delphina Beauregard, are you psychic? How did you know? It just happened a few hours ago.” I smiled, realizing how fast word got out in small towns.

  She smirked. “I’m all knowing.” She pulled out the chair across from me and popped a squat. “Word gets around fast in this town sugar, you know that.”

  “It sure does.” I pulled out an article on the original fire again and scanned it while we chatted.

  “Poor Acel. He never could catch a break. You ask me, I bet they’re going to throw the book at old William Chamblee. The two of them were suspects in the fire, and the town was torn apart over who was guilty.”

  I looked up at her. “Who do you think started the fire?”

  She shrugged. “I never did much worry about the culprit as much as I did about the pastor’s family. His wife was never the same after that.”

  “What do you mean?” I sipped my drink, thankful to give my eyes a reprieve from the bright glare of my laptop once again.

  She wiggled her finger in circles at the side of her head. “You know, two screws loose, a can short of a six pack, that kind of thing. Ever since Pastor Alabaster died, she seems to go in and out of reality.” She shook her head. “Sad. She was a good woman. Cared a lot about the community back in the day, but she never was well physically before the fire, and after, well, like I said, screws loose and all that.”

  “That’s awful. I didn’t know.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal at first, kind of, what’s the word, subtle? Now though, you won’t see her out and about in town much at all unless she’s with her son. He doesn’t like her going on her own. Worried something will happen to her.”

  “I understand.” I read through the last article I had on the fire. “It says here both suspects were eventually removed from the suspect list. Doesn’t look like there was any evidence to either of them being responsible.”

  “Candle’s what started it, and it could have fallen, but back then, people talked, and that talk led the police to decide it wasn’t an accident. Thing is, the pastor had words with several people that day, and proving one over the other just never worked. Everyone was there on or around the time of the fire, and the police just couldn’t figure it out.”

  I rested my arms on the table. “Probably because it was an accident.”

  She shrugged. “Ask around. People will tell you different.”

  That wasn’t a bad idea. “Do you think someone that thought Acel started the fire intentionally could have killed him?”

  “Who am I to say? But I can tell you this, if you’re looking to find out, which from that curious expression you’ve got, it seems you are, I’d start with that William Chamblee. Nip that right in the bud. That’s what I’d do.”

  “Hey, where’s Thelma?”

  “Said she’s not feeling good today. Decided to stay home at least for the morning and get some extra rest.”

  “Oh, I hope she’s okay,” I said as I packed my things to head to the museum.

  I’d decided the church restoration plan project should have something included to honor Jeremiah Alabaster, but to have that, I’d need to have another discussion with his son, Newton, and Alice Mae. I had yet to go through the boxes of photos from him but as soon as I had an opportunity, I would. I figured I’d find some photos in the one from before the fire that could be framed in the display case for the church and maybe even used in a display at the museum.

  I left Community Café, and as I walked to my car across the street, the mayor stopped me. “Chantilly, glad to run into you like this. Poor Acel.” He shook his head. “Such a shame.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He patted his oversized belly. “I’ve been thinking, maybe a restoration isn’t the way to go. That church, God bless it, has a curse, don’t you think?”

  I tipped my head. “A curse?”

  “Yes, you know, like someone put a hex on it or something. Bad things happen there, Chantilly, and I don’t think we should restore it. I think we should tear it down and start over.”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  “’Course I’m serious.” He waved a hand in front of his chest. “I don’t think…I don’t think I can support your restoration. I’m going to suggest to City Council we tear it down and work with Pastor Alabaster to build a new one. The funds will be better spent that way. We can modernize it, give it a new look, start fresh, that kind of thing.”

  I stared at the beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, his words hitting me like pellets from Austin’s air soft gun. Bam. Bam. Bam. Right into my heart. “Mayor Tyson, I don’t think that’s a good idea. That church is an icon in our community. It’s been here for one hundred years. It’s suffered enough. You can’t just tear it down and start over. That’s not what we do here in Castleberry.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s the best solution. Don’t want nothing else happening there now, do we?”

  “No, of course not, but please, can you just think about it for a while? Just a few days? Maybe something will happen to change your mind.” Like me putting together a fantastic restoration plan and Jack and the rest of the police solving the murder.

  He watched as three cars rolled past, each of the drivers waving as they did. “Well, I guess I might could hold off from talking to council.” He looked me in the eyes. “But only for a few days, you hear? You come to me with something good, and we’ll revisit it, but you’ve only got a few days.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll put together something you’ll love, I promise. And I know the church isn’t cursed. I just know it.”

  “I’m not sure you’re right about that, Chantilly, but a few days. That’s what I’m giving you.”

  I offered my condolences once again to Pastor Alabaster. “I just wish things hadn’t turned out this way.”

  “Yes, well, we can’t control what we can’t control.” He sat behind his desk. “So, you’d like to honor my father in the restoration process. I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Yes,” I pulled out the files I’d brought again. “But first, I’d like to talk to you about what the mayor said.”

  He didn’t budge, didn’t smile, nothing. Just sat there, staring at me, so I continued.

  “He’s concerned the church is cursed. He’s not sure going forward with the restoration is the way to go. After Acel’s murder, he thinks it might be best to tear down the building and start over.”

  He blinked. “He what? No. He can’t think we’d even consider that.”

  “I’m not sure he even has the authority to do it. I’ve asked for some time to show him a plan he’ll love, and I’m hoping I can figure out a way to convince him to restore the church, not tear it down.”

  “And you think you can do that?” The expression on his face eased a bit when I nodded.

  “I hope so, but I’ll need to meet with as many people who know about the history of the building as I can.” I gazed around the small office. “I really want to get a feel for this place.” And see if I can figure out what happened, hopefully that would put the mayor’s mind at ease.

  “Yes, yes. I think that’s a wonderful idea. Where would you like to start?”

  “With you.”

  He straightened in his seat. “I grew up in this church. I could talk for days about the building.”

  “I’d like to talk about what happened the day of the fire first.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What does that have to do with the restoration?”

  “Getting details about what really happened may help the mayor realize there is no curse, and he may decide to not pus
h to have the building destroyed.”

  “Yes, well, I was a young boy when it happened. I don’t remember much. Most of what I know I’ve learned over the years through conversations with others, news articles, and of course Alice Mae and my mother.”

  “And yes, I’d love to talk to both of them, too.”

  “My mother isn’t well. She’s struggled with—” He paused. “With emotional issues for most of her life. She doesn’t always recall things based on real memories. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do, and I’ve been told she’s not well. I was just hoping maybe a short conversation. If you think that would be okay?”

  “I’ll see if she is up to it when we’re done here.”

  “Thank you.”

  He told me the story as he knew it, and it wasn’t at all what I expected.

  “There had been rumors about Acel being let go. My mother said the church funds were short, and several people were concerned it would go under. She said my father didn’t think it would be a problem, but he continued to get push back from members, one in particular being William Chamblee.”

  “He was one of the suspects.”

  “Yes. He’d worked on the finance advisory board for the church for years, and he pushed hard to fire Acel. My father didn’t want to.”

  “But Acel is still, or was still employed, so it didn’t happen.”

  “Because my father died, and it was shelved along with many other issues.” He glanced at the wall of bookshelves to his left. “My father stayed late the night of the fire. Mom said he was working on a sermon, and he and Acel argued. She’d come to bring him dinner, heard them arguing, waited until things calmed down, and when they finished, she gave him his meal. Thirty minutes later, he was dead.”

  “So, she thinks Acel set the fire?”

  He shrugged. “She’s never said that out loud. My mother wouldn’t say a bad thing about a serial killer. She doesn’t have the heart for it, but I know her. I know her well, and I believe she believes Acel got angry and either hit the candle by accident or—”

  “Knocked it over on purpose.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my. What do you think? You’ve worked with Acel for many years now. Do you think he could have done that?”

  “There is a theory that criminals return to the scene of the crime. Maybe Acel thought returning here every day would allow him forgiveness.”

  I didn’t know Acel Grimes all that well. Other than a conversation or two since I’d been back to Castleberry, I hadn’t talked to him since I left for college twenty plus years ago. I wasn’t one to suggest he could or couldn’t commit such a crime. Newton didn’t answer my question though, so I pressed him for an answer. “It’s possible. But do you think he could have done it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not my place to presume.” He leaned forward. “Ms. Adair, I’ve spent most of my life without my father. It is the way God intended, and though I may not know the true details of his passing, I do find comfort knowing he has forgiven whomever purposefully or accidentally started that fire, and I know that person will one day have to face judgment for that act.”

  “He may have already today.”

  “That could be.”

  He’d effectively skirted answering my question twice, so I tried another angle. “Was your father going to let Acel go that night?”

  “No one knows for sure, but according to my mother, no.”

  “What about William Chamblee? Do you think it’s possible he could have been the one to start the fire?”

  He sighed. “William and my father had many heated discussions, and according to my mother, unfortunately, some of them were in front of church members.”

  “About how the church money was handled?”

  He nodded. “My father, from what I understand, was not good at managing money. He’d chosen new Bibles for the pews—a cost well above budget, and that had a ripple effect on every other expense for a month. Mr. Chamblee made it clear the money was mismanaged and saw fit to discuss it with my father at every opportunity.”

  “Was one of those opportunities the night of the fire?”

  “Shortly before the argument with Acel, I’m told there was a confrontation in the chapel. No one else was there that night, other than my mother who brought them dinner. Oh, and Alice Mae of course, but she said she didn’t pay too much attention. Said they’d argued so many times before it went in one ear and out the other.”

  I did a quick timeline in my head. Jeremiah argues with William Chamblee, he then argues with Acel Grimes. Shortly after that, the fire starts and Jeremiah Alabaster dies. I understood why the town was at odds about who may have started the fire.

  I stood. “Thank you for talking with me. May I speak with Alice Mae again?”

  He smiled. “Of course. I think she’s in her office.”

  Alice Mae was in her office, and she was a hot mess. Used tissues were scattered across her desk, and when I knocked on the open door, she was in the process of blowing her red, swollen nose. It made a loud honking sound, and God help me, I had to force myself not to laugh. It was just the strangest honking sound and reminded me of the ducks Austin and I used to feed at the pond near our house in Birmingham. I said a quick thank you to my parents for raising me with proper manners.

  “Miss Alice Mae? I’m sorry to bother you, but Pastor Newton said I could stop by and talk with you for a bit. If you’re not up to it, I can come back another time.”

  She threw the tissue into the trash and gathered up the others. “Oh, honey, please. I could use some conversation. I’m a mess over here, crying my eyes out for that poor, dear Acel, not to mention my allergies have been acting up something fierce.” She stood at her small desk, walked over to me, then gave me a hug. “Thank you for coming by again. I was worried about you.”

  I sat in front of her desk as she moved back around it and took a seat again. “Oh, I’m okay, but I appreciate your concern.”

  “I hear you’re no stranger to discovering bodies now, but still it’s got to be stressful.”

  Jeremiah Alabaster appeared next to her. I made eye contact briefly, and then forced myself to keep my eyes focused on Alice Mae as he hung there, watching and listening.

  “Miss Alice Mae, I was hoping we could talk about what happened here all those years ago. Would you mind?”

  She blanched. “Well, of course, though I’m not sure why you’d want to hear about that? It was as horrible a day as today.”

  “Yes, I imagine it was, but I think it’s important. The mayor is concerned about the church and is reconsidering the restoration plan. I need to prepare this with all the knowledge I can.”

  “Oh, dear, that would be horrible, to leave the church this way after we’ve all been excited to see it restored to its previous state.”

  She was so distraught I didn’t have the heart to tell her what the mayor really wanted to do. “Yes, exactly. So, if you don’t mind, could you tell me about the time of the fire? What was going on, what you thought might have happened, that kind of thing?”

  “Let it be,” Pastor Alabaster said.

  I ignored him as Alice Mae spoke.

  “Yes, well, things had been a bit tense if you know what I mean. Money was tight, and Pastor Alabaster, God rest his soul, he just wasn’t all that good with managing it. He’d asked Mr. Chamblee to help, and that Mr. Chamblee, he’s a character all right. He brought down the sword swift and fast. Kept us in line. Why, I had to use the backside of old memos to type out new ones. You wouldn’t believe what a mess that was. Pastor Alabaster thought it was silly, wasting time worrying about the little things like that. God will provide, he’d always say. No need to fret about the little things.” Her voice settled at just above a whisper. “Mr. Chamblee, he just never did like Mr. Grimes. They would argue almost every day about the money it cost to maintain the building, and what it cost to purchase cleaning supplies and the like. Mr. Grimes always needed more, but Mr. Chamblee, he never wanted t
o get the poor man what he needed. Why, he had to make do with dirty water to clean the pews. I thought that was awfully wrong.” She adjusted her rear and grimaced. “People sit on those. All kinds of people, sick and well ones, you know? People could get diseases from sitting there.”

  I nodded. “Do you think it’s possible either of them could have started the fire, even if on accident?”

  “Oh, honey, I just don’t know. I was here that night, and there were people in and out all day and night. Mr. Chamblee, Mr. Grimes. Mrs. Alabaster. They were all here, working and doing what they needed to for the church.”

  She fidgeted in her seat again. “I left before the fire of course, but I did hear the pastor having words with Acel, and I saw Mrs. Alabaster come in with her sweet tea and sandwiches for them a while later. And I heard him arguing with Mr. Chamblee. I could hear it all the way from the chapel right here in my office.”

  “Do you know what they were arguing about?”

  “Same thing they always argued about; spending money. Mr. Chamblee wanted to fire Acel. Said he wasn’t worth his pay in salt, and with volunteers, the church would stay clean and in working order all on its own.”

  “What did Pastor Alabaster think about that?”

  “The pastor was a good man. He didn’t believe in firing someone just because money’s tight. You find the money to make it work, and that’s what he said he was going to do.”

  “What do you think happened that night?”

  “I think there was an altercation and a fire started. I don’t believe it was intentional.”

  “So, you think the argument between Mr. Chamblee and Pastor Alabaster escalated and caused the fire?”

  “I wouldn’t go accusing people like that.”

  4

  Jeremiah Alabaster’s spirit glared at me. “Leave it alone,” he said. “Just leave it alone.”

  I did my best to ignore him while Alice Mae expressed her concern that his son may have killed Acel Grimes.

  “I am not pointing fingers at anyone now, you hear? I’m just saying what I heard, and that was the two of them arguing about the fire.”