“What on earth is the matter, Kelly?” Nellie Swanson, the oldest member of the group, was a particular favorite of Warren Poore.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
Kelly sensed the tension mounting in the small group and fought back tears.
“A police officer just informed us that Warren and Judy were found dead this morning.” There were gasps from the group and two of the women burst into tears.
“What happened?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know much, but a Lt. Bishop will be here in a couple of minutes. But, my understanding is that it was a murder suicide.” Esther Jacobs dropped to her knees and sobbed. Two of the other ladies turned and held each other in their arms. Ray stood one arm across his chest and his hand over his mouth. Otto Desmond turned and walked away from the group. Kelly turned, and seeing a chair, went and sat down.
Lt. Marty Bishop arrived with another detective and the Chaplain.
“Kelly!” Maryann called from the front of the building. Kelly’s feet felt like lead as she made her way to join the three men.
“I’m Detective Bishop, this is Detective Finlay and I think you may know Pastor Cunningham, our Chaplain, already.”
Kelly extended her hand to the detective. “I’m Kelly Sage.” She reached a hand out to the tall, gray haired man to the right. “Hello, Pastor Cunningham.”
“I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but we really need to get as much information as quickly as possible. Is that the office?” Bishop was kind, but all business.
“Yes, sir.”
“Has anybody been in there this morning?”
“Just Maryann and myself. I went in to use the phone to call…” Kelly choked with emotion.
“I understand.” Bishop wondered if that was before or after he ordered Hawke to not let anyone in the office. “We’re going to need to have a look around in there.”
Kelly stepped back and the two men entered the office and closed the door behind them. Through the door she could hear their muffled voices.
“What on earth has happened, Pastor?”
Cunningham wore an expression that Kelly found hard to read. “From the looks of things, Warren killed Judy and then turned the gun on himself.”
“How can that be?” Kelly could hardly process the words.
“I can’t begin to understand how such a thing could be possible. Warren and I have known each other and served on the Orvin Ministerial Association for over forty years. This goes against everything he believed, and everything he stood for. He loved Judy more than anything in this world. This just can’t be. I am completely lost.” Cunningham’s words were no longer for Kelly, but the thoughts and concerns that flooded his heart.
“What about the girls? Have they been contacted? Do they know?”
“One of our female community service officers and a detective has gone to Cassie’s. We thought it would be better if a woman was with him. I came here because I knew there would be a gathering of the staff.”
“I can’t think, my head just can’t take this all in.” Kelly shuddered and fought back emotion.
“What is going to happen to this place? Warren was the heart and soul of the organization. It was his baby.” Cunningham shook his head.
“Somebody will step up.” The future of the center didn’t even enter Kelly’s mind.
“You’re a member of the board, right? Can you notify the other board members?”
“I guess so.” Kelly was still trying to process the news. I need some time, she thought. I need to talk to Cole. I can’t make the calls. She looked around the room and the others were still in a state of shock.
“What’s the appropriate thing to do here, Pastor? We have all those kids coming in when school gets out.”
“Do you think these folks are going to be able to handle that?”
“I don’t think so.” Kelly knew that the last thing she wanted to do was play with a room full of kids.
“I tell you what. I will stay here and meet whoever shows up. Let’s send the rest of the folks home, whoever wants to leave.”
“OK, I’ll stay here with you.” Kelly breathed a sigh of relief knowing the Chaplain would have the words to say, and she would be happy to let him.
“That’s fine; it would be way better coming from us, rather than the television or radio. I know this town and the news is going around, already spreading like wildfire.”
It was almost ten minutes before the two detectives came out of the office. Bishop held a stack of file folders and Finlay carried the computer.
“We’ll be taking this stuff with us. I don’t expect it will interfere with your operation.” There was no question whether it mattered if it did. The two men were in full investigative mode, and they were not about to be deterred.
“No, take what you need.” Warren is, was, the only person who used the office.”
“I’ll be back in a minute and get the contact information from you and the rest of the folks.”
“How about I do that for you, Lieutenant?
“That would be a great help, thank you, Pastor. We’ll be in touch Miss…”
“Mrs., Mrs. Kelly Sage.”
The detective nodded and left the building.
Shortly after 12:15 the children and the mothers began arriving at the center. All of the other staff left except for Ray and Maryann. Pastor Cunningham gathered everyone in the center of the open area and gently, kindly, explained the situation in words that the children would understand without going into a lot of detail. He asked the mothers if they wouldn’t mind if he prayed for the group.
“That would be wonderful.” Several of the mothers agreed. It was then decided amongst the mothers that, out of respect, they should all take their children home for the day.
Kelly felt a need as the lead staff member to offer a word of hope to the families. “Let’s start fresh on Monday. Thank you all for your concern and please be praying for the Center and Warren’s family. I know the Poore girls will be devastated.”
The children and mothers quietly and solemnly left. A few stopped to have a word with Kelly or Pastor Cunningham and said they would be back with their children on Monday. Several volunteered to work next week to lend support to the center.
As the last of the mothers and children left, Pastor Cunningham said his good-bye. Standing in the front of the darkened building, Kelly finally broke down and cried. Her sobs seemed to echo in the cavernous space as they came back to her again and again. A while later Kelly locked the door and went home.
As Kelly pulled into her driveway she could see Cole and Ernie sitting on the front porch. Cole’s feet were up on the railing and looked the picture of relaxation.
“What are you doing home so early?” Cole lowered his feet from the rail and stood.
“I’m afraid we got some bad news today.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Warren and Judy Poore were found dead this morning.”
“The hell you say!” Ernie now stood, too. “The fellow that runs that Indian Center where you work?”
“That’s the one. It appears that he killed his wife and then shot himself.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Cole descended the step and moved toward Kelly. “Why on earth would he do that?”
“I don’t know, it runs contrary to everything I know about Warren Poore. I saw him yesterday. He talked about giving special treats to the kids today. It just makes no sense.”
Cole wrapped his arms around his trembling wife. She buried her face in his chest. For a long moment they stood in the front yard holding each other.
“How did you find out?” Cole waited for Kelly to step back before he spoke.
“When I got there the place was locked up and Warren hadn’t arrived. Shortly after that a young policeman came. He gave us the news. A few minutes later two detectives came along with Roy Cunningham, the Chaplain.”
“Cunningham is the pastor at Georgia’s c
hurch. I mean our church,” The pastor’s name seemed to bring an urgency of the news for Ernie.
“Ray and I, along with Pastor Cunningham, stayed until the kids and some of the moms arrived. The pastor, bless his heart, broke the news and gave the sweetest little talk to the kids about death and heaven and being sure you’re ready. Then he prayed with everyone and we all went home.”
“So, is that the end of the Center?” Cole found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to show his concern and interest, but hardly knew Warren and only met his wife once or twice at fundraisers.
“We told everyone we would reopen on Monday, but I have no idea what the future brings.”
“As a board member, don’t you have some say in that?”
“I suppose.” Kelly went up the steps to take a seat on the porch. “But I’m a volunteer. It’s not my program and I certainly have no intention of working there full time, or being responsible for the daily operations.”
“Doesn’t he have a couple of kids?” asked Ernie. “Seems to me, I recall one of them was a pretty good soccer player back in the day.”
“Yes, there are two girls. Cassie works in the Center part time. The other sister is a missionary in Guatemala. I’ve never met her.”
“That’s right, I remember that now. Whew.” Ernie began to process the news. “We catered a fundraiser there not too long ago. There’s a lot of money tied up in that building with the improvements and all. It would seem a shame if it shut down.” Ernie recalled preparing food for the event. It was one of the largest catering jobs they had done.
“I’m just stunned that Warren would kill himself.” Cole shook his head. “The thing that’s even weirder is that he would kill his wife. I don’t get it. They’ve been married forever, right?”
“Forty some years. They just celebrated an anniversary not long ago.”
“Just goes to show you, you never know people as well as you think you do. I knew a fellow one time that had a big, old birthday party for his wife. They sang and danced, ate barbecue, had twenty or thirty friends over. And danged if he didn’t go in the bathroom, crawl in the bathtub, lay down and blow his brains out. You’d have thought he was the happiest guy in the world.” Ernie shook his head in wonder.
Cole looked at Ernie, who instantly recognized his story was poorly timed.
“Would you guys like something to eat? I didn’t have lunch and I’m suddenly starving.” Kelly moved toward the door.
“Yeah, I could stand to eat something, too.” The offer of food brought Cole to his feet. “I was working on my new project and completely forgot about eating. Then Ernie came over. We’ve been sitting out here for awhile.”
“I betcha you got some cookies in there somewhere, don’t you?”
“You know I always have cookies, Ernie.”
“The hell you say. I thought that was just a once in a while deal.”
“Liar,” said Cole. The two men laughed, then thought better of it. They went into the house sheepishly.
After Ernie ate three or four cookies, Kelly wasn’t sure how many because she thought he snuck another when she wasn’t looking; he wiped his place at the table with his napkin. “I better get home and get some of my chores done before Georgia gets home or she’ll skin me. I’m sure sorry to hear about your friend, Kelly.”
“Let Georgia know, will you please?” Kelly asked.
“I sure will, see you guys later.”
Kelly picked at her lunch, misreading the hunger pangs for just an overall feeling of sorrow. She was sick at heart.
“Are you okay, Sweetheart?” Cole reached over and took her hand. “I know how much you cared for Warren and Judy.”
“They were some of my first friends when we moved here. Remember, we went with Ernie to that retirement party for his hunting buddy, Russ? That was really the first thing we went to. I remember Warren telling me about the Children’s Center and how excited he was about getting matching funds from the city for some renovations on the building.”
“That’s been awhile.” Cole sighed. “How long have you been volunteering?”
“Almost two and a half years now.”
“It would really be a shame if the place closed up, but you know, sometimes the vision of the founder is hard to transfer to someone else. It reminds me of a neighborhood afterschool program in Chicago. A lady named Luellen Kaiser started babysitting for a couple of women in the neighborhood after school. She knew they didn’t have any money and so she did it for free. You know how people are; sometimes they kind of take advantage of a good situation? She ended up with four or five kids in her little apartment every day after school.
“On the ground floor of her building there had been a little shoe repair shop. The old guy who ran it died and the landlord cleaned out the building. Luellen went to the landlord and asked him if she could use it as a space for kids when they got out of school. At first the landlord wanted nothing to do with it, but when Luellen pointed out it would make a nice tax write-off, he jumped on it. Within six months it grew to over twenty-five kids. The kids helped her paint and build tables. The guy down the block, at the second-hand furniture store, donated a bunch of mismatched chairs and some throw rugs. Luellen won several awards from the city for volunteer work and the little center gained support and ran for nearly ten years before she died of cancer.”
“She sounds like a wonderful lady.”
“Yeah, she was a sweetheart. I wrote a couple of pieces on her over the years because a couple of kids from the center went on to live very successful lives and they credited Miss Luellen for keeping them out of trouble. The thing is, the point of the story is, when she died nobody stepped up to take over. The little center was boarded up and a while later became a consignment shop for women’s clothing.”
“I would hate to see the kids at the center have no place to go. The facilities and opportunities for Indian kids in our county are almost nonexistent. The reservation pretty much has nothing.”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what happens. This might sound selfish, but I would sure hate to see you tied down to it.”
“You’re right, that does sound selfish, and I’m a bit disappointed in you.”
“I guess it was a bit premature, but there are things we want to do, like go see the kids and do some traveling. I’m sorry, I guess I was insensitive.”
“You’re right, it is a bit premature. Let’s see what the girls have to say. The daughter from Guatemala will be here in a couple of days. Maybe after the funeral some decisions can be reached.”
CHAPTER 3
Michael Blackbear was a popular figure in Orvin in his youth. He played football and ran track at Orvin High. He led the team to the district championship his senior year, rushing for nearly 3,000 yards and beating all school records. For his two varsity years he was in the paper almost as often as the President. In order to not have to attend the schools on the reservation, he walked over two miles every morning, rain, snow or clear skies to the nearest bus stop to take him to school. After football practice he walked home, often in the dark. He was a big man on campus.
His football hero status, however, only took him so far. It was rumored that he won Homecoming King by a landslide, but the honor went to the blue-eyed, blonde son of the town’s biggest building contractor. After all, you couldn’t have an Indian walking out to face the hometown crowd with the granddaughter of a bona fide Vietnam War hero, and three time mayor, on his arm.
Michael was offered a scholarship at OU, but being a big fish from a very small pond, he barely made the first round cut for the football team. The final cut left him without a place on the team, and no scholarship. He sought financial aid, but with his grades not being as stellar as his sports record, he was advised to enroll at the community college on an Indian enrollment program.
Three weeks into the school year, when two airliners slammed into the World Trade Center, a third into the Pentagon, and another nosedived into a field in Pennsylvania, Mic
hael Blackbear enlisted in the army. His alcoholic, single mother and already married and divorced younger sister, and her two children, barely noticed his change of direction.
During his two tours in Iraq Michael was often in daily contact with locals as part of his assigned duties. A frequent visitor to the food distribution center that Michael oversaw was an Iraqi girl named Miriam.
Miriam was different than the other girls and women that came for rations. She walked head held high and with defiance in her step. Most days she wore a veil across her face, leaving only her sparkling dark eyes exposed. That was enough for Michael Blackbear. He missed the girls of high school with their breezy flirtatious ways. Even though he had neither the means nor transportation to date them, everyone knew where the invisible line was, and few, if any of the pretty girls who teased and returned his attention, dared cross it.
As he watched the dark-eyed beauty come each day to get a package of rice, lentils, and a gallon of clean water, Michael couldn’t help but notice the way the other women seemed to shun her. Over the course of several weeks Michael began putting an extra packet of flour, a can of meat, or a small package of sugar into her basket. The first time he offered the little extra Miriam’s eyes flashed and seemed to reproach him. He just smiled and continued the practice.
He began to greet her when she arrived and bid her a good day when she left. The Wednesday of the fourth week, Miriam slipped Michael a small cloth bundle tied in a knot. Inside were three small, cinnamon raisin cakes. She became so flustered and embarrassed she left without her food.
At first the shy, young woman never spoke to the handsome American soldier. As they continued to exchange small gifts they seemed to reach an understanding simply from their speechless communications.
When she finally spoke he was surprised to find that her English was better than almost any of the people in the area. She explained that her father was educated in the United States and, before the conflict, worked as an interpreter. This was the reason her family was suspect in the village. When her mother died they moved back to the village of his parents. A year later the war broke out, and he was suspected of being a CIA informant. Nothing could be farther from the truth, she explained.
Soul of Cole Page 2
