Kendra Clayton Mystery Box Set

by Angela Henry

  “Can you still do the Freaky Deaky?” asked a smarmy-looking guy in dirty jeans and a T-shirt who wasn’t a member of the press, just some fool trying to be funny.

  At the sight of the cameras, Allegra instantly perked up and opened her mouth to speak before Mama glared her into silence.

  Noelle yelled, “No comment,” and gathered protectively around Allegra, who looked longingly at the reporters, and hustled her into Carl’s car.

  Later that evening, Carl and I were soaking in my tub. It was a tight fit with the two of us and we’d sloshed water on the bathroom floor, but I wasn’t complaining. Allegra had gone back to stay with Mama. This was the closest I’d felt to Carl since before my sister arrived in town, and I had started to feel a little neglected.

  “You never did give the police your statement. How much do you want to bet Harmon and Mercer come knocking on your door?”

  I groaned. They were the last two people, besides my sister, that I wanted to talk about. I didn’t have much of a problem with Detective Charles Mercer. He was a nice enough guy and usually pleasant to me. But his partner, Trish Harmon, had about as much charm and warmth as a head of iceberg lettuce. Hermits have more people skills than she does.

  “I’ll go talk to them tomorrow. I’ve had enough drama for one day.”

  “Poor Vivianne DeArmond. The woman was supposed to get an award and ended up with a letter opener in her back. Damn, that’s a shame,” Carl said, massaging my sore foot. There was still a faint impression from where Noelle had stepped on it.

  “A letter opener? I figured she’d been stabbed with a knife.”

  “No. It was a letter opener.”

  “That’s weird. I mean, if you’re planning to stab someone, you don’t plan on doing it with a letter

  opener. You’d use a knife.”

  “I know I would. But what who said the murder was planned? It could have been a crime of passion.”

  “I wonder if it was Vivianne’s letter opener?”

  “Does it matter? Dead is dead whether she was killed with a knife, a letter opener or a pitchfork.”

  “No. I was just thinking out loud.”

  “It’s too bad your sister wiped that message off her hood. It could have backed up her story about the interview. The fact that Harriet Randall is claiming she knew nothing about the interview adds a new wrinkle to Allegra’s story.”

  “Can’t they check phone records to see that Allie really did call Vivianne?”

  “Yes, but there will only be a record that a phone call was made and how long it lasted, not what they talked about. The police could think she was calling to harass Vivianne.”

  “It’s going to kill Allie if she ends up losing her job over this mess.”

  “Once the results on her clothes come back showing they’re blood-spatter free, she should be in the clear,” Carl said confidently.

  I lowered myself farther into the hot sudsy water and wished I shared his confidence.

  FOUR

  I dreamt that I was running through the halls of Cartwright Auditorium in my Mickey Mouse nightshirt. A hooded shadowy figure was chasing me with a sharp knife. The halls of the auditorium were maze-like with twists and turns like a serpent’s back. I couldn’t find my way out and was panicking. The shadowy figure was gaining on me. Then a loud ringing fire alarm echoed through the halls, and my pursuer stopped abruptly and pulled off the hood. It was Allegra. She covered her ears as the ringing got louder and louder. I woke suddenly, tangled up in my sheets, sweating and very much alone. Carl was gone. I could still hear the ringing. But as I slowly came fully awake, I realized it wasn’t a fire alarm—it was my phone. I untangled myself and answered it.

  “Hello.”

  “Kendra?”

  “Yeah. Who is this?” I mumbled, looking at the clock on my bedside table. It was nine o’clock in the morning. It was Sunday. The day of rest. I take that rest part very seriously.

  “It’s Greg, Kendra. I’m sorry to wake you, but is Lynette over there with you?” I sat straight up in bed.

  “She’s not over here, why?”

  “Apparently, she told her mother she was spending the night with me. I haven’t seen Lynette since before her bridal shower Friday night. If she’s not at home, and she’s not with either of us, then where the hell is she?”

  Should I tell him about the conversation I had with his soon-to-be-wife yesterday? It really wasn’t my place to tell him about Lynette’s sexual hang-ups. He’d find out about that himself soon enough. At least, I hoped he would. Lynette must have been more upset than I realized. I felt awful. If I hadn’t had my hands full with the Allegra situation, or been getting my freak on with Carl last night, it would have dawned on me that Lynette had never come by for the pizza and wine I’d suggested.

  Where in the world could she be? I finally told Greg an edited version of my conversation with Lynette, leaving out any mention of the sex issue, and told him his fiancée was experiencing a case of stress-induced wedding-day jitters. I was hoping he’d buy it and I could track Lynette down and slap some sense into her. He did buy it, but it didn’t make him any less worried.

  “I can’t believe she’s getting so freaked out about our wedding. We’ve been going to church counseling and everything.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.” If Lynette was still having doubts even after going through counseling, she must really be in a bad way.

  “It’s mandatory. The minister who’s marrying us wouldn’t do it until we completed these marriage counseling sessions. We had our last one last week.”

  “I thought Reverend Merriman was marrying you guys?” Robert Merriman was the pastor of St. Luke’s Baptist Church, the church Mama still attended regularly and that I’d grown up in but rarely attended anymore. If Reverend Merriman wasn’t marrying them then that could only leave a couple of other people.

  “Reverend Merriman had a conflict and couldn’t do it on the date we picked out. Morris Rollins is marrying us at Holy Cross.” Crap.

  Morris Rollins was the very attractive, popular, charming and charismatic minister of Holy Cross Church, a towering testament to modern architecture that many older folks in town thought was an eyesore. Rollins and I had made each other’s acquaintance last year when a student of mine at Clark Literacy Center was wrongly accused of murdering one of Rollins’s loved ones. Despite the fact that he was old enough to be my father and had buried his second wife last year, there was an undeniable attraction between us that I found very disturbing. Carl knew Morris Rollins, too, and occasionally did legal aid work for Holy Cross Ministries, which made my attraction to the good reverend even more annoying.

  “Kendra, are you still there?” Greg asked, snapping me back to attention. “Sorry, Greg. What did you say?”

  “I was wondering if Reverend Rollins might have heard from Lynette. I mean, if she’s stressing about the wedding, maybe she called Reverend Rollins to talk.”

  “I guess it’s a possibility. Why don’t you call and ask him?” I said, even though I was pretty sure Lynette wouldn’t have called Morris Rollins.

  “See, here’s the thing, Kendra,” Greg said in a tone that indicated he was about to ask me to do something I wasn’t going to want to do. “I never let on to Justine that Lynette wasn’t with me. Justine’s on her way over to drop off Monty and India because she’s going to Columbus to visit her sister. I don’t want the kids, and especially Justine, to know there might be a problem with Lynette.” He paused and I knew it was coming.

  “Would you be able to go over to Holy Cross sometime today and talk to Reverend Rollins and see if he’s heard anything from Lynette?”

  Damn. What could I say? I sure as hell wasn’t about to tell him I was afraid I’d end up naked and sweaty with Morris Rollins if I lingered in his presence too long. Not that the thought wasn’t extremely appealing. I’d never felt the need to confide my lust for Rollins to anyone, not even Lynette, who knew about most of the men I’d lusted after, and I w
asn’t about to confess now.

  “Of course, I’ll—” Greg cut me off when I heard the faint sound of his doorbell in the background.

  “Thanks, Kendra. Gotta go. Call me.” He hung up before I could finish lying to him about how it would be my pleasure to grill Morris Rollins about his runaway bride.

  I showered and headed over to Mama’s to see how things were going with my sister, the suspect. I certainly didn’t want Allegra or Mama to accuse me again of not being supportive. Plus, I was hoping to snag a couple of Mama’s homemade waffles. I was putting off my trip to Holy Cross. I’d started to call the church to talk to Rollins over the phone instead, but then realized he was probably delivering his Sunday sermon.

  I had turned onto Orchard Lane and was headed for Mama’s driveway when I noticed a man and a woman sitting in a green Honda parked three doors down from Mama’s house. I wouldn’t have given them a second glance if it hadn’t been for the woman’s hair: short, red and spiky. It was Allegra’s producer, Noelle Delaney. The man she was with had short dreadlocks. I drove past slowly and could hear them screaming at each other through the Honda’s rolled-up windows. They didn’t notice me at all. It wasn’t any of my business, so drove on, pulled into the driveway and parked behind Allegra’s rental.

  When I walked into the kitchen, Mama was sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea with the Sunday paper spread out in front of her. She was still dressed in her church clothes. She attended St. Luke’s sunrise service at six-thirty every Sunday morning. I thought back to what I’d been doing at six-thirty that morning. Oh yeah, being chased through my dreams by her knife-wielding granddaughter. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me sharing that dream with her.

  “Why are you here so early? I haven’t even started dinner yet.” She was referring to the fact that I eat at her house every Sunday.

  “Just came by to see how Allie’s doing. She up yet?” I asked, heading toward the stairway that led to the second- floor bedrooms. Mama looked up from her paper and gave me a slightly confused look.

  “Allie’s not here. Carl came by and took her out to breakfast to cheer her up.” My head whipped around so fast I almost got whiplash.

  “I figured you knew and just didn’t want to get up. I know how you like to lay around in the bed all morning,” she said quickly, getting up from the table.

  I couldn’t speak. Allie was my sister, not his. If she needed cheering up, I’d be the one to do it. And why hadn’t Carl asked me to go? Don’t I need breakfast just like the next person? And just when was this little rendezvous planned? He didn’t leave me a note or anything. Just rolled out of my bed that morning to take Miss Hollywood Vibe to breakfast. He could have at least left me a note.

  Then a vision suddenly flashed in my mind of Allegra calling Carl and sounding pitiful. I bet she even cried a little, and Carl, being the kind of man he is, probably suggested getting together to discuss her legal options. I’d be willing to bet my next paycheck that it was Allegra who wanted to go to breakfast and told Carl not to wake me. Priceless.

  “Why don’t I fix you some waffles?” Mama walked into the pantry and I could hear her opening and closing cabinets while I stood and fumed. My sister was after my man, and all my grandmother could do was offer me food? How well she knew me. But not this time. I’d suddenly lost my appetite.

  “No, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. I walked out the back door. Mama called out after me. “And don’t go bothering Carl and Allie, Kendra. I’m sure they have some serious business to discuss and your sister needs to focus on getting herself out of this mess, you hear me?” she said to my retreating back. I didn’t bother answering her.

  Instead, I hopped in my car and backed out of the driveway. I drove by the green Honda, which was still parked in the same spot. Only this time, Noelle and Mr. Dreadlocks were kissing passionately. I only caught a glimpse of them before the Honda’s windows fogged up. Well, at least someone’s having fun, I thought miserably.

  I arrived back at my apartment close to eleven o’clock. I wrestled with the idea of trying to track Carl and Allegra down but decided in my current mood it would be a very bad idea. I had at least an hour to kill before services at Holy Cross were over and I could talk to Morris Rollins. Given the murderous feelings I was harboring toward my sister, I decided I was in need of a little spiritual healing. I changed out of my jeans and T-shirt and put on the green silk wrap dress that I’d worn to Lynette’s shower along with a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals, sprayed on my favorite vanilla scented cologne and headed off to church. As usual, Holy Cross’s parking lot was packed, and I had to park a block away.

  Church services were in full swing and I could hear the choir singing a spirited rendition of “Go Tell It on the Mountain” when I walked into the church’s open glass atrium. The double doors to the main church hall were closed and I eased one side open and slipped in. I found a space at the end of a pew in the back. A few people gave me curious glances, but most paid me no attention at all and kept right on singing and clapping along with the choir. When the choir finished, everyone sat down, and Reverend Rollins took his place behind the pulpit.

  Almost as tall as a basketball player, Rollins was a sight to behold in his black ministerial robes. I could see the diamond stud in his ear twinkling from all the way in the back of the church. I noticed he was no longer wearing the goatee he’d had when we’d first met, and now wore a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He smiled at the congregation and I felt the familiar fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach that I got whenever I saw him, which is why I made sure it wasn’t often. I heard some disembodied sighs floating in the air around me and knew I wasn’t the only woman who was appreciating the reverend’s attributes. Morris Rollins wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he definitely had that certain something that made you look twice.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he began in his deep, soothing, hypnotic voice. “Today, I’d like to talk to you about something that plagues each and everyone of us. Something that no man, woman or child is immune to. Brothers and sisters I’m talking about...temptation,” he said, staring, it would seem, right at me.

  “Tell it,” cried out an enthusiastic sister fanning herself vigorously and nodding like a hobble-head doll.

  Temptation? The man must have been reading my mind.

  An hour later the service was over and Rollins was in the atrium greeting his flock. I stood apart from the crowd watching him work his charm on each and every one of his congregation. Some people were pulled into big bear hugs, while others got hearty pats on the back. All the women got a kiss on the cheek and the children got tickled or tossed playfully into the air. Every few minutes he’d glance over at me waiting for him and smile. I could feel myself start to fall under the spell of that smile and had to remind myself why I was there. After about twenty minutes, he was finally able to pull himself away.

  “Kendra,” he said taking my hands into his. His hands were warm and his smile had turned slightly devilish. Lord help me. “How are you?” He pulled me into a Lagerfeld-scented embrace, holding me a little longer than necessary.

  “I’m fine, Reverend Rollins,” I said, gently extricating myself. He laughed heartily and I could feel my face flush.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while. Come on into my office and tell me how you’ve been,” he said putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me into his lavish office.

  I sat on the gold love seat in front of his large round desk and remembered the first time I’d been invited into his office, a visit that had almost had me turning into mush. I noticed he still had the picture of him, his daughter, Inez, and his recently deceased second wife, Nicole, displayed prominently on his desk. I glanced up and saw that the mural depicting him in the pulpit delivering a sermon was still painted on the ceiling.

  “Can I assume that you’ve finally taken me up on my offer to join Holy Cross?” he asked hopefully.

  “Actually, I needed to speak with you about a friend
of mine who you recently counseled.” He looked curious so I continued.

  “Lynette Martin-Gaines? She and her fiancé, Greg Hull, are getting married here next Saturday.”

  “Oh, Lynette and Greg. Yes, I did counsel them. But you know I can’t discuss that with you, Kendra.”

  “I know. It’s just that Lynette has been experiencing cold feet over the wedding and she’s sort of taken off. You haven’t heard from her, have you?”

  “She ran away?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No. I haven’t talked to Lynette since her and Greg’s last counseling session about a week ago. You don’t think anything serious has happened to her, do you?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “I’m hoping that she just needed some room to breathe and took off for the day to be alone. But Greg is worried and asked me if I’d come talk to you. So, here I am.”

  He leaned back in his chair and stared at me without with speaking for a few seconds. I couldn’t read his look and it was making me uncomfortable.

  “You’re probably right,” he said finally. “I’m sure that’s all it is. But how about you? Are you okay?” He was looking at me like he wanted to give me another hug. The last time I was in close proximity to Morris Rollins we’d ended up in a lip lock. I could feel myself getting hot just thinking about that kiss.

  “Me? I’m fine, why?”

  “I saw you and your family on the news last night coming out of the police station. The police don’t think your sister had anything to do with Vivianne DeArmond’s murder, do they?”

  “Allegra was the one who found Vivianne’s body.” I could have told him more but didn’t feel like getting into it. Rollins whistled, shook his head, and stared at me again. I shifted around uncomfortably on the love seat and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Are you worried?” he asked.