by Helen Gray
“Now that you mention it, I remember someone making a comment about that,” Toni said, searching her memory. “It was late October and turning cold, which would have meant a little less odor than if it had been hot.”
“Like I said, it was an interesting connection,” Buck said. “But it doesn’t give us any answers.”
Evan pushed to his feet. “Excuse me. I need to visit the facilities before we head back out to play.”
“I’d better do the same,” Russell said, following him.
Buck looked at Toni. “While we’re alone, tell me what’s on your mind.”
Toni grinned. “I heard a couple of things, and I’d like your input on them.”
He almost smiled. But not quite. “Something told me that. Talk fast.”
“I just had a little talk with Wendy Rutherford.”
“Who was reported to have been at odds with Goldman during the festival,” he said, nodding.
“What I didn’t realize is that she and Goldman met shortly after he moved here, and they became golfing buddies. Wendy welcomed the opportunity of chairing the event with him. But she says it didn’t work out the way she envisioned. She says he was bossy and overbearing and didn’t know what he was doing. When I asked her who collected the festival monies, she said he did.”
“So what’s bothering you?”
Toni tapped her fingers on the table, grimacing. “I can’t give you a logical explanation for it, but I’m not sure she was being totally truthful. I’d like to check with some of the people who worked at the festival that year and ask who collected money from them, but I have two problems. One, I would need a list of workers. And, two, I’m still teaching a full schedule, which doesn’t leave me a lot of time.”
Buck’s eyes narrowed on her. “I might be able to help with the list,” he said quietly.
“Thanks,” she said, hoping he found her next suggestion acceptable. “Would it be all right if the boys do the checking? They want to help, and they’re done with classes. All they have left on their school schedule for next week is baseball playoffs and graduation Friday night.”
Buck hesitated, and then exhaled a long breath. “They’re high school graduates and adults—almost—which is as good as some of the guys who hire on as deputies. I don’t see how it could hurt. Tell them to come by the station Monday, and I’ll try to have a list for them. If the Chamber of Commerce can’t give me one, I know a couple of people who might.”
“I heard some talk while I was in the beauty shop Thursday,” she said slowly.
Now Buck did smile. “I’ve heard that beauty shops are the best sources of information in any town.”
“More questions than information in this case,” Toni said. “A couple of ladies who attend the Temple of Light Church mentioned that Brock Goldman was dating a girl who was originally from here while they were both living in St. Louis. When he started preaching out there, they both moved down here. But then he dropped her and took up with Madison Vickers, and the girl moved back to St. Louis. I have no idea whether it’s important, but it made me wonder who the first girlfriend was.”
Buck shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe your boys would know.”
“Good idea,” she said, snapping her fingers. “The ladies also talked about Mrs. Goldman being in town after he disappeared.”
“She was,” Buck confirmed. “I was on vacation at the time. I heard she was real upset, which is very understandable in light of what we know now. There’s a file on it. She reported her son missing and insisted that something was wrong. A couple of the deputies did some checking, but didn’t come up with anything.”
“I’m sure they did all they could.”
“I hate that they couldn’t find out anything, but Goldman was gone, and so was all his stuff, and there was no evidence of foul play.”
Toni nodded in understanding, wondering how to phrase the next thought. “There was also a lady who said Brock had been seen speaking—more like arguing—with Keith Ryker.”
“I heard that the two were not on the best of terms,” Buck acknowledged. “But no one seems to have any idea why they were at odds.”
“Keith and his wife have lived here for over twenty years, so if Goldman was trying to give him advice, Keith probably considered it presumptuous of him. And another thing,” Toni said quickly, seeing her dad and Evan Hicks coming back out onto the deck, probably ready to resume play. “Q Lakowski said something to me a while ago about Reverend Goldman’s car.”
“What about the preacher’s car?” Russell Nash asked, taking a seat and setting a Coke in front of Toni. Evan sat next to him.
Toni grinned at her dad, popped the tab on the soda, and took a big swig. “Q Lakowski is wondering about it. He said his dad worked on it, and at one time suggested that the preacher engrave his initials inside the trunk, hood and dashboard in case it was ever stolen. He also said his dad has a little trick of dropping one of his business cards in the window slot of cars he considers high theft risk.”
“What kind of car was it?” Russell asked.
“A Mercedes SL500 Roadster,” Toni repeated. “Q plans to talk to his dad about trying to locate it.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Russell volunteered. “I’ll make some phone calls, see if any of my old colleagues can help us track parts VIN’s.”
Evan cleared his throat. “Since you guys are apparently working on the Goldman case, I’m guessing you may have heard that he and I had words a time or two.”
“It’s been mentioned,” Buck said bluntly. “Do you mind telling us what it was about? You’re among friends,” he added, including Russell and Toni with a head motion.
Evan heaved a big sigh. “As you know, he was chairman of the festival that year. I, unfortunately, was the treasurer. The man had very little business sense, and he wanted to take care of everyone. He was buying stuff from friends and paying way too much for it. I had to point out that we couldn’t afford to go in a big hole on the project. We disagreed, but it wasn’t anything that would have incited murder—just in case you’re wondering,” he added, a flush coloring his neck and cheeks.
“We’re just following the dotted lines,” Buck said. “But we appreciate your candor.”
“Uh, since the subject is open, there’s something I’d like to ask if I may,” Toni said, directing her words at Evan.
The big man shrugged. “Ask away. The answer will depend on whether I’m free to discuss it.”
“I was wondering about Goldman’s personal accounts. I understand they were closed shortly after his disappearance.”
Evan glanced at Buck.
“She and I have shared some information,” he said, his tone and body language indicating it was okay to talk to her.
“They were online withdrawals, both the checking and the savings accounts,” Evan said. “Either he closed them before he was killed, or someone had his account numbers and information.”
“How were the funds issued?”
“Checks for the account balances were written to Charity Haven.”
The name hit Toni’s brain with a jolt. “Who or what is Charity Haven?”
“When I found the records, I wasn’t sure,” Evan admitted. “I asked my secretary, and she checked with some of the other employees. The information she located is that it’s a maternity home out in the country. No one seems to know much about it, or exactly where it’s located. One employee, however, is a member at Temple of Light Church, and she says Reverend Goldman had a counseling role at the place. It sounds like the checks were charitable donations.”
“Except he was probably dead when they were made,” Toni countered.
Russell glanced at his watch. “I hate to break this up, but isn’t it about time for us to get back on the course?”
“If we intend to finish our first round by lunch,” Buck said, getting to his feet. He looked at Toni. “Are you planning to attend the memorial service for the reverend tomorrow afternoon?”
“I think I will.”
“How about a police escort?” He grinned.
“I accept.”
Over the next two hours Toni and Jenny refilled the coolers again and helped the kitchen crew load the two long tables across the side of the dining room with barbecue ribs, potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob and a variety of desserts that workers had brought.
At noon they began serving players as they came in to eat. Toni served as a gofer while keeping an eye out for the other two people she hoped to get a chance to question.
It was about twelve-fifteen when Damien Hudson and his two partners came in and filled plates with food, got drinks from the bar, and made their way to a table back by the fireplace.
Just as that group was getting settled, Toni saw the mayor and her partners come through the door. They filled their plates, got drinks at the bar, and took them out onto the deck. Toni kept an eye on them through the plate glass windows, while also monitoring the team inside.
When Damien Hudson finished eating and headed for the restrooms, Toni glanced out and noted that the mayor and her cronies were doing more talking than eating. Carmen Joyner, she had heard, spent a lot of time at the club—but not because golf was her passion. For her it was a place for business and political contacts.
When Damien returned from the back, he didn’t rejoin his companions, but went out the door and headed toward the cart sheds. Toni quickly finished wiping the table she had just cleared, signaled Jenny that she was leaving, and hustled after him.
There was a row of three long buildings, and each building had storage units on each side of it, back to back. Damien had gone to the cart parked at the end of the middle building. He raised the seat and pulled out a clean towel.
“Hello, Mr. Hudson,” Toni said, strolling up next to him.
He looked up. A big man, he appeared to be around fifty years old, and there was an air of confidence about him that bordered on superiority. Toni knew he was at least ten years older than his wife. His hair was still thick, but graying, and beginning to recede at the hairline. Those flinty blue eyes studied her with a penetration that was intimidating.
“I’ve been talking to some people who knew and spent time with Reverend Brock Goldman,” she said with a boldness she didn’t really feel. “I understand you were seen with him several times and was wondering what your relationship with him was.”
“We were friends,” he said after the barest hesitation, wiping his face with the towel.
“Did you know him a long time?”
“The last I heard,” he said in cool disdain, “you were a school teacher, not a detective or a member of the police department.”
“You’re right,” Toni said. “But having some of my students find the reverend’s remains has made the case personal to me. And the chief of police is open to any helpful input I can contribute.”
“That still doesn’t give you any authority to question me,” he said, his voice tainted with annoyance. “As I said, the man and I were friends. I was disappointed when he disappeared like that, and shocked at this latest development.” He reached into the golf bag on the back of the cart, pulled out a club, and began rubbing it with the towel.
“Was he also a client?” Toni asked, an uneasy vision of that club raised in anger springing into her mind.
“Not officially,” he returned in a near growl. “I gave him some free information on occasion, sort of like charitable contributions.”
“What were your observations of his relationships with others?”
He gave her a blank stare, and then shook his head. “Look, he was a friend, but I was aware that there were people who didn’t like him, even if he was a preacher. On the other hand, I understand that his church members thought the sun rose and set in him.”
“Did he ever talk to you about his business affairs or finances?”
“No, he didn’t, and even if he had, that information would be client privileged.” He gave the club a final swipe with the towel and stuck it back in the bag.
Voices of a group emerging from the clubhouse made both of them glance up. Damien’s teammates were headed toward them.
“Sorry to cut this short, but I have to go,” he said, climbing onto the seat of the cart. He started it and puttered away.
The lack of information in Hudson’s responses made Toni wish she could see into his mind and hear his thoughts. On the other hand, that might prove hazardous to her health, she decided with a twinge of irony.
Chapter 12
While checking the coolers, Toni spied Carmen Joyner and her group returning to the course. But she didn’t approach them, because she wanted to catch the woman alone. The coolers were fine, so she went to the pool and told Gabe and Garrett to come to the deck so she could bring plates of food out for them. That way they wouldn’t have to get dressed. Just as she was getting them seated, Kyle, Bill, and John came in and joined them. Toni filled a plate for herself and ate with them.
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon, when teams were finishing and reporting in, that Toni recognized another opportunity. She trotted over to the seventh tee box, grabbed a cold bottle of water from the coolers, and speed walked toward the shed where Carmen was climbing off her golf cart.
“How about a cold drink, Mrs. Joyner,” she greeted the woman, extending the bottle and debating how she was going to handle the conversation.
“Stuff the Mrs. Joyner junk. My name’s Carmen,” the woman said brusquely.
Carmen Joyner was far from a petite woman. She had wide shoulders and a stocky build. Somewhere in her late fifties, she had dull blue eyes and a wide mouth in a square face. She wore an excessive amount of makeup and jewelry, and her brown hair was worn up in a twist. Her expression and manner were perpetually that of the political aspirant, which to Toni meant a manufactured smile and brusque effusiveness.
“My, my, what a busy gal you are,” she said, her gaze raking over Toni in acute assessment. “Doesn’t the school keep you busy enough? I see you’re making the rounds. Oh, I saw you latch onto Damien Hudson right after lunch.” She chuckled as if she were joking, but there was an underlying bite to her comments.
“That’s right,” Toni said, not about to be put off. “I’m trying to talk to people who knew and spent time with Reverend Goldman.”
“I can see where you would be curious, under the circumstances,” Carmen allowed, gathering her bag and towels from the cart. “But that doesn’t mean you should be out questioning people.” Her tone was tinged with criticism.
“There’s no law against asking questions,” Toni returned with a direct look and firm tone. “How long did you know the man?”
A flash of annoyance crossed Carmen’s face, but was quickly replaced with a supercilious smile. “How long did he live here?”
“I think about three years,” Toni said, hating that she had gotten a question as a response.
“Then I guess that’s how long I knew him. He got involved in community things right away, began showing up at city council meetings and things like that.” She uncapped the water bottle and took a generous swig.
“So you got to know him pretty well.”
“Only in a business or professional way,” she said, glancing at her watch in a direct hint that her precious time was being wasted.
“How would you describe him?”
The woman’s face creased in annoyance. “Look, the man’s dead, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give you a phony picture of him. He was civic minded and apparently loved by his congregation, but on a personal level I found him stubborn, outspoken, and not particularly business or politically savvy.”
When she picked up her bag to leave, Toni moved alongside her. “I understand that a lot of people seemed to rub the wrong way with him. You’ve been mentioned as one of those who didn’t get along with him well. Do you mind confirming or denying that?”
“We didn’t get along at all,” Carmen said matter-of-factly, pausing and shakin
g her head. But she was enough of a diplomat to limit her rudeness. “We disagreed on just about everything. Our last big argument was about the zoning issue. He wanted to put a business in a residential area and expected us to rezone that spot just for him. We argued, and a lot of people knew about it. But you’re wasting your time if you think I killed him.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
She went still, rubbing a hand over her chin. “I don’t know exactly, but it was sometime during the festival.”
“Do you know if he had any major problems causing pressure on him?”
She shook her head. “Nope. He wouldn’t have told me about such a thing.”
“Do you know if he had any jealous girlfriends?” Toni asked, just to see what kind of response she would get.
“You really are a snoop, aren’t you?” Carmen responded tartly.
“I also live outside the city limits and can’t vote for you.”
A look of surprise crossed the woman’s face at the tart rejoinder. “So I don’t have to be nice to you. Right?”
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Toni said. “Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. That really wasn’t my intention. Our police chief is a friend, and I just want to help him in any way I can.”
Carmen’s stance relaxed, and she appeared to soften a bit. “I understand, but I really don’t see how I can be of help to you. I have to go.” And she did.
Not sure she had accomplished anything all day, more than possibly alienating some people, Toni looked around for the teenage trio. She spotted them rounding the eighth hole and went to join them.
“The chief of police has a little assignment for you guys if you want it,” she said as soon as she was close enough to talk without anyone else hearing.
Three pairs of eyes lit with interest. “What?” Dack asked.
“He’s going to try to get a list of people who worked at the festival the year the preacher was killed. If you stop by the station Monday morning he’ll give it to you—if he was able to get it.”
“And we can go find them and question them,” Dack said with excitement.
