by Glen Ebisch
Baker grinned. “You do have a devious side, Pastor. But there’s no problem with that as far as I can see. However, I still don’t make him for our murderer. He’s got to be almost as old as Royce’s widow, so the same physical limitations apply. Unless he’s stayed in phenomenal shape, I doubt that he killed Ames and Spurlock.”
“Maybe he got his grandson to do it.”
“Harry? Well, he’s young enough, and has anger management problems. I know he can be a royal pain in the butt, but I’m not sure I see him as a murderer.” The detective smiled. “If Harry were the one, it would be handy for you. You’d have the murder solved and get rid of a thorn in your side at the same time.”
Clarissa sighed. “Life is rarely that cooperative, but talking to Ralph Blanchard might give me some new leads. I’d certainly come away with a new perspective by talking to someone who was there at the time and wasn’t the wife or lover of the victim.”
“I can’t say that it’s a bad idea, but be careful,” Baker warned. “We’ve still got a killer out there. Whoever it is may be confident that they’ve eliminated all the loose ends, but if he or she becomes aware that you’re asking questions, it could lead to trouble. You wouldn’t want to be seen as the next loose end.”
“Definitely not. I’ll be careful not to make waves,” Clarissa said.
Baker nodded. “By the way, I read about the Kenneth Rogers indictment this morning. That should be an end to this land deal controversy.”
“What side did you take on that, if I may ask?” asked Clarissa.
“Absolutely against,” he replied. “I’ve lived in Shore Side my whole life, and I don’t want to see it change.”
“Harry Blanchard’s lived here his whole life, as well. That doesn’t stop him from wanting change,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. But he sees money to be made with more development. I just see more people to police. I don’t have to arrest mosquitos.”
“Even with the indictment, Harry may not give up,” Clarissa cautioned.
“Maybe not, but I’d say his odds of winning over a majority of the congregation have been substantially reduced,” Baker said.
“Let’s hope so. I don’t need controversy within the church right now.”
After Detective Baker left, Clarissa spent the next hour closeted in her office, rehearsing her sermon for Sunday. She prided herself on making a good delivery, and had found that only practice guaranteed it.
She wondered if all this attention to her sermons would last once she became a more experienced minister. Maybe it would become easier as she relaxed into the job. She certainly hoped that time wouldn’t make her indifferent to the spiritual and pastoral needs of her congregation.
She went back to the parsonage for lunch. She was eating a sandwich Mrs. Gunn had left for her (which was enough for three women) when the phone rang. It was Ramona Russell.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about the Rogers indictment by now,” she said. “The whole town seems to know.”
“Ashley delivered the message at dawn,” Clarissa replied.
Ramona chuckled. “Well, at least it was some good news to start the day.”
“But will it finally put an end to this? Or will Harry continue his campaign?” Clarissa asked. “He might still be able to get a lot of support for the sale.”
“That’s why I called to put your mind to rest,” said Ramona. “Rogers took his offer off the table half an hour ago.”
“He did?”
“I got a call from his lawyer saying that his client had reconsidered and wasn’t interested in purchasing the land at this time.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know,” Ramona said. “Lawyers never tell you any more than they have to. Maybe Rogers thought that the bad publicity would prevent him from getting the funding to build the condos. Or maybe he figured that he would need the money to fight the indictment in court.”
“So it’s all over with,” Clarissa said with a note of relief.
“Yep. If you can give me a couple of minutes during the announcements section of the service tomorrow, I’ll let everyone know that the full church meeting for tomorrow is canceled.”
“Fine by me. You’ve got as much time as you need,” Clarissa told her. “This is all a great relief, but I’m sure that Harry will be crushed.”
“No doubt. I’d heard rumors that Rogers was going to throw some commercial real estate deals Harry’s way if he could get the church to sell. Nothing bothers Harry more than losing money,” Ramona said drily.
“By the way, what do you know about Harry’s grandfather, Raymond?” Clarissa asked. She might as well use this chance to dig deeper into her investigation.
“I haven’t heard anything about him recently,” Ramona replied. “I know he still gives a substantial amount of money to the church. He was a real big deal on the church board until about ten years ago when his son died. Then he sort of retired from everything. I’ve heard that he still has some involvement in several business ventures around town, but he doesn’t leave his house much.”
“Is he like Harry?”
Ramona paused. “Only in that they both like making money from business ventures. But Raymond is known for being a decent, honest guy who did a lot to help the church and all sorts of charities around town. His son, George, was the same way.”
“How did George die?” Clarissa asked.
“It was all very sudden. A heart attack, I think. Harry took over the commercial real estate business from his father. I’m afraid poor Harry has all the money-making instincts of his father and grandfather, but none of the charitable impulses. Unless he changes dramatically, he won’t be remembered as fondly as they are.”
“I was thinking of paying Raymond a visit. Is he still a member of the congregation?”
“You could check the official roll, but I’d certainly think so.”
“I figured that I would visit everyone in the congregation over the next year, but I’d begin with the oldest first,” Clarissa said.
“Sounds wonderful,” Ramona said. “I suggested something similar to Reverend Hollingsworth years ago, but I guess he couldn’t find the time. Visiting Raymond Blanchard would be very nice. As I said, he did a lot for the church. When you get to be that old, it means something to be remembered.”
After she said goodbye to Ramona and hung up the phone, Clarissa went on the computer and checked the membership roll. Sure enough, Raymond was still listed as a member.
Feeling somewhat guilty due to her mixed motives for contacting Raymond—partly to stay in touch with a church member, and partly to find out what he remembered about a long ago murder—she dialed the number on the computer screen.
A woman with a brisk, efficient voice answered, identifying herself as Mrs. Rush, Raymond Blanchard’s secretary. Clarissa told her that she was the pastor at Shore Side, and she’d like to visit Mr. Blanchard. Although she knew it was short notice, she wondered if he’d have any time available this afternoon. Mrs. Rush asked Clarissa to hold the line while she checked with her employer.
A few minutes later, she came back on the line and said that Mr. Blanchard would be pleased to see her at three o’clock. In fact, she said in a softer tone, he was looking forward to it. Clarissa ended the phone call happily.
Deciding that it was time to take a break from both church work and her investigations, she got into a T-shirt and shorts, and went out for a run. It was the first time in the three weeks since she’d taken over the church that she’d been able to exercise, and after a short spell of stiff awkwardness, her body loosened up and she felt herself relax into the rhythm of the run.
There was a sense in which running was a form of prayer for her, as her mind drifted away from her surroundings and she became more and more present to the moment. When Clarissa reached the promenade along the beach, she turned right to head down to the southern tip of Shore Side, not far from the vacant land owned by the church.
She was at the busiest p
art of the boardwalk where there were a variety of arcades, saltwater taffy shops, and rides for children, when she heard a man urgently call her name. He had to call twice before it fully registered with her.
She stopped and turned in the direction of the voice, and saw Andrew walking quickly towards her. He was wearing a pair of chino shorts and a polo shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Suddenly Clarissa was aware of standing there in a pair of washed-out shorts and a tattered T-shirt dripping with sweat, while Andrew, by contrast, appeared cool and crisp.
He came up and stood close to her. “I’m glad I ran into you today,” he said. “I intended to phone you this morning, but I got called into work to get a will signed. I wanted to apologize for last night. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I shouldn’t have brought up the land deal when we were on a date. I should have kept the personal and the business separate.”
Clarissa nodded. “That’s true. However, I think I overreacted a bit as well,” she admitted. “You were partly trying to give good advice to help me avoid getting mired in a nasty church controversy. Your intentions were good, but the timing was bad.”
“Yeah, I let my father pressure me into doing that,” he said. “I’ve just joined the firm, and I guess I didn’t want to refuse to do something that was important to him. But I should have used better judgment.”
Clarissa shivered slightly as a cool breeze came in from the ocean, chilling her sweating back. Andrew noticed her discomfort.
“Look, I don’t want to delay you in the middle of your run, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a second chance to make a first impression,” he said with a smile.
Clarissa grinned. She remembered that both Ashley and Mrs. Gunn had urged her in that direction. She knew that she sometimes tended to judge men a bit harshly, especially since breaking up with Tyler. Maybe this was a time to go in a different direction.
“I guess I can do that,” she said.
“Friends, then,” he said, putting out his hand.
She took his hand in hers. “Friends.”
“Are you free this Wednesday?” he asked. “I was thinking that on a Wednesday, there might be fewer locals to see us make a scene. I’ve already had a couple of people mention that I got into an argument with a beautiful woman in a restaurant last night.”
“Flatterer,” Clarissa said with a smile. “I was spotted by the daughter of a church member, so it’s probably all around the congregation.”
Andrew looked stricken. “I’m so sorry. Maybe this time we should go somewhere out of town.”
“Are you expecting a repetition of last night?” she said, teasing.
“I certainly hope not. But a little privacy might not be a bad idea.”
“Sounds good. Shall we say seven o’clock?”
“And I pick you up at the parsonage?”
Clarissa paused, then relented. “Okay. But don’t bother to bring a gift. I’ve still got the flowers from last time.”
“Sure. I’ll see you then. Hope you haven’t cooled down too much.”
“I’ll be fine.”
They waved goodbye and Clarissa continued on her run. Although she tried to return her focus to the rhythm of the run and reestablish her meditative state, she found that the memory of Andrew filled her mind.
Clarissa tried to avoid being overly influenced by his good looks and charm. Although she had decided to forgive him after her conversations with Ashley and Mrs. Gunn, she didn’t like people trying to manipulate her. She would go out with him again, but remain on her guard. She didn’t want another Tyler situation on her hands.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning at church, everything went smoothly. Ramona made the announcement about the offer for the land being withdrawn and the cancelation of the all-members meeting. Clarissa imagined that she heard a sigh of relief pass through the church, and was pretty sure she saw a number of people visibly relax. Harry Blanchard wasn’t in church, so the one person who would probably have been infuriated by the outcome couldn’t raise the stress level.
Clarissa’s sermon also went well. Most people seemed attentive, laughing at the jokes and nodding when she made more serious points. Of course, there were a few who remained uninterested, but Clarissa figured there would always be some who would be bored even at the Second Coming.
After the service, she briefly spoke to Ramona; they again expressed their satisfaction that the controversy over the land deal had not led to what might have been a divisive vote.
Ashley sidled up to Clarissa as she stood outside the church later. “We dodged a bullet on that one,” Ashley said.
“Indeed we did,” Clarissa agreed.
Ashley bit her lip. “Look, I’m sorry I woke you up early yesterday morning with the news about the land deal falling through, and I certainly shouldn’t have grilled you about your date.”
Clarissa waved away her apology. “I was glad you let me know right away about Rogers, and your advice on Andrew was timely. I ran into him yesterday afternoon on the boardwalk.”
“That’s cute. Almost like one of those romantic comedies. So, did he grovel enough to get back in your good graces?”
Clarissa told her about his apology.
“Wow, that sounds great,” Ashley remarked. “Maybe the guy really understands what he did wrong.”
“And I understand what I did wrong as well.”
“Sure. Although what he did was worse.”
Clarissa smiled. “Spoken like a true friend.”
Ashley grinned. “We girls have to stick together. So are you going out again?”
“On Wednesday. Probably somewhere out of town.”
“Based on my vast experience with men,” Ashley said with a smile, “I’d say you did the right thing by giving him another chance, and going out of town is a good idea, as well. No sense living your life in a fishbowl.”
“I agree,” Clarissa said. “This afternoon I’m also going to begin my long-term project of visiting every member in the congregation. I plan to start with Raymond Blanchard.”
“Is he related to Harry?”
“His grandfather.”
Ashley shook her head. “Why start with him?”
Clarissa explained that Raymond had been Royce Llewellyn’s partner, and he had probably gained financially from his partner’s death.
“Yeah, but he’s got to be pushing ninety. He couldn’t have killed Ames and Spurlock,” Ashley objected.
“I don’t suspect him of being the killer, but he might have some valuable information that would lead to a suspect.”
Ashley looked thoughtful. “You know, maybe the killer feels safe now, and would be willing to just let things be if you would. If you start stirring the pot, who knows what might happen?”
“That might be true, but I can’t let two deaths go unpunished.”
“I suppose you’re right, but stay alert. If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.”
Clarissa reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Don’t worry. I will.”
***
After eating a small portion of the giant casserole that Mrs. Gunn had left for lunch, Clarissa drove the half-mile to Raymond Blanchard’s house—more of a mansion, actually—set back from the street with a portico that made it look more Southern than Victorian. There was a parking area off to one side of the house, so Clarissa left her car there and went up on the grand porch.
The woman who answered the door was in her thirties; wearing a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, she gave the impression of a secretary more than a housekeeper.
“I’m Mrs. Rush,” she said to Clarissa, guiding her inside and down a long hall. “Mr. Blanchard has been looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I him.”
The woman nodded, as if Clarissa was in for a pleasant experience. She knocked, then opened a door at the end of the hall.
At the far end of a long room, a tall, slend
er man was sitting in a wingback chair with a walker in front of him. He slowly stood as Mrs. Rush announced Clarissa and began to move in their direction.
Although Clarissa was tempted to hurry toward the man to cut down the distance he had to travel, something told her that he wouldn’t appreciate having his infirmity demonstrated so blatantly. So Clarissa and Mrs. Rush stood where they were as Raymond Blanchard laboriously approached. When he finally got close enough, he put out his hand. Clarissa took it and found it to be warm and dry, his handshake surprisingly firm.
“Thank you for coming, Reverend Abbot,” he said. “I appreciate that the church is taking an interest in its more senior members.”
“Please, call me Clarissa, Mr. Blanchard,” Clarissa said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then you must call me Raymond.”
“Very well. And I think the church will be the richer for being aware of all its members,” she said.
“Shall I bring tea and some cakes?” asked Mrs. Rush.
“That would be nice,” her employer said.
Once the woman had left the room, Raymond directed Clarissa to a couple of chairs in front of an ornate fireplace.
“I could see by the expression on your face that you were a bit surprised that Mrs. Rush took on the role of a servant,” Raymond said as he seated himself. “She doesn’t look the part because she isn’t. She’s actually a fully qualified nurse.” He smiled. “Of course, she doesn’t dress like a nurse, either, but that’s due to my insistence that I don’t want my house to look like an assisted living facility. She is also a highly qualified secretary and functions primarily as my assistant for business matters, when she isn’t doling my pills out to me. I also have a cook and a housekeeper, so Mrs. Rush is generally free to handle office chores.”
“So you remain active in business?” asked Clarissa.
“I’ve scaled back somewhat, but the mind is still sharp, even if the body is in decline. I need something to spend my time on, and business is what I know.”
Mrs. Rush came in with a tray on which a tea set and a tray of assorted cakes were arranged. She poured the tea and placed it on the side tables next to each chair.
