Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  “They were great preachers,” the man continued, “not because of the size of their congregation or the brilliance of their sermons. They were great preachers because they walked with God every day of their lives.”

  A chorus of “Amen” erupted throughout the congregation.

  “They didn’t seek for the glories of men. They only sought the approval of their God. They were humble, they were hard working, and they loved the people they served. They understood that the job of a minister did not mean you wore a crown on your head, but instead you carried a shovel in your hands. You were a servant of the people and just as Jesus Christ served his followers, they lived to serve their congregation.”

  Hezekiah remembered all those afternoons as a teen-aged boy going out with his dad and his grandfather and performing those menial tasks for the congregation. Spending hours weeding the gardens of the widows or patching a roof for an elderly man. He remembered bringing food to a family that was sick and cleaning up their house. It was demeaning. It was below their stature. They paid people minimum wage to do jobs like this.

  “Some might think service like that wasn’t something a minister should do,” the man said. “But they would be forgetting the second greatest commandment, ‘To love your neighbor as yourself.’ And you know you can’t love someone until you serve them.”

  Another refrain of “Amen” filled the room.

  “Now our Hezekiah followed in their footsteps. He went to the finest schools and was taught by the best teachers. He learned to study the scriptures, he learned to speak with the trump of angels and he learned to present the Word of God as something to be desired. And when he stood and spoke from this pulpit, you could feel the power of the Word. He might not have known your name or guided you through your individual hardships. But you knew if you came to church on Sunday, you would hear a sermon that would stay with you for the rest of the week.”

  Hezekiah looked around the room. He realized that he didn’t know the names of many of the people sitting in the pews. His father and grandfather knew every name and which child belonged to which family and who their people were.

  “And then we can’t forget the greatest gift Hezekiah brought to our congregation,” the man said.

  Yes, here it is, thought Hezekiah, here is where they sing my praises.

  “His lovely family. His wife, Lucinda, who has served our congregation tirelessly and exemplified Christ-like service in everything she does, and his wonderful children who take the time to show love to the members of this church.”

  What the hell? Hezekiah thought, without regard to being in the church. What is wrong with you people? I was the minister. I brought the people here to listen to my sermons. I grew this congregation to what it is today.

  Hezekiah stormed out of the chapel before the intermediate hymn and glided downstairs to the fellowship hall. The tables had already been set up for the funeral luncheon and several ladies from the congregation were in the kitchen making final preparations. He knew if you really wanted to find out what was going on in a church’s congregation, you ask the ladies in the kitchen.

  “Don’t you want to be upstairs to listen?” one of the women asked.

  “Child, I’ve heard enough hot air from that pulpit to last me a lifetime,” another answered with a chuckle.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” the first said, and then laughed. “Okay, yes, it was. It was that bad.”

  “I don’t mean to speak poorly of the dead, but that man had no idea what it was to serve God,” a third added, as she scooped potato salad into serving bowls. “He was all about showing his congregation how great and smart he was. That man had an ego that was larger than the whole building.”

  “I don’t know how Lucinda could stand being married to the man,” the first one offered. “She did all the work and he took all the credit. He actually told me once that the growth of the church was due to his inspiring Sunday sermons.”

  “No. Really? He didn’t say that,” the second one said, as she wrapped silverware with napkins. “You are making that up.”

  “No, he stood right in front of me and told me it was so,” she said. “Couldn’t have been more than three months ago. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that it was his wife who people were coming for.”

  “Do you think she’ll remarry?” the third one asked. “She’s still young and beautiful. And she deserves a husband who loves her.”

  “I love Lucinda,” he shouted.

  “I don’t think she ever will,” the first one said. “Once I caught her alone in the chapel after choir practice. She’d been at Mrs. Walker’s all day, helping her harvest things from her garden and then bottle them up. Then she hurried home, showered and came over to direct the choir for two hours. Once choir had finished, Hezekiah cornered her in the chapel and told her he was disappointed to find that the only thing she had prepared for their supper was sandwiches and soups and that a man of his stature deserved a little better supper than that.”

  “No, he didn’t say that?”

  “She didn’t tell me, I overheard it myself. Then he walked out. She just leaned her head against the pew and cried,” she said. “I went in there and hugged her. And in a moment of weakness, she told me that no matter how hard she tried, she had never been a good enough wife for Hezekiah.”

  Hezekiah remembered the situation very clearly. He hadn’t known she had been busy helping others all day. He just remembered coming out of his study and being disappointed he didn’t have a hot meal waiting for him.

  “He was a pompous ass,” one of the ladies said.

  And Hezekiah finally agreed with what they were saying.

  Chapter Thirty

  The walk to Nine-East Café was short, but cold. Mary entered the small restaurant and was instantly assailed by the scent of hot coffee, fresh pastries and cinnamon cookies.

  “Hi Mary,” Brenda, the owner, said. “Bradley’s already in the back. What can I bring you?”

  “Hot chocolate,” Mary said.

  “Whipped cream?” Brenda asked.

  Mary lifted her eyebrows and Brenda laughed. “Yeah, why do I even ask,” she said. “Whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings, coming up. I just pulled some cranberry muffins out of the oven, are you interested?”

  “You know, you are a dangerous woman,” Mary replied. “And, yes, I am very interested.”

  “Okay, you get settled in and I’ll bring you your order in a few minutes.”

  Bradley stood up when he saw Mary coming. “So, how was your meeting with Faye?” he asked.

  “Well, much more enlightening than I thought it would be,” she said, putting her briefcase on the table and slipping off her coat.

  She and Bradley sat at the table. Mary glanced around to ensure they could speak confidentially without anyone hearing them and said, “Did you know that Faye had a child when she was younger?”

  Bradley shook his head. “No, there’s no record of it.”

  “Nope, the faithful family retainer took care of that,” she said, “And blackmailed the father of the child, who happened to be happily married to someone else, to adopt him.”

  “Hmmm, I wonder how long Benjamin Middlebury has been the attorney for the family,” Bradley mused. “I think I’ll pay the illustrious attorney a visit tomorrow and see what I can dig up.”

  “I felt so sorry for her,” she said. “I can see why an experience like that could make you bitter.”

  “Or it could make you stronger,” he said. “You get to choose your attitude. She chose anger.”

  Mary shrugged. “Yeah, well, I can’t judge her. I don’t know what I’d do if I was in that circumstance.”

  Brenda came over with her order. “Do you need anything else for now?” she asked.

  Mary shook her head. “No, this looks great, thanks.”

  “Chief, you need a refill?” she asked, looking at Bradley’s empty diet soda glass.

  He shook his head. “No, I won’t sleep tonig
ht if I drink anymore caffeine, but thanks.”

  Mary took a sip of the hot chocolate and felt the warmth seep through her body. “This is just what I needed.”

  Bradley sat back and just watched Mary for a moment. He missed their closeness. Missed holding her. Could he have been wrong?

  She broke off a piece of muffin and popped it into her mouth. She looked up at Bradley, who was staring at her. She stopped chewing. “What? Do I have whipped cream on my nose?”

  He chuckled. “No, sorry, I was just thinking.”

  She nodded and pulled a file from her briefcase and opened it. “Okay, this is all I have so far about Jeannine,” she said. “When I went to your old house, I met one of your former neighbors, Brian Keller. Do you remember him?”

  “Yeah, as I recall, he was a bit of a jerk,” he said.

  Mary laughed. “The term I preferred was ass, but jerk will do. Anyway, I pretended I was an old high school friend looking for you and Jeannine. He told me about the break-in and how he didn’t know where either of you were anymore. But, he did fill me in on something interesting. He said all of the neighbors thought Jeannine was having an affair, so they didn’t share a lot of information with you.”

  “What?” his mouth dropped open.

  “Jeannine wasn’t having an affair!” he exclaimed.

  “Well, of course she wasn’t,” she replied, shushing him. “That’s ridiculous. But, that was the perception of the neighbors, which is why you never got good information from them.”

  “But why would they think she was cheating?”

  “Well, did some of the other cops drop by to check on her for you?” she suggested, “Dad used to have his buddies check on us when he was working weird hours.”

  Bradley shook his head. “You know, I really can’t remember, but we had a lot of friends who stopped by,” he said. “But an affair...”

  Mary reached over and placed her hand over his. “Bradley, I already asked Jeannine, she never had an affair,” she said. “She was in love with you and only you.”

  He turned his hand over and clasped her hand. “Thank you,” he said.

  Mary felt the jolt of electricity from the contact. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and busied it by breaking off another piece of muffin. But this time the delicious treat tasted like sawdust in her mouth.

  “So, what have you been looking at,” she asked, interjecting cheerfulness into her voice.

  Bradley pulled out his file. “I’ve been looking through some of the old photos, trying to find something I missed the first time through.”

  He opened the file and Mary looked at the photos of the home in Sycamore. Furniture was overturned, pictures on the walls were askew, books were ripped from bookcases, photo albums...

  She paused and looked down at the photo albums. “Do you have any close ups on the photo albums?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he said, picking up the file and flipping through the photos.

  Finally, he stopped. “Here these are all the close shots taken of the crime scene.”

  Mary slowly examined each photo, nodding to herself. Then she laid them out on the table in front of Bradley. “Look at the pictures in the albums,” she said.

  He looked at them and shrugged. “They’re all ripped,” he said. “Someone destroyed all the photos.”

  She shook her head. “No, look again,” she said. “And this time, notice whose face is in all of the photos.”

  He was a little confused, but did what she suggested. Each photo, either on the floor or in the album only had his picture left. The part of the photo that had held Jeannine’s image had been torn away.

  “Jeannine’s missing,” he said, finally seeing it for the first time. “Every photo is missing Jeannine’s image.”

  Mary nodded. “And I would venture a guess those pieces of photos were never recovered,” she said. “That you never found the other half of your photos.”

  He shook his head. “There were no other pieces of photos in the house,” he said. “They were only in this room.”

  “So, someone wanted to rip you and Jeannine apart,” she said.

  “And he wanted to keep Jeannine to himself,” he said, as the idea coalesced in his mind. “This was a kidnapping that was meant to look like a break in.”

  “This was a murder that started with kidnapping,” she reminded him.

  He looked up at her. “Thank you. This sheds a whole new light on the investigation.”

  Mary sat back in her chair, not quite trusting where the conversation might be heading. “And now?” she asked.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Mary, I’ve studied these photos for eight years,” he said, his voice strained. “And you look at them and see something I never even considered. I know I’m asking for a lot, but would you be willing...?”

  “I told you that Jeannine is now my client,” she said, interrupting him. She didn’t want her work on this investigation to be considered a favor or anything that could be construed as return to their former relationship. “You are not asking me for anything. It makes sense to work together. I’m glad a fresh pair of eyes can add new insight.”

  Taken a little aback by her business approach to the investigation, he gave himself a mental shake. He had been so delighted with her assessment, he had wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Obviously their new relationship didn’t allow that kind of behavior.

  “Well, it will be great getting your professional insight,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said, scooting her chair back. “It’s late, I’d better get going.”

  “Mary you walked here,” he said. “Let me give you a ride. Professional courtesy, that’s all.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Will you let me know what you find out tomorrow when you speak with Middlebury?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, I’ll let you know as soon as I can get in to see him,” he replied. “Are you going to be in the office tomorrow?”

  “Oh, crap,” Mary said. Suddenly remembering her computer was at the office.

  “What?” Bradley asked.

  “Oh, nothing, I left my laptop on my desk in the office,” she said. “I guess I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  Bradley turned the cruiser around without a comment. “It’s not a big deal, Mary,” he said. “We’ll be at your office in less than five minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  True to his word, they pulled up in front of Mary’s office in the old brownstone on Main Street in downtown Freeport a few minutes later. Mary jumped out of the car. “I’ll just run in,” she said, “I won’t be a minute.”

  Dashing across the sidewalk, she had her key in hand, ready to quickly unlock the door. Surprised when she found it unlocked, she wondered if she was that distracted today that she left her office without locking her door?

  She cautiously entered the building, just in case someone was already inside. For a moment she considered alerting Bradley, and then shook her head. No, I probably just left it open and really, I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than it should be.

  The streetlight outside lit the interior of the office and she could see no one else was inside. Her computer sitting on her desk verified that her fears of a break-in were unfounded. If anyone had been in the office, they would have certainly taken the computer. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Hurrying forward, she moved the mouse, to see what she had left open on the screen. Saving the opened documents, she shut down the computer and reached over to unplug the computer from its base.

  The sleeve of her coat caught on a glass of water, tumbling it sideways onto her desk.

  “Crap!”

  She quickly moved the laptop out of the way and saved the paperwork around the spill. Then she grabbed a handful of tissues and blotted up the water. In a few moments, the mess was cleaned up and Mary was left with a handful of sopping wet tissues.

  Sh
e carried the tissues into the little bathroom off her office area. She was surprised to find the light on in the bathroom. What was she thinking about when she left that afternoon?

  The toilet cover was up, so Mary decided to try a three-point shot from the doorway. She aimed, tossed and splash! Just a little rim, but she wouldn’t count it. She was just turning away from the bathroom, congratulating herself on her basketball prowess, when the power of the explosion knocked her off her feet and back into the office.

  Bradley not only heard the explosion, but felt it rock his car. He felt the same panic he experienced when he’d received the call so many years ago that his house had been robbed. He rushed into the office building, screaming her name without even being aware of it.

  The wall between the bathroom and the office was nearly gone. Bits of the toilet littered the room. He searched desperately for Mary, but couldn’t see her at first. “Mary,” he yelled. “Mary where are you?”

  A soft moan sounded from underneath the bathroom door that now lay on the floor. He rushed over, moved the door to the side and knelt down next to her. He laid his hand on her throat and checked her pulse, it was strong. He looked over her body for cuts, but her heavy winter coat and the bathroom door had shielded from most of the damage. She had a scratch on her forehead that was bleeding, but for the most part, she looked okay. Bradley exhaled a shaky breath of relief. He stroked her cheek. “Mary, can you speak to me?”

  “I hit a three-pointer and the toilet exploded,” she moaned. “That’s never happened before.”

  “Good thing it was only a basket toss and you weren’t sitting on it...” his voice froze.

  She blinked her eyes open. “I could have been killed,” she whispered. “If I’d been sitting there, I would have been killed.”

  When she shivered, he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly for a moment. To hell with the new rules.

  She let herself enjoy being held in his arms again for a few moments, then put her hands against his chest and gently pushed him away. “We really need to turn the water off before my office and any evidence gets washed away,” she said.