8 A Wedding and a Killing

by Lauren Carr

  “The wedding isn’t for six months,” Bogie pointed out.

  “So far the guest list is up to four hundred,” Mac said. “We needed to see if the sanctuary would be big enough.”

  Bogie nodded his head. His bushy gray mustache twitched, which was a sign that there was something puzzling him. Abruptly, he turned to David. “What were you and Chelsea doing here?”

  “They wanted our input,” David said as smooth as if it were the truth. “It’s a beautiful summer day. Chelsea and I decided to take the day off to spend together. When they found out that we were available, Mac and Archie asked us to come with them to get our opinion.”

  “Your opinion on whether the sanctuary is big enough for four hundred?” Bogie asked.

  “On the ceremony,” David said. “Decorating the sanctuary for the wedding. Chelsea has a good eye about that kind of stuff.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Bogie said.

  “She does,” David said in a firm tone that dared the deputy chief to ask any more questions about it. “After we were through here, Chelsea and I were going to go have a picnic together down by the lake.”

  “Nice day for it, too.” Bogie stepped between them to go on into the sanctuary. “Too bad murder ruined your plans.”

  Chapter Three

  Upon entering the sanctuary, Bogie greeted Deborah, Edna, and Ruth with a bear hug big enough to envelope all of them into his massive chest.

  “It appears to me that every one of you knew the victim,” Mac noted.

  “No one would want to kill Eugene,” Deborah said. “He was the most upstanding guy you’d ever want to meet.”

  Edna agreed. “He had integrity coming out of his ears.”

  While David expressed his sympathy, Mac went over to where Archie was sitting on the altar steps with Gnarly’s head in her lap. The sadness in her face reminded him of why they were at the church in the first place. He bent over to take her hand into his and kissed her fingers. When she lifted her face to his, he kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before brushing his lips across her cheek.

  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” she said in a low voice.

  He followed her eyes to Gnarly, who, while keeping his head down in her lap, peered up at him with his big brown eyes. They were pleading for the apology Mac owed to him. “Sorry, Gnarly.”

  The German shepherd raised his head. The bronze spots that practically served as eye brows arched and moved toward each other. A rumble formed in his throat.

  “That’s it?” Archie replied. “Gnarly tried to tell you, and all of us, that there was an emergency and we all ignored him. You’re his partner. You should have listened.”

  As if in agreement, Gnarly sat up and uttered a low bark.

  “I said I was sorry,” Mac replied. “What more do you want from me?”

  Lowering his head, Gnarly eyed him.

  “A little more respect,” Archie answered for the canine.

  “Maybe I’d respect him more if he’d stop drinking out of my toilet.” Deciding that now was not the time for this conversation, Mac turned to rejoin David where he was interviewing the reverend.

  “Maybe Gnarly would respect you more if you stopped peeing in his porcelain water dish,” Archie quipped.

  Mac stopped, shook off the insult, and pushed the situation out of his mind to refocus on the attempted murder.

  “Who worked the closest with Eugene?” David was asking.

  “That would be me and Deborah,” Edna said. “We talked almost daily.”

  “Was he an actual church employee?” Mac asked.

  “The only employees this church has are myself,” Deborah said, “Edna, who works part-time managing the office; and Ruth, the building caretaker. She lives rent-free in the cottage and gets a small salary.”

  “Tell them what you told me,” Archie instructed Deborah from where she had stood up to join them. When David turned in her direction, she explained, “No one knew Eugene was going to be here this morning. Normally, Edna would work in the morning, but she came in late today. Get it? If this was a regular day, it would have been Edna, not Eugene, here.”

  The church’s office manager was gazing down at her feet.

  Mac asked, “Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt you, Edna?”

  Saying nothing, Edna shook her head.

  “I don’t believe this,” Deborah said. “It can’t be a member of our church. It has to be someone from the outside who came in to steal the offering.”

  “There are piles of cash on the desk where Eugene was shot,” Mac said. “If robbery was the motive, it’d be gone.” He glanced at Edna. “Does anyone know how much money was in the offering?”

  Edna shook her head so fast that her thick dark locks swayed with the movement. “It hadn’t been counted yet.”

  “That’s why Eugene came in,” the reverend said, “to put together the bank deposit.” Tears came to her eyes. “Everyone in our congregation is a good person. We care about each other and our community. How could one of them do this to one of their own?”

  “We’ll find whoever did this to Eugene.” Bogie hugged her. “You have my personal promise about that, Deborah.”

  “Thank you, Bogie,” Deborah murmured into his chest.

  Casting a glance in Mac’s direction, David clinched his jaw.

  His stomach turning in a knot, Mac slowly shook his head at the vow that he hoped Bogie would be able to keep. A career officer, Bogie surely knew better than to make such assurances.

  “What about Chip Van Dorn?” Bogie asked. “Last year, I saved Eugene from a punch in the face right out here in the church parking lot.”

  Gasping, Edna covered her mouth with her hand. “I forgot all about that.”

  “What was that fight about?” David asked them.

  “It was really nothing,” Deborah said.

  “Nothing?” Bogie replied. “The guy threatened to blow Eugene’s brains out and then stormed inside the church, grabbed his wife by the arm, and dragged her out screaming and crying.”

  “I had forgotten what a drama queen Chip was,” Deborah said, “but that was a year ago.”

  “And Chip has hated all of us ever since,” Edna told the reverend. “You’ve seen the anti-Christian stuff he has posted on the social media sites.” She turned in her seat to tell the detectives, “Chip Van Dorn did a complete one-eighty after that blow up. Now he hates all church people and everything we stand for.”

  Mac repeated their previous question. “What was the blow up about?”

  “A bake sale,” Deborah said with a heavy sigh.

  “Bake sale?” Archie asked. “Do you mean bake sale as in cakes and cupcakes on a table to sell for a couple of bucks a pop?”

  “And cookies for a quarter a piece,” Edna answered.

  “Yeah,” the pastor replied with a roll of her eyes. “Our church is always in dire need of money, but last year it got really bad. Decisions had to be made to cut costs and raise more funds. The trustees and I decided to tell our members how serious things were. That was when Chip suggested we do fundraisers—specifically a bake sale—and he volunteered to coordinate it. The trustees decided against it.”

  “Why?” Chelsea asked.

  “One,” Deborah held up a finger, “in the couple of years that Chip had been a member of Spencer Church, he had proven to be …” She paused to search for the right word.

  “Nuts,” Bogie offered.

  “Offensive,” Edna said.

  “Chip was a control freak,” Deborah said. “Anytime he was placed in a position of even a tiny bit of power, it would go to his head. He would demean people he considered beneath him. You can’t do that to volunteers who are giving their time to help out. So, we would consciously keep him out of leadership positions and
he resented that.”

  “Resented it enough to physically attack and threaten Eugene,” Bogie noted.

  “You said one,” Mac reminded the pastor. “Where there’s a one, there’s usually a two.”

  “Generally, bake sales do not bring in a lot of money,” Deborah said. “The reward is not worth the investment in time and money. As chief trustee, Eugene was tasked with breaking the news to Chip. You know what they say about shooting the messenger. That was what happened. Chip blew up and directed his anger at Eugene.”

  “We have copies of the emails,” Edna said.

  “Emails?” David asked. “I thought this happened in person in the church parking lot.”

  “Eugene told Chip about the trustees’ decision in an email,” Deborah explained. “He completely over-reacted. Eugene blind copied the trustees in his replies to make them aware of what was going on and how he was handling it. Eugene wanted all of the trustees to be aware of the level of Chip’s spiritual immaturity for future consideration when it came to leadership positions.”

  “Eugene was covering his butt,” Mac said.

  “That’s another way of putting it,” Deborah confessed. “He was making sure the right hand knew what was happening on the left.”

  “Then, someone decided to tell Chip about the blind copied emails,” Edna said, “and that was when things got ugly and he attacked Eugene.”

  “But Chip left the church and has never come back since then,” Deborah said. “None of us have seen or heard hide or hair of Chip since then.”

  “Well …” Edna said, “not exactly.”

  “What exactly?” Mac asked.

  “About a month ago, I got a call from Chip’s wife, Tina, asking for an anonymous prayer request from our members,” Edna said. “She suspected Chip was having an affair and she noticed that he had been acting erratic lately.”

  “What do you mean by erratic?” David asked.

  “Tina said he was acting paranoid and every time she tried to talk to him about it, he’d fly off the handle.”

  “More than usual?” Deborah replied before telling David and Mac, “Chip gave new meaning to ‘flying off the handle.’”

  “We need to talk to Chip Van Dorn,” David said.

  “Chip Van Dorn?”

  When David turned around, he came face to face with a short, stern-faced woman wearing a purple hat with a red bird perched on the rim. She made her entrance into the sanctuary by throwing open both glass doors. After stepping through, she released the doors and placed her hands on her broad hips. “Are you in charge here?” she demanded to know in a shrill voice.

  Spotting the bird, Gnarly sat up at attention and trained his eyes on the prey bobbing on top of the intruder’s head.

  “No, Gnarly,” Archie ordered him.

  With a low growl, Gnarly laid down. Still, he refused to let the feathered tidbit out of his sight.

  When Officer Nathan Brewster grabbed her elbow in an effort to usher the formidable woman out, she shook him off. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Sorry, Chief,” Officer Brewster said. “This woman just barged in. I’ll take her back outside.” A retired Marine, Spencer Police Officer Nathan Brewster was not the type of man to be easily thwarted. With his broad shoulders and barrel chest, and years of combat training, he could be counted on to handle any assailant … unless she was welding a big fat purse.

  “Back off!” She struck him about the head and shoulders until he backed away—covering his head with both of his arms.

  When he lowered them to peer back at her, she threw her hand up over her head with her purse—daring the officer to try again. A wickedly triumphant grin crossed her bloated and wrinkled face.

  Brewster’s eye narrowed with determination. His thick, curly, salt-and-pepper hair stood up on end where it had been beaten to form what appeared to be a spiky, punk hair-do. His mustache curled as a sneer came to his lips. He reached for his gun.

  “Stand down, Brewster!” Bogie charged directly into the line of fire.

  “Oh, can’t you let him shoot her?” Edna asked in a low voice. When she saw the pastor fire off a stern glance in her direction, she cleared her throat. “Did I say that out loud?” Blushing, she covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said through her fingers.

  After dismissing Brewster to return to his post, Bogie told David in a low tone, “There’s always one in every crowd.”

  “Extra grace required,” the church pastor said with a nod of her head.

  Spotting the gold badge that David had clipped to his belt, the intruder made a beeline for the chief of police. “I’m Helga Thorpe. I am a trustee of this church and I demand to know what’s going on. Did I hear you mention Chip Van Dorn as a suspect for some crime committed here?” With a glare in her eyes, Helga demanded answers.

  Clearing his throat, David stood up to his full height to meet the challenge of the woman who fell several inches shorter than he. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an open police investigation.”

  “I heard Eugene Newton had gotten shot and that you need to question Chip Van Dorn,” Helga said. “Well, if he’s a suspect, then I have some information that can help you.”

  “Information or gossip?” Deborah asked in a displeased tone.

  “I heard it from a friend of Tina’s mother,” Helga told the pastor before redirecting her attention to the police chief. “Tina Van Dorn left her husband just last week after confirming that he was having an affair and he didn’t take it well at all.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Edna asked.

  “Positive,” Helga said. “She moved in with her mother who lives up the mountain on the McHenry side of the lake. Since then, he’s been taking up residence at The Blue Mermaid bar and closing the bar every night.”

  “Why would he shoot a church trustee for his wife leaving him because she caught him cheating?” Chelsea asked.

  “Maybe Eugene wasn’t the intended target,” Archie said. “He wasn’t supposed to be here this morning. Edna was.”

  “I could have been the target.” The pastor’s face went paler than it had been before. “I was counseling Tina when they were members. Chip may have blamed me …”

  David ordered Bogie, “Put out a BOLO on Chip Van Dorn. Let’s find out if he even owns a gun.”

  “Already on it, Chief.” Bogie stepped away to speak into his radio.

  “I can’t believe anyone from our church would do this,” Deborah said.

  “Especially to Eugene of all people,” Edna said. “Granted, Eugene wasn’t the warmest and fuzziest of people—”

  “That’s why we have Edna,” Deborah said. “She provides the warm and fuzzy.”

  “Can you think of anyone else who has objected to Eugene’s less than warm and fuzzy personality?” Mac asked the pastor.

  He did not miss Edna’s glance in Helga Thorpe’s direction.

  Ignoring the office manager’s expression, Helga ordered the pastor, “You should tell them about Alan.”

  “Alan who?” David asked.

  “Someone else you need to talk to.” Helga Thorpe shook a finger in all of their directions. “Alan Bennett.”

  While Deborah Hess and Edna shook their heads, David asked Helga, “Who’s Alan Bennett and why would he shoot Eugene?”

  “He’s the moron who should have been counting with me on Sunday, except Eugene fired him last week,” Helga said.

  “Fired him?” Bogie asked. “But he’s not a church employee.”

  “From the counters,” Helga said. “Alan gambled away all of his money and made one bad investment after another. He’s come to the church to bail him out time and again. It got so bad that we were afraid he would get sticky fingers counting the offering, so Eugene fired him.”

  When David and Mac turned to the pastor and office manage
r, they saw them hanging their heads in shame while nodding in agreement.

  “It wasn’t that we didn’t trust him,” Deborah said. “We just felt like—for the sake of appearances, if something was to happen.” She added, “And it wasn’t Eugene’s decision. The board of trustees made the decision—” She fired off a glare in Helga’s direction, “a unanimous decision. So it wasn’t Eugene who decided alone to fire Alan. However, as the chief of the trustees, Eugene has the dirty job of passing bad news to members and some will often blame Eugene when it’s not his fault.”

  “Bearer of bad news,” Bogie said. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

  “Can be a fatal job sometimes,” David said.

  “How did Alan take the news of being fired from the counters?” Mac asked the pastor.

  “He was fine,” Deborah replied.

  “Or so he said,” Helga interjected. “He didn’t come to church service on Sunday.”

  “It was a holiday weekend,” Edna pointed out. “A lot of people didn’t come this past Sunday. They didn’t all shoot Eugene.”

  “Hey, Chief,” David’s radio crackled.

  The police chief pressed the button on his radio. “Yes, Brewster …”

  “We’ve got a couple of young people here at the front door insisting that they need to come in,” Brewster reported. “They claim their mothers are inside … and the girl is extremely upset.” He added in a whisper, “She’s crying, sir. I’m not good with sobbing girls. I can handle flying bullets and blood and even dead bodies, but this …”

  “That’s probably my daughter,” Ruth said.

  The reverend added, “And Chase, my son.”

  With a sigh, David instructed Brewster to escort them into the sanctuary.

  Seconds later, a teenaged boy and girl rushed inside. The girl ran to hug Ruth while the boy rushed to Deborah. “Mom, what’s going on?” the boy asked. “I heard one of the officers saying there’s been a shooting. Has anyone been hurt?”

  “It was Eugene,” Deborah said. “Someone shot him.” She hugged the teenager tightly.