“Well, sweetie, we Southern girls need to stick together.”
“So what can you tell me about Reverend Chatterworth?” I said.
“Our church had to ask him to leave back in the 90’s. For many years he was a good pastor. Did a really good job of helping the church to grow. Then, he seemed to change. I think he got involved in some type of religious cult, I don’t know. Whatever it was, he was doing strange things, middle of the night, you know, having séances and building fires and all. Weird stuff, if you know what I mean.”
“You think it was devil worship?” I said.
“Oh, no. Not that. It may have been of the devil, but I don’t think it was that exactly. He just changed and began to do unholy things.”
“Unholy things?” I repeated.
“I don’t like to talk about stuff like this. You know, sex talk. He got involved with some young women in the church. We found out that he was having parties, even though he called these things worship experiences. If you ask me and some others, it was nothing more than orgies, you know, sex orgies and stuff like that. Horrible, it was. We asked him to leave.”
“So he left.”
“Not without a fight. He fought the deacons and the elders here. I think they made a private deal with him. I think they paid him off so he would leave. No official record of any of that, but, well, the reason I know so much is that my husband John, God rest his soul, was an elder then and, well, John didn’t tell me everything, but he told me enough.”
“They paid Reverend Chatterworth under the table to leave town,” I said.
“They did. Actually, we did.”
“They use church money?”
“Some, I think. John told me that we had to contribute privately as well, so he went into our savings and came up with a thousand dollars.”
“How many deacons and elders were involved in this effort?”
“Our church has twelve deacons and twelve elders,” she said.
“$24 thousand,” I said.
“The church matched it and he left.”
“Wow. He must have had a hold on them.”
“He started the church and somewhere in the constitution and bylaws it stated that he was a co-owner of the grounds and facilities. I think that’s why they … we … had to buy him off so he would leave.”
“I’m sorry to ask you remember all that. But you have been more than helpful. Oh, one more thing,” I said. “When he left in 1996, was Audrey still with him?”
“You’re speaking of his wife, right?”
“I am.”
“No, she went back to live with her parents early in the 90’s. We were told that her parents were aging and that they needed her constant care.”
“She ever come back to visit?” I said.
“Not that I’m aware of,” she said.
“Was Audrey from Pennsylvania?” I said.
“No, as a matter of fact, she was from a small town in Tennessee, north of my hometown. We used to talk about Tennessee and life there, how different it was from New Castle, Pa.”
“Yeah, I imagine so. What was the name of her hometown north of Memphis?”
“Mckenzie. Mckenzie, Tennessee.”
64
It was late morning by now and Rogers had not called back to report any findings. I was mulling over the info on Fletcher, a.k.a. Chatterworth. It seemed to be that at some time in his past life Fletcher was a minister of good standing and seemed to have done some good things. Not sure how or why the wheels came off the wagon for him, but they evidently did. Crises of faith, or something akin to that. Maybe it was simply one of those mid-life crises.
Rogers called just after eleven.
“Checked on the possible whereabouts of Audrey Johnstone in Mckenzie, Tennessee and found nothing. Did find that she had family there years ago, but they’re all dead now. In fact, her parents were killed in an automobile accident the same year that Lee was born, 1984. So that stuff about her going back to Mckenzie to take care of ailing parents was a fabrication. They were already dead when that line came out, and I suspect that they didn’t need too much care then.”
“So Audrey’s disappearance is a mystery,” I said.
“Some mystery. She’s likely as dead as her parents. You want speculation?”
“Can’t prove anything, so what good is speculation?”
“Makes me feel better to name the monster.”
“Okay, feel better. What think ye?”
“Audrey’s at the bottom of Lake Arthur.”
“Good spot to dump a body,” I said.
“And then tell people she went home to take care of her dead parents,” Rogers said.
“Who would check on the preacher’s word?”
“Who indeed? Only the snooping private eye who comes along twenty years later. Wish we could prove something,” Rogers said.
“Okay, let’s go at it another angle. When Fletcher moved to Weston, we now know that he had close to $50,000 … severance package you might say. Did he buy a house or build?”
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.”
I met Rosey at the restaurant attached to our motel in Weston. We both ordered omelets with toast. We sipped our coffee while we waited on our late breakfast to come. I ordered scrambled eggs to go for Sam. He was still sleeping when I had left the room.
I told Rosey what I had discovered about Fletcher and the info we had gleaned on Audrey.
“He’s covered his tracks well,” he said.
“I’m not through digging. I’ll find something.”
“What’s Rogers doing now?”
“Checking on what Fletcher did when he arrived here in Weston,” I said.
“I don’t follow.”
“He came into town with some cash and I was simply wondering if he bought that mansion or built it.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Maybe none. Maybe a lot. He’s into this sexual worship stuff. He’s not going to practice it in the open,” I said.
“Necessarily,” Rosey said.
“Okay, necessarily. But he would need a place to perform some of his rituals. If he is into sacrifice, he would need a private place.”
“His house? You’re thinking his house to be that sacred spot?” Rosey said.
“Maybe. What if he built a basement?”
“Where on earth are you coming from with this?” Rosey said.
“Yesterday. We arrived just minutes after Sandy. She was nowhere to be found. We searched the house completely, both floors. Nothing. She disappeared.”
“And what makes you think that Fletcher has some hidden subterranean basement or room that he uses for his off-the-chart religious practices?”
“Old movies,” I said.
“I think you’re nuts.”
“Yeah, could be. Hold that thought. But if I wanted to practice a religion that had to do with sexual intercourse with young people, and if I wanted to offer sacrifices without the interference of the testy law enforcement being picky about killing people, then where do I go to do this type of religious fervor?” I said.
“The forest.”
“I thought about that. Sandy’s place out near the reservoir would be an ideal location. But we checked out the grounds and found nothing. Owens had some uniforms check it out thoroughly and they came up with nothing more than trees and shrubs.”
“Maybe it was underground,” Rosey said.
Our omelets arrived as did Sam’s scrambled eggs in a plastic carton. I covered my toast with strawberry jelly, took a few bites of my omelet, and gulped some coffee before I continued.
“You a funny, funny man. But in your own sarcastic way, you are heading in the right direction.”
“I wasn’t heading anywhere. I was trying to get you to see how foolish this all sounds,” he said.
“Nothing else has worked for us. Maybe it’s time we think way outside the box,” I said.
“I hate that phrase, outside the box
. What box, you think everything has a box?”
“Point. That expression is getting old. But I’m willing to try something drastic here. You know, out there.”
“You have no proof of anything,” he said.
On cue my cell phone rang.
“He built the mansion,” Rogers said.
I pushed the speaker phone button. I wanted Rosey to listen in.
“Say that again, please. Rosey is now listening,” I said to Rogers.
“Hey, handsome man. Fletcher came to town and built the mansion,” she said.
Rosey rolled his eyes while he chewed.
“Did you find the building specs on file with the City of Weston?” I said.
“All of the blueprints, paperwork, and money paid.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Yeah, I think so. There’s a drawing for a sixty by sixty foot excavation under the house. It was drawn to be four times as deep as a regular basement. The specifications on the walls were all that reinforced concrete and re-enforced steel beams. Judging from what I have found, Fletcher wanted to build a regular fortress underneath his house.”
“You locate the contractor who built it for him?” I said.
“Close, but no cigar.”
“Details.”
“The house was built by Jefferson, Logan, and Sons. They said that they had nothing to do with any basement. Their records indicate that when it came time for them to build, they simply framed the mansion on top of a very large slab of concrete. Someone had dug the footings and everything, so all they did was build the house on a gigantic concrete slab.”
“Any record of who did the concrete slab?”
“Not even a hint on that. It would seem that if the basement was in fact dug, it was done in secrecy and the contractors disappeared after they finished.”
I looked at Rosey and he shook his head.
“You have a sense about these things, don’t you?” Rosey said to me.
“It’s what I do, weird detective that I am.”
65
“Disappearance and death seem to walk close to this Fletcher dude,” Owens said to me as we sat in front of the mansion in Owens’ squad car waiting on more units to come join our hunt. Rosey was in the front seat with Owens. Sam and I were in back. It was late afternoon.
I updated Owens on Rogers’ research. I took credit for it. He didn’t seemed to be surprised at this new information.
“I’ll have our office do some follow-up on Audrey Johnstone,” Owens said.
“Like having Lake Arthur dredged for a body?” I said.
“Like that’s gonna happen. Have no probable cause to seek such an expensive operation. I’m guessing that he’s probably covered his trail well enough to keep the hounds at bay,” Owens said.
“Just hope we can nail him on Melody’s murder,” I said.
“I hope we can start by finding him,” Rosey said.
“I’m feeling claustrophobic,” Rosey said and got out of the car. The rest of us followed suit. Several minutes passed. Time was moving much too slow to suit me.
Rosey leaned on the hood of the car and talked to Sam who was sitting at his feet. The backup units arrived and we had some twenty cops to help us search for the impossible. Owens left me at the squad car and went over to the cops to explain what we were doing here.
“Tell me again what exactly are we searching for?” Rosey said.
I walked over to where he was now sitting on the front bumper. Rosey was scratching Sam’s head. Bonding.
“According to the specs that Rogers uncovered, there’s an entrance way to a basement level somewhere on the main floor.”
“And the specs don’t show exactly where this gateway to the world below is located?” he said.
“I think Fletcher did that on purpose. It shows an entrance on one side of the main floor of the house,” I said.
“And you can’t tell which side it’s on?”
“Neither front nor back door depicted on the specs. No other markings to indicate any kind of direction. Very clever of Fletcher to draw it that way. The man may be foolish in his religious beliefs, but he is no fool. The house is a basic rectangle and all floors share the same design but with different inside walls to allow for the rooms to vary in size. There’s just no way to tell which side of the house holds the secret passage.”
“Or if there really is one,” Rosey said.
“Oh ye of little faith,” I said.
Owens motioned for us and we followed him to the front door of the house. There was no response to our knocking. Owens pushed the doorbell button several times. We listened for a response but all we could hear was the sound of the chimes ringing inside the house. The chimes sounded to me like a tolling bell when a person dies. Ominous.
Owens motioned for the cop brigade to go ahead of us and we followed them inside. It only took a few minutes for our gang of law officers to determine that no one was home, at least not on the two floors that were obvious.
“Now the fun begins,” I said to Owens and Rosey. “I’ll take the right side of the house and you two can have the left. According to the drawing, the entrance to the basement is located somewhere near the center of the house, either to the left or the right side of center.”
“You have any idea as to what exactly we are looking for?” Owens said.
“Not in the least,” I said.
Two hours of diligent searching turned up nothing. I looked for levers, knobs, buttons, and valves. I felt every ledge, corner, and wall indention on my side of the house. Now and then Owens, Rosey and I would meet in the hallway, compare our frustrations, talk a little about what we were doing, shake our heads out of desperation, and then go back at it. All to no avail.
“Let’s take a break,” Owens said to us. “I need to decide what to do with these twenty officers. I can’t just keep them here on and on. They have to account for their time on duty. You two have any ideas?”
“You think we actually need twenty officers to apprehend two suspects?” Rosey said. “I’ve handled more than ten men by myself. I don’t see the need for this many policeman.”
“I want to apprehend them peacefully,” Owens said. “I don’t like violence if I can help it. I have no idea what to expect from Fletcher or his daughter.”
“There’s three of us, plus a dog. I think we can get the job done. For my money, you can send the guys home or back to the station to do whatever it is that they need to do. Besides all that, we can’t even find a way to the basement; and, if we did, we’re not sure they’re even down there.”
“We’re not even positive that a basement exists, are we?” Owens said.
“Nothing to support it except my wild idea and those dubious specs,” I said.
Rosey and I watched Owens send the re-enforcements away. A part of me felt some regrets with that decision, but it was the right call. My confidence in our taking down Fletcher was waning, I will admit that. All appearances seemed to indicate that our day of hard work was a bust.
We followed Owens back inside the mansion.
“I ordered pizza. I hope you two like supreme stuff, ‘cause that’s what we’re getting. Should be here in a few minutes. I thought we would stay here, eat something, think, talk, fuss and maybe cuss a little to get the juices flowing. If you have any better ideas than that, speak now,” Owens said.
Rosey shrugged and sat down at the large dining room table. I nodded and joined him.
“Wonder if this table has ever seen the likes of pizza on it?” Owens said.
Thirty minutes later, we had filled our stomachs with a very good pizza from Tony’s Pizza Palace and were sitting quietly waiting for something to happen. Anything would have been nice. Anything. Significant would have been great. Detectives do a lot of sitting and waiting for something significant to happen. Sometimes it happens. Other times, not so much.
I walked to another part of the house to call Rogers. I wanted her input. The only thing that suffers whe
n I consult her is my ego. I updated her on what we knew and what we had done up to that time.
“Did you try the obvious?” Rogers said.
“I sort of think that what we were doing is obvious,” I said.
“I mean, did you look for something hidden in plain sight?”
“For instance?” I said.
“Walk into the place you searched first,” Rogers directed me.
I walked into the room I had spent the late afternoon combing without success. It was the same room in which we had finished eating both of Tony’s large supreme pizzas. Owens and Rosey were still sitting at the large table. Sam was on the floor between the two of them waiting for more crust pieces to come his way.
“What did you overlook? That is, what did you avoid because it was there and you just knew it was not what you were after?”
I looked around the room. Nothing jumped out at me.
“Tell me what is in the room,” Rogers said.
“There’s a huge glass chandelier in the center of the room hanging from the ceiling of course. It’s over the dining room table, which is rather large. Has a seating capacity of, let’s see… one, two … boy oh boy, some fourteen people.”
“That’s large,” Rogers said to me.
“There’s a china closet, check that, there are two large china cabinets, on opposite ends of the room to balance things, I suppose. There’s an antique wash stand with a bowl and pitcher resting on its top. Some paintings on the wall … and there’s a marble topped table that houses linens, napkins, and such next to the entrance door to this room from the hallway.”
“That all?” Rogers said.
I scanned the room to make sure that I had not left something out.
“Oh, there’s a large pot of flowers between the outside windows opposite the entrance door from the hall. I think that’s it.”
“Anything under the dining room table?”
I looked under the table. I saw chair legs and table legs. I saw two sets of human legs. I reported all to Rogers.
Owens and Rosey looked at each other a time or two, no doubt wondering what I was doing. Rosey might have a notion, but Owens was probably in the dark. Completely in the dark.
Desperate Measures: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 5) Page 26
