by Ingrid Thoft
Hal sighed and sagged in the booth. The motion made his beach ball–like stomach inflate slightly. “You’re going to be disappointed. It’s not a slam dunk.”
“Oh well, lay it on me.”
“The church is a 501(c)(3), as most churches are.”
“Meaning they’re tax-exempt,” Fina said.
“Basically. They’re exempt from federal taxes and usually state taxes.”
“What about property taxes?” Fina asked.
“It depends on the usage of the property.” He sipped his coffee. “They can’t be taxed for their physical church building, but if they have other holdings that aren’t used for church purposes, those are supposed to be taxed.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Supposed to? They get to deduct their housing, right?”
“Generally they can take a housing deduction on income tax, but not necessarily on their self-employment taxes. The tax code related to the clergy is very complicated.”
“All tax code is complicated. A housing deduction doesn’t seem unreasonable, given most clergy are underpaid and overworked.”
“Sure, but you have the rare instances where people abuse it. Think of Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker in the mid-eighties. Covenant Rising has the Gatchells’ primary residence on the books—”
“The one in Wellesley,” Fina interrupted.
Hal nodded. “But there’s also a house on Cape Cod and a condo in New Hampshire.”
Fina chuckled. “Is it near a ski resort by any chance?”
“Ten minutes from Loon Mountain.”
“That’s convenient.” She sipped her cocoa. “They must be spreading the good word on the slopes.”
“They also have a van and a few luxury cars listed as part of the church fleet, and I found evidence of trips to Florida and the Bahamas.” A waitress stopped at the table to refill Hal’s coffee.
“Could the trips be legitimate?”
“Maybe, but I didn’t find trips to places like Detroit or Omaha, no offense to those places.”
“Lots of people fudge stuff when it comes to work travel,” Fina said, “not that I’m condoning it.”
“Sure, but it’s a red flag when so many of an organization’s expenses are geared toward leisure and luxury.” Hal rotated his coffee cup on the table. “When you donate money to charity, most of it should go to the cause, not to overhead. If you donate to the church, why is your money paying the mortgage on a condo near the slopes or for a trip to the beach?”
“Why, indeed?” Fina used her spoon to scrape tiny pillows of whipped cream off the surface of her hot chocolate.
“I’m sure it’s pitched as being necessary to the pastor’s spiritual well-being,” Hal said, “if the congregants even know about it.”
“They might not?”
Hal shrugged. “Why would they, unless they have access to the church’s financial reports or my resources? I can’t imagine the pastor publicizes his getaways.”
“Probably not. So, what if I told you I wanted to sign over a big piece of land and some buildings to Covenant Rising?” Fina asked. “What would be your response?”
“Don’t do it, or at least not until I get a lot more information about their financial standing.”
“And there’s the rub. I’m guessing the church won’t be eager to share any information.”
“And I would wonder why that is,” Hal said. “Frankly, there are so many needy places that are forthcoming in their bookkeeping. Why not give to one of them?”
“Because you really believe in the mission? Because making the donation wins the donor favor in the community?” Fina mused.
“Okay, but then you need to think about why you’re really making the donation. To help others or yourself?”
“Most giving isn’t completely altruistic, Hal.”
“Of course not, but you should ask yourself some tough questions before parting with your assets.”
“Good point.” Fina reached into her bag and pulled out some cash for the bill. “Thanks. Let me know if anything else turns up.”
“Will do, Fina.” His gaze lingered on her face for a moment. “It’s nice to see you in one piece.” Hal and Fina had worked together for a number of years, and he had witnessed the numerous physical injuries she endured in the course of her work.
“It’s nice to be in one piece, but don’t expect it to last.” She smiled and scooched out of the booth.
Hal shook his head.
Poor Hal. He was one of the few people genuinely concerned with her safety—truly a thankless job.
• • •
A few hours later, Fina arrived at Covenant Rising Church full of questions, but with little hope of getting answers. The church’s food pantry was located at the opposite side of the building from the administrative offices, in a room lined with wire storage shelves packed with nonperishable food items like pasta, canned soup, and chili. There was a small refrigerator/freezer section with glass doors, like one you might find in a grocery store. Milk, eggs, yogurt, and cheese were on display, and the freezer held chicken nuggets, fish sticks, pancakes, and cans of orange juice concentrate. Three women stood at a table packing boxes and chatting. The location of the meeting seemed a bit heavy-handed to Fina: Look at us, we feed the hungry!
She stood off to the side and checked her e-mail, waiting for the pastor.
Fina was beginning to feel the familiar tug of impatience when he strode into the room. He nodded at her, but then went over to the women at the table and greeted them warmly. Fina watched as they exchanged a few words, and he managed to touch each of them before heading in her direction. The physical contact wasn’t inappropriate—a hand on a shoulder or arm—but it struck Fina as contrived and practiced. The women ate it up.
“Fina! Good to see you,” he said. He extended one hand and patted her shoulder with the other, not realizing she was immune to his charms.
“You, too, Pastor Greg.”
“Let’s take a seat.” He gestured toward a corner of the room that was full of broken-down boxes and recycling bins. They claimed a couple of folding chairs, and Greg leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What can I do for you?”
Fina fought the urge to lean back. This wasn’t Europe; she didn’t like people in her personal space.
“I’d love to hear about the church’s plans for Chloe Renard’s Vermont property,” she said.
“Right, right. Are you a lawyer?”
“I work for a lawyer.”
He sat back and eyed her. “Did Chloe hire you?”
“Her family did.” Fina smiled. “I’m sure you can understand her family’s desire to make sure that Chloe isn’t taking this big step without having all the necessary information.”
“Of course, I don’t want Chloe to do anything she isn’t comfortable with, but I’m not sure what could possibly be wrong with her donating to the church. Look at the work we do.” He raised his hands toward the ladies who were still packing away, chatting and laughing like happy minions.
“It’s wonderful, but you hear the most awful stories these days.”
Greg frowned and straightened up in his seat. “Not about CRC, you don’t.”
“Of course not, but surely, you don’t frown upon being cautious. ‘Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise,’ Ephesians 5:15,” Fina said helpfully.
He gave her a pitying look. “‘It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man,’ Psalm 118:8.”
“We could do this all day, Pastor Greg,” Fina said, hoping he wouldn’t want to, because actually she couldn’t. The only other quote in her ecclesiastical bag of tricks was “Love is patient, love is kind,” and that was really off topic.
“Fina, I want nothing more than to reassure the Renards that Chloe’s bequest is the right thing to do. I’d
be happy to meet with them if that would help.”
“And tell them what? The same thing you’re telling me?”
“Impress upon them what a wonderful gift Chloe is providing and what a tremendous example she’s setting for the rest of the congregation.”
Fina clasped her hands in her lap and sighed. “Yeah, it’s the lack of specifics that I find troubling, and I don’t think a blanket reassurance is going to make her family feel any better.”
Pastor Greg held open his hands. “I don’t know what more I can do.”
“I do. You can open the church’s books to the Renards’ financial adviser.”
He frowned. “You can’t really expect me to share that information with someone we don’t know.”
“And yet, you’re expecting the Renards to do the same; trust people with whom they have no relationship.”
“Chloe has a relationship with us,” he protested.
“And she has a relationship with her family’s financial adviser. In fact, I think she’s known him longer than she’s known you and her fellow congregants.”
Greg took a deep breath and placed his hands on his knees. “I think we should both take some time and pray on this.”
Fina was quiet for a moment—hoping she looked more contemplative than annoyed—and nodded. “Of course.”
“Will we see you at services on Sunday?” he asked, as they walked toward the front door.
She turned and offered her hand. “I suppose that depends on what I hear from the Lord, but I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop.”
“Well, I sure hope we do.”
On the road, Fina contemplated the paradox of Pastor Greg that seemed to encompass religion in general: Why was it that the man had all the answers and no answers at the same time?
• • •
“I have an idea,” Fina said, dropping into a plush wing chair next to Scotty. He was in a hotel bar not far from the office.
“Possibly the scariest sentence I’ll hear all year,” he said, grinning.
Fina shook her head. “So dramatic. Why are you hiding out here?” She looked around at the other patrons, most of whom seemed to have kicked off happy hour with mixed drinks, their jackets abandoned against their chairs, the outside portion of their days complete.
“I’m between a meeting and a client dinner. Didn’t make sense to head back to the office. So what’s your big idea?”
Fina squeezed the arms of her chair. “I’m the client. I’m going to hire myself.”
He looked at her. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that I’m going to treat the Rand situation as if I were a client, and I’m going to investigate him.”
“But we already know what he’s done.”
“Sexually abusing his daughter?” Fina clarified, and Scotty winced. Fina was repulsed by the reality of Rand’s crimes, but it irritated her that her brothers wouldn’t call it what it was. Until people started saying it out loud, incest would remain a shameful secret.
“We know some of what he’s done,” she continued, catching a waitress’s eye and ordering a diet soda. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“To what end?”
“I’m going to amass a case against him, and then I’m going to bring it to Dad, and he’ll have to act.”
“He doesn’t have to do anything, Fina.” He stirred the lemon wedge in his club soda with a slim straw.
“You didn’t let me finish. If he doesn’t act, I’ll find someone who will.”
“But couldn’t you do that now?” Scotty asked.
“In theory, but I would never do that to Haley. She’s not the first person he’s hurt, Scotty, right? If I can make a compelling case about his irredeemable qualities, someone is going to want to punish him. Hopefully, it will be Dad.”
Scotty sipped his drink. “That sounds like a dangerous game to me.”
“Okay,” she said, feeling irritation rise in her chest. “What’s your solution?”
“You know I don’t have one.”
“And I haven’t heard one from Matthew. As soon as you have a better idea, I’m all ears, but in the meantime, I’m kicking off an investigation.”
“Don’t you have a real case at the moment?”
“Yes, but I can multitask.”
He shook his head. “As long as Dad doesn’t find out.”
“About my multitasking or Rand?”
“Either.”
“Nobody can know about the Rand stuff. We can tell Matthew, but it stops there. I don’t even want you to tell Patty.”
“I don’t want to tell her,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Good, but I do need your help.”
“Okay.”
“Remember that incident when Rand was in college?”
Her brother snorted. “Which one?”
“The one where a young woman accused him of date rape.”
Scotty glanced around the room. “How do you know about that?”
“Seriously? Eavesdropping on Mom and Dad was a full-time job growing up.”
“It was an alleged rape.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop being a lawyer. I assume you know the identity of the ‘alleged’ victim?”
Scotty nodded.
“I need the name.”
His face pinched in discomfort.
“Scotty,” Fina said, leaning across the table and covering his hand with her own. “Either you’re in or you’re out. You gotta make up your mind.”
“I’m in. I’m in. I just wish being in didn’t require me to get involved.”
“That’s the definition of being out, knucklehead.” She sat back. “How can you be so ruthless on behalf of your clients and so wishy-washy the rest of the time?”
“It’s different when it’s family, and I’m acting as a brother, not a lawyer.”
“Exactly! That’s what dawned on me; you can’t act like a brother in this instance. You have to act like a lawyer. If a client wanted to go after Rand and he wasn’t your brother, you wouldn’t think twice about giving me the information.”
Scotty considered that for a moment. “Her name was Lindsay Kaufman. I don’t know what her name is now, whether she changed it or not, but she shouldn’t be that hard to find. She’s from Duxbury, and her dad worked in finance.”
“Thank you.” Fina leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Talk to you later.”
Investigators, whether private or members of law enforcement, were often jaded and cynical, believing the worst of everyone. But it was also true that you would never find a group of people more excited to unearth or stumble upon a shred of information or the mere hint of a clue. Fina felt the faint thrum of hope when she left with that name.
FIVE
Given Carl’s edict to deal with the Chloe Renard situation tout de suite, Fina decided to make a detour to the office and update him. Dealing with her father always reminded her of dealing with her niece and nephews when they were toddlers: Try to anticipate any possible obstacles and frustrations before they become big issues and have a bottle within reach.
Fina went to her father’s office and, finding it empty, took a seat on the couch. She was scrolling through her e-mails when her father’s assistant, Shari, walked in.
The attractive blonde glared at her.
“I’m not going to steal anything,” Fina said. The women shared a mutual lack of trust and respect.
“Your father doesn’t like it when people wait in his office.”
“I’m not ‘people.’ Trust me. He’ll let me know if my behavior displeases him.”
Fina heard him outside the office a few minutes later. Carl came in, closed the door behind him, and dropped into his chair.
“You have an update?”
“Of sorts.” She sto
od in front of his desk. “I’m not making much progress speaking directly to the holy rollers.”
“Did you really think you would?”
“I thought they might make some attempt at transparency, but it’s not going to happen. I have my financial guy on the case, but even if he finds something, I’m not sure it will do the trick.”
“Why not?”
“Chloe is really enamored of the church and the pastor in particular. Even if we present her with evidence of wrongdoing, I’m not convinced it will change her mind.”
Carl glanced down at some folders on his desk. “You just need to find some damning evidence.”
Fina opened her eyes wide. “So that’s how it works!”
“Do you think Ceci is overreacting?” he asked, ignoring her sass.
“No. I’m not sure I’d characterize them as a cult, but I think her concerns are well founded. I think Pastor Greg is slippery, and there may be some dirt to dig up.”
Carl held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear specifics.”
“I didn’t say I would do anything illegal.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sit down for a minute.”
Fina’s muscles tightened. She didn’t want to sit, but she suspected she needed to save her objections for whatever was next.
“There’s going to be a family dinner,” Carl said once she was seated. “And I expect you to be there.”
Fina looked at him and waited. She could guess what was coming, but she wanted him to say it.
“Rand will be there,” he said, and held her gaze.
She sighed. “Then I won’t be.”
“That’s your choice, but the rest of the family will be there.”
“You’ve spoken to Scotty and Matthew about this?”
“I sent them an e-mail.”
“You shouldn’t assume you have their support, Dad.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re just as unhappy as I am about Rand’s return.”
Carl shrugged. “They haven’t told me that.”
