When she walked in the Ice House, the first thing she wanted to do was wash her hands. She walked by the booth crowded with the sheriff, the pastor, Angie and Chelsea on her way to the restroom.
“Is this a party and I wasn’t invited?” she asked, feigning a pout.
“Just talkin’ over some business,” James W. said.
“Bo will come around to get your order,” Angie put in.
“I’ll wait for Chelsea,” she said, giving the girl a wink.
“We’re about through,” Chelsea called after her.
Mandy continued on her way to the women’s room. What an interesting gathering.
***
Aaron Rodriguez normally closed the Sinclair Station at eleven o’clock, but his curiosity was up. With the front garage doors open, he could see straight through to the booth where the pastor and the sheriff were huddled talking to Angie and Chelsea.
What in the world was going on?
At five after ten, he secured the cash in his safe, shut off the lights, flipped over the “Open” sign, and locked the door behind him.
He chuckled. A businessman couldn’t get away with that in the big city.
He headed across the street to the Fire and Ice House and saw that Mandy Culver was about to sit down at the table where the church group usually gathered to play trivia. Perfect. His normal spot was right in between the pastor’s booth and Mandy’s table.
He might get an earful tonight.
***
“Why were you askin’ me all the questions about last Friday?” Chelsea had no intention of leaving the table without knowing what had happened on her watch.
“We’re lookin’ for somethin’, that’s all. We’re not sure when it went missin’,” Angie said.
“What are you lookin’ for?” Chelsea stared first at Angie, then at the sheriff. “If you think I took somethin’, I want to know about it. Now.”
James W. sent Angie another glare. She had given the girl way too much information. “You’re not bein’ accused of anything.”
“But I’m a suspect. Right?” She turned on Angie. “Damnit, I’ve done everything I can to make things work with you. Do you really think I’d steal somethin’? Now?”
“Of course not,” Angie said helplessly. She did not want to get in another row with Chelsea. “We have no idea really when it went missin’.”
“It. It!” Chelsea’s temper was rising. “If you don’t think I took it, I might be able to help you find it. Or maybe you really don’t trust me.”
Angie let out a sigh. “It’s a—”
“Don’t you do it,” James W. interrupted her.
Angie gave him a quick shake of the head. “It’s a Colt .45.”
“The one Bo shot the snake with?” Chelsea’s eyes rounded.
“Okay, so now you know,” James W. sighed. “Don’t go tellin’—”
Chelsea made the connection. “Is it the gun that shot Owen Seegler?”
“Right now you know as much about this as we do,” Matt said quietly. “Look if you like, but don’t touch it if you find it, and don’t talk to anybody about it except James W., Angie or me. Got it?”
She nodded solemnly. “Wow,” she said. “I’ll look every place I can think of.”
“I guess that’s everything, then,” Angie said. “Head back to work.”
Chelsea rose from the booth, still goggle-eyed. “This sure is an interestin’ town.”
When Chelsea was out of earshot, James W. turned on Angie. “What the hell were you thinkin’?”
Angie glared at him. “Well, I’m thinkin’ that now is the time for me to get back to work.” She nudged her way out of the booth and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Doggone it, that was a stupid thing to tell that girl.”
Matt shrugged. “What’s done is done. Can’t undo it. But there’s some stuff she doesn’t know and you need to.” He proceeded to fill James W. in on his conversation with the barmaid in Dannerton and with Hester Honeywell in Austin.
“My wife went to the Midnight Cowgirl?” James W. was barely able to keep his voice low. “And threatened Melinda Platt? In public?”
“I’m afraid so.” Matt took another sip of his tea. “The good news is I wrangled an invitation for Jimmy Jr. to their poker game. Apparently, that’s a big deal in state politics.”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t see an upside to your visit with Hester Honeywell.”
“Well, I didn’t expect—”
James W.’s cell phone rang. “Sheriff Novak,” he said, then listened a moment. “Yeah, Norm. I think think it’s clearing off, though. I haven’t heard any thunder for awhile.” He listened for a moment. “Only thing we can do is wait. And hope folks are keepin’ an eye out.” James W. sipped his Coke. “What’s that? Your people found the records? That’s great.”
James W. slipped his hand over the phone. “I called Norm Krall this mornin’ to find out if he’d had any concrete jobs ten years back. I figured that dump of concrete came from a truck, not a wheelbarrow.”
Matt nodded. That was good thinking. James W. went back to listening.
“What?” Suddenly the sheriff looked like he’d been slapped. He sucked in his breath, then finally spoke. “Yeah, I guess that was ten years back.”
Matt’s brow furrowed. James W.’s face was turning red. “Are you sure?” He listened, and it didn’t appear he liked Norm’s answer. “Well, keep this to yourself,” he finally said and ended the call.
“What?” Matt demanded.
“Norm had a concrete job, all right, the weekend that Melinda Platt disappeared.” He looked at his drink as if he wished it was something stronger. “Turns out that was the weekend that he installed the hot tub…in my backyard.”
“That didn’t require concrete—”
“Oh, yeah. It did. The slab had to be eighteen inches thick. Plus we added on to the patio.”
Matt let out a low whistle. “You know that puts more attention on Elsbeth.”
“Tell me about it. If this gets out, Elsbeth is gonna go ballistic.”
“Look, James W.,” Matt said, deciding. “We’ve got too many facts here to get straight. It’s time for us to be logical about this.”
“What you talkin’ about?”
“We need to put together a crime board.”
***
Chelsea applied a quick swipe of lip shiner before heading to Mandy’s table. “Sorry for the wait.”
“What in the world is goin’ on over there?” Mandy asked.
Chelsea thought for a second. She wasn’t supposed to talk about the gun. What could she say?
Then it came to her. “Oh, they’re puttin’ a security system in at the church and parsonage tomorrow. So, do you want the usual?”
“A security system?” Mandy turned her attention from her trivia game. “Why’d they need you to talk about the church’s security system?”
Chelsea was buffaloed as to how to answer back. “I…unh…somethin’ went missin’ from here and they wanted to know if I’d seen anything. Now, that’s all I can say.” She sent Mandy a pleading look.
Mandy shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. Everyone just looked so serious is all.”
Chelsea smiled again. “Hey, I only work ‘til midnight tonight. Can we get together at your place?”
Mandy looked crestfallen. “I can’t, sugar. I’ve got a food inspection at the Center tomorrow. Have to be in extra early.”
“Okay.”
“But I can stay here for a little bit. And yes, I’ll have my usual.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lightning Strikes
Matt and James W. walked to the parsonage, escorted by Shadow. For some reason the dog had decided to come along.
Which was just fine with Matt. That meant he’d have to take Shadow back to the Ice House. Angie said she’d give him a ring when she closed the bar.
As they stepped onto the bridge that spanned the Colorado River, Matt said, �
��I’ve decided I need to tell you a few things about me.”
“I’d appreciate it,” the sheriff said. “But I ain’t askin’.”
Matt smiled. “No, you’re not.” They rounded the bridge’s railing and took the sidewalk that paralleled the river’s edge back to the parsonage.
The pastor took a deep breath and finally said, “I used to be a cop.”
James W. burst out laughing. In fact he doubled over, he laughed so hard. Finally he composed himself, breathing in as he straightened. “Really,” he finally managed, then broke into a barrel laugh that echoed all the way across the river against the Fire and Ice House.
“Done yet?” Matt asked defensively.
“Almost.” The sheriff slapped a hand on Matt’s back. “Boy, you must think I’m about as sharp as a mashed potato. I figured that out a long time back.”
“And I know a lot of stuff about my former employers that I’m not supposed to know.”
“Like what?” James W. sobered.
“Like the chief of police was basically a kingpin in drug trafficking, and that he killed my father and my brother and maimed my other brother to keep what we knew quiet.”
James W. looked stunned. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. A moment passed before he asked, “What about you?”
“Oh, they tried to take me out, too. But the Feds whisked me away into their Witness Protection Program. They want to keep me alive so I can testify against the police chief.”
James W. let out a whistle. “How did you end up a preacher?”
“I had the chance to kill the police chief. God stopped me from pulling the trigger.”
The two men walked silently in the moonlight peeking through the clearing clouds. They made it all the way to the parsonage’s back door before James W. spoke. “So you think that maybe whoever killed Owen might’ve thought he was killin’ you.”
“It’s a distinct possibility.”
Matt fished in his pocket for his keys, then let the sheriff and Shadow into the kitchen. He poured himself and James W. a glass of chardonnay, spritzed it with soda, then spied Owen’s cell phone that Deborah had given him earlier on the counter. He plugged it into his charger.
“Let’s go in my office,” he said and led James W. down the hall. Shadow padded behind them.
Matt grabbed a few dry erase markers from his desk and crossed to the whiteboard that was used for the Bible studies he hosted at the parsonage. He drew a line down its center and headed the first column with the name “Melinda Platt” and the second, “Owen Seegler.”
He turned to James W. “We’ve got a whole lot of facts here, and it’s hard to tell which one goes with which murder. Two deaths. Ten years apart. But everything seems to overlap.”
James W. nodded. “Let’s get to work.”
***
By midnight the Fire and Ice House only had one customer left. Angie wasn’t sure why—maybe everyone was partied out after yesterday’s July Fourth celebration. She only knew that for once in her life, she was happy for an almost empty bar.
She went to the kitchen and began closing things down. Food had to be put away. The place needed to be cleaned and the garbage taken out. She had at least three loads of dirty dishes to put through the dishwasher’s conveyor.
At twelve-fifteen the customer up front let out a “Need another out here,” and Angie quickly moved to serve him. Maybe if she made it stiff enough this would be his last order.
Again, perhaps not the most business-savvy wish, but when the place was empty she could close.
Then Matt would come over.
***
James W. and Matt stared at the board. On Owen’s side, they’d listed insurance policy amounts, Owen’s debts, and terms of his will. They’d also sketched out a timeline of Owen’s last days. From that timeline, they’d drawn up a list of people who had spoken with Owen during that time, including “unknown hitman.”
On Melinda’s side, both Owen and Zach’s names appeared, and, much to James W.’s consternation, so did Elsbeth’s. Here the preacher and the sheriff had included Melinda’s last days, quotes from Chelsea regarding the strange conversation between Owen and Zach on Thursday night, Hester Honeywell’s comments, and the details of the bus tickets.
Since they didn’t know its significance, they had taped the evidence bag holding the “Follow the suitcases” note found in Matt’s Bible on the line between the two.
“I almost forgot,” Matt said and hurried into the kitchen.
“What?” James W. followed close on his heels. Shadow padded swiftly behind them.
“Deborah gave me Owen’s phone this afternoon. She said there were some strange pictures on it.” Matt turned the cell phone on. When the app screen came up, he hit “photos” and waited as the thumbnails loaded on the screen.
The dirty laundry wasn’t hard to find. He punched to enlarge it. The two men studied it closely.
“Just like Deborah said,” Matt decided. “Ladies’ underwear.”
“Heck, Matt, Owen had two daughters. Maybe this was one of those mistake photos a person takes without even realizin’ it.”
“Hold on.” Something wasn’t right. Then realization hit. “The laundry isn’t in baskets.”
“Hunh?”
“These aren’t laundry baskets full of dirty clothes.” Matt shoved the screen at the sheriff. “They’re suitcases.”
“Two suitcases. One red one and one blue.” James W. nodded.
“What were the colors of the suitcases that Melinda and Diane carried the night they disappeared?”
“It’ll be in the police report,” James W. said.
“I’ll bet you one was red and one was blue.”
“I can go get it if—”
Matt cut off the sheriff’s offer. “Gimme a minute.” The preacher went back to his study and, crossing his arms over his chest, stared at the board.
After a full minute, he finally spoke. “We were wrong, James W.”
“How so?” The sheriff had been standing in the doorway watching Matt think.
“Owen Seegler did commit suicide.”
***
Angie looked at her watch as she climbed the stairs up to her apartment. It was twelve-thirty and she had done the unspeakable. She’d closed her bar early.
As she unlocked her door, her heart was beating fast. This was the first time she’d be alone with Matt since she had told him that she loved him. Her breath caught every time she remembered their kiss.
That preacher man sure knew how to kiss.
Angie headed straight for her bedroom, stripping off her soiled work clothes as she went. She was not going to meet him tonight smelling of sweat and bleach. Should she wear a T-shirt? A polo? Jeans or shorts?
She laughed at her reflection in her dresser mirror as she held various outfits up to consider. The anticipation of seeing Matt alone had her giddy.
Deciding on a deep-purple blouson top, she went to her dresser to retrieve her underwear and bra, then pulled out a pair of black shorts. Her next stop was the bathroom, where she touched up her lip gloss, then reached for her mascara. She brought the brush to her eyelashes, then realized her hand was shaking so hard that she’d probably make matters worse, not better. She put the mascara back in the medicine cabinet and headed out to the main room.
Walking by her mother’s room, she stopped. What would Maeve think of Matt? Then she smiled, knowing what Maeve would want for her daughter.
Angie put a hand on the bedroom door. “He makes me happy, Mamma,” she whispered. Then she headed for the phone to call Matt.
***
Back at Matt’s house, James W. was not happy. “Preacher, we’ve been all over this. There’s no way that Owen—”
“Pulled the trigger,” Matt finished for him. “Owen didn’t pull the trigger. He made Zach Gibbons do it.”
“How and why would Owen make Zach kill him?” The sheriff wasn’t buying it.
“He needed the money.”
“Zach’s so broke he can’t even go window shoppin’!” James W. protested. “Every penny he gets he spends on liquor.”
“Owen wasn’t looking for Zach’s money.” The more Matt thought, the more everything began to fall into place. He sat down behind his desk, still studying the crime board. “He couldn’t commit suicide—that might have negated all the life insurance policies. He needed someone to kill him so his family would be set financially.”
James W. grabbed a chair from the corner and positioned it for a better study of the crime board. “This had better be good.”
“Owen may not have known what happened the night the girls disappeared. Zach said they drove the girls to Dannerton’s bus station. Sherylene told me today that many times Zach brought Owen home passed out after a night of drinking. Owen might’ve even been worried that he had something to do with the girls’ disappearance.”
“In his statement ten years ago he said that Zach and him had taken the girls to the station,” James W. pointed out.
“Yeah, but if he hadn’t said that, he would’ve had to admit he was passed out, and that would’ve opened up a whole lot more questions for the police.”
James W. nodded. “Sheriff Danny Don Dube would’ve been all over that.”
“So Owen went on a fact-finding mission to learn what had really happened that night. I’ll bet you dimes to dollars that Owen found those two suitcases and connected them to Zach somehow. Heck, maybe these are even at Zach’s trailer,” Matt said, holding up the phone.
James W. took the cell and called up the photos for a second look. “Definitely in a cramped space,” he said. “Could be a trailer.”
“Finally, Owen decided he had to ask Zach what really happened to Melinda and Diane. So he took Zach to the Fire and Ice House last Thursday night and got him liquored up good. But Owen stayed sober, remember? After a few hours, he finally got Zach to talk about that night.”
James W. was finally beginning to understand. “Chelsea overheard bits of that.” He stood and walked to the board, reading off the quotes they had written down. “Some girl slipped and hit her head. Zach said he’d thrown her in the back of the truck in case—” he turned and looked steadily at Matt. “In case you woke up and wanted to have some fun.”
Murder in the Second Pew: A Pastor Matt Hayden Mystery Page 23
