An Unholy Mission

by Judith Campbell

  More anon, LFW

  Meet Author Judith Campbell

  Rev. Dr. Judith Campbell is an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister and the author of several books and articles. She has published children’s stories and poetry, as well as numerous essays on the arts, religion, and spirituality.

  She holds a PhD in The Arts and Religious Studies and a Master of Arts in Fine Arts, and she offers writing workshops and spirituality retreats nationally and internationally.

  When she isn’t traveling and teaching, she spends her time on the island of Martha’s Vineyard and in Plymouth, Massachusetts, with her husband and best friend, Chris Stokes, a “Professional Englishman,” together with their annoyingly intelligent cats, Katie and Simon.

  To learn more about “The Sinister Minister” or to invite her to lead a writing workshop, preach at your church, or speak at your library or book group, please visit her website at www.judithcampbell-holymysteries.com. “Rev Judy” loves to talk to her readers.

  Preview of the fifth Olympia Brown Mystery

  coming from Mainly Murder Press in 2013

  A Predatory Mission

  by Judith Campbell

  Prologue

  Search for doctor’s wife and children continues as concerns for their safety grow

  The whereabouts of Yolanda Emerson Nikitas and her two children remains a mystery since the three vanished on Thursday of last week. Mrs. Nikitas, the estranged wife of Doctor Nicholas Nikitas, a family practitioner in the community, was planning to leave the children with her mother for the afternoon on the day of her disappearance but never arrived. Her abandoned car was located the next day in a commuter rail parking lot. Police are exploring all possibilities and ask that anyone who might have information regarding this incident call Millbridge police headquarters or the anonymous information hotline listed in the town directory.

  Police Inspector Steve Vages handed the folded newspaper across the desk to his partner, Officer Ginny Simon.

  “It’s not even been a week, and they’ve already demoted the story to page three.”

  “It’s a disappearance, Steve. Unless there’s a dead body or a suicide note or a paper trail to some romantic hideaway on a tropical island, it’s hard to know exactly where to start looking—or even what we’re looking for. We’ve followed protocol to the letter, and we’ve come up with a big, fat nothing.”

  Vages opened a manila folder marked Nikitas.

  “This is the narrative of the interview with the husband. I want to go over it one more time and see if anything jumps out that we might have missed. I’ll read it out loud so I don’t skip over anything.” He cleared his throat, spread out the papers on the desk in front of him and began to read.

  “Dr. Nikitas states that he first learned his wife and two preschool-age children were missing when his mother-in-law called him on Thursday to ask if he knew where they were. She said they had been expected two hours earlier, and she was getting concerned because Yolanda wasn’t answering her phone. He said that he cancelled the rest of his appointments and drove to the family home, where she lived with the children. Upon arrival he noted that her car was not parked in its usual spot in the driveway, nor was it in the garage. Using his own key, he entered the house to find no one there. He said that this was totally out of character because his wife is highly organized and very punctual. In a second interview he stated that there was no sign of any kind of struggle in the home, and nothing seemed to be missing—that his wife’s and children’s clothing was still neatly folded in the dressers and hanging in the closets.

  Dr. Nikitas said that his wife had been despondent of late, but he didn’t think she was suicidal. He also noted that despite their marital difficulties, she was a devoted mother, and taking off with the children without some sort of explanation was something she simply wouldn’t do.”

  Vages shook his head and closed the folder. “That’s it as far as the actual interviews go. The rest of the stuff in here is pictures and personal information.”

  Ginny shook her head. “I went to school with Yoli. We were in the glee club together. She sings in the local church choir, or at least she did up until she left and started going to that church across the street. This whole thing is unreal. I know we’re in the crime business, but when it involves someone you grew up with, it really does change your perspective on things.”

  Steve sucked in his lower lip. “No kidding, and the first place we always look is the next of kin.”

  Ginny nodded. “Don’t think I didn’t start there, but the good doctor is a total Mr. Clean. He doesn’t even have speeding tickets. Medical stuff is all in order. Highly respected in the community. Regular church goer. No skeletons in that closet unless they’re left over from an anatomy class.” She made a face and shook her head before saying, “They were living apart, so we know there were problems, but lots of people have problems. Sometimes all you need is a little time out to clear the air.”

  “Yeah, but what isn’t being made public is that there was absolutely no sign of foul play in either the car or the house, and her cell phone was found, turned off and locked in the glove compartment.”

  Steve tapped the folded newspaper with the tips of his fingers. “Somebody somewhere knows something, and that somebody isn’t talking.”

  “Or there’s something big and nasty that we totally missed.”

  “It’s strange that after a whole week we’ve come up with absolutely nothing. On the other hand, the fact that there was no explanatory note, no sign of a struggle and nothing of value missing from the house doesn’t give us much to go on, but it’s not as worrisome as a trail of blood and shredded clothing.”

  “Are you sure about that? If she’s still alive, and she’s got the kids with her, which appears to be the case, she well may be holed up somewhere, cooling off and thinking things over. I’ve seen that happen before. On the other hand, if it’s one of those cases of hideous domestic abuse that no one ever suspected, she may have taken off for good. It’s not easy these days with so much of our private lives on display for all to see, but with careful planning, it can still be done.”

  “You just said it, Steve … if she’s still alive. The picture gets worse every day that goes by. I have to tell you, I don’t have a very good feeling about this.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

  Vages closed the file and slipped it back onto the top drawer of his desk. “I’m calling the husband back in. If he does know something, he’s eventually going to crack and let it slip.”

  “If not, it’s back to square one. I was there for the first go-round, remember? I think he’s telling the truth. I don’t think he has any idea what happened or where she is.”

  The police inspector stood up, laced his fingers together, stretched them back over his head and grunted. “I’m not so sure about that, Ginny. There are some really sick puppies out there, and they can look just like you and me. I need to stretch my legs. I’m going across the street. You want a coffee or something?”

  The day was as lovely a one as May in New England could offer. There was a clear, blue sky overhead and mild, shirt-sleeve temperatures that promised to climb into the seventies. Weather-wise Yankees knew the chill of March still lurked in the shadows and prudently kept an extra sweater in the car just in case. Spring flowers were coming up in the gardens and along sidewalks in Millbridge, a little town in southeastern Massachusetts where Olympia Brown and her significant other, Frederick Watkins, were looking for The First Parish Church. He was at the wheel, and she was calling out directions she’d printed off her computer.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Olympia? I thought we agreed that if you were going to take another parish position, it would not be one fraught with dissention. You’ve seen enough unpleasantness in the last year to make anyone a little wary. ”

  “Who could have predicted that a summer ministry on Martha’s Vineyard would turn nasty? That was a surprise to both of
us.”

  “You have a point, my darling; but why is it that wherever you go, within days of your arrival something dreadful bubbles up that needs fixing, and you get sucked into the middle of it? After the Vineyard incident you went to work as a hospital chaplain, and a religious fanatic came uncomfortably close to killing you. At least this time we already know there’s a problem, so at least you won’t be blindsided; but I have to tell you, I have my doubts about the wisdom of your taking this on.”

  She put her fingertips against her lips and turned to Frederick.

  “That’s just it, what is the problem? I suppose that’s what the district supervisor wants me to find out. Right now, all I know is the settled minister resigned abruptly, and these folks are in a total tizzy. I never got to know her, and that may be a good thing, because it means that I come without preconceptions.” Olympia threw out her hands. “There were some rumblings about misconduct, but what kind of misconduct and on whose part? Those are the real questions. Misconduct is a generic word that could describe anything from the pilfering of church funds to sexual abuse. Hell, I’ve seen churches fire a minister because he or she used the word God too often … or not often enough.”

  “One of the many things I’ve learned from you, reverend lady, is that churches can be hotbeds of turmoil and trouble, carefully concealed under flowery hats, white gloves and pot luck suppers.”

  “Whatever the problem is or may be, the higher-ups want me to go in there as kind of an interim consultant and hold the place together until some of the feathers settle, then see if I can restore some peace and harmony.”

  “And while you’re there, do a little sleuthing and see if you can find out what really happened.”

  Olympia rolled her eyes. “There are always two sides to everything.”

  “That’s on a good day, Olympia. I don’t know whether your reputation precedes or follows you, dear girl, but you do have a nose for trouble.”

  “And your point is?”

  “They don’t pay you overtime for risking your life.”

  She made a face that was half exasperation, half resignation, and aimed it in the direction of the man beside her.

  “Frederick, it’s a four-month appointment. The church is less than a half hour from home. I’m coming back to you and the cats every night. It’s a perfect situation. I didn’t teach in a college for almost thirty years and not know how to put out fires and circumvent land mines. Besides, I’d much rather have a challenge than a sinecure. You know that.”

  “Only too well, my dear. I think we’ve arrived. Is this it?”

  Olympia leaned forward and squinted out the window.

  “White steepled church in need of a paint job with an All Souls Church Parking Only sign in front and directly across the town green from another white church that looks almost exactly like it?”

  “Spot on.”

  Frederick rolled the canary yellow Ford pickup past the signpost and came to a sputtering stop next to the curb.

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

  Olympia smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks, sweetheart. They said it would be a short meeting. If you go have a cup of coffee and dig into one of your crosswords, I should be through in less than an hour. I’ve got my cell phone. I’ll call when we’re finished, and you can come back and get me. I really appreciate your coming with me.” Olympia looked off to the side and toyed with the collar of her blouse. “Maybe we can go for a little walk around the town before we head back. It’s really pretty.”

  “You mean do a little snooping.”

  Olympia slipped down from the front seat to the sidewalk, then turned and responded through the passenger window.

  “I prefer to think of it as acquainting myself with the local flora and fauna.”

  See this and other great new titles coming in 2013

  from Mainly Murder Press at

  www.MainlyMurderPress.com