by Lynn Bulock
“It was interesting,” Greg replied. “I tried to calm him down a little after the incident with Ms. Stafford, but I’m not sure I didn’t make things worse.”
“Ms. Stafford? Do you mean to say that she was in this house?” Miranda thought Alannah should feel thankful that Winnie, brandishing her garden shears, hadn’t been the one to find her.
“She was, but not for long,” she told Winnie. “And we got back the key she used to get in.”
“Good,” Winnie said. “I can’t say I was ever fond of Ms. Stafford. She always seemed to walk around here as if she were appraising the furniture.”
Greg laughed, a sound Miranda found charming. It was an honest, open laugh, gathering delight from what Winnie said, even though her words might not be the kindest thing for a Christian to say. Before Miranda could add anything to the discussion, another voice said, “Okay, let me in on the joke.”
Some of the fun went out of things when she realized it was Ronald, coming home with his golf clubs after his foursome dropped out. Even in golf clothes he looked stiff and formal.
“We were just discussing Alannah Stafford,” Winnie said, waving her shears for emphasis. “Who, I might add, paid us an unscheduled visit this afternoon.”
“When I went to call on your father, Ms. Stafford was in his room talking to him,” Greg said to Ronald, whose expression darkened immediately.
“How did that happen? I can’t imagine anyone letting her in.”
“She had a key, Father. But we got it back and Pastor Greg helped escort her to the door.” Around her father, Miranda felt like referring to Greg in more formal terms.
“Was Mick still here? If he was, I hope you had him help evict her.”
“Mick and Portia left just after you did,” Greg told him. “They were hosting a youth group event this afternoon. I suggested notifying the police about Ms. Stafford.”
“Good. They should be notified. Even if she doesn’t have a key anymore, she’s dangerous. She made some pretty bold threats to me and my family when I broke off our relationship.”
“And she made another one today. Before she left, she told us that everyone was going to be terribly sorry. Do you have a cell-phone number for Portia or Mick?” Greg was looking directly at her, his dark eyes troubled.
“Inside, somewhere in my room or studio I do. Is this urgent enough to call them before they get back from their outing?” Miranda felt a shiver up her spine.
“I’d say so. Before I leave, promise me you’ll tell Mick all about this, and file a police report if he thinks it’s necessary.”
“Of course. Do you think he’ll really want that?” Miranda felt a great deal of confusion. She had tried all afternoon to convince herself that he didn’t care for her in any personal way, but this action muddied the waters.
“He had better,” Ronald said. “That woman is not to be trusted. I still don’t regret breaking off my relationship with her, but I do wish I’d had the foresight to make more provisions for my family’s protection.”
“Hindsight is always a great thing,” Greg said. “At least you can feel fortunate that you have a couple of police officers as future sons-in-law.”
Ronald’s answering smile seemed a little weak. Miranda thought about how Mick and Drew intimidated her father. She decided to put an end to the conversation to avoid further embarrassment. “Why don’t you let me walk you to your car? I know you still have work to do.” She reached out a hand to Greg and started walking to the front of the house where his car was parked.
Greg nodded. They covered the distance in silence, with Greg letting go of her hand when they reached the end of the grass at the driveway. “Tell your aunt thank you for a nice lunch.”
“I will. I’m just sorry things got a little strange afterward.”
Greg shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I was happy to help with Ms. Stafford. Most of the time when someone needs my services, it has a lot more to do with my pastoral skills than with muscle.” He struck a brief “strong man” pose and smiled. “I don’t usually get to be the tough guy. I kind of enjoyed it.”
He said little more before driving off, and Miranda found herself watching his car pull away as she wondered what exactly was happening between her and the handsome young minister.
TEN
Journal entry
June 12
I can’t stand it anymore. Ronald wants nothing to do with me, thanks to his daughters and that awful woman. He’s never going to change his mind so there’s only one thing to do. At least my darling Ronald will be beyond suspicion again now.
Normally when Greg came back from lunch, the only person waiting in the outer office was Janice. And that was if they hadn’t had lunch together. Once or twice a week the two of them went out for a quick meal together at the Lighthouse Café or somewhere else they could be served speedily and get back to the office. They used the time to discuss church business without as much stress as they’d have in the office. Slowly but surely Greg was working his way through the pictorial directory of the membership, memorizing names and faces, family relationships, and all the information that Janice had and he needed.
Today, though, Mick Campbell and another man Greg wasn’t sure he recognized sat waiting in the chairs near Janice. When he came through the door, all three of them looked at him intensely. Mick sprang up and held out his hand even as Greg extended his.
“Hi, Mick. What’s up?”
“Some fairly serious stuff.” Mick looked more somber than usual, and Greg wondered if someone else from the congregation had gotten themselves in some sort of trouble the police detective wanted to discuss. “Can we go into your office?” He motioned to the closed door.
“Sure.” Greg got out his keys and unlocked the door, ushering the men through.
“This is my partner, Drew Lancaster.” The other man, who still hadn’t spoken, nodded. Somehow Greg would have suspected he was in law enforcement even if he hadn’t been next to Mick.
“Pleased to meet you, I think. I have to assume there’s trouble somewhere if you’re both here. Would you like to sit down and tell me what’s on your minds?”
Greg sat in his desk chair and the other men grabbed the visitors’ chairs. Neither of them relaxed in their seats. Communication passed between the two in a brief glance and Drew cleared his throat. “I understand you were at the Blanchards’ home on Sunday. A police report that Mr. Blanchard and his daughter Miranda filed stated that you helped escort Alannah Stafford off the property. Is that correct?”
Where was this going? Greg wasn’t quite sure, but he had no problem answering truthfully. “I helped with that, but not in any physical sense except taking Ms. Stafford’s arm at one point. I hope she hasn’t complained about her treatment.”
“Not exactly.” Drew’s dark eyes gave little away. “Did you hear her issue any threats to you or the family?”
“She told us that everyone would be ‘very sorry’ but she didn’t go into any detail. At the time I wasn’t sure whether her statement was a threat or a promise.” Had the lovely socialite gotten herself a lawyer? From what little he’d seen of her, Greg thought it was highly likely.
“How upset did Ms. Stafford seem as she left the house on Sunday? Upset enough to do harm to anyone?”
Now Greg felt uneasy. Had she gone back and done something to anyone there? If so, Miranda could be a prime target for her wrath. “Ms. Stafford was angry. Did Miranda or her father tell you that before we removed her from the property, Miranda confiscated a key to the house that had been in Alannah’s possession?”
“She mentioned it.” Mick didn’t look pleased. “I took the report myself, after Portia and I got back Sunday afternoon, and I wondered out loud how Ms. Stafford got into the house. That’s when they told me about the key, which meant we couldn’t charge her with breaking and entering.”
“I know you probably won’t be able to tell me much, but is everyone okay at the Blanchard house? I’m concerned that y
our coming here and asking these questions might mean that Ms. Stafford hurt someone.”
The silence that answered Greg made him even more uncomfortable. Finally Mick sighed and looked at his partner. “We can tell him that much,” he said.
Drew raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not exactly policy, but you trust him and that’s good enough for me.”
“None of the Blanchards have been harmed. We received an anonymous tip yesterday that implicated Ms. Stafford in a serious crime. When we tried to reach her to set up a time to discuss what the caller had said, we didn’t have any luck. A visit to her condo complex showed her car in its stall in the parking garage, and none of the neighbors remembered seeing her for a couple days.”
Everything Mick said rang alarm bells for Greg. Now some of Alannah’s actions Sunday took on a new meaning. Telling everybody they’d be sorry for their actions, coupled with her assurance that she wouldn’t need a key to Ronald’s house anymore led him to one uneasy conclusion.
“You know, in retrospect, several things she said that last time I saw her take on a different meaning when I think about them,” Greg said. “In my work as a pastoral counselor when someone tells people that they’ll be sorry because of what they did to them, it can mean trouble.”
Mick nodded. “Yes, that can be a threat or a promise all too often. But you said several things?”
“The other big one was how easily Alannah gave back that key, when I would have expected her to put up a fight to keep it. Somebody who starts giving things that they value away without protest may be thinking about suicide. It’s one of the warning signs.”
Drew’s eyes widened and he looked at Greg as if he suddenly had more respect for him. “You’re pretty good at this. But then when I think about it, some of your counseling work must be a lot like ours, uncovering clues about someone’s life.”
Greg felt his shoulders slump. “I’m glad Ms. Stafford didn’t harm anyone else, but this must mean she took her own life.”
Mick nodded. “Everything we found inside her condo seems to point to that.”
Greg knew the man well enough to sense what he wasn’t saying. “You don’t sound totally convinced about that.”
“I’m not. All the evidence we found suggests that she committed suicide, and a journal and note near the body provide plenty of explanation. But she was shot, and I would have figured that anybody as concerned as Ms. Stafford seemed to be with appearances would have done something that didn’t risk disfigurement. We’ll know more in a few days when the medical examiner makes his initial report.”
Drew stood and his partner followed. “Thank you for your time, Reverend Brown. If we have any other questions, can we find you here?”
“All too often,” Greg told him, thinking as he said it that he needed to call Miranda soon to see how she was doing. “Has the Blanchard family been told of this yet?”
“As soon as we could after notifying Ms. Stafford’s family. By tomorrow the media’s going to be all over this anyway, probably sensationalizing it as they go.”
Great. Now there would be another round of media attention for Miranda and her family. He needed to make that call as quickly as possible.
Friday morning Miranda and Winnie had breakfast in Winnie’s sitting room, as they had for several days. “They’re still there,” Winnie said, looking out the window. “I thought perhaps we were done with the vultures for a while.”
“Now you know that something as dramatic as a suicide like this one would draw the media back again,” Miranda said, suppressing a shiver. She didn’t feel any more charitable toward the men and women who camped out in front of the house with cameras and satellite trucks, hoping to talk with Ronald or someone in the family or on the staff. So far they’d been unsuccessful as far as she could see. “I wonder where they’re getting their information.”
Winnie sat down at the table, looking piqued. “Not from anyone here, that’s for certain. And Mick is sure there’ve been no leaks through the police department. Personally I think it might be someone in the medical examiner’s office. I’ve known most of the county commissioners for at least twenty years, and I don’t think many of the employees are paid enough. Some low-level employee probably saw the chance to make a little money and didn’t consider the consequences.”
Winnie looked pointedly at the local newspaper, folded discreetly so that the current day’s headline about Alannah was obscured. Miranda had already read the story, though, and knew its sordid contents. “I didn’t ever care for Alannah, but it was because of the way she clung to Father, obviously out for his money. I never thought her capable of something like all of this.”
“Quite honestly, I didn’t either. But she seems to have confessed to murder and attempted murder as well.” Winnie’s hazel eyes, normally so bright, looked sorrowful today. Miranda knew her aunt ached for the pain Alannah must have kept to herself. “If she truly did these things, I don’t understand how she could have gone on this long without going to the police.”
“We may never know more than we do now,” Miranda murmured, thinking again how desperate someone had to be to take their own life. “Still, Mick says that the gun she…left behind on the floor…is definitely the same one that Genie was shot with.” Miranda couldn’t bring herself to say out loud that Alannah had killed herself, just as she wasn’t ready to call the other woman who had been killed “Aunt Genie.” The actions of both poor, misguided souls disturbed her a great deal. Even if the media hadn’t been parked outside the front door, she wasn’t too sure that she would have made it outside in the past few days.
Just thinking about it all, Miranda could feel her muscles tense and her breathing become a little ragged. “Are you all right, dear?” Winnie asked a bit sharply. “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this if it’s upsetting you.”
“I don’t know.” Miranda sighed. “I think I need to talk about it, but I don’t know how.”
Winnie seemed to make a decision, and she smiled as she poured herself a fragrant cup of Earl Grey tea. “Then I’m glad that I phoned the church this morning.”
“Why is that?” Miranda had an idea she knew what would be coming, and she wasn’t sure whether to thank her aunt or cause a very unladylike scene instead.
“I thought we could both use a little help and advice from our pastor.” Winnie’s smile was a little fainter now, but it still played around the corners of her mouth. “I hope you won’t object. Pastor Greg seemed to be such a help to you on other occasions.”
“He has been, but I hate to take him away from his other work at Unity. I’m sure he has a dozen more important things to do.”
“On the contrary, he almost jumped at the chance to come out here. I think he had been waiting for the call.”
“He offered when we spoke yesterday, but I told him then it probably wasn’t necessary,” Miranda admitted. “But I think I’m glad you called him, Aunt. He was so helpful when Alannah was here, and honestly, I could use someone to talk to.”
“A strong shoulder to lean on always comes in handy,” Winnie said, not bothering to hide her smile now at all. “I think Tate will be over for lunch as well. He’s been insisting that I let him come over, and if anybody I know could scatter that mob outside, it would be Tate Connelly.”
Miranda reached for a slice of toast from the rack. Her aunt probably had other jobs for Tate besides dispersing the media, but she didn’t feel like teasing Winnie today. After all, she’d had the courage to call Gregory and have him come out when Miranda couldn’t do it for herself, no matter how much she wanted to.
Before noon most of the crowd outside had been dispersed, and Tate and Gregory stood in the front hall talking more comfortably than Miranda would have dreamed possible. But then, both men were used to being leaders in their own way, and had no lack of communication skills.
“You can congratulate me all you like, Reverend, but I have a feeling that my skill in handling the media wasn’t what made them all le
ave. I suspect it had much more to do with the fact that we told them about that press conference at Blanchard Fabrics.” Tate shook his head. “Although I can’t imagine, Winnie, what that brother of yours is paying his law firm to get the charges against him dropped this quickly.”
“Now, Mr. Connelly, I’m sure any good firm could make the argument that with a signed confession from someone else regarding the crime Mr. Blanchard was charged with…”
“Even though she’s conveniently unable to explain more,” Tate said, his lip curling.
“Still, there is a confession, and the police reports appear to confirm that the same person wrote the note and the journal found near Ms. Stafford’s body. With that in mind, it’s logical that Mr. Blanchard’s lawyers could get the charges against him dropped.”
“Winnie, as much as I love you, I believe your brother is getting off easy this time. The police may not be disputing anything at this point, but I just don’t like this whole situation.”
“No one likes it, Tate. Now let’s go upstairs and have lunch. Perhaps we can talk about more pleasant subjects for the first half hour or so, like how one plans a tasteful wedding service for a bride whose hair will be as white as her dress.”
“Now, Winnie, you’re exaggerating,” Tate said, putting his arm around her protectively.
Miranda found herself smiling as she watched her aunt and Tate start up the stairs together. Even though many terrible things had happened to her family lately, this newfound happiness for Winnie was a blessing everyone could share.
“I get a kick out of those two. I don’t know all their history, but she seems to have made quite a change in his life by becoming a part of it again.” Greg’s words reminded Miranda that there were whole layers of her family history that this man didn’t know.
They started up the stairs, a flight behind Tate and Winnie. “I’m not sure I know it all myself, but I do know that any good that comes Winnie’s way is something she deserves. She’s been the only real parent that my sisters and I have had since our mother disappeared.” She sighed. “My father was too wrapped up in his bitterness and his business to have any time for us. Winnie kept my mother’s memory alive, tried to pass on her own strong faith to us all, and just loved us in every way possible.”
