The Preacher's First Murder (A Pastor Matt Hayden Mystery Book 1)

by K. Gresham

  Slowly she nodded her head. “Angie’s right.” Then, deciding, she added, “I believe you, Reverend. And call me Ann, for Pete’s sake.”

  Matt offered his hand. “Thanks, Ann.”

  “You’re welcome.” She shook his hand. “So let’s get to work.” Ann opened her purse and pulled out her keys.

  “Do you have an idea who did kill Ernie?”

  “I think this town has secrets that are generations old,” she said slowly. “I know Pastor Osterburg kept files that documented more than baptisms and marriages. So have all the pastors since him.” She crossed to the locked file cabinet and opened it. She sorted through the files, pulling out specific ones as she went. She turned toward the pastor and held them out for him to take. “If there’s anything about the past that links up with this murder, my guess is you’ll find the answer in these, Reverend Hayden.”

  ***

  By midnight, Matt had sorted through the files and made his chronological list of the events that had been confusing him.

  Miss Olivia was right. If a person started out confused, asking questions and using logic brought out the black and white.

  In this case, however, the black and white was painfully condemning.

  He sat alone in his church office, a single lamp on the old scarred desk illuminating his work. He picked up the file on top of the stack and opened it.

  “James Johann (Cash) Novak,” it read. Matt chuckled humorlessly. Even the nickname had made it into the official church record. “Born November 11, 1921,” the file went on. “Baptized December 6, 1921. Missing April 25, 1980. Officially pronounced dead May 7, 1987. Death certificate signed by Danny Don Dube.” The file held a black-and-white military photograph of a very young Cash Novak dressed in a Korean War uniform. Matt also found a copy of the marriage certificates to his first wife, Geneva Yeck, and another dated ten years later to Miss Olivia.

  Matt put the file down and opened the next one. “Roth Johann Novak,” it read. “Born September 19, 1944. Died April 24, 1980. Buried with honors, United States Army, Purple Heart.” Again, the file contained a photograph of the soldier, this one in color. Roth Novak, freckled with buzzed red hair, smiled handsomely.

  Pearl’s first husband was significantly better looking than Ernie Masterson was, Matt thought. And cleaner.

  He closed the folder and opened a third. “Olivia Johanna Wilks Novak,” it read. He ran a finger down her biographical data. It listed the dates of her birth, her baptism, her confirmation and marriage. As with her house, the folder held no pictures.

  It did contain, however, the agreement that had joined the assets of the Wilks and Novak families upon her marriage to Cash.

  He closed the folder and bowed his head. How long would it be before he filled in the date of death in her folder? Feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he turned out the light and headed for home.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Hospital Visit

  Saturday morning was breezy and cool, but the sun shone and the birds sang in the live oaks that lined Mason Street.

  Pastor Matt Hayden noticed neither as he walked the three blocks to the Wilks Medical Clinic. His steps were slow, his heart heavy. He’d found no respite in sleep the previous night. Prayer had been difficult, because he hadn’t known what to pray for. Ignorance? Silence? Compassion? Courage?

  In the end, he’d finally learned the true blessing in the wording of the Lord’s Prayer. “Thy will be done,” Matt had prayed over and over again. He didn’t have a clue as to what he would will for himself, given the power.

  Before he was ready to face what was to come, Matt forced himself up the cracked sidewalk of the Wilks Medical Clinic. The family of Miss Olivia was in the waiting room, dressed and ready for Ernie’s funeral, but for the one task yet to perform. They had to tell their matriarch that Ernie Masterson was dead.

  For once, James W. was not in uniform. He wore a black suit and starched blue shirt. Elsbeth, in navy paisley, stood beside him. Jimmy Jr., impeccable in his white shirt, dark gray suit and tie, stood closest to Miss Olivia’s hospital room door.

  Pearl, dressed in black suit and gloves, was the lone person sitting in the room. Her eyes were red, her hands folded in her lap.

  Matt let out a heavy sigh.

  “Thank you for comin’.” James W. walked forward and extended his hand.

  Matt inclined his head, shook the burly sheriff’s hand, then gestured toward Miss Olivia’s room. “Has the doctor been in to see her this morning?”

  Elsbeth, her gaze darting nervously toward the preacher and then back at the floor, nodded. “He said her vitals were steady enough to tell her about Ernie’s passing.” Elsbeth shook her head. “But the long run doesn’t look good.”

  “We’re not to go into much detail.” Pearl’s voice was almost a whisper. “She’s to be upset as little as possible.”

  “Are you sure you want to be a part of this, Aunt Pearl?” Jimmy Jr. stepped forward.

  “She’ll want to see me at any rate,” Pearl said, tearfully. “She’s always been so good to me, and the doctor said she doesn’t have long.”

  Matt swallowed hard but kept his silence. James W. went to the hospital room door, knocked softly, and peeked in. “You up to seein’ visitors, Miss Olivia?”

  The reply must have been in the positive, as James W. opened the door more widely and admitted the group into the cramped room.

  James W. gestured to the only chair in the room for Pearl, and she more sank into it than sat on it. Elsbeth went to stand closest to Miss Olivia on her right, James W. on her left. Matt and Jimmy Jr. took the two corners at the foot of the bed.

  Miss Olivia looked frail. Her skin was sunken, her breathing shallow. She’d had the nurse apply a touch of make-up at her cheeks and lips, but the color highlighted the paleness of her skin. She wore a lace-trimmed pink and blue bed jacket, which looked out of place with all of the wires that protruded from her chest and hands and nose.

  “You all look like you’re dressed for a funeral.” Miss Olivia attempted a smile. “Hope it’s not mine.”

  “Miss Olivia,” Elsbeth started first, but James W. put out a hand.

  “Mamma,” he said softly, bending over the bed so his face was close to his mother’s.

  She looked at him. “You haven’t called me Mamma for a long time,” she said.

  “I’ve got some bad news,” James W. continued. “Mamma, Ernie’s dead.”

  Matt trained his gaze on the monitor that blipped above Miss Olivia’s head. The heart beat that pulsed weakly across the screen remained steady.

  “Dead?” Miss Olivia echoed.

  “He died Wednesday night, Miss Olivia,” Elsbeth said gently. “The night you had your heart attack.”

  Miss Olivia looked from one face to another. “So you are dressed for a funeral.”

  “We wanted you to know,” James W. said. “The doctor didn’t give the okay until this morning.”

  Miss Olivia turned her head toward Pearl and reached for her hand. “My poor dear,” she said quietly.

  Pearl took the old woman’s hand, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Thank you, Miss Olivia,” she whispered.

  “You don’t need to worry about a thing, Pearl. I’ll take care of you,” Miss Olivia said.

  “You always have.” Pearl lowered her head in a quiet sob.

  “How did he die?” Miss Olivia asked.

  “I think we’ve upset you enough without going into the details,” Elsbeth said, casting a meaningful glance toward James W.

  “I don’t want details. Just how Ernie died,” Miss Olivia insisted. She looked at her son, expecting an answer.

  “He was killed, Mamma.” James W. bowed his head. “Murdered.”

  This time the blip on the monitor above Miss Olivia’s head did jump. “Who?”

  Jimmy Jr. cleared his throat. “Angie O’Day’s been arrested for the murder.”

  Matt watched the heart monitor blip wildly, and Jame
s W. shot an angry glare at his son.

  “Angie?” Miss Olivia repeated.

  “I had a question for you about that, Miss Olivia,” Matt finally spoke.

  Miss Olivia met his solid gaze, and for one unflinching moment, she held him stare for stare. “Yes?”

  “I was wondering if you thought that was right?”

  She stared at him, and in her face Matt witnessed the change. Lying before him was no longer the invalid Miss Olivia, but the force-to-be-reckoned-with Miss Olivia. Matt allowed himself a moment of admiration for her strength.

  “How much do you know?” Miss Olivia whispered.

  “Everything you did was logical,” Matt said softly. “Once I looked at the gray, it was easier to see the black and white.”

  Miss Olivia nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if summoning all of her strength. When she opened them, she looked straight at James W. “You’re wrong about arrestin’ Angie O’Day,” she said.

  James W. shook his head. “Angie had motive. She thought Ernie killed her ma. She had opportunity. No one knows where she was at the time Ernie was killed. And Lord knows, she has the disposition.”

  “Disposition?” Miss Olivia repeated wearily. “Yes, I suppose I contributed to that.” She glanced out the window. “The doctor says I’m likely not goin’ to recover from this.”

  “You’ve proved them wrong before,” Elsbeth said.

  “Not this time.” Miss Olivia shook her head. “Maybe that’s as it should be.” She looked at Matt. “What are you goin’ to do?”

  Matt sighed. “I’m not entirely sure . . .” He met her gaze straight on. “I do know that allowing an innocent person to sit in jail for a murder she didn’t commit isn’t right.”

  “Now, just a minute, Preacher.” James W.’s eyes flashed with anger. “This is my mamma’s hospital room. We’re not goin’ to discuss Angie’s innocence—”

  “Hush up, James W.,” Miss Olivia interrupted, and the monitor line above her bed lurched. “Angie O’Day. You’ll have to let her go.”

  “Why?” James W. insisted.

  “You arrested the wrong person.” Miss Olivia’s gaze fell on Matt. “I killed Ernie Masterson.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A Matter of Duty

  “Mamma, you don’t know what you’re sayin’,” James. W. urged. He bent low over the old woman’s bed. “Just because you’re not doin’ well, that’s no reason to take the blame—”

  “Hush up, James W.” Miss Olivia cut him off again. “I’m too tired to argue with you. Since I’m goin’ to meet my maker, I don’t want this on my conscience.”

  “Mamma, you couldn’t have lifted that crowbar if you’d wanted to,” James W. argued softly. “Much less raised it up and knocked Ernie over the head with it.”

  “I didn’t hit him with the crowbar,” Miss Olivia said. “I hit him with my cane. Man deserved it, talkin’ to me like that.” She closed her eyes. “But he slipped on that can of soda. Went down. I hadn’t meant for him to go down.”

  “Miss Olivia—” Elsbeth pleaded.

  “Hit his head on the bumper. Hard. I knew he’d be madder than hell when he woke up. And that would be the end of it.”

  “End of what?” James W. asked.

  “So I went up to the front of the van. The keys were in it. I turned on the ignition. He was layin’ right next to the muffler. I knew it wouldn’t take long.”

  “Mamma, why?”

  “Then I went over to the wall where he keeps his tools. Turned the crowbar that matched my cane.” She opened her eyes and looked at her son. “Didn’t want you to think I was a murderer. It was an accident.”

  “Miss Olivia?” Finally Pearl spoke, and her voice could barely be heard above the monitors that blipped in the room. “You killed my husband?”

  “I did you a favor,” Miss Olivia said flatly. “Ernie was as bad as Cash. I was better off after Cash was dead.”

  “But why, Mamma?” James W. begged.

  “I told you the how. I don’t have to tell you the why.” Miss Olivia’s tone was firm. “Now I’m tired. You’ve got a funeral to go to.” She opened her eyes and looked at Jimmy Jr. for the first time. “I’m mighty proud of you, James Wilks Novak, Jr.,” she said. “You’re gonna be governor.”

  “Miss Olivia?” Jimmy Jr. took her hand.

  She closed her eyes allowing the blip on the monitor above her head to be her only reply.

  “Mamma?” James W. pleaded.

  Miss Olivia kept her eyes closed, her dismissal final. Slowly Elsbeth walked from the room, followed by her husband. Jimmy Jr. helped Pearl to her feet and guided her toward the door.

  Matt let them pass into the hallway and took one last look at Miss Olivia before following them. He had a sermon to give. One in which he still didn’t know what he was going to say.

  “Reverend Hayden?” Miss Olivia’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes, Miss Olivia.”

  “Do you know why I did it?” She half-opened her eyes.

  He considered for a moment. “I imagine it’s because Texas is a community property state.”

  She nodded her head, smiled a little, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The Preacher Has His Say

  The only good thing Matt Hayden could say about his sermon was that the family was so stunned from Miss Olivia’s murder confession that they probably didn’t hear a word of it. Matt opened the sacristy door and hung his cross over the nail in the wardrobe, much like he’d done days earlier. Only on Wednesday, Matt had been at peace with the funeral he’d attended.

  He leaned against the paneled wall. Though he’d known since midnight who had killed Ernie Masterson, it still had given him a jolt to hear it confirmed from Miss Olivia’s own lips. Matt wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stand before the congregation filled with members and reporters and talk for fifteen minutes about Ernie’s everlasting life because of the Savior, Jesus Christ. Thinking about it now, though, Matt figured that was what divine intervention was all about.

  The interment hadn’t gone much easier. Ernie had been placed in a grave next to Roth and the casket for Cash Novak. There were enough lots in the area for most of the Novak family.

  But not all of them.

  With a heavy sigh, Matt turned to leave the sacristy, only to see Deputy Richard Dube standing in the doorway. “Yes, Deputy?”

  “The sheriff . . .” Richard cleared his throat uncomfortably. “James W. told me to come and get you.”

  “Me?” Matt was surprised. When he had asked James W. if he could do anything for the family, James W. flatly declined the offer. It had cut Matt to the quick.

  “Yes.” Deputy Dube swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. “Miss Olivia is dead.”

  “I see,” Matt said. He closed his eyes. The load of responsibility weighted down his shoulders so that he almost lost his balance.

  “James W. asked if you could come straight over to the mansion. The family’s gathered over there. He said to tell you he wanted some answers.”

  Matt nodded. James W. would naturally be angry. Wasn’t it human nature to shoot the messenger? “Do me a favor, Richard,” Matt said. “Swing by the Fire and Ice House and tell Dorothy Jo and Bo to come over to the mansion as well.”

  Richard’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You want those people in Miss Olivia’s mansion?” He shook his head. “There’s bad blood between them and the Wilks. ’Specially now, with Angie in jail. I don’t think they’ll come.”

  “Tell ’em if they want Angie to go free, they don’t have a choice,” Matt said grimly. “I’m only going to go through this once.”

  ***

  It took a full ten minutes to convince James W. to bring Angie over from the jail to sit in on the discussion they were about to have. James W. threatened Matt with charging him for withholding evidence. Matt had learned over the last week, however, that being a wimp around James W. got a person nowhe
re, so he stood firm, and finally James W. told Richard Dube to bring her over.

  Finally, everyone was settled in the mansion’s parlor. Pearl sat in the corner of the cream brocade sofa; Elsbeth in the high back upholstered chair closest. James W. leaned against one side of the mantel behind her; Jimmy Jr. rested an elbow on the other side. Dorothy Jo and Bo were in two straight back chairs brought in from the dining room.

  Angie, ruffled and angry, sat at the end of a chaise across from Elsbeth, Deputy Richard Dube standing directly behind her.

  “All right, Preacher, you’ve got us all here.” James W. stood straight, hooking his thumbs authoritatively through his belt loops. “Now spill it.”

  Matt nodded. This would be neither pleasant, nor welcomed. So why was he going through with this?

  Because the truth shall set you free, he reminded himself and smiled at Angie.

  She didn’t return it.

  “Let’s begin with the understanding that there was more than one mystery to solve here.” Matt stepped forward, commanding the center of the room. “Yes, we have the mystery of who killed Ernie, but we also have a mystery concerning the whereabouts of Cash Novak, the identity of Angie’s father, and the question of who murdered Maeve O’Day.”

  James W. growled at that last but said nothing.

  “Now, why is it important to reopen the issue of Cash Novak?” Matt went on. “That happened thirty-five years ago, after all.” He stopped in mid-pace. “Because for Maeve O’Day, that’s where she was living.” He gestured to everyone in the room. “Each one of you told me that Maeve’s mind was gone with the Alzheimer’s. So how do we know that she was living thirty-five years ago?” He looked around the room, but no one answered.

  “Because one of the last things she said that you remembered, Angie, was that she had called someone on the television J.J.” He turned to Jimmy Jr. “In her mind, you were J.J.”

  “No one’s ever called me that.” Jimmy Jr. looked puzzled.