A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries)

by Judith Campbell

  “I’ll call you after I talk to Janney, and I’ll have Melody call you from Boston after the procedure and we know more about what’s going on.”

  “I’ll pray for you, Jack.”

  Olympia walked with Jack to the front door of the church and stood there until he drove away. As she turned to go back to the office, she heard the telephone ringing again and the answering machine coming on. This time the caller didn’t hang up after the message.

  “This is William Bateson speaking. I’m trying to reach Olympia Brown. It’s urgent. I need …”

  Olympia reached down and picked up the receiver. “This is Olympia. Is something wrong? How can I help you?”

  “Well, there’s a bit of luck. Hello, Olympia. Let me get right to the point. I think I might have left a folder at Dory’s house last night. I may have left it on the stairs or in the kitchen. It was dark when I left, so it’s likely I didn’t see where I left it. I really need it. You didn’t find it, did you, maybe pick it up for safe keeping?”

  “Actually, I picked up a whole bunch of folders including one I found on the stairs. After everybody left I went around the place and opened a few windows to let in fresh air. When I went into the guest room, I saw some file folders on a desk in there. They seemed to be Dory’s household records, so I took them with me. I figured she might need them when the insurance people come today, and I didn’t want them to get damp and maybe stick together. As I was leaving, I remembered the one on the stairs and went back for it. That must be the one you’re talking about. I guess that’s a long way of saying, yes, I’ve got it.”

  Olympia was fiddling nervously with the pencils in the jelly jar beside the phone.

  “Did you happen to look inside?”

  “I did, actually, just to see what it was. I didn’t really read it. When I saw what was inside, I figured it was none of my business, so I closed it back up; but she really is thinking about selling.”

  “You didn’t look through the whole thing then?” His voice sounded strained.

  “No, like I said, I figured it was personal. Maybe you could come over this afternoon when the insurance adjusters are there, and I can give it back to you then. Come to think of it, with you being in real estate and all, we could probably use your help. Poor Dory. She’s a strong lady, but this would knock anyone off their pins.”

  “She’s less strong than you think, Reverend. Since I joined the church I’ve gotten to know her pretty well. She’s definitely failing. The water is the most recent evidence of it. There have been any number of other little lapses I’ve covered up for her. Because you’re her minister, I don’t mind telling you that I’m worried about her. She really should sell that house of hers and get out before anything worse happens. But let’s keep this between us for now. Later, if she does have to move, I think you would be the best person to be her advocate and help her make that decision.”

  “I appreciate your sharing this with me, William. I know Dory is very fond of you, and of course, I’ll keep what you’ve said in confidence. I’m about to call her daughter. I think she needs to come and see to her mother.”

  “Do you really think that is necessary? I mean, couldn’t we handle it through the church and all? What’s to do? Clean up and settle the insurance and get her to a safe place. Between us we can do that. Why bother the daughter? She lives way out in Washington State. It’s a long trip.”

  “It’s very generous of you, William, but this really is a family matter. We have to call her. Whether she decides to come out here is up to her. I’m sure you’re right. We probably could handle it ourselves, but the decision is for Dory and her daughter to make. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “I’ll come by your place this afternoon and pick up the folder. Goodbye, Reverend.”

  Fourteen

  After the emotionally charged events of the morning, the rest of Olympia’s time in the office was blessedly dull. She poked around the tiny office, locating some things, straightening others and answering routine phone calls, but she could not stop thinking about Jack Winters. By now she had completely revised her first impression of him. In the beginning she thought him to be a shallow, trust-funded idler with a roving eye and an alcoholic wife. Olympia had been right about the alcoholic wife part but realized she had been taken in by the façade that Jack chose to present to her and the rest of the world. The real Jack seemed to be a decent guy struggling in difficult circumstances without much support. That he was financially well off played no part in his present distress. She was comforted knowing his twin sister Melody would be there to help and looked forward to meeting her.

  Leaning forward in the creaky chair and rearranging pencils for the third time, Olympia realized she was struggling with something else as well—and that was William Bateson. Something slipped through a crack in his polished veneer when he asked her about the missing papers, something dark, maybe even threatening, in the tone of his voice. She heard it again when she told him she was going to call Dory’s daughter. What did it mean? Maybe Julia Scott-Norton was right, maybe he did bear watching. On the other hand, he seemed to be genuinely concerned for Dory, and she certainly appeared to trust him.

  Olympia decided she needed to have a look through the folder in question. In fact, since she had told William when she would be home, maybe she should go home early so she could read through it without interruption. If the man had not been so emphatic about its whereabouts and return, she would never have given it a second thought. Now she was giving everything a second thought. There is one hell of a lot more to this island than meets the eye. And pursuant to that, what will be the consequences of my trying to learn what it is?

  When she had accepted the offer of eight paid weeks as a summer minister on the Island of Martha’s Vineyard, it had sounded like a gift from heaven. Now she wasn’t so sure. It was only Thursday, four days after her Monday arrival, and she had yet to experience a peaceful and idyllic moment unless you counted sleeping. Even then she couldn’t tell if it was idyllic or not. She was certainly going to learn a whole lot more about parish ministry than she had anticipated, and that would be a bonus. But this so-called time-out-of-time was beginning to look like a mixed blessing that only more time-out-of-time would define.

  Life happens when you are making other plans.

  She looked around the office and was getting ready to leave when the phone rang one more time. She waited until she heard the brisk, no nonsense voice of Julia Scott-Norton on the answering machine before lifting the receiver and identifying herself.

  “Good morning, Julia, it’s Olympia. I’m here looking through old Sunday bulletins and Parish Committee minutes. How’s Dory?”

  “She’s fine. You know, sitting up and taking nourishment. But she’s insisting that she didn’t leave the water running.” Julia dropped her voice and spoke the next few words quietly. “And you know what, Olympia? I’m inclined to believe her. She’s never been one to make things up. In fact, just the opposite. She’s a stickler for details.”

  “Well, then, how could it have happened?” asked Olympia, doodling red intersecting circles around the edges of an old pew card. “It’s not like a pipe burst or anything, but then I came in after the fact, so I guess I don’t really know. We can talk more about it this afternoon. What time are the insurance adjusters coming?”

  “About two,” said Julia. “Will you be able to be there? I’ve called her daughter Jessica. She’s got a few things she has to finish up, but she’s going to try and get here before Sunday.”

  “I’ll be there at two,” said Olympia, wistfully watching another un-idyllic day glide away from her like the outgoing tide, “and I’m glad you called her daughter. What does she do that she has to finish up?”

  “Jessica West is an internationally recognized cellist; I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her.”

  “Now that you say her name, of course I’ve heard of her.” Olympia unconsciously pulled herself up to a more attentive position. “I paid a s
mall fortune to hear her in person playing the Elgar cello concerto with the Boston Symphony. She’s fantastic, but I would never have connected her with Dory.”

  “Jessica is just another islander as far as they both are concerned,” said Julia comfortably. “She has played any number of benefit concerts here, and she’s as modest as they come. I’ll see you at two.”

  Julia rang off before Olympia could say any more. She knew that the island was home to any number of celebrities, and she secretly hoped she would meet one or two, but Jessica West? Wow! She might be an internationally recognized cellist, but she was also the concerned daughter of an aging woman who needed help. So much for the celebrated lives of the rich and famous. They put their socks on one at a time just like the rest of us. Olympia grinned as she replaced the church bulletins in the drawer and looked up at the clock. She had better get going if she was going to take a look at those papers. It was already after eleven.

  She stood up, picked up the paper sack containing the muffin Jack Winters had left for her, walked into the bathroom and poured the remains of her coffee into the sink.

  Six minutes after leaving the church, Olympia unlocked the door to her cottage. Although it was closed up and therefore uncomfortably warm, she inhaled a deep homecoming breath and went around opening windows and greeting the cats. After that she sat down at the drop leaf table that was both dining table and writing desk. The folders were lying exactly where she had left them.

  The top folder, labeled Household Expenses, contained a detailed record of just that, Dory’s daily and monthly expenses. Each was neatly listed with the dates of bills received and paid carefully written in a clear, steady hand. There were no surprises here.

  The next one was labeled Tradesmen and held a list of plumbers, electricians and heating people with telephone numbers and annotated with comments like, “does not return calls,” or “is always late,” or “good when you can get him.” Olympia smiled and picked up the third folder of the five she had in her lap. In it was a handwritten obituary and plans for her memorial service along with her Life Crisis File and a signed and notarized durable power of attorney naming her daughter Jessica. Slipped in with this was a signed advanced medical directive. This folder she’d labeled Afterthoughts.

  Olympia’s eyes filled with tears despite the humor. Dory was so practical, and Olympia knew she would do anything for her. She just hoped it would not be her funeral, at least not now and preferably not ever. Olympia shook off the wave of sadness and picked up another folder.

  This one was labeled Christmas Past and Presents, and in it were the names of people to whom she evidently gave gifts. After each name was a description of the gift and year it was given—presumably, thought Olympia, so she wouldn’t repeat herself.

  There was nothing wrong with this lady.

  Olympia looked at her watch; it was almost noon. If she was going to look at everything in that folder of Bateson’s, she needed to do it before he got there.

  From the outside it looked like the others, a plain beige manila file folder, but inside, to her dismay, Olympia found an approved plot plan of Dory’s property, a photograph of the front of her house, clear pictures of all the rooms and a detailed drawing of each level of the house, including the basement. On a separate sheet was a penciled draft of an advertisement written on Gingerbread Homes Realty stationery which read: “Priced for quick sale, lovely historic Island property, owner needs to downsize, this is a must see …”

  Olympia was prevented from any further reading by an impatient knock at the door and the sound of William Bateson calling her name.

  “Be right there.” She was careful to straighten the papers before opening the door.

  For reasons she couldn’t name, she didn’t want the man in her house. She stood in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other holding the folder against her chest.

  “As I said on the phone, I thought it was another one of hers. Once I opened it and looked inside I knew it had to be the one you were looking for. So is she really going to sell?”

  William Bateson never missed a beat. “Nothing is signed yet, Olympia. I would never rush anyone into selling their home. You’ll just have to trust me on that, but we have talked about it, and I did start a file for her if or when she does make the decision. When these old ones make up their minds to do something, they want it all done yesterday. Better a person she knows and trusts than some stranger intent on scoring a sleeper on the housing market.”

  Olympia wasn’t so sure about that but said nothing other than, “So has she seen all of this? What does she think?”

  He hesitated. “Well, not exactly all of it. The old ones get confused when you give them too much paperwork up front. I took the liberty of getting it together for when, or if, she’s ready. We have talked about it. I believe in being prepared, don’t you, Reverend Brown?” There’s that tone of voice again.

  “Whenever and however I can, Mr. Bateson. I’m sure her daughter Jessica will want to have some say in all of this, especially if it concerns the house she grew up in.”

  “You can be sure I’ll make a point of sitting down with her myself and getting her thoughts on the matter.”

  Olympia held out the papers. “That’s probably a good idea. Meanwhile, I need a few minutes to grab some lunch and freshen up before the insurance people arrive. Are you planning to be there this afternoon?”

  “I’m not sure. I have a meeting at the office. I can always check with her later.”

  “Might help if you were.”

  “Well, if you put it that way, I’ll make a point of it.”

  Olympia nodded and then shut and locked the door.

  A little later, as she was putting away her lunch dishes, she heard the voice of Julia Scott-Norton through the open window. “The insurance adjusters are here, Olympia.”

  The gentle command was implicit, but right now, Olympia was more than grateful for Julia’s inborn authority. She followed Julia across the grass and up the steps to Dory’s bright purple front door.

  Inside, Dory was sitting on the sofa looking anxious but in control. Next to her sat William Bateson, and across from her was a man who, upon her entrance, stood and held out a card. “I’m Mike Barnes, Insurance Adjuster, Cape and Islands Finance Collaborative, and you are?”

  Olympia took the card and looked at it before answering. “I’m Olympia Brown, the summer minister at the church around the corner, Dory’s church. I’m staying in her rental cottage next door.”

  “Pleasedt’meetcha,” said Barnes in a single run-on word. “Call me Mike.”

  Olympia stepped over a pile of wet things on the floor and took a seat. “Let me know how I can help.”

  “There won’t be much any of us can do right now,” said Julia, taking over the conversation. “These two need to look around and make a list of loss and damage, and then when Dory’s daughter Jessica arrives we can go over it again and come to some kind of an agreement. When we do, then we can settle on a final amount.”

  “We all?” asked Mike Barnes, looking at the woman in front of him.

  “We all,” repeated Julia for emphasis. We are a church family here, and we do everything together, don’t we Dory?”

  Dory leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, breathed out a gentle sigh and smiled her agreement. William Bateson, who had been mostly silent, turned to Dory and said, “You can count me in on that, too. You know how I feel about Mrs. West, don’t you, Julia?”

  Fifteen

  Later that day, after the insurance adjuster was finished with the house inspection, and he and Bateson had left, Julia and Olympia set about gathering some more of Dory’s clothing and personal things. On the pretext of needing help, Olympia called Julia upstairs where Dory couldn’t hear them, saying she needed an extra hand carrying some things. When they were alone in Dory’s bedroom, Olympia made a lot of noise opening and shutting doors and dresser drawers while beckoning with a wave of her hand for Julia to come
closer.

  Olympia spoke in an urgent whisper to the one woman she dared tell about what she had discovered. “You may be right about William Bateson.”

  Julia turned her head sharply toward Olympia, giving her full attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last night after everyone left, I went around opening windows and checking things. I found a folder on the stairs. I figured it was Dory’s, so I picked it up and took it along with the others I took from her desk upstairs. I wanted to keep them from getting damp. I planned to give them to her today in case she needed the information for the insurance people.”

  “And?” said Julia.

  “There were a total of five folders. Four of them were Dory’s household records and personal information, all very clear and meticulous but …” Olympia paused

  “And the fifth one, what was in the fifth one?” said Julia.

  Olympia took a deep breath. “The fifth one was a folder containing pictures, photographs and drawings. There was even a draft copy of a newspaper advertisement announcing the sale of Dory’s house, printed on Gingerbread Realty Stationery.”

  “Julia’s eyes went wide. “Where is it now? I want to have a look at it.”

  “William Bateson has it. He called me at the church and asked if I’d found it. What else could I do? Until I looked, I had no idea what was in it. He said that Dory was only thinking about selling, and of course he was going to talk to the daughter. On one hand he sounds sincere and business-like, and on the other … well, there’s just something about him. Maybe it’s nothing, but ever since you told me to keep an eye on him I don’t feel I can trust him.”

  They both heard Dory call up from the living room. “Are you two OK up there I don’t need that much, you know.”

  “We’re on our way down,” said Julia. “Do you want your perfume?”

  “Just the Yardley’s.”