“Ray, are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry about last night. I embarrassed myself. I was sort of a crazy lady. I don’t deal well with change, and I’m struggling with our relationship, what’s going to happen with the move. And I’d say let’s get together tonight, but I’ve got to take the new headmaster and his assistants to dinner in town. One of the school’s major benefactors is flying in, and I’ve got to be there.”
“Let’s play it by ear,” offered Ray.
“Okay. I’ll only be here a few days, and then I’m going to Chicago. I’ll try to figure something out. Ray, I do care about you. I’ll call you later.”
“Good,” he responded. The beeping sound indicated that Sarah had rung off.
18.
“Do you want to drive up to that church or do you want to try Reverend Tim’s house?” asked Sue.
“Let’s try the house first,” Ray answered.
Sue parked in front of an aging mobile home. “Wasn’t that car engine hanging from that tree the last time we were here?”
“Hard to say,” Ray responded. “It might have been a different engine. And maybe it isn’t really an old V-8 hanging from a tree.”
“What is it then?”
“Yard art, a post-modern deconstruction emblematic of the end of the industrial age.”
The door of the trailer opened as they approached the porch.
“Sheriff, what brings you?”
“Reverend Tim, I haven’t seen you for a long time. Lots of changes around here. Thought we could have a little talk.”
“Well, come on in, you too, ma’am. I’ll get some coffee going. Place is a bit of a mess. Wife’s off looking after her father. I was down there most of last week. He broke his hip and lots of other stuff seems to be going wrong now.”
They followed Tim into the trailer—the interior as dilapidated as the exterior. The furniture was worn and sagging. A woodstove stood in a small, tacked-on addition off the kitchen/living room. The interior smelled of smoke and stale food.
Reverend Tim seated them at the kitchen table and started talking at them while getting a percolator started on the gas stove. “Well, Sheriff, good that you came looking for me when you did. Another week or two this building and the old church will be gone.”
“How’s that?” asked Ray.
“Reverend Rod wants this and the old church building gone. He says things will look better. He’s buying us a new doublewide. I’m going to put it on some land I own up the road a mile. Sure will miss this place. We’ve been here since we got married, raised kids here. It’s been good.”
He plunked three mugs on the table, pushing one in Ray’s direction and one toward Sue.
“So give me some background, Tim. You had a church and a congregation here. And now there’s that huge building up on the hill and another minister. Fill us in on what’s happened.”
Tim pulled the coffee pot off the stove and filled the mugs. He tossed two frayed hot pads on the worn Formica table and settled in his chair.
“It’s really the strangest damn thing. God has his own way of doing things, but I don’t quite understand what this is all about. I guess I need to learn patience.”
“So what are you telling me, Tim?”
“Well, Reverend Rod shows up one day. I didn’t know he was a preacher. He drives up in a BMW, not a bike, a car. If he’d been on one of those kinds of bikes I wouldn’t even have bothered to listen to him. He tells me he’s looking to buy a church and a congregation. At first I thought he was some yuppie summer person just giving me a line of bull for the fun of it. You know, he could go back and tell his friends over drinks about how he put one over on some old-time preacher. I was getting pretty rude, I wanted him to go away, but he just kept talking. And it all sounded like bull.”
“So what happened?”
“I told him I wasn’t interested, and he went away. But after he left I started thinking. You know my church is in a lot of trouble. I got left all this land when my dad died. He had inherited from his dad, my granddad, who bought it at a tax sale during the depression when it wasn’t worth nothing. The lumber had been cut thirty, forty years before and then burned over. Back then in the thirties it was scrub oak, second growth.
“And after my dad died I hung on to most of the property. It was all listed as forest land, so the taxes weren’t much. But the population is growing, and little by little the land has been growing in value. A number of years ago I started borrowing on it. The first time was to help get my wife an operation. I found out that it was pretty easy to do, borrowing money. And the bank manager, Charlie Cook, would always make a joke about cooking me up a great deal when I needed some cash. So none of this was a problem when things was good. I was doing lots of motorcycle and car repair and selling off some hardwoods from time to time. And then everything just sort of went bad, the economy and such. When I wasn’t able to keep up on my payments, I went to see Charlie. Well, he’d been fired. And the woman that replaced him is something else. So it looked like I was going to get foreclosed.
“So this guy with the BMW comes back a few days later and starts talking to me again. He’s got this idea about a new kind of church, but it would be good if he started with a church that was already successful. He gets me to take him around my property. We go up to the top of that hill over there. There’s already a big clearing there where we clear-cut some hardwoods a few years back. And he says, ‘This is it. This is where my church is meant to be.’ Like he got some message from heaven or something. So I say maybe so, but I tell him the bank’s got a lien on it.
“Well, Rod asks me how much and a couple of days later he picks me up, and we go to the bank. Rod writes a check, and I’m off the hook.”
“Did you sell him the property?”
“Yes, I sold him this piece of property. Most of the money went to pay off the mortgage, but I did get something. We agreed that I could live here until the new building was finished.”
“And you’re working with this minister, this Rod…? “ Sue asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m working there, but it ain’t quite what I expected.”
“How so?” asked Sue.
“When Rod talked about it at first, it was like we was going to be sort of equals, but the truth is that I’m in the sidecar. It’s his church, his operation, his money. I still minister to my flock, people I’ve known most of my life. I do home and hospital visits and some weddings and funerals. I don’t get to preach in the new church. I got sort of a two-year contract, but…”
“But what?”
Reverend Tim was slow to respond. “Well, this isn’t my kind of religion. And I don’t think he is what he told me. He’s got lots of new ideas that don’t fit with the good old religion that’s always worked for me and my flock.”
“I’m not quite following you, Reverend Tim,” said Ray. “What is Rod … does he have a last name?”
“His last name is Gunne. It sounds like gun, but it’s got an extra ‘ne’ at the end. And the thing that bothers me, well, there’s lots of things that bother me. First, what happens at the services is all ‘bout what goes into his TV cameras. It’s all about his Webcasts and things looking good.”
“Reverend Tim, I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”
“It’s like this, Sheriff, I used to deliver old religion, teaching the gospel, doing baptisms in the creek back there,” he motioned with his hand. “This what he’s doing ain’t nothing like that. He’s always talking about brand. What the hell’s brand? And image. And ‘a new paradigm for bringing the Word.’ And Twitter, and Facebook, and all that stuff.
“Let me tell you, one of the first things he did was recruit some of my flock to be his main TV people. He picked them from the group, got them haircuts and clothes and sat them all together. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the recording of that service. You see Rod giving his service and you see this group of people, not anyone else in the church, ca
mera never shows anyone else. And they’re so fixed up they don’t even look like themselves, they almost look like summer people. And he keeps using that over and over in his weekly programs, Webcasts as he calls them. The same pictures of the same people when they was all dolled up. I tried to talk to him about it being phony and all, but he just says that’s how video production works. And that’s just the beginning.”
“The other things?” pressed Ray.
“The big thing is that he doesn’t really care about these people. He only thinks about his audience on the Internet. I mean, he calls the place The Church for the Next Millennium. He doesn’t allow people to talk in tongues, says that’s the wrong image and doesn’t look good. Sheriff, this ain’t my kind of religion. Sorry if I’ve told you more than you wanted to know. I guess I’ve needed to get this off my chest. You’re probably here for some other reason.”
“In the new building I understand there’s a lot of work by an area artist, wall hangings made of wool.”
“Yeah, they’re all over. It’s sorta like really good shag carpeting, nice colors and design and all, but it don’t make any sense.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s not pictures from the Bible or anything like you should find in a church. Rod says it’s representational. Like it shows God’s glory in its colors and textures. And at the front, behind the altar, does he have a cross? No. Just this huge, round piece of painted aluminum made by some woman from around Detroit. Rod says it celebrates all that God has created, the unity of the planet, the unity of all living things. To me, it looks like a big hubcap, 60s Pontiac.”
“Did you meet the artist, the woman who made the wall hangings?”
“Oh, yeah. Brenda, that’s the woman, was around a lot. She had a crew, employed some of the ladies from the church, too. She’d have a design, and they’d do the sewing or whatever you call it. And then she directed how the rugs or whatever were put up.”
“Did you hear that Brenda was injured in a home invasion?”
“No, Sheriff. Like I said, I’ve been in Kentucky for a week with my wife. Came back late last night. Was she hurt bad?”
“Real bad, she’s not going to make it,” said Ray. “We’re running down leads, looking for any information that might help us find the assailant.”
“That’s just awful. Nice woman,” said Reverend Tim. He raised his arms over his head, Moses like, and looked toward the heavens, and said, “Sometimes it’s hard to understand the workings of the Lord.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her?”
“No, Sheriff. I didn’t understand her art, but she’s a nice person, real nice.”
“Reverend Tim, we’d like to meet Rod Gunne. Would you take us up there and introduce us?”
“I’d be happy to. Let me get my coat, toss another log in the stove.”
19.
Sue drove up the wide, carefully plowed drive that opened into a huge parking lot that circled a large square building more than two stories high. She parked by a cluster of vehicles near the front entrance. As they emerged from her Jeep, Reverend Tim pulled his worn Dodge pickup near them.
“Lots of cars,” said Ray. “Something going on?”
“No, that’s just Rod’s staff. He needs lots of folks to do all the Internet stuff and handle the money.”
They entered the church through a large revolving door. “That door, energy savings,” offered Tim. “Rod believes in all that junk science.”
As they came through the second set of doors, Ray and Sue were struck by the brilliant interior. The central atrium extended from one side of the building to the other. On the wall on the right, between several sets of double doors that opened to the main auditorium, were large pieces of fabric art, each carefully lit by a series of strategically placed spotlights. They took their time moving from one panel to the next, absorbing the power and dimension of each piece.
“They’re supposed to represent the dunes, the shoreline, the lake, and the islands,” offered Tim in a docent-like manner.
On the opposite wall, above the line of the doors, was a continuous panel of LCD screens showing views of some of the planet’s most spectacular natural settings. The scenes were moving and photographed from above, suggesting that they had been filmed from an aircraft.
“Come on into the sanctuary,” Tim directed. They followed him.
“As you can see, there’s no real pulpit. There is that lectern off to the side. But most of the time Rod just stands out there. If you’re at the back of the church, you can see him on those screens.” Tim pointed to a series of large screens on the side walls. “Rod says if you want to get people out of sports bars and into church, you got to make church better than the sports bars.”
“How do you feel about that?” asked Ray.
“Tell you the truth,” Reverend Tim said in a quiet voice, “I don’t think they’re the same thing. We’re trying to get men’s souls, not just their attention.”
“Where do we find Mr. Gunne?” Ray asked, after peering at his watch.
“Follow me, I’ll give you the Cook’s tour on the way.”
They crossed the atrium again and entered an office complex. They paused briefly at each door as Tim identified the different work areas: media production, marketing, computing, donor services, the nursery and Sunday school area, and finally the administrative offices.
They entered an office suite that looked like a high-end law office: thick carpeting, walnut paneling, and elegant furniture. “Shirley,” said Tim, addressing a petite brunette in a carefully tailored suit, “is Reverend Rod available?”
The woman held Ray and Sue in her gaze for a long moment, and then looked back at Tim and replied. “I’ll see,” she answered, her tone flat, without affect. Leaving her desk, she disappeared down a hallway. A minute later she reappeared, “Follow me, please.”
They were ushered into a tastefully decorated office. “Sheriff Elkins and Miss…” Tim looked at Ray for help.
“Detective Sergeant Sue Lawrence,” Ray provided Sue’s title.
“Rodney Gunne,” said the man as he stood. He buttoned his suit coat and came around the side of a long modern desk. He shook hands with Ray, briefly making eye contact, and then carefully scrutinized Sue, taking her hand and holding it briefly.
“The Sheriff’s here to talk about that woman who did all that artwork,” Reverend Tim explained.
“I’ve just learned about that situation,” said Gunne. “Most tragic. She’s already in our prayers.” He looked at Reverend Tim, “Thank you for escorting the sheriff and Ms. Lawrence in. I’ll see you later today.” His eyes moved to his secretary, “Shirley, hold my calls and catch the door as you leave, please.”
At Gunne’s direction they settled into two large leather chairs that faced his desk, and he returned to his chair.
“How can I be of assistance, Sheriff?”
“What do you know about Brenda Manton’s condition?” asked Ray.
“I’ve just learned about this. I had a call from Elise Lovell. She was Ms. Manton’s assistant during the creation and installation of that wonderful fabric art. Apparently Elise was with the family this weekend. I understand that Brenda will be taken off the machines and allowed to die sometime today.” Gunne brought his hands together in front of his chest in a prayer-like manner. “This is incredibly difficult to comprehend. Brenda was such a gifted artist and such a wonderful person. Some things are beyond human comprehension.” After a long pause, he asked, “How can I be of assistance, Sheriff?”
“We’re in the early stages of the investigation, and we’re talking to anyone who has recently had contact with Brenda Manton. We’re looking for anything that might help us identify who was responsible for this crime.”
“I don’t know if I can be of much help. She was one of many contractors on this project,” he opened his arms as though giving the benediction.
“Why don’t you just talk about her for awhile,” urged
Sue. “Give us some background. Perhaps something will come to you that might prove to be helpful. How did you meet Manton?”
“When I was called to this project, I wanted to break all of the paradigms and construct a very different place of worship. I didn’t want any of the old iconography, and I didn’t want to use materials that you usually find in a religious building. As the name implies, this church represents a new kind of relationship with God. We offer a new and positive message. I wanted the building to reflect this ministry.”
“How did you meet Brenda?”
“I was just getting to that, Sheriff. I saw a few small pieces of her work at a gallery in Birmingham.” As he spoke, he looked directly at Ray, only occasionally making eye contact with Sue. “I had gone down state to meet with my decorator to get ideas. I loved Manton’s work and wondered if she could scale it up to my vision of our interior wall coverings. I was surprised to find out that she lived locally.
“She came to visit when the building was little more than a steel exoskeleton. She’s a wiz at computers and computer art. She quickly produced renderings of what her art would look like and how she would place it and light it. I was knocked over the first time I saw them on that big laptop she was always carrying. We were on the same page right from the beginning. She was totally empathic to what I was trying to attain. So for a period of time we were almost in daily contact, but since her work was completed I’ve only seen her occasionally. Brenda sometimes brought prospective clients here. This is the single biggest installation of her art.”
“Have you ever been to her house?” asked Sue.
“Early on, yes, only a few times. She would design the panels, and she would show me what she was proposing on a huge screen she had.”
“Have you been there recently?” Ray asked.
“No, not in months. There was no need. Her work was completed.”
“So you didn’t form a friendship beyond her work here?”
Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice Page 9
