Never Preach Past Noon

by Edie Claire

  "Thanks to his talented attorney, yes," Warren answered, his voice tired. "But if you ask me, he was darned lucky Hollandsworth only booked him for breaking and entering."

  Katharine grinned. "Really, Warren, it wasn't that bad. People often lose their composure when they're being arrested."

  Warren shot her a skeptical look, and she put a comforting hand on his arm.

  Leigh ground her teeth. "Won't you sit down?" She showed Katharine to a chair and Warren to the couch, where she sat down beside him. "Has the coroner's report come back yet?" she asked.

  "No," Katharine answered, jumping in. "I understand they've expanded the toxicology work-up, which explains the holdup. But we should know something by tomorrow."

  "I see," Leigh said. "How can I help?"

  Katharine's green eyes looked at her intently. "Warren tells me your aunt has expressed doubts that Reginald Humphrey was a legitimate minister."

  Before Leigh could respond, Warren put an apologetic hand on her arm. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know you didn't want your aunt's suspicions to go any farther than me. I only mentioned it to Katharine because I had to know if it could make any difference to Ted's defense, and she seems to think it might."

  Leigh looked up into his concerned brown eyes and wanted to tell him that if he would boot Katharine out of the room and put his other hand on her other arm, she would forgive him anything. But that seemed a bit self-serving.

  "It's all right," she answered smoothly. "I understand." She did understand. But the coroner's report was due tomorrow. It wouldn't hurt Ted if she and Bess held out just a little bit longer, would it?

  "My aunt had many doubts about Reginald Humphrey," she confirmed carefully. "But she doesn't have any idea who might have wanted him dead. In fact, she's convinced he died of natural causes, and she won't say or listen to anything to the contrary." She paused, wanting desperately to help somebody somehow. "I can tell you this," she said sincerely. "If the coroner's report comes back as homicide, my aunt will be more than willing to answer any questions you might have about Humphrey and the church. In fact, she'd be delighted." I'll see to it.

  Katharine studied her skeptically, but her voice was polite. "Thank you." She glanced at her watch, then rose and looked at Warren. "You'd better be getting ready, hadn't you?"

  He nodded, and rose also. Leigh's heart sank.

  "Going somewhere?" she asked shamelessly, proud of herself for omitting the word "together."

  "Fundraiser," he said simply, offering a weary smile. "I wish I could get out of this one, but I've made promises to people." He started toward the door, and Leigh tried not to look as disappointed as she felt. Would they never get a chance to talk alone?

  "Warren," she began, not bothering to disguise her earnestness. "We need to get together soon. There's something I want to talk to you about. It's important."

  He studied her curiously. "Sure. I'll be out late tonight, but come by tomorrow."

  Katharine's eyes flashed at the exchange, but Leigh wasn't sure whether the lawyer feared losing out on information about the case—or something else. Katharine followed Warren out the door, then turned back to Leigh. "I trust you'll keep the best interests of Ted Hugh at heart," she said heavily.

  Leigh looked into the other woman's eyes and nodded, message received. It wasn't Ted Hugh they were talking about.

  ***

  When Leigh approached her aunt's farmhouse the next morning, she was met by both an exuberant Chester, who had been sunning himself on the front porch, and the steady hum of a power saw, which emanated from somewhere on the second floor. Lydie was at it again.

  Leigh patted Chester, then rapped briefly on the door and let herself inside, determined not to make her aunt get up again. "What's the occasion?" she asked Bess, who was sitting in her accustomed location on the couch, her foot propped up on the coffee table. "You getting a new addition?"

  Bess smiled and rolled her eyes. "No—just a new guest bathroom. Lydie claims the toilet has a slow leak and the floorboards are rotten, so she's going to replace the fixtures and put down a new floor with ceramic tile. Between you and me, I think it's all a ruse—she's just bored to tears at the prospect of staring at yours truly all weekend."

  Leigh smiled back wordlessly, not wanting to acknowledge that her aunt was probably right. For Lydie, doing nothing wasn't a vacation—it was torture.

  "Watch out!" Bess commanded, as Leigh started to walk toward the bottom of the staircase. "Punkster at eleven o'clock."

  Leigh looked up at the top of the antique secretary and could just see two gray-tufted ears poking out above the pediment, while a lashing tail curved briefly around the finial.

  "That's his new favorite spot," Bess remarked proudly. "He can swoop down from above just like a jaguar."

  Not caring to experience the phenomenon, Leigh backtracked and went the long way around the front of the sofa. "Hello, Aunt Lydie!" she called up the stairs, when the buzzing had ceased for a moment.

  "Hello, Leigh!" came the cheery response, which was followed by more humming and buzzing. Leigh walked back toward the couch, and hadn't yet sat down when the interrogation began.

  "Well, did you go to the mini-storage?" Bess asked hopefully. " What did you find? I thought you'd call—I could have fooled Frances, you know. She'd have never known who I was talking to."

  Leigh had no doubt her aunt would have loved carrying on a completely fictional conversation while listening to her report. "I tried to call you a couple of times," she answered. "But the phone was always busy. Finally I just gave up and went to bed." But I didn't mean to fall asleep, she remembered ruefully. The plan had been to watch for the return of Warren's car—but she hadn't made it. At least, she reminded herself optimistically, his car had been parked alone in the lot this morning.

  "Not again!" Bess complained, fiddling with the phone on her end table. "Honeysuckle is always sleeping on this table, knocking the handset out of whack. I should have known." She exhaled impatiently. "Well, you're here now. Out with it! What did you find?"

  Leigh looked at her aunt and let out a breath. Where to begin? First, she passed on the good news that Ted Hugh had been released on bail. Then she described the damning contents of the box marked "M.H."

  Bess drunk in every word hungrily. "Gambling, eh? I'm not surprised. He had to start somewhere—he's probably been shaving cards since grade school." Her tone turned serious. "But that doesn't matter now. The important thing is proving he died of natural causes. Did you find any medical evidence?"

  "Possibly," Leigh answered, then described the epinephrine dispenser. Bess's eyes gleamed, her voice rising with excitement. "Of course! An allergic reaction. I do believe you've got it, kiddo!"

  Leigh accepted the compliment with a smile and continued. "Ted Hugh said that after he moved the body, he cleaned up the office to make it look like Humphrey had left on his own. Apparently that included throwing out some food that was left on the desk. Do you think Humphrey could have been allergic to peanuts?"

  Bess thought a moment, then shook her head slowly. "No, not that. I've seen him eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He brought them to work all the time." She sat back, her eyes lost in thought. Then suddenly she snapped back up.

  "Bees!" she said triumphantly. "Humphrey was absolutely scared to death of them. Everyone knew that. We had a church picnic at North Park once, and he had some of the kids throw away his paper plate and napkin because he was afraid to go near the trash can. They ribbed him about it pretty good, as I recall. Not that something like that is funny."

  "People who are allergic to bees can certainly die from a sting," Leigh confirmed. "But inside? At night? In the middle of winter?"

  Bess's brow furrowed. "Shoot. I didn't think of that."

  "A food allergy is more likely," Leigh insisted. "Maybe he was allergic to some other kind of nut. Or shellfish?"

  Bess shook her head. "He wasn't picky about his food when it came to church potlucks, I can tell
you that. In fact, I always thought he ate a bit recklessly, considering he was a diabetic. There must be something else."

  An unpleasant image formed itself in Leigh's brain. She had been a teenager, working at her father's clinic, when someone in the reception area had started screaming. A Maltese had just gotten its yearly vaccinations, and all of a sudden it couldn't breathe. Her father had hauled the dog back to the treatment room immediately and injected it with epinephrine, and it had pulled through with flying colors. But she, the dog's owner, and everyone else except her father had nearly had a heart attack.

  "He could have reacted to something in his insulin," she suggested. "I've never heard of that exactly, but I bet it could happen."

  Bess waved her hand in the air. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, really. The point is that he might have died from an allergy. Where is this epinephrine gadget? We've got to get it to the detectives right away—we'll tell them we found it at the church or something. Shannon will be ecstatic!"

  Bess stopped suddenly as Leigh's body language portended the bad news. "I don't have it," she admitted.

  "Oh," Bess responded lightly. "Well, let's go get it then. Lydie won't miss me."

  Leigh sighed. "You don't understand. I don't have the key anymore."

  Bess's eyes widened. "And why not? Did you give it back to S.P.E?"

  She shook her head.

  "To who, then?"

  "Noel."

  Bess stared at her in disbelief.

  "I didn't want to!" Leigh defended. "She left me no choice." She explained how she had been caught red-handed, and Bess sighed dramatically. "So, Noel knew about the mini-storage already," she said with defeat. "More to the point, now she knows that you knew about it."

  Leigh nodded, and repeated the lame cover story she had composed on the spot. "I'm not sure if she bought it. I think it's time we tell Maura Polanski about the mini-storage. If the detectives can get a warrant to search it—"

  "No," Bess said firmly. "Then everyone will know Humphrey was a fraud, and I told you I can't let that happen." She took a deep breath. "Maybe Noel came to get something of his, and maybe now that she has it, she'll leave. That will be one less fly in the ointment. As for the investigation—we can do without the epinephrine dispenser. I'll ask around and see if anybody knew what else Humphrey was allergic to. We can pass that on to the detectives without needing any evidence." She patted Leigh's knee approvingly. "It'll be all right. Thanks for doing the dirty work for me, kiddo. I appreciate it."

  The protest forming in Leigh's mind was cut off by the shrill ring of the phone on the endtable. Bess swooped down immediately to pick it up. "Yes?"

  Leigh watched her aunt's face, idly at first, then with more attention as the color drained from her plump cheeks. "That's not true! Who is this?" Bess demanded. "Hello? Hello?"

  She hung up the phone with a bang. "The nerve!" she railed, crossing her arms firmly in front of her ample chest.

  "Who was it?" Leigh insisted. "What did they say?"

  Bess didn't answer for a moment. She just sat and looked angry.

  "Aunt Bess!" Leigh pleaded, getting worried.

  "It was a man," Bess answered finally. "If it was a woman, I'd understand it. But it was a man."

  "Saying what?"

  "He said, 'I know you killed him—all of you. And you're not getting away with it.'"

  Leigh stared. For a moment they just sat quietly, Leigh staring and Bess fuming. "All of who? Why would anyone think you had anything to do with Reginald Humphrey's death?"

  "No one would," Bess announced, her tone a weak attempt at light-heartedness. "It was just a prank."

  "Well, it's a sick prank!" Leigh insisted. Her eyes moved back to the phone. "Wait a minute! What’s that code—star 69? We can find out who called!"

  She dove for the phone, but before she could reach it, it rang again. Her hand paused in midair for a moment, then she grabbed it anxiously.

  "Hello?" she said, her voice tense.

  "Um…hello. Is Bess there?" The voice on the other end of the line was edgy and familiar, and definitely did not belong to a man. Leigh handed the handset over to Bess. "I think it's Barbara," she said with disappointment.

  Bess swallowed and took the phone. Leigh didn't bother paying attention at first, but perked up when she heard her aunt mention the name Noel. Her paranoid mind started assuming the worst. Had Noel figured out she had lied about getting the key from Humphrey? Was she going to prosecute Leigh for trespassing? Stealing?

  Calm down, she told herself. Noel was the last person who would go to the police for anything. In fact, she seemed to be putting a lot of energy into avoiding them. What was she up to now?

  Bess hung up the phone and looked at Leigh worriedly. "Barbara says she's been trying to reach me for hours. It seems Noel contacted her early this morning and asked her to start a phone chain through the entire congregation. She wants to call a church meeting."

  Leigh blinked. "She does?"

  Bess nodded, and the women stared at each other again.

  "What time?" Leigh managed to ask.

  Bess looked at the antique clock on her mantel. "About two minutes before we can possibly get there."

  ***

  By the time Leigh and Bess made it through the front doors of the First Church of the New Millenium, the crowd had already filled most of the seats in the small sanctuary. A chivalrous older gentleman offered Bess his seat on the aisle, and as soon as she was settled, Leigh stood up and scanned the room. Shannon was down front, surrounded by a sympathetic throng of younger women. She didn't see Ted anywhere. Nor did she see either of the two homicide detectives.

  Leaving Bess with instructions to save her seat on the pew's end rail, Leigh slipped out and across the sanctuary into the parlor. Noel was nowhere to be seen. Was she planning a grand entrance?

  She made her way down the hall to the empty church office, picked up the phone on Cindy's desk, and started dialing. She didn't have much time. "Maura?" she said thankfully, glad that her friend had been at her home number for once. "Noel Humphrey has called some kind of meeting at the church—and the homicide detectives aren’t here—"

  "Is she there now?" the detective's husky voice asked immediately.

  "She's supposed to be."

  "I'm on my way." Maura hung up the phone without ceremony, and Leigh smiled to herself. Somebody from the detective's squad had to catch up with Noel—and if Maura had the edge, so much the better.

  She returned to Bess in the sanctuary, and wondered if she should confess her errand. Her aunt didn't want Humphrey exposed as a fraud, but what about Noel? What if the bereaved widow was running some kind of scam herself? If she was, Leigh thought smugly, she would now have to deal with one Maura Polanski.

  Leigh's potential confession was cut off short by Ed, who walked slowly to the podium and called the meeting to order. "We're running a little late here," he apologized, "but now I think we're ready. You've all been called here today at the request of the late Reginald Humphrey's widow, Noel, whom we've all heard the reverend speak so highly of. A few of you met her the day of—" he paused, sensing the indelicacy he was leading up to. "The day of the gathering after his death. She was a bit out of sorts, then, as is understandable. But now she has some important things she'd like to say to us. Noel?"

  Ed stepped aside, almost tripping off the top altar platform in the process. Noel jumped quickly to his aid, but he was able to steady himself. She smiled at him warmly, then took over the podium and lowered the microphone.

  Leigh and Bess watched her entry, their mouths hanging slightly agape. Marlo/Mary had reentered her time and space machine. The woman with the doe eyes had transformed—from body-hugging polyester all the way to third-world burlap. Noel smiled serenely, her peculiar gray-brown hair hanging limply to her shoulders, and her pale, clean-washed face shining in the altar spotlight.

  "Friends," she began, her voice steady, yet with just the right touch of vulnerability. "I'm sur
e you're wondering why I called you here today. I'm sorry if it's an inconvenience, and I won't keep you long."

  She cleared her throat, and appeared to be summoning her strength. "I came here this week to surprise my beloved husband, Reginald. We'd been apart for a long time, as I'm sure you know. But I returned to the United States a few weeks ago, and have been doing fundraising for my mission in Zaire, to which this church has always graciously contributed."

  Bess murmured something unpleasant, and this time Leigh was the one to do the rib-jabbing.

  "I called you all here today," Noel continued, "because I'm concerned about the future of this church, and of my mission. You wonderful people, whether you realize it or not, have been the primary supporters of the Millenium Mission Center in Kananga." She described the work of her mission by making a few vague claims—then moved quickly to the main agenda. "I can only hope, that in the absence of my husband, and as you carry on your charge as the First Church of the New Millenium, that you will continue to support the Kananga Mission to whatever extent possible." Her chin trembled on cue, and her eyes began to glisten. "My Reginald cared about you all so deeply. And I know that, if he were here, he would—" her voice broke off, and she made a show of burying her head in her hands.

  Leigh's eyes widened in panic as several women went up to comfort the transparently distraught widow. Couldn't they tell she was acting?

  Evidently not. Leigh swallowed painfully. A direct plea for money from Noel wasn't something they'd anticipated, but they should have. Bess looked frantically around the room, her eyes showing the same guilty fear. "I've waited too long!" she whispered harshly. "I should have known this would happen!"

  Leigh looked toward the main doors to the sanctuary, and sighed in relief. Yes. Maura Polanski was there, her large frame flanking the back wall as unobtrusively as possible. "At least this time Noel won't leave the church without being questioned," Leigh told her aunt, nodding in the detective's direction.