But she didn’t want to dwell on that. What about this lunatic in the Jersey Devil costume? Anything other than the idea of a man in a costume was crazy, right? So was there some significance to the attempted break-in at the Goodes’ home the night before the murder?
Maybe the aborted burglary had actually been a foiled attempt on Goode’s life.
On impulse A.J. entered “Jersey Devil” in the search bar.
Yikes. She sat back in her chair as a variety of colorful and alarming images popped up. Nearly two million results in less than twenty seconds. And what kind of results. The different headlines read “See Videos for Jersey Devil,” “The Mystery of the Jersey Devil,” “Jersey Devil Hunt Club,” “Timeline for the Jersey Devil” . . .
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured. She began to scroll through the options. Clicking on one site, she read aloud, “The Jersey Devil was designated in 1938 as the country’s only state demon.” She snorted. Did that mean the thing collected Social Security?
The tall building creaked, settling as the night temperature dropped. A.J. glanced at the clock. Fascinating as this avenue of study would no doubt prove, it was getting late. In about half an hour the evening classes would begin and then she’d never get out of here.
She turned off the laptop and gathered up her things. The front lobby was deserted, the lights turned low.
She walked out to the parking lot. The night air was sweet with the scent of distant wood fires and damp earth. Jaci’s Mini was still parked in its slot. Moonlight glistened on the dew-beaded hood. The lot was otherwise empty.
A.J. unlocked her car and started the engine. For a few seconds she sat letting the engine idle, gazing at the building surrounded by tall trees and open meadows. The bright lights in the many windows of Sacred Balance shone like a beacon in the cold November night.
It still surprised her sometimes that this was her life. That she had taken the opportunity Aunt Di had offered, that she had turned from the safe and familiar path and chosen something completely new.
How often did someone get that chance? How often did they take the chance if they did get it?
If David Goode was indeed Maxwell Powell, he, too, had received such a chance to reinvent himself. The question was . . . into what?
Eleven
A.J. was on her way upstairs to teach her Itsy Bitsy Yoga class the next morning when she was surprised to spot Oriel Goode.
Oriel, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, was dressed in nondescript yoga pants and a T-shirt. She walked among the other students, but she didn’t seem to be part of the group. She was not laughing or talking with anyone as she made a beeline for the showers.
A.J. started to speak, then hesitated. She couldn’t interrogate the woman in a public shower, and it would be better not to give her time to prepare for the chat that A.J. was determined they were going to have. She decided to wait and catch Oriel on her way out of the building.
Running downstairs, A.J. asked Suze to take her Itsy Bitsy class.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I want to talk to Oriel about her membership.”
“Oh, right. Okay.” Suze hesitated. “Denise said she talked to Lily last night and that Lily said you’d agreed to help her.”
“I agreed to try. So far I haven’t found anything that’s going to be a lot of use.”
“It’s great you’re doing it, though. It’s what Di would have wanted.”
A.J. nodded distractedly. She went out to the front desk and chatted with Emma, pretending to look through records while she waited for Oriel to come downstairs.
It took about fifteen minutes before Oriel appeared in a dark baggy sweater and pants, her hair piled in an unflattering bun on her head. Watching her coming down the stairs, A.J. thought that Oriel had just about perfected the art of invisibility.
Maybe Lily had had a point about how very mismatched the Goodes were. Whereas David Goode had sought the limelight at every turn, Oriel seemed to make every attempt to avoid attention.
A.J. moved to intercept her as the woman reached the ground floor and started for the main doors. “Oriel. May I have a word?”
Oriel jumped. She threw a startled look at A.J.
A.J. tried to look pleasant and nonthreatening, which shouldn’t have been much of a stretch. Oriel glanced instinctively at the entrance, back at A.J., and then abruptly seemed to relax. Maybe relax wasn’t the word. Give up was probably closer to the truth.
With a tight nod she preceded A.J. down the hall to her office. They went inside, and A.J. closed the door.
“Please, sit.” She moved to the hot plate near the bookcase. “Would you like some tea?”
Oriel shook her head, although she took the seat A.J. indicated. “What is this about?” She spoke in a deep, musical contralto.
A.J. poured tea into her cup and took the chair across from Oriel. “I was so sorry to hear of your loss.”
Oriel’s eyes narrowed beneath the heavy brows. “Thank you.”
“I only met your husband a couple of times. I’m afraid we disagreed pretty strongly on the subject of yoga—as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Oriel shifted minutely in her chair. “David had very strong views on most things.”
“But you obviously didn’t agree with those views.”
“I agreed with most of his views.”
A.J. smiled, persisting pleasantly, “But not his views on yoga, obviously.”
Oriel’s gaze veered to the jovial carved Buddha statue on the bookshelf. “No. I’ve been practicing yoga for five years now. I used to suffer from depression. Yoga was instrumental in my healing.” She added quickly, “Not for any philosophical reasons. For me, yoga’s benefits are strictly physical, but the mind and body are linked.”
“Of course. Your husband didn’t agree?”
Oriel chewed her bottom lip, clearly hesitating over her answer. She said at last, “David didn’t know me when I was depressed. He only ever knew me happy and healthy, so he couldn’t realize the role yoga played in my wellbeing.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Three years.”
“Oh?” A.J. tried to recall the timeline from the point Goode had appeared at New Dawn Church.
“Oh what?” Oriel asked with a hint of irritation.
“I just assumed you’d been married longer. I guess ministers always seem . . . married.”
“Obviously you didn’t know David.” Oriel seemed to hear her own comment. Her expression was instantly blank once more.
“I’ve heard some of the rumors, of course.” A.J. tried to say it sympathetically. “That’s inevitable when someone dies so suddenly.”
“Yes,” Oriel said bitterly. “It is.”
“This must be so hard for you. I mean, it would be hard under any circumstances, but having to deal with the police and reporters . . . I had something similar happen when my aunt died. It made what was already a terrible time even worse.”
Unexpectedly A.J.’s sympathy seemed to hit a chord with Oriel. “I just want it to be over.”
“Of course. First the investigation and then the trial. It must feel like it’s never going to end.”
“The investigation is over. The trial . . . Of course I want that over, but I meant . . . I want to stop feeling. I want it to be ten years from now when all of this is a memory and it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Oriel spoke with such intensity that A.J. was moved against her will.
“Is that possible?”
“Yes. I’m sure it is. Time heals everything.”
“You have the comfort of your religion.”
“Yes.” Oriel’s gaze held A.J.’s. It was almost difficult to look away.
A.J. spoke at random. “You said the investigation is over. Does that mean you believe that Lily Martin killed your husband?”
Oriel’s dark brows arched. “That’s a strange question. The police arrested her.”
“I know, but no one who knows Lily bel
ieves she could have committed murder.”
That was an exaggeration, but Oriel didn’t challenge it. Instead, she seemed to think over A.J.’s words. “Frankly, I was surprised the police arrested her so quickly. I assume they had more to go on than the quarrel that you and I saw. Thank you, by the way, for keeping silent that day—and for the other day when my husband came here looking for me.”
“Then he told you about that?”
Oriel’s smile was sour. “Oh yes. David was very forthright when he was displeased.”
“He didn’t seem like someone who beat around the bush.” The conversation was drifting from the expected channels, but the direction was interesting and might ultimately prove more revealing than A.J.’s original tack. “You said you were surprised that Lily was arrested. Does that mean you have your own suspicions about who killed your husband?”
“I did. I was obviously wrong.”
“Who did you—?”
“My husband’s assistant. Lance Dally.”
That was a surprise. “Why?”
“Because David fired Lance that morning.”
“You’re kidding. Did you tell the police?”
Oriel’s smile was pained. “Yes. Of course. They questioned Lance, but he was cleared.” She winced at some memory. “Thank heavens he was gracious enough to overlook the fact that I accused him of murder.”
“What made you so sure Lance had done it?”
“It wasn’t . . . It was the first thing that popped into my mind when they told me David had been . . . David was dead. I thought that it couldn’t be true because how would someone get past Lance without him seeing them? Then I remembered Lance was gone. And then I remembered why. You say things when you’re in shock. . . .” Her voice faltered and died away. She said almost to herself, “It’s so hard to believe.”
“I can only imagine. I know what a shock it was when my aunt was murdered.” A.J.’s gaze went automatically to the photo on her desk. “It’s bad enough to lose someone, but to lose them to violence makes it that much worse.”
Oriel nodded. “Anyway, once Lance understood that I didn’t . . . that I wasn’t . . . he agreed to return long enough to help me take care of all the arrangements.”
“What will happen to the church now?”
“I don’t know.” Oriel’s expression closed. “It’s too soon to decide anything.” She looked at the door. “Was there some reason in particular you wanted to speak to me privately?”
Realizing that her window of opportunity was closing, A.J. pretended to recollect herself. “Oh. Yes! I’m sorry. What I really wanted to know was whether you planned on continuing as a student at Sacred Balance?”
Oriel’s smile held a hint of mockery. “You mean will I officially enroll and pay my fair dues instead of sneaking around on a guest pass?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite that bluntly. I’m glad that you continued coming here however you had to do it. Yoga is obviously important to you. I know my aunt would have felt the same way.”
“You’re a kind person, A.J. Thank you. I do plan to continue attending classes while I live in Stillbrook.”
“Are you planning on leaving?”
“I haven’t made my mind up, but as you can imagine, my memories here aren’t very happy.”
“I’m sorry. I understand.”
Oriel picked up her gym bag and rose. A.J. stood also. She reached for the office door, saying casually, “You also attend classes at Yoga Meridian, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Oriel made a face. “I attended a couple of local studios. I had to keep changing around in case David tracked me down. Yoga Meridian was my least favorite. A little too glitzy for me. The instructors all wear matching unitards and they call the place Yo M, which is just too . . .”
“Oh.” A.J. and Oriel shared a wry smile before A.J. moved aside to let Oriel pass. “If I don’t see you before, I guess we’ll see you this weekend?”
“The retreat. Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”
Oriel strode down the hall and out through the lobby. A.J. watched her go and then went back in her office and closed the door.
She phoned Jake and filled him in on her evening. “It was a better book than it was a movie. Also, you missed a really good margherita pizza from that new place in Blairstown,” she informed him when he picked up.
“I’m sorry about the pizza. What are you doing for lunch?”
“Probably trying to avoid listening to my mother discuss wedding plans. What are you doing for dinner?”
“We’re supposed to have a briefing on New Dawn Church’s financial records.”
“Speaking of New Dawn Church. How come Lance Dally isn’t a suspect? I’ve just had a very interesting chat with Oriel Goode, and she said her husband fired Dally the day he died.”
“He did. Dally came to us and volunteered the information. Along with the news that he’s a reporter working on an exposé of Goode and New Dawn Church.”
A.J. nearly dropped the phone. “What? Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“What was he exposing?”
“Yeah, well, we’re having a difference of opinion on that score. Dally’s refusing to cooperate. He wants to keep his story as exclusive as possible. He swears up and down that nothing he discovered could be linked to Goode’s murder. Obviously we of the Stillbrook PD have a different take on the matter.”
“But you’ve ruled him out as a suspect?”
“He doesn’t appear to have a motive. He does appear to have an alibi.”
“What’s his alibi?”
Jake sighed noisily down the line. “Why again am I reporting to you?”
A.J. said in a sultry voice, “Because you grab every chance you can to talk to me.”
Jake laughed. “Right. That’s gotta be it. Dally’s alibi is he was home packing. His neighbor verified seeing his car parked out front all afternoon.”
“That’s not exactly watertight, is it?”
“You know, very often people don’t have watertight alibis for any given hour in a day. Dally doesn’t seem to have been angry about being fired. According to him he was about ready to roll up shop anyway.”
“Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you? How did Goode come to Dally’s attention? As far as I can tell New Dawn Church doesn’t have a national presence.”
Jake’s voice was approving. “You’re right. I asked Dally that very thing. Apparently Goode was starting to build a reputation for himself and the church in California. Dally saw him interviewed on a television special about the new breed of evangelists. Something about Goode aroused—Dally’s words—his reporter’s instinct. When he learned Goode was moving his operation east, he decided to go undercover in Goode’s organization. And one of the first things he discovered was Goode didn’t have much of an organization.”
“I had that impression myself. So I was right!”
“According to Dally, Goode was a fanatical perfectionist. He didn’t trust anyone to do anything as well as he could do it himself. Dally said it took him weeks before Goode trusted him to so much as mail a letter without interrogating him. He said he’d never worked so hard at a job.”
“Why was Dally fired?”
“Goode reportedly found out who Dally was really working for.”
“Hmm. You’re taking Dally’s word for this?”
Jake said very patiently, “If you’ll recall, we have our official suspect.”
“So you’re not looking any further than Lily at all?” She could hear Jake’s hesitation. “Look. Just between you and me, we’re not completely ruling anyone out at this point. It turns out we hit pay dirt with your tip on the Jill Smithy-Powell homicide.”
“Really?”
Jake’s laugh was grim. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“So Goode and Powell were the same man?”
“It looks like it. We sent Goode’s fingerprints to LAPD and they came up a positive match for Maxwell Powell. Or at least for the prints th
ey believe belonged to Maxwell Powell.”
“That’s incredible.”
“What do you mean it’s incredible? It was your theory.”
“To be fair, it was Mother’s theory. But I spent a couple of hours last night searching for David Goode, and as far as I could tell he doesn’t exist before he showed up in the flock of New Dawn Church.”
“Well, that makes it unanimous, because Max Powell doesn’t exist either.”
“Run that by me again.”
“Maxwell Powell died in 2000 when he was eighteen months old.”
A.J. had read about this kind of thing in credit card and identity scams. “You mean Goode stole someone else’s Social Security number?”
“That’s it in a nutshell.”
“But how could he get away with it? It’s one thing to try and fake an identity on paper. But in real life? Something should have flagged along the way, right?”
“That’s one of the things we’re waiting to hear. Hopefully by tonight’s briefing we’ll have some answers.”
A.J. told Jake about her meeting with Oriel. He was unimpressed but sympathetic.
“What if Oriel Goode didn’t know her husband’s background? Or what if she did?”
“You mean you didn’t ask her about her husband’s uncanny resemblance to a missing California playboy?” Jake asked dryly.
“I couldn’t think of a polite way to bring it up.”
She heard his snort of amusement. “Whether Oriel knew or didn’t know doesn’t change the fact that she has an alibi.”
“Until it’s broken. It’s not like we’ve never come across anyone who appeared to have an alibi before.”
“Please don’t say we. We’re not partners in crime here. I wish you weren’t getting involved again, but I know you well enough to know that you’re going to poke around whether I like it or not. I’m hoping to share just enough information to keep you from getting into trouble.”
Death in a Difficult Position Page 11
