“How horrible,” Jeremiah said, steepling his hands in a prayer position.
“Kim said she knew you personally.”
Jeremiah glanced from Marla to Dalton, who was engaged in casually picking off a fleck of lint from his shirt. “We’d met a couple of times. Like yourself, Mrs. Kaufman was interested in donating to the cause. I always try to meet our benefactors in person.”
“Did you attend her funeral?”
“No, I wasn’t on intimate terms with the family. When I didn’t hear from Mrs. Kaufman again, I just assumed she’d lost interest. I’m so sorry to hear she met such a dreadful end.”
If you weren’t intimate, why did she call you Uncle Jerry? “How did you meet each other? Did Kim contact you?”
“You seem mighty interested in my relations with your friend, Miz Shore.”
Marla tilted her head. “If it weren’t for Kimberly, Dalton and I wouldn’t have known about your work. We’ve always been concerned about world hunger, so we were thrilled to learn about your efforts. Breeding fish in ponds is an excellent means of providing food for thousands.”
She’d hit upon the right subject to divert him. “You’re absolutely right. Praise the Lord for his gift.” Jeremiah raised his arms. “He giveth us the means to produce a bounty of consumables. Who needs material wealth when we have food stocks? You can’t eat money.”
No, but you can buy a Porsche with it. From the corner of her eye, she watched Dalton shift a few papers on the file cabinet. “Do many people know about tilapia?” she asked to grab Jeremiah’s attention. “I’ve seen it on the menu at restaurants.”
He gave her a benevolent smile. “Look for it in the fish counters of your local grocery store, too. Tilapia is rapidly gaining consumer recognition. Besides being white, firm, and moist, it’s mild in flavor, so it accepts sauces well. You can use it in recipes that specify other kinds of fish. Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you the rest.”
Nodding agreeably, Marla hoped her companion noticed how well they worked as a team. A moment’s guilt flushed through her at their deception. Dalton had arranged this meeting under false pretenses. It was bad enough that Marla had deceived the Pearl family in her role as nurse’s aide. She dreaded the day Miriam would discover her ruse, especially since she’d become fond of the woman. Maybe the reverend would give her a blessing and absolve her from sin.
Yeah, right. Believe that, and you can make hair sprout on a bald head with a prayer.
They emerged into the sunshine on a raised walkway. Marla was aware of Dalton’s presence directly behind her. When he placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, she folded into him, leaning against the solid length of his body. His arm curved around, encompassing her waist. A slight smile lifted the reverend’s lips as he regarded the intimate gesture.
“We grow tilapia in outdoor tanks and ponds since our weather is fairly predictable,” Jeremiah continued, squinting in the bright light. “Other farms may use greenhouses to control the climate, but we don’t worry about that here. I mentioned that tilapia is a hardy fish. Since they have strong immune systems, they’re more easily grown than other fish species that are prone to disease, plus they don’t get as stressed by environmental changes. These factors make tilapia a highly marketable, protein-rich food source as well as a cash-generating crop, so it’s perfect for our third-world missions.”
“Don’t you have sites in Costa Rica?” Marla adjusted her purse strap as they walked on.
He nodded. “Our farms there use pure rainwater from the cloud forests. It flows by gravity through the farms at such a rate that the ponds exchange their water every twenty minutes.”
“Is the fish sold there or exported?”
“We harvest the fish six days a week. Some of it is distributed locally and the rest is flown to Miami each evening. From there, we deliver the fish to customers by truck or air.”
“Kimberly’s family owns coffee plantations in Costa Rica,” Dalton commented in a dry tone.
“Really? What a coincidence.” Jeremiah gripped the black metal railing that lined the walkway.
“Are you acquainted with Morris Pearl?” Dalton asked. “He’s the family member who runs their business.”
“Sorry, never heard of him.”
“Where did you say you lived in Fort Lauderdale?”
“Margate.” The reverend frowned at Dalton. “I don’t understand why you’re asking these questions. I thought you wanted a tour of our facilities before making a contribution. Perhaps you’re ready to conclude our business.”
Marla felt Dalton stiffen and stepped away from him. “How long does it take for the tilapia to grow?” she said in a ditzy tone, hoping to ease the sudden tension that had sprung up between the two men.
Jeremiah seemed happy to resume his didactic role. Plowing a hand through his styled hair, he said, “It takes six to twelve months for them to reach full size. We harvest them when they reach a pound and a half.”
“How often do they reproduce?”
“Too often.” Jeremiah laughed, and the tenseness dissipated like a flock of egrets taking flight. “Tilapia are mouth breeders. Normally, the male digs a nest in the sand. By flashing his tail, he attracts the female, who lays eggs. He fertilizes them, then she picks them up in her mouth and holds them until they hatch, which takes a couple of weeks. She can carry up to one thousand babies, called fry, in her mouth. An average female hatches over three hundred fingerlings every month year-round. Considering this rate of reproduction, you see how overpopulation becomes a problem.”
“How much do they sell for?” Dalton asked.
“Tilapia can bring up to two dollars per pound. We sell our crop wholesale to seafood brokers, fish markets, restaurants. It’s a more valuable commodity than something like catfish.”
“Why isn’t the water clear?” Marla pointed to one of the concrete tanks. The water was too deep and murky for her to see any fish swimming in it.
“That greenish tint is due to algae. It forms from sunlight penetrating to the bottom. The young fish feed on algae. Tiny combs in their gills allow them to remove it from the water. They have efficient digestive systems and convert a greater proportion of their food into growth than many other fish species.”
“They don’t eat anything else?”
“We provide fish food that comes in different formulations to match their growth stage. We’re careful to buy a product containing marine and vegetable protein, with no terrestrial animal parts. Come this way.” He led them up a short flight of stairs and along a maze of elevated walkways, pipes and hoses, netting and buckets. They detoured around workers engaged in various tasks. All of them deferentially made way for the minister and his guests.
“Besides the algae, tannin and fish poop alter the clarity of the water.” Jeremiah chuckled at Marla’s grimace. “When we’re ready to harvest, we put the fish into a tank of clear water to flush the metabolites from their systems. This purges toxins so no odor remains. That process takes two or three days. Because they don’t feed on other fish, which might contain pollutants, tilapia is one of the cleanest varieties.”
“According to what you’re saying, the tilapia are only as pure as their water supply,” Dalton cut in, draping his arm around Marla’s shoulder.
“Good point.” The reverend speared him with a keen glance. “Our water passes through a filtration process beginning with a biofilter system. After passing through particle settling and nitrogen conversion tanks, the water sifts through a micron particle filter to remove fine fragments. Then it’s mixed with oxygen and pumped into the fish tanks.”
Marla sought a way to bring up Kimberly again, but this didn’t seem an appropriate time. Dalton seemed content to play along with their ruse for now. His sharp gaze surveyed their surroundings, absorbing details.
“What is that guy doing?” She indicated a mustached young man working with a net.
“Manuel is censuring the tank, which means catching the fish and weighing them.�
� Jeremiah waved to the fellow. “This tells us their chronology so we can project when to harvest them. We’ll weigh a sample of twenty-five fish to get the average in a tank. Each tank holds eighty thousand gallons of water and produces about ten thousand pounds of tilapia. We drain the tanks to harvest them. Hey, Manuel, show them how to catch one.”
The man flashed them a grin before tossing a weighted net into the water. Holding an attached rope, he pulled the net from one end of the tank to the other before gathering it up and over the railing. Fish spilled out, flopping on the concrete path, mouths gaping. After weighing one, he threw them all back into the tank.
“Fish water is rich in nitrogen and phosphorus,” Jeremiah continued, “so we use it to grow crops. Green peppers, tomatoes, and lettuce are some of our produce; plus herbs such as basil, oregano, and spearmint. The yield is all natural, without pesticides or chemicals. We sell it to natural food stores. Y’all heard of hydroponics? Well, aquaponics is the official term for the combination of fish water and hydroponics. Come take a look.”
Marla’s ears picked up various sounds as they followed him: gushing water, trickling streams, a humming generator. She didn’t smell much in the way of fish, which surprised her.
“Our hydroponics system consists of hydro-pipes, hydro-raceways, and ponds,” Jeremiah said. “This is where hydro-pipes supply return water to nourish the plants. We place cuttings in small plastic trays or plastic-lined Styrofoam flats. See where their roots hang down through holes into the water? Water enters the system through one end and exits at the other end.”
Jeremiah broke a sprig of spearmint and held it out to her. She sniffed the heady fragrance. When he offered her some basil, she sighed with pleasure. Her herbs in the kitchen had never smelled this fresh.
At his signal, they moved toward the edge of the concrete structure. “We keep our people busy. Among other tasks, they weigh and feed fish, take water quality readings, and adjust water flow and aeration.”
“Do you have a set schedule?” she asked, fishing for a question relevant to their purpose but unable to conceive one. She felt a flash of annoyance toward Dalton. He’d given her the burden of carrying on the conversation. When was he going to play hard-hitter?
The minister grinned. “We catch fish on Tuesdays. On Wednesday and Thursday, we harvest vegetables. Fridays are fish sales when buyers come.”
He led them off the structure and around the rear of the bunker. “This is our wetlands area where we grow cultures of pickerelweed, arrowhead, and red mangroves. Note the hydro-pipes that channel water from the fish tanks. The ponds are raised above ground and lined with plastic to prevent leaks.”
They headed down a dirt path, kicking up dust. “Here is our raceway section for high-density production of tilapia, eels, and sturgeon.”
“I noticed eel tanks in the building earlier,” Dalton said, scooping Marla’s hand into his. She gave him a startled glance. Wasn’t he overplaying his role? Not that she’d dare protest, since Jeremiah seemed taken in by their act. What she saw in Dalton’s eyes wasn’t pretense, however. A coil of desire snaked its way through her body as she squeezed his hand in response.
“Eels are very popular for sushi,” Jeremiah answered, beaming at them. “They sell for five to nine dollars per pound wholesale. Since birds like to eat them, we have to protect our outdoor tanks with netting. You’ll find up to ten thousand eels in one tank. They grow into small, medium, or large sizes.”
“How did you become so knowledgeable about all this?” Dalton asked on their way back to the main building.
Yes, Dalton. Now that Jeremiah is off guard, slam him with the real questions. Marla avoided looking at him, afraid she’d smile and give away their game.
“I studied marine biology before receiving my calling. I think the good Lord meant it that way. He gave me the means to feed thousands and provide work for our less fortunate brethren.”
“How did you arrive in Tarpon Springs? I thought mostly Greeks lived here.”
“My father was Greek, not that it matters. People move here for different reasons.”
“Your last name is Irish.”
“It’s my mother’s name. She didn’t change it on the birth certificate.”
“Piotr didn’t mind?”
Jeremiah stopped, his expression darkening. “How do you know his name? Have you been checking up on me?”
“Before I give money to anyone, I always investigate,” Dalton replied.
The minister led them inside his office. “I hope you’re satisfied by what you saw today. You can make your check out to Ministry of Hope.”
Gone is the smooth-talking representative of the Lord. Here is the true huckster in prime form. Marla wondered how Dalton would get out of this one.
“I’ll have to get back to you,” Dalton said. “You’re doing some wonderful work here, but I’m not sure you need the extra funding. Your operations must produce plenty of income.”
“Any funds we generate are funneled right back into our missions.” Jeremiah stood facing them. “We work among the poor in third-world countries. Our aim is to feed and house our farm workers in addition to the missionaries and their families. It’s never enough when you’re doing the Lord’s work.”
Dalton pulled out his wallet. But instead of offering the reverend a signed check, he showed him a photograph. “Recognize these people?”
The minister’s face paled. “Where did you get this?”
“From Stan Kaufman, Kimberly’s husband. He said you called on her one day, but she wasn’t home. He recognized you in this photograph found in her room. Neighbors claimed they saw your car a couple of times in the neighborhood. They said Kim bragged about her rich Uncle Jerry. She was pregnant, Mr. Dooley. I suspect you were involved with Mrs. Kaufman in a manner your congregation would not condone. Were you the father of her child?”
Jeremiah’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water. His skin turned the color of a white tilapia. “W-who are you?”
Dalton ignored his inquiry. “Where were you on the morning of February fifth?”
“Get out. Both of you, leave n-now,” Jeremiah sputtered.
“You paid for Kim to go to design school, didn’t you?” Marla said. “After she told you she was pregnant, you tried to buy her silence. It would be easy enough for her to pass the child off as Stan’s. But Kim wanted to leave her husband. Did she threaten you? Is that why you killed her?”
The reverend clenched a pen in his hand. He stepped toward her, a menacing light in his mud brown eyes. “You’d better not spread these lies to anyone, or I’ll scale you alive.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What did you make of Jeremiah’s last remark?” Marla asked Dalton on the way back to his car. “Was it a real threat?”
His slate gray eyes simmered under drawn brows. “I didn’t care for the reverend’s choice of words, but he may be more bluster than brawn. These evangelist types tend to spout off. After we get home, I’ll check on a few more things, then he’ll be hearing from me again. Next time, I won’t be offering money.”
“Did you see the gold chain he wore under his shirt? He must give himself a generous salary, or else he imports more than fish from those third-world countries.”
Dalton’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “His ministry makes enough money from tilapia. It’s an easy cash crop. Plus his television shows solicit contributions. The man has good business sense; you can’t fault him for using his talents.”
After he unlocked his car doors, Dalton rolled up his shirt sleeves and opened the top buttons at his neck before sliding into the driver’s seat. Marla caught a glimpse of springy chest hairs when she settled into the passenger side. Swallowing at her body’s sudden rise in temperature, she reached for her seat belt. Just as well they were an arm’s length from each other. She could feel his body heat radiating from where she sat.
“It’s too much of a coincidence that his missions are located in the same countries as Morris’s
coffee plantations,” she said once they were on the road. “Do you suppose there’s a connection?”
“Anything is possible.”
“Morris seemed to react when he saw my note with Jeremiah’s name scribbled on it, and Miriam got upset when I turned on his TV show. Logic tells me they know something about this man.”
Dalton gave her a sardonic grin. “What else does logic tell you?”
“Suppose he was the source of Kim’s financial windfall, allowing her to pay the tuition for school and fulfill her plans to leave Stan. She had to have some kind of hold over him.”
“Such as?”
“If Jeremiah fathered their child, maybe Kim was blackmailing him.”
They sat in silence for a while, until their car sped south on I-75. “I don’t believe Jeremiah’s story about how they met,” Dalton said finally. “Kim didn’t call him because she wanted to make a contribution. She needed his money. So where else did they meet, and under what circumstances?”
“I’ll bet Kim’s family is involved in this somehow.” She glanced at him. “Jeremiah might have been in Kim’s vicinity the morning she was murdered. The only thing we need is a motive. If he was paying her off, there you have it.”
“You’re forgetting about the murder weapon. How would the reverend have obtained Stan’s letter opener?”
“How would anyone have gotten it? Someone stole the thing.”
“Kaufman didn’t report anything missing. Wouldn’t he have noticed its absence before the murder?”
“He told me he couldn’t find certain objects in his house,” she said thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’d checked with his cleaning lady.”
“You’re still trying to lay the blame elsewhere. Kaufman has the strongest motive, especially if the baby wasn’t his and Kim was about to leave him. The highest incidence of domestic homicide occurs when a wife is about to walk out.”
“And you keep coming back to Stan, even when there’s something highly suspicious about Jeremiah Dooley.”
Body Wave Page 16
