BETTER WATCH OUT

by Christina Freeburn

  “New people usually take the back rows. Don’t want to sit in someone’s pew and cause a scene.” I wasn’t quite ready to let the pastor and his wife know I was here.

  “No, you wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “For now, we observe.”

  “You observe from back here, I’ll go closer.”

  I started to argue with him and quickly decided against it, letting go of Jack’s arm so he could slip out from the pew. It was a good idea. There was way too much interest being directed our way. One of my daughter’s friends was staring at me oddly. She quickly looked away and tapped away on her phone. Please don’t text, Raleigh. I didn’t want to explain Jack to my daughter or her brother.

  Fortunately, the service was starting and even though the friend was in her twenties, her mom sitting beside her snagged her phone, glaring at her wayward adult daughter. There were just some places and times when parents couldn’t help being parents.

  Jack took the first available seat, right next to Nancy. She looked a little shocked and happy that the man was squished into the small space between the end of the pew and her. On the other hand, her husband wasn’t too keen on it and shot eye daggers at Jack.

  Pastor Benjamin Heath walked onto the stage. A screen lowered from the ceiling and a hymn popped up onto it. Whisperings flowed around me. Sarah stood beside her husband, a hymnal clutched tightly in her hand.

  “We didn’t vote on that.” A woman gripped the man’s arm beside her.

  “Pastor never mentioned a new sound system either.” He tilted his chin up, indicating the viewing area on a second floor that was a fourth of the size as the seating area on the main floor.

  There was a youngish man, early twenties, manning a sound board and a laptop. Harmony Baptist was going high-tech, and it was a surprise to their congregation. The murmurs were growing louder and more boisterous. The congregation was building up to a good old-fashioned mutiny.

  Pastor Heath started singing louder, trying to drown out the voices of dissent. The hymnal shook in Sarah’s hands, her back ramrod straight. Her face was a cascade of emotions ranging from sorrowful to murderous as she took in each one of the congregation members separately.

  I felt a gaze on me. I scanned the congregation, Jack caught my eye and placed a hand on his knee, pointing at Sarah and nodding. I agreed. Perfect suspect. Or more likely aiding and abetting her husband. Did Jenna blackmail the pastor over the embezzling? And more importantly did they kill Eric because they believed he was about to tell the world the pastor was an embezzler or because Eric tried to point the finger at them for Jenna’s death? The sleigh had been parked not too far from the church van.

  Angela stood and began to sing “Silent Night,” her voice sweet and pure. The complaints switched over to the song. Some voices sung grudgingly, others happily. The sanctuary wasn’t the time and place for a fight. It would be saved for another time.

  A shudder quivered up my spine. I shifted my gaze away from Angela and spotted Sarah glaring right at me. I wasn’t much of a mind reader, but it was clear to me there was murder on that woman’s mind—and I had a strong feeling it was about mine.

  Twenty-Five

  The pastor had invited everyone to meet downstairs for fellowship and snacks. I had never seen a large group of people move so fast and harmoniously in my life. Either the food served was amazing, everyone skipped breakfast, or no one wanted to miss out on a syllable of gossip. I was in the latter group and quickly discovered I was the majority of the gossip. People clustered together in small packs, sipping coffee and nibbling on pastries as gazes veered my way and then focused on something else. I stood in what seemed like center stage and berated myself for thinking this was a good plan.

  The rest of the service had gone well except for Sarah Heath launching death stares throughout the service. Which, fortunately for the pastor, stopped people talking about the newfangled, state-of-the-art-not-wanted-by-the-majority audio equipment and instead had speculations running rampant with what I had done to cause Sarah’s wrath. Even now in the fellowship hall, Sarah fixed her laser beams eyes on me.

  I was starting to believe the woman didn’t care too much about saving my soul—just judging it. There was a simmering temper on the woman that was now visible to all. She was protective of her husband. I had seen it. She was definitely a woman capable of issuing threats and looking darn well like she meant them.

  A woman smiled at me softly, her gaze holding sympathy and relief. She was probably the usual target of Sarah’s wrath. Raising her coffee cup to her lips, she tipped the cup slightly in my direction. She was either wishing me luck or bidding me farewell.

  Jack materialized beside me and handed me a cup of coffee. “The pastor’s wife wants to vaporize you.”

  People milled about us, averting their eyes while at the same time trying to keep us in sight. I didn’t know how many people the basement room usually held but it was packed today. It seemed like the congregation had grown to twice its size during the walk down the stairs. I had positioned myself in the middle of the room, near a set of doors leading into the kitchen, thinking it afforded me the perfect spot to watch everyone else. Now, I felt trapped and like I was on display.

  Then again, everyone was also curious about the man who rode into town a few days ago, had worked for the mayor, and now had shown up to their church. Things in town had started going a little wayward once Jack Sullivan had arrived. Yep, if I was them, I’d be keeping my eyes on Jack too.

  “I don’t think she likes my mix of reindeer and wreaths,” I whispered back. “She’s a Christmas purist. Thinks Santa and all the other secular trappings should be eliminated from the Christmas season.”

  “I’m sure that’s the reason.” Jack blew at the steam rising from his coffee.

  The pastor excused his way through the crowd of his members, making his way toward us.

  “Good morning, Pastor Heath.” I had wanted to say something nice about his sermon, but I hadn’t paid much attention as his wife’s death glare and trying to pick up snippets of gossip consumed my attention.

  “Since the service is over, it is the perfect time for you to be on your way.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the stairs.

  I wasn’t sure if I was hurt, angry, or amused by this situation. Was I, Merry Winters, good-girl slash rule-follower who was all about Christmas cheer, really getting kicked out of church? During the Christmas season? It was time to get the pastor’s mind off the fact that his wife didn’t like me. “I’m enjoying the fellowship. The decorations in the church are quite lovely. I’m amazed at how quickly you pulled it all together. I was here a few days ago for an afternoon crafting event and the downstairs was still decorated for Thanksgiving.”

  “We had to postpone the Thanksgiving dinner due to the weather.”

  “When was your Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Wednesday night.”

  So that meant the decorating was done Thursday. What if Jenna had been placed in the bag Thursday night? No one had actually seen her Friday. But Norman—Sarah and Pastor Benjamin—loaded the sleigh on Friday. Though, Norman had left to take care of Angela, which left Sarah and Benjamin there. Together. Near the sleigh. Had they seen Eric placing Jenna in the bag?

  Why not tell the police? Were they afraid Eric would mention the embezzled money if they told the police about him being near Santa’s sleigh? Had they decided to kill Eric and try to make it look like a drunk had wandered into the road?

  The pastor was looking at me oddly. I blocked out the questions tumbling through my mind.

  “Everything is lovely. It’s apparent how much you love your congregation. To have this turned around so soon is incredible,” I gushed. “Leaves me speechless.”

  The pastor drew back a bit. I was having a hard time deciphering if his expression was concern or confusion about my over-the-top reaction. I had to settle
down.

  “A church doesn’t run on the service of one person alone. The congregation is a huge help. Without the members on the decorating committee, the chapel and fellowship hall wouldn’t have been ready for today’s service.”

  Jack backed away from me and the pastor. I hoped he was going to eavesdrop on a few other conversations or head off the pastor’s wife whose laser gaze was zeroed in on me. The woman side-stepped right around him.

  She sidled up to her husband, hooking an arm through his and clutching on tight. “Are you not going to protect the congregation? She is here to start trouble for our church.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Really.” Sarah crossed her arms and tapped the tip of her kitten heel onto the carpeted floor. “When have you ever been in this church?”

  “Tuesday.” I smiled at her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Let me rephrase that. When have you attended church service? Rather than only entering our building to sell your craft items.”

  My cheeks heated. I cast my gaze on the ground.

  “Nice welcoming you give people,” Jack said.

  “This isn’t the way the bible tells us to treat someone. Merry should be welcomed in this church just like everyone else.” Norman draped an arm around me, his voice booming for all to hear.

  “She’s here to cause trouble.”

  “Don’t we all cause trouble for God time to time?” Norman asked. He squeezed my shoulder gently.

  “She’s here to accuse my husband of killing that horrid woman,” Sarah said, between clenched teeth.

  Hisses erupted from all around us and church goers drew in a sharp breath.

  “Sarah, I know this has been a stressful time for you but is this really how you want to conduct yourself,” Norman whispered. “This will be remembered long after the police have solved the murders. I am sure no one will believe that Pastor Benjamin had anything to do with it.”

  “Thank you for your help, Norman, but I can defend myself.” I slipped away from him.

  The pastor motioned toward the stairs. “I must ask you to leave, Merry. The last few weeks have been devastating for you. Your husband murdered. Finding Jenna’s body. All that trauma isn’t good for the soul. I do have the utmost compassion for you, but I cannot have you distressing my wife and the congregation.”

  Members started to move closer together. They were closing ranks. Shutting me out.

  “Let’s go.” Jack took hold of my arm.

  I shook him off. “I’m not staying. A long time ago, I made a vow to myself not to be where I wasn’t wanted.”

  Nor did I need an escort. My feelings weren’t that fragile that I’d crumble into a heap. I wasn’t that interested in being liked or wanted by people who were showing a bit of their true colors. The Heaths weren’t the loving and welcoming people they always portrayed themselves.

  “I’m glad the message was received.” Sarah smiled sweetly at me.

  Next year, I’d make sure their float went after Santa Claus—if I was still the one organizing it. I wasn’t sure I’d want the job and also not sure the mayor would want me back. Holding my head high, I started up the stairs. Jack trailed behind me.

  “That was a first for me,” I said. “I’ve never been kicked out of a church before.”

  “Not for me.” Jack placed a hand on the small of my back.

  “You’ve been thrown out of a church.”

  “Actually, more than once.”

  For some reason, I wasn’t surprised about that. Jack Sullivan was trouble. I just wasn’t quite sure what kind he was.

  Two church members were tidying up the pews, placing hymnals and Bibles back into the holders, collecting discarded bulletins and other items left behind. I snagged one of the bulletins. There had been a list of the committee members. I might be able to find out when the rest of the decorating committee crew had left.

  I stopped in the middle of the aisle and looked up at the media equipment, wondering just how much the new sound system cost. A system the congregation hadn’t known about.

  “What are you thinking?” Jack asked.

  “More not very Christmassy thoughts about a pastor and his wife. I think we should tell Orville about the new sound system. Where did they get the funds to buy it? The congregation didn’t know about it.”

  Jack looked up at the balcony. “I’m thinking I should get a closer look at it first. Maybe it’s new to this church but was a system someone donated to them. The sound guy is still upstairs. He might be willing to talk about it.”

  I broke my gaze away from the upper floor and stared at the stage. The white lights on the tree twinkled, bouncing off the frosted glass windows. I scooted to the edge of the pew. Could a tree decorator see outside? The sleigh would’ve been near the window.

  A low buzz came from my purse.

  “Well, unless you want to face the wrath of the pastor’s wife, I’d say you should head out. I’ll check out the sound system and meet you at the car.”

  An unattended toddler in a red and green velvet dress was crawling up the stairs to the stage, eyes fixed on the Christmas tree. Her black patent leather shoes slipping on the carpet. The shiny baubles too much of a temptation for the little girl. I couldn’t say I blamed her. While adults might not find the simple, round ornaments eye-catching, to a small child they resembled balls perfect to fit in a small hand, or like giant gumballs hanging from a Christmas tree. A treat Santa left behind just for them.

  “I have to stop a catastrophe.” I dropped my purse onto the first pew. Where were her parents? The child had made it to the top of the stairs and pushed herself onto unsteady legs. The three tiers of ruffles making up her skirt swung around her legs as she toddled, arms outstretched for the tree. I ran up the stairs. The child was a few inches from the tree, her small hands opening and closing as she neared one of the ornaments.

  “My pretty. My pretty.” The little girl sang. She reached for a bright red ornament.

  I hooked an arm around her waist, swinging up her body and scooping her legs into my arms. The little girl looked into my face, bright blue eyes wide and startled. “You might have knocked that tree over, little one. Where’s your mom and dad?”

  Her lower lip trembled. She took in a deep breath and let out a roof-shaking wail, flailing her little arms and legs in what seemed twelve different directions at the same time.

  “Your grandma is going to tan my hide.” A man a few years older than me ran up the stairs. He held out his arms. The little girl leaned toward him, desperate to get to him. “This is where you snuck off to? Thought your daddy or momma was keeping an eye on you.”

  “She wanted the ornaments.” I handled over the wiggly bundle.

  “Grandma lets her take the ones off of our tree and the little one just doesn’t understand it doesn’t mean she can take any she sees.” He jiggled the little girl in his arms. She giggled.

  “I was afraid the tree might fall over if she grabbed one.”

  “The pastor secured it to the wall. He knew it would tempt the little ones. I should’ve known she’d head straight for it.” The man carried the little girl away from the tree.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? The baby gate I was using to keep Ebenezer away from the tree took away from my Christmas atmosphere. I might be able to rig something up. I walked behind the tree to check out his handiwork.

  Four small hooks had been placed at the bottom of the wall and two were near the frosted window. Thin wires stretched taut went from the hook’s metal pole in the middle of the faux tree. That wouldn’t work. Ebenezer would gnaw the wire in no time. With one hand, I grabbed a few branches of the tree, like a curious toddler, and braced the base of the tree with my other hand just in case the wire wasn’t as helpful as the pastor believed. I shook it. It swayed. A toddler could easily bring down the tree.

 
The pastor sure hadn’t tried very hard. There was a section of the window where the frost had worn off and gave a lovely downward view of the area where Santa had parked his sleigh. Either the pastor had been in rush when putting up the tree, or something he viewed distracted him from securing it properly.

  “We’re a Couple of Misfits” played from my phone. The grandfather paused, glancing over his shoulder to stare at me. My face heated. I hurried to my purse and dug around for my phone. The song continued.

  I snagged it. “Yes.”

  “Don’t know why you’re annoyed with me,” Brett said. “You stood me up.”

  Ugh. I forgot I had asked Brett to come to Season’s Greetings to help me decorate Cassie’s house. “I decided to attend church this morning. I didn’t think you’d arrive this early.”

  “Well, I’m here. Hold up…”

  There was a squeal of tires in the background.

  “What the—”

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Brett said one curse word and was silent.

  “Brett!”

  The phone line went dead.

  Twenty-Six

  I felt cold. Then hot. Back to cold. Someone had hurt Brett. Because of me. Tears ran down my face. Had Brett paid a high price for my decision? The silence I heard wasn’t golden. It was dark. Numbing. I grabbed onto the back of the driver’s seat and tapped Jack on the arm. “Hurry.”

  “Sit back, buckle up, and I’ll go faster.” Jack said, inching up the speed.

  Jack had followed me out of the church, grabbed the keys from my shaking hands and hoisted me into the back seat of my Traverse. The man had taken over, only asking me where to go.

  I sat back and buckled in. I hit Brett’s number on the speed dial. It rang and rang. “He won’t answer. Please hurry. Turn left.”

  “I know how to get there, Merry.”

  Right. His uncle lived across the street from me. Cornelius! “I’m calling your uncle. He’ll know what’s going on.”

  “Do that.”