The Sibling

by Diane Moody

  “We’re all here and doing well. Thanks for asking.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.”

  A string quartet from Braxton High School played softly as the crowd gathered. He shook a few more hands and met some visitors, then made his way back to the front and followed his minister of music, Ward Larson, and deacon Fred Phillips up on the platform. Fred and Peyton took their seats in the leather wingback chairs as Ward stood at the pulpit once the choir had filed into the loft behind him.

  “Good morning and welcome! Please stand and join us as we lift our voices in worship to the Lord.”

  He turned around and directed the string quartet as they played the introduction to “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”

  As they sang the opening lyrics of one of his favorite hymns, Peyton had to smile. During the interviews before he was hired as pastor, several of the older members were particularly concerned that he would usher in more contemporary music. “Rock-em-sock-em” music, as one of the deacons labeled it. Peyton liked a lot of the more contemporary Christian music, but he also loved the old hymns. He assured the search committee that he had no intention of rocking the boat, musically speaking, but reminded them of the younger generation that so desperately needed to hear about the love of Jesus. He promised them he would work with Ward to blend the new with the old as best they could.

  Which was exactly what they’d done the past five months. He sang as the chorus crescendoed while his eyes roamed the congregation. Suddenly he realized he was staring at Aubrey Evans. And she was staring at him.

  They shared a brief smile before he quickly looked away, hoping the blush warming his face wasn’t too obvious.

  When the song concluded and everyone took their seats, he stood at the pulpit to welcome the congregation and make announcements.

  Finishing, he added, “And last but not least, as you’ll note in your program, we’ll be observing baptism at the evening service tonight. If you have given your heart to the Lord but not yet followed Him in baptism, you’re welcome to join those who’ve already signed up. Just come forward at the end of the service this morning, and we’ll make the arrangements for you for tonight’s service.

  “Now listen along with me as the choir continues to lead us in worship.”

  The choir stood as the quartet and pianist played the introduction to “He Knows My Name,” a beautiful song of praise Peyton had requested as a gentle segue to his message this morning. He turned in his seat to watch as Blake Davis sang the first verse as a solo.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his secretary Sugar on the top row of the choir loft as she turned to glance over her shoulder at the baptistry behind her. Her head actually jerked in a quick double take.

  What in the world are you doing, Sug?

  She twisted around for a better look, then leaned over the acrylic partition that kept the water from splashing over into the choir loft. She snapped straight up and whipped around; her face aghast as she shot Peyton a look of sheer terror. Those on either side of her got her attention, no doubt wondering what the heck was going on. She spoke to them, then all three whipped around and leaned over for a look.

  Suddenly, Sugar dropped her music and screamed—a bloodcurdling scream that launched Peyton out of his seat, over the loft railing, and up the steps to her.

  The music stopped.

  The screaming stopped, though its echo reverberated through the sanctuary.

  Then a split second of silence.

  Peyton grabbed her arms. “What? Sugar, what is it?!”

  She couldn’t stop shaking as she pointed behind her into the baptistry.

  At first all he could see was a patch of something black floating in the water. But leaning over for a better look, he gasped at the sight.

  Harley Creech, beloved town florist, on the bottom of the baptistry, his unseeing eyes staring at him.

  Dead in the water.

  Literally.

  Chapter 7

  Aubrey had never witnessed anything so bizarre in her entire life. A dead body in the church baptistry? Discovered in the middle of a church service?

  They should have gone home once the congregation was released from the lockdown at the church. But Aubrey and her mother were famished and chose instead to have lunch at Denton’s just around the corner on Braxton Square. The crowded cafe buzzed with lively chatter, everyone offering their opinions about Harley Creech and his horrifying demise. In the whirlwind of the moment, unable to find an open table, Aubrey and her mother had just turned to leave when Henry Parker waved them over to a large table in the back of the diner.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” he said, borrowing a chair from a neighboring table. “I doubt Matt will be coming since he’s still at the church, so we’ve got room for both of you.”

  “Are you sure?” Aubrey asked.

  “Absolutely,” Susannah said. “Have a seat.”

  She took the open seat opposite Susannah as Henry seated her mother beside him.

  “You met our kids yesterday, remember?” Susannah said.

  The introductions were made again, which was good since Aubrey was drawing a blank on their daughter’s name. Julie, the pretty blonde, sat next to Susannah. Emily was seated beside her, with her husband Gevin on the end.

  “Oh my goodness, I can’t ever remember such a thing as this in all my life,” Faye said, her face flushed.

  Aubrey hadn’t stopped to actually look at her mother since all the commotion at church. She was alarmed at her disheveled appearance, her hair resembling a rat’s nest and her face a bit blotchy.

  “Mom, are you all right? Maybe we should go on home.”

  “No, honey, I’m fine.”

  “You look like you could use a drink, Faye,” Julie said, smiling as she slid her glass of iced water to her. “Have mine. I promise I haven’t sipped.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. I am a bit parched,” she said before taking a long drink.

  “Aubrey, you must think we’re all daft,” Julie teased, waving her hand at all the animated conversations swirling around them. “There’s nothing like a good murder to stir up a church service.”

  “Julie, it’s hardly something to joke about,” her mother said.

  “I didn’t mean it as a joke, Mom. It’s true. When was the last time you saw Braxton all aflutter like this? Well, I guess it hasn’t been that long since Mr. Lanham—”

  “Jules, let’s change the subject, okay?” Gevin said. “No use stoking the fire.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. As if I’m the only one talking about all these murders in our fair city? Give me a break.”

  Gevin covered his sister’s hand with his own as he turned to Audrey. “You’ll have to forgive my sister. She has an overactive imagination that leaps right off the charts whenever there’s a mystery lurking about in Braxton.”

  Julie pulled her hand free. “Hey, you forget that I played a pivotal role in solving the circumstances surrounding Mr. Lanham’s death.” She returned her attention to Aubrey. “I’ll have you know Matt and Jeff never would have solved that mystery without my help.”

  Gevin smiled. “And almost got herself killed in the process. Literally. But that’s another story for another day.”

  “All right, you two,” Henry chimed in. “Don’t make me separate you again.”

  “Pay no attention to them, Aubrey,” Emily added with a chuckle. “There’s no end to it once these two get started.”

  Julie sat back in her chair. “I’m over it. But seriously, I just cannot believe Harley is dead.”

  “It’s just so surreal,” Susannah said. “No one has seen him in months and now this.”

  “Matt said poor Sugar was panicked up there in the choir loft, thinking what she first saw was a dead kitten floating in the water. Then just about the time she realized it wasn’t, that’s when she saw poor Harley down below it. Can you imagine?”

  “What was it she first saw?” Emily asked.

  “Harl
ey’s toupee.”

  Aubrey almost dropped the glass she was sipping from. The visual image filling her mind was disturbing on so many levels.

  “Harley and his sad toupee,” Julie said. “No one ever had the heart to tell him how awful it looked on him.”

  “I wonder if anyone has contacted Kathleen yet?” Gevin asked.

  “I think she was to return this evening,” Henry said. “Or maybe tomorrow morning? I can’t remember.”

  “After all she’s been through, what a dreadful thing to happen,” Emily said.

  Sarah Denton appeared at their table with two more menus. “Isn’t it just the worst news? That poor, dear man. I can’t believe he’s gone. Such a gifted soul.”

  “Braxton won’t be the same without him,” Susannah added, turning her attention to Faye. “And just yesterday we said the same about Jed. It’s such a shame. Both are such a loss.”

  “Sure seems like we’ve had more than our share lately,” Sarah said, resting a hand on Faye’s shoulder. “We’ve not even recovered from the loss of your sweet husband, and now this.”

  Faye’s eyes glistened as she reached up and patted her hand. Aubrey wished again that they’d just gone home. She wondered if it would be too rude to leave now.

  “Well, somehow we always carry on, don’t we?” Sarah said. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to your table. I’ll be back in a minute to take your orders.”

  “No rush,” Henry said.

  No sooner had Sarah stepped away than an older gentleman showed up, his face pinched in a scowl. “Henry, I’ve got a bad feeling about this thing with Harley. I’m thinkin’ we’ve got us a real crime infestation, and this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “Frank, don’t jump to conclusions,” Susannah answered before her husband could. “Let’s all try to remain calm and wait to see what the authorities find out.”

  “What they’ll find is a town that’s startin’ to stink to high heaven. If you ask me—”

  “No one did, so move it, Frank,” Sarah interrupted. “I need to take their orders, and I’ve got no time to listen to any more of your yammering.”

  “I’ll bet you anything that kid forgot to lock the church doors again,” Frank continued as he moved out of Sarah’s way.

  “Really?” Julie chided. “You’re calling Pastor Gellar a ‘kid’? That’s so disrespectful, Mr. Gowden.”

  “If the shoe fits, wear it. I’ve told him it’s unsafe, but he wouldn’t listen. I told him something bad would happen one day, and as you see, I was right.”

  “Shoo, Frank,” Sarah said, nudging him out of the way. “Give it a rest. I’m tired of all this speculation.”

  He stared at her but stood his ground.

  “I said shoo!”

  He huffed noisily but did as she asked, returning to his booth where his wife waited.

  “At this rate, it’s gonna be the longest day of my life,” Sarah groaned. “All right. What are we having today?”

  Three hours later, Peyton sat on a pew in the middle of the back row with his head in his hands. How on earth had this happened? Who would do such a thing? He knew Harley had gotten himself in trouble, but that had nothing to do with the church. So why here?

  He knew for a fact the church had been locked. But Harley kept a church key to drop off flower arrangements at odd times, so it wasn’t a stretch to figure out how he’d entered the building. But when had he entered? And why? After disappearing for weeks on end, why would he come to the church? Had he hidden something here?

  He rubbed his eyes again, but still couldn’t get the image of Harley’s pasty, bloated face out of his mind. Couldn’t stop hearing the sound of the water splashing about as the paramedics lifted his corpse from the baptistry, then up the steps, and onto the waiting gurney.

  Squish squish squish.

  “Are you—”

  Peyton jumped off the pew, his heart stopping at the touch of Jeff’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Jeff! Sorry—I didn’t see you come in.”

  Jeff raised his hands. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. Didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Peyton ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I’m still a little jumpy.”

  Jeff squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “I think we all are. I just came in to check on you. I’ve instructed Cameron to keep the crime scene tape around the perimeter of the church until we sort this all out. Matt’s forensic team has left. They dusted the whole area surrounding the baptistry, but with all the folks in and out of here several times a week, there are thousands of fingerprints all over this building. It’ll be tough to find anything definitive, but you never know.”

  Peyton leaned back on the pew. “I keep trying to make sense of this, but I’ve got nothing. I just cannot believe it.”

  “I know.” Jeff sat down a couple of seats over. “A lot of questions, and the list keeps growing. I’m hoping the guys can do the autopsy tomorrow to give us some idea of cause and time of death.”

  “You all couldn’t tell anything by when they … when they moved him out of the baptistry?”

  “No, nothing visible to the naked eye. No apparent gunshot wounds, if that’s what you mean.” He turned sideways to face Peyton. “Speaking of which, tell me again about the procedure for filling the baptistry. You told me it’s done on a timer.”

  “Yes. On baptism Sundays, the timer is set to begin filling the tank at ten-thirty on Saturday night. It typically takes about an hour to fill.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of it overflowing sometime when no one’s around?”

  “Jeff, you know the deacons here. They’ve got all these things tuned to perfection. I was told in the church’s entire ninety-year history, never once has the baptistry overflowed. And that includes all makes and models that were installed and replaced over the years.”

  “If the baptisms aren’t until the evening service, why fill it so early?”

  “Good question. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s a typical Jim Gilmore thing. You know Jim—he runs our deacons like a fine-tuned Swiss watch, always a step ahead to allow for problems and save a dime. My guess is, he set the schedule at some point, and that’s been the practice ever since.”

  “And didn’t you tell me the heater kicks on as soon as the baptistry is full?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. That might help us set a time frame to determine if Harley died before the tank filled. Again, the coroner should be able to determine time of death after the autopsy. Plus, it should let us know if he was dead before the tank filled, or if drowning was the cause of death.”

  Silence surrounded them for a few moments.

  “You don’t think it could have been someone from the church, do you?” Peyton asked. “One of our members?”

  Jeff shrugged. “In my line of work, I’ve learned never to assume anything. We took everyone’s name and information before we called off the lockdown, but I doubt we’ll garner anything from it.

  “Chief?”

  They turned to find Jeff’s deputy, Cameron Mitchum, standing at the side door in the choir loft.

  “Yes, Cameron? What is it?”

  “I think you better come have a look. I found something Matt’s guys must have missed.”

  Peyton heard Jeff’s sigh as he stood. “Right. On my way.”

  He turned to Peyton. “Let’s go check out the missing piece of the puzzle the TBI boys missed, yet was discovered by my deputy with his ever-dependable imagination.”

  He followed Jeff up the steps. “Hey, don’t forget it was Cameron and Gevin’s surveillance that unraveled the mystery of the taggers painting our town. If they hadn’t spotted that tattoo on that girl’s wrist—”

  “I know, I know. How can I forget when he reminds me every day?”

  “Ah, Cameron’s okay. He’s just young.”

  “Don’t mind me,” Jeff said under his breath. “I’m probably just jealous of that sixth s
ense he has.”

  Peyton followed Jeff down the narrow hall used by choir members to access the loft. A sharp right branched off leading to the baptistry area.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  “It’s a button.” He handed Jeff the object, already secured in a clear Ziploc bag. “The size suggests it’s off a coat or jacket, maybe a sweater. Too big for your normal shirt button.”

  “And where did you find it?”

  Cameron squatted on the uppermost step leading down to the baptistry. “Right here, down in this crack between the stair and the wall.”

  “The TBI guys use green crime scene flags. Where’d you get the yellow one?”

  “I always keep some in my pocket when I walk a crime scene. Don’t you?”

  “No.” Jeff knelt for a better look at the gap between the stair and the wall.

  Cameron switched on his flashlight and shone it into the crevice. “I wouldn’t have seen it without my trusty OPTI-LUX 365. These babies can get into really cramped spaces like this and cover a diameter distance of about fifteen inches.”

  “Problem is,” Jeff said as he stood back up, “you could probably find a dozen buttons in the nooks and crannies of this building at any given time. It could have been down in the crack for years.”

  Cameron stood. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Folks getting baptized don’t wear normal clothing. They wear those special white baptismal robes. No clothes, no buttons.”

  “Maybe so, but Peyton doesn’t wear a robe when he baptizes. Maybe it’s his.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be mine,” Peyton said, studying the button in the bag. “I wear waders.”

  “What about your shirt sleeves?” Jeff asked.

  “Maybe, but shirt sleeve buttons are pretty small. Like you said, this one’s too big to be a button on a sleeve. Besides, mine are all accounted for,” he added, checking both sleeves.

  Cameron held up the bag again. “If it had been down there a long time, it would most likely be dirty. This one’s pristine, as you can see.”

  “Okay,” Jeff said, turning to go. “Good work, Cameron. Let’s get that over to the TBI boys. You have Matt’s number?”