A Sounding Brass (12 page)

And at the moment, there was nothing but Ray’s gut feeling and his knack for remembering voices to connect petty criminal
Richard Myers with either Brandon Boanerges or Luke Fisher. But what he had was enough to make him stick around Hamilton Falls
for another couple of days.

That and the look in Claire Montoya’s eyes when Luke smiled at her.

Ray was no knight in shining armor, and he didn’t make a career of saving women from themselves—especially if they weren’t
willing to press charges. But nobody deserved to be taken in by Luke Fisher, including his best friend’s wife’s best friend.
If Ray had a sister, he’d look out for her. He and Claire were practically family. Not that he thought of her as a sister
or anything. Not with the way her voice played in his head just before he went to sleep, or the way he found himself watching
her mouth when she spoke. But he did feel a little protective toward her, for Julia’s sake. There was nothing wrong with that,
was there?

Enough. He was supposed to be thinking about Luke Fisher and how he was going to keep him away from Claire.

No, no. He was supposed to be thinking about Luke Fisher and how he was going to tie all his identities together. Not that
he could do anything once he got that confirmation. Unless Fisher committed a crime by Saturday, Ray was just sitting here
using up the taxpayers’ money on motel bills and a per diem.

He could tie Fisher to Boanerges with the voice. But how to tie Myers to Boanerges with something more than the fact that
they had the name Brandon in common?

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Ray pulled the battered case file out of his backpack and opened it. Once again he
went over the reports and interview transcripts it contained. By now he could practically recite them verbatim.

Hmm.

Like a gopher poking its head out of its hole, he half stood and scanned the workstations around him in the bull pen. It was
a quiet afternoon. Everyone was out on patrol, leaving only the administrative assistant, who was busy at her computer.

“Excuse me,” he said, and the woman looked up.

“Need something, Investigator?”

“Do you have a couple of minutes to do me a favor?”

She shrugged. “As long as I get this report done by the time Lieutenant Bellville gets back from his accident scene, sure.”

“It won’t take long. It’s going to sound weird, but can you read these reports to me?”

She looked through her bangs at him. “Read them to you? What’s the matter, need glasses?”

He shook his head. “I’m one of those people who retain what they hear, not what they see. This case is driving me nuts. I
figure if I do something different, like listen to these reports instead of staring at them, I might catch something I missed
before.”

“Okay.” She left her desk and rolled a chair over to where he was sitting. “Where do I start?”

“They’re chronological. Start at the beginning.”

“Should I look for something, too?”

“If you can do two things at once, why not? I need a connection between a guy who ran an Internet ministry in Hollywood named
Richard Brandon Myers, a guy named Brandon Boanerges who romanced women until they signed their money over to him, and Luke
Fisher, who—”

“Luke Fisher!”

Ray sighed. Great. Of course the woman would be a fan. “You’re bound by your confidentiality agreement.”

“What, you think I’d blab the stuff I learn around here? I learned from my predecessor’s mistakes.” Her chin tilted. She didn’t
look much more than twenty, but she must have passed all the security checks and then the traditional police hazing that not
all support staff survived. “Let’s get on with it.”

“First I need to know why you reacted.”

“He’s just the closest I’ve ever been to a celebrity, that’s all. Plus he’s this great Christian guy. One of the pastors at
my church works with him. It surprised me that his name would come up in a file.”

“In this business, nothing surprises me. Come on. Start there.” He indicated the document at the bottom of the folder.

An hour later, the woman’s voice was getting a little hoarse, but she gamely kept reading page after page. She did a good
job, too. Maybe she’d had a couple of acting or elocution classes. She put expression into the dry lines, particularly when
they got to the transcripts of the women Boanerges had defrauded.

SHONBERG:
The last night I saw him, Brandon said he had something special for me, and I was to meet him at La Colombe, a French place
that we’d gone to on our first date. I was convinced he was going to give me a ring.

HARPER:
And did he?

SHONBERG:
He spent nearly an hour going through the ex files.

HARPER:
The what?

SHONBERG:
You know, all his ex-girlfriends. It’s part of the mating ritual.

HARPER:
It is? Never mind. What did he say about them?

SHONBERG:
Oh, that they each meant a phase in his life. You know, Michelle Groning was his first love, Teresa White was the first one
he slept with, blah blah blah. But those phases were over, and he was now with me. The operative word being
now
.

HARPER:
To your knowledge, did he treat these women the way he treated you? Trying to defraud them?

SHONBERG:
I have no idea—

“Wait a second.” Ray held up a hand to stop the woman’s voice.

She looked up from the transcript on the desk. “What?”

“I never followed up on those two.”

“Two what?”

“The girlfriends.”

“You think he’d give real names?” She sounded a little cynical. Maybe there was a recent breakup in the picture.

“Rule number one when coming up with a story is stick to the truth as much as you can. That way you don’t trip yourself up
on the details.” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Bad investigator.” He took the file from her and tapped everything into
order. “Thanks for helping me with this. I owe you.”

“Everybody in here does,” she said.

* * *

LUKE’S FACE LIT UP
with joy and awe when Claire told him about the money that had come in practically overnight thanks to the prayer program.
Her heart gave a great big thump and she made an effort to keep her face friendly, calm, and professional.

“This is great!” He grabbed her in a jubilant hug and swung her around her office.

Friendly and calm and professional, oh my! She laughed and tried to get her feet back under her, but her blood was flying
around in her veins and she was sure the goofy grin on her face was going to stay pasted there all day.

“God is great!” Luke put her down at last and she got her breath back, self-consciously patting her chignon into place.

“Maybe so,” she said, “but we should make some decisions about what to do with it. Charities, what do you call them—ministries.
Something. We can’t just sit on it.”

“Of course not.” Luke parked one hip on the corner of her desk and grinned at her. It was just after noon and he should have
been on his way out, but the good news had stopped him in his tracks. “This money is earmarked for God’s good work. I have
a couple of ideas, but first off is a fully equipped van so we can take the show on the road and reach more people.”

“The down payment is certainly taken care of,” Claire allowed. “What else?”

“There are a couple of worthy ministries I’ve been supporting for years. A check for a few grand could support a homeless
outreach in Idaho run by a friend of mine for months.”

He practically glowed, and Claire gave herself a mental slap. He was her boss. She had to remember that. Okay, so most bosses
didn’t pick you up and waltz you around the office, but then, Luke wasn’t like any man she’d ever met, boss or not.

Unlike most of the Elect men, who kept a woman guessing about their feelings in case something better came along, Luke put
his right out there. If he was happy, everyone around him knew it. If he was passionate about something, it was so infectious
you found yourself caring about what happened to—to homeless people in Idaho. Something, she had to admit, she’d never even
thought about before. The Elect usually did their outreach right here at home, by inviting people to Gathering.

“Okay, so earmark money for a van and the homeless outreach.” She bent over her desk and made notes on her to-do list. “If
you give me the address, I’ll send a check. Oh, and Luke, we should meet with a lawyer to make sure our gifts are covered
regulation-wise. Toby tells me we’re a nonprofit, so we need to make sure the money’s distributed correctly.”

Luke waved a hand at her. “I’m just the front man,” he said. “You’re the accounting manager. Do what you think is best. I
trust your judgment.”

“Careful. I might go on a power trip and give myself a raise.”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. Give us all a five-hundred-dollar bonus.”

“Luke!” He couldn’t be serious. That was theft. Wasn’t it?

“We get paid out of that money in any case. God is using us, and I’m sure He won’t object to our rejoicing in the fruit of
our labor for Him.”

First prayer, now giving.
This was normal
, Claire reminded herself. She needed to modernize her thinking.

“For my part, I’ll send five hundred to the food bank,” she suggested. “How’s that for a compromise?”

“Like I said, you decide the how, and I’ll come up with the what. And,” he said, with a boyish smile that reminded her of
someone with a delightful secret, “I have an idea cooking. I’m going to let it simmer and pray on it some more, and then I’ll
tell you all about it.”

“I’ll look forward to that.” She had no doubt it would be something spectacular—and fun at the same time. “Meantime, will
you be at Gathering on Wednesday night? No, wait. Of course not. You’re on the air.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She paused. “How can you be in two places at once?”

He strolled to the office doorway. “Thanks to the wonders of technology, I pretaped a program. All I have to do is load it
in the player, go to Gathering, and come back and pick up where I hear myself leaving off.”

The man thought of everything in order to put God first. She could take a leaf out of his book. “I’ll see you there, then.”

He twinkled at her. “Save me a seat.”

As he went outside and the street door cut off his whistling, she wondered what he meant. Save him a seat? Was he joking about
the fact that since he’d started speaking at Gathering, there was hardly an empty seat in the hall? Or had he meant the unspoken
sign of courtship when a woman maneuvered to keep a seat empty next to her so her man could sit there? Of course, everyone
knew what the woman was up to and some of the kids made a point of sitting there just to get her steamed. Or worse, the guy
you’d been avoiding decided to make his move and took that seat just as the guy you’d been waiting for walked into the Hall.

Oh yes, seating politics were serious stuff when you were young. Thank goodness she was past that kind of thing and could
sit wherever and with whomever she pleased. The fact that there were no real prospects in town made it a lot easier.

Or at least, there hadn’t been until Luke arrived.

* * *

CLAIRE SETTLED INTO
the chair second from the end in her customary seventh row on the right. Around her, the mission hall slowly filled, parents
hushing their kids and old people tapping down the aisle leaning on canes or each other. In the front row, the No Pride Club
wriggled and craned their necks, keeping an eye on the door to see who would spot Luke first.

Having just been embraced by Luke a couple of hours before, Claire felt very virtuous about keeping her eyes on her open Bible.

Which is why she jumped about a foot when a large male body settled itself onto the metal folding chair next to her.

“Hey,” Ray Harper said in a whispered greeting.

Her mouth dropped open and she completely forgot how to use the English language.

“Is this all right?” he whispered. “I don’t have to be a member, do I?”

The gears in her brain ground and finally engaged. “Yes. I mean, no, you don’t have to be a member.”

He flipped through the hymnbook someone had given him at the door and she sat back, feeling a little shell-shocked. Ray Harper?
At Gathering? He’d told her point-blank that discussing religion made him twitch. What did he think they were going to discuss
here? Traffic safety?

It couldn’t be possible that Ray wanted to know more about God and the Elect way, could it? No. Impossible. But then, who
was she to say what was impossible? Six months ago she would have said it was impossible that the Elect could have embraced
a stranger the way they were embracing Luke. Look at her, embracing him herself.

In a strictly businesslike way, of course.

Businesslike or not, she had a leg up on the No Pride Club, at least.

On her right, Ray sighed, and his arm brushed hers, the most tentative and casual of touches. She thought she caught a whiff
of his cologne, and she came out of her thoughts of Luke abruptly. She’d never been regarded as petite in her life, but something
about Ray Harper made her feel delicate and feminine, especially when she was as close to him as this.

What on earth had brought him to Gathering?

She leaned over and felt his shoulder against hers, rock-solid. Dependable, even. “Why are you here?” she whispered.

“I thought I’d come and see what it was all about.” His return whisper puffed against her earlobe, and she broke out in goose
bumps all the way down to her elbows.

Thank goodness Luke came in at that moment, or she was sure Ray and the entire row sitting behind them would have seen it.
She straightened and watched Luke make his way to the front of the hall to sit next to Owen. At seven-thirty on the dot, Owen
rose and announced a hymn. As they sang, Claire discovered Ray had a very passable but hesitant baritone. Certainly nothing
like Owen’s glorious tenor. There was a reason he always led the singing.