A Truth for a Truth (31 page)

Okay, that last sentence? Pure imagination, and my inner detective was shaking her finger in my face. But, darn, it could have happened.

And what proof did I have that this conversation was rooted in anything except my fertile imagination? Well, several bits. One, I knew Win
had
been at Russell House asking questions after that service, and he’d talked to Jamaican Cinda, who was the most likely person on staff to have known the secrets of Daisy’s will.

So after his conversation with Ellen and chat with Cinda, Win trots over to the courthouse to see if he can look at a copy of said will. Microfilm challenged, he, too, needs help and establishes a relationship with my bald friend, who tells him life insurance payments are not usually included in wills. But if he really needed to find out about one, there are forms to fill out.

These, too, were facts.

From there? No facts, and right now, no theory.

I wished Cinda would call me. After explaining the urgency of reaching her in Jamaica, the administrative assistant had reluctantly given me Cinda’s cell phone number. I had called from the parking lot and left a message, but so far, there’d been no return call. Cinda was in paradise. Why would she be checking her phone?

One thing was now completely clear to me without anybody’s help. Win Dorchester was not a serial adulterer nor a thief. Daisy had died
after
his ministry ended here, and Win would not have had access to any bequest. No, I was almost certain Win had gone on a mission to find out if Daisy had left the church money, money that hadn’t showed up in our budget. He had been suspicious, but of whom and for what reason?

And how would he have known Daisy’s bequest had never ended up in the budget after all?

I didn’t have to ponder that for long. The answer came easily. Because Win would have asked his valued former treasurer, the best treasurer he had ever had in his long ministry, the man who stayed in that position for several years after Win’s departure.

Geoff Adler.

Had Win questioned Geoff? Geoff had never said anything about that to me, but that particular subject had never been raised, either. So it was possible that conversation was simply a blip on Geoff’s horizon, one he hadn’t remembered? I was reaching for my cell phone to call Emerald Eagle and ask, when my hand stopped midair.

Who better to have embezzled Daisy’s money than Geoff himself?

Church finances are notoriously loose affairs. Audits? They cost money. In a church the size of ours, if audits are conducted, they’re conducted by church members, usually anyone willing to spend countless evenings going over dull figures. Needless to say, they don’t happen often.

No, churches rely on goodwill. We preach honesty and brotherly/sisterly love, and we hope our members and everyone who has business with us will abide by the rules. Money arrives and goes into the treasurer’s files to be logged and deposited. Sure, most outgoing checks usually need two signatures, but nobody’s standing nearby making certain that two different people are really signing. I’m as honest as they come, and in a pinch, I can forge Ed’s name or my mother’s if I need to deposit checks for them. Banks rarely look twice, and I do good imitations. But I put money into accounts, not take it out without Ed or Junie knowing.

Geoff had been our treasurer, an official representative with all kinds of power to deposit and remove money from our accounts.

Win departed Emerald Springs in a hurry after Hildy gave him an ultimatum. I wondered if there had been time for the church to get an interim minister as his replacement. Or had they muddled through a year without one. Without a minister. Without supervision. With no one looking over our treasurer’s shoulder.

Without oversight, the very year that Daisy died and left her insurance money to us.

I got to my feet. “Yikes!”

“What’s wrong, you don’t like the sandwich?” My waiter looked surprised, as if nothing like this had ever occurred at the coffee shop.

“No, I don’t like what I just figured out,” I told him.

“Can’t help you there,” he said, clearing away my plate.

This I knew, but I had a pretty good idea who might be able to. I left money on the table and headed out the door.

I had been looking for connections between Ellen and Win, and I might well have struck the mother lode. It seemed more and more possible that Win had suspected or even discovered that Daisy Dreyfus left Tri-C money that never made it into our coffers. And who had aroused his suspicions? Ellen Hardiger. Where had it happened? At our church, during his anniversary reception, in ear-shot of anybody lingering nearby.

It was possible someone—the murderer or someone who reported it to the murderer—had overheard Ellen telling Win about Daisy’s bequest, or asking if the church had gotten one, too. Such things do happen. But it was also possible that Win had just been caught snooping and killed for it. Maybe he had asked questions of the wrong person. Maybe Ellen had asked a few, as well. Or maybe her name had been mentioned by Win in conversation with his murderer, the person who later staged a hit-and-run, because Ellen might grow suspicious and mention Daisy and her bequests once again.

I tried to remember what I knew about Geoff Adler. I ignored the basics. What else did I know? That he had single-handedly pulled Emerald Eagle out of the hole and was now creating a chain. When? Close enough to his stint as our church treasurer to give me pause. Where had he gotten the funds for that miracle? Savings and good business sense? Or something more sinister?

What else did I know? That Geoff and Marie Grandower were close friends, often appearing together when she was in town to shoo off potential matchmakers. But what had Geoff told me? That despite this long-term friendship, he’d had no idea that Marie and Win had ever had an affair.

At the time I’d thought this odd. Now I thought it was probably bogus. They were members of the same church, ran in the same social circles, and close friends, to boot. And Geoff had never suspected? Even strait-laced Samuel Booth had seen Win coming out of Marie’s house and figured it out. How could Geoff not have known?

And if he knew, why did he bring Marie to Win and Hildy’s welcome home party? Unless . . . unless . . .

Unless he wanted to create a diversion.

This time I didn’t bother with my cell phone. I drove directly to Marie Grandower’s house in overblown Emerald Estates and parked in the middle of her driveway—just in case she decided to make an exit. Normally I’m a fan of houses and pay close attention. But today was not a normal day. The house was a large, formal Colonial with a small yard, a large garage, and a Realtor’s sign. I disliked it on sight.

I got out and charged up the walk. Marie answered after I finally leaned on her doorbell.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought I made it clear I don’t want to answer any more of your questions.”

“Me or the police,” I said. “Take your pick.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This does it. I’m going to resign from the church.”

To my credit I didn’t mention how little she would be missed. “Did Geoff know you were meeting Win in the yard. Did you tell him?”

“Why?”

“You know, if you’re not guilty of anything, you’re sure making a big deal out of refusing to answer questions. I’m going to have to pass on that insight to Detective Sergeant Roussos. He’s asked me to tell him anything I find out.”

Her eyes were now slits. “I still have a number of friends in city hall, Aggie. I sincerely doubt your detective will be calling.”

Confusing her had worked before. I gambled. “In other words, Geoff didn’t know, and so he can’t back up your story. Too bad.”

She looked surprised. I nodded, as if victorious. “Right. I thought so.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s simple. If you told Geoff, then you have a witness.”

“Witness to what?”

I looked at my watch. “Darn, Roussos is going to call any minute. I was certain you had coverage on this.”

“What are you talking about?”

I cocked my head, as if she’d just proved my point. “So nobody knew where you were meeting Win. It’s just your word?”

“Oh for God’s sake. Geoff told me where to meet Win and when! All right? You can ask him yourself. He’s the one who told me Win wanted to meet me in the side yard.”

My stomach used my toes as a trampoline. For a moment I felt disoriented.

I recovered quickly. What choice did I have? “Okay, Geoff told you to meet Win in the yard. So he can corroborate if he has to. But did he say why? Because I’m sure he didn’t know you and Win ever had an affair.”

“Are you a complete fool? Of course he knew! Geoff and I are close friends. He knows everything about my life. Do you think I could keep something like that from him? He’s known right from the beginning. Geoff was my rock.”

“Wow, my mistake.”

“Leave me out of this and leave Geoff out, too. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but the two of us have more friends in this town than you’ll have in a lifetime. Don’t mess with us, Aggie.”

I whined just a little. “Like I said, I was just trying to help. I guess I won’t mention this to him if you don’t. I don’t want to embarrass you. I just had to be sure.”

“Of course I’m not going to tell him! He has many more important things to worry about than your twisted fantasies. You really are pathetic.” She closed the door in my face.

Ah yes, pathetic I was. Pathetically glad that I was finally on my way to something that could finally be an answer. And if I was right, Hildy Dorchester was well on her way to regaining the respect and trust in our little burg that she so richly deserved.

Hildy was home, but where else would she be, except in jail awaiting a hearing? She no longer felt welcome here. She still had friends, but nobody was beating down her door to take her shopping or out on excursions. Emerald Springs was in wait-and-see mode with poor Hildy. Worst of all, she knew it.

I didn’t have to lean on her doorbell. After one jab I heard footsteps, and in a moment she opened the door.

“Coffee today?” she asked.

“No, but a sandwich would be nice. I just ate the worst egg salad of my life.”

“Why do you fill your stomach with bad things? Come in and we’ll eat together.”

I had hoped so. Not only did I need an internal fencing match with the egg salad, Hildy needed to eat. Taking care of me was the best way to make sure she did.

In the kitchen she took out bread, lettuce and tomato, sliced cheese, and lunch meat. I stopped her before the ham ended up on my sandwich, and she shook her head. “I worry about you getting enough protein.”

I was glad she still had the energy to meddle.

The sandwich was fine, but better yet, she ate, too.

“I’m not here just to raid the kitchen,” I said when half her sandwich was eaten. “I wonder if you’ve found the time to start going through your mail.”

“All those cards and letters. I’ve made a start. But Win was part of so many lives, and everyone wants to tell me how sorry they are.”

“No one expects you to jump right on every piece of mail.” I paused. “But I was thinking more about something besides a sympathy note. Letters addressed to Win?”

“You have something in mind?”

“I’m wondering if anything came from the state of Ohio. Maybe from the Insurance Division, or something similar?”

“I don’t know. I’ve made stacks. That’s as far as I’ve gotten since . . . since I found out everybody thinks I murdered my husband.”

“Not everybody. Would you mind very much if I sorted through the non-sympathy stack?”

“Of course not, but why?”

I debated what to tell her. I decided some of the truth wouldn’t hurt, because it was possible Win had spoken to her about his suspicions. “Win might have been looking into insurance fraud involving the church.”

She looked surprised. “Fraud?”

“Did he ever mention anything like that? Any suggestion a bequest to the church never made it into our budget?”

“Somebody stole money from the church?”

I could see this was a total surprise, which was a shame. “I don’t know yet.”

“We were both so busy. I was planning the party and getting the house in order. Win spent time with some of our old friends, lunch or a drink, you know. He was having tests, too, so our doctor could get his medication adjusted. He was at the hospital hooked up to a heart monitor or giving blood the week before he died.”

“So he never mentioned this to you.”

“He wasn’t secretive exactly, but when Win had something on his mind, he kept quiet. He usually waited until he had answers before he discussed anything. He wasn’t one to let other people make suggestions. Too sure he was right, I guess.”

I was sorry to hear that, but I hoped the mail would turn up something. I told her as much, and she left the kitchen, returning with a tall stack of envelopes. I thought I’d better winnow out the bills while I was at it. At the very least she needed to deal with those.