Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 04 - With This Ring (12 page)

During the eulogy, I noticed Paula Bankston stand up and step behind the curtains that surrounded the elevated stage and pulpit. I was certain she was overtaken by grief and wanted privacy to compose herself. It was undoubtedly in very poor taste, but I wondered if this wouldn’t be a good opportunity to get a word with her. I could express my sympathy, comfort her in her sorrow, and maybe even find out some tidbit of interesting information. It wasn’t likely but, if there was a thread of possibility, I was willing to chance it.

I slipped my heels back on and excused myself, whispering to Stone and Wendy that I needed to use the restroom and adjust my panty hose. Fortunately Wendy didn’t offer to accompany me as she frequently did. The restroom was located to the left of the stage, right behind the first panel of velvety curtain. I walked quietly up the outside aisle and ducked behind the curtain. Instead of going through the door to the restroom, I continued on around the back of the stage where I found Paula standing alone. She turned to face me as she heard me approach, but made no effort to acknowledge my presence. I could have been a stain on the curtain I was standing next to for all the attention she gave me.

I’d expected to find a sobbing, distraught woman, but instead Paula seemed to be in deep thought as she held a cell phone up to her right ear. She listened intently for a few seconds and then I heard her say her brother, Teddy, was up from Topeka and staying at the Sands Motel. She said she was surprised he’d even bothered to show up for church.

“That’s what I’m thinking too,” Paula spoke into the phone. Then she closed the phone and shoved it back into her purse just as I extended my hand toward her. I withdrew it once I realized she had no intention of shaking it.

“Hi, I’m Lexie Starr. Are you one of Pastor Steiner’s children?” I asked, as if I’d just come across her accidentally behind the curtains and was making pleasant conversation.

Paula nodded, and then reluctantly introduced herself. She didn’t appear to need comforting so I just offered my condolences and told her how fond my fiancé and I had been of her father. I informed her the pastor had been about to unite us in marriage the following weekend. “Now, of course, our wedding plans are up in the air.”

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding,” Paula said. She sounded polite, but hardly interested. “I’m naturally very sorry this had to happen and upset your plans.”

“I’m not concerned at all about having our plans altered,” I said.
Liar, liar, pants on fire
. “The tragic loss of your father is all that concerns me.”

“Thank you.” She started to turn away from me, so I continued speaking.

“I think you might have met my daughter, Wendy, at the county coroner’s office yesterday. She’s the medical examiner’s assistant.”

“Wendy? Yes, I did meet her in passing,” Paula said, still seemingly distracted by the phone conversation she’d just participated in. It was obvious she wasn’t anxious to discuss my daughter with me. “She seemed like a nice young lady.”

“Well, I think so. Wendy said you’d stopped there to pick something up. Let’s see, what was it?” I was hoping to get some kind of response out of her, perhaps why she was interested in obtaining a copy of the autopsy report. Wendy had told me she hadn’t simply wanted the information the report bore, but insisted on a paper copy of it. Paula remained silent, staring at me now as if she was wishing I’d dissolve and melt down into my black heels, like my panty hose seemed to be doing. Why had I bought panty hose that were three sizes too big? Had I been planning, at the time, to pack on thirty or forty pounds?

“Oh, yes, now I remember,” I said, as if it had just come to me. “She said it was a copy of the autopsy report you were requesting.”

Again Paula remained silent. I had to wonder why she didn’t want to talk about it. Wendy had assured me it was not an uncommon practice for a family member of the deceased to request a copy of an autopsy report. Did she have something to hide? Was she afraid of what the autopsy report might show? Was she a person of interest in the case as far as the detectives were concerned? I was beginning to put her high on my own list of suspects.

“Yes, well, I’ve got to get back to my seat,” Paula finally said. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Starr. We’re having a luncheon at my house, following the funeral service Tuesday morning if you’d like to join us. Nothing fancy, just some catered barbecue and side dishes.”

I was taken aback by the offer. I would have assumed she’d only invite family members and close friends. I also hadn’t realized she lived in Rockdale. She was turning to leave so I thanked her for the offer and told her we’d most likely attend, and wished her well. Then I headed back the opposite direction, toward the restroom door. I really did have to pee and adjust my hose, and I wanted to get back to my seat before Stone and Wendy got concerned about why I was taking so long. I could ask someone for directions to her house at the funeral. Nothing short of severe chest pains would prevent me from being at that luncheon. Minor or moderate chest pains could be overlooked for at least as long as the luncheon lasted.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Paula had an alibi for the time of her father’s murder. From watching a lot of
C.S.I. Miami
and
N.C.I.S
. shows, I knew the spouse was usually the prime suspect, unless they had a rock-solid alibi that could be verified. Steiner’s wife had predeceased him. But other family members, such as the victim’s children, were also often suspects until the detectives could put the smoking gun into someone else’s hand. I didn’t think it would hurt speaking with as many of Thurman’s children as possible.

But for now I had to rush back to my seat. It was dark behind the red velvet curtains, my feet were throbbing in the too-tight heels, and I didn’t see the cord snaking back from the microphone at the pulpit where Reverend Bob was speaking. Just as I reached the cord my bunching panty hose slid further down toward my knees, causing the crotch to end up about mid-thigh. This caused me to pitch forward slightly and catch the toe of my left heel under the power cord.

I swear I saw my life pass before my eyes as I began to fall in what seemed like slow motion at the time. I was grasping blindly for the curtain to grab and catch myself, when I heard a ripping sound as the fabric tore and I lurched forward, falling through the torn curtains on to the chancel. I felt something twist in my left wrist as it tightly clutched a strip of shredded velvet.

I then heard a collective gasp from the congregation, and a shriek from the stage. I’m sure Reverend Bob felt as if he was being ambushed, and the same fate would befall him as had befallen the former minister. He probably thought there was a serial killer on the loose, who was targeting Baptist ministers. Unfortunately, the group gasp and the reverend’s shriek were the last sounds I heard for several long seconds. As my foot had become tangled up in the power cord, the cord had pulled away from the electrical socket in the back wall of the stage. There was no power to the pulpit. The congregation now sat in mortified silence, still gun shy from the murder of their former pastor.

As soon as Reverend Bob was convinced I wasn’t trying to attack him from behind, he rushed over to check on my welfare. I knew my wrist was injured, but I didn’t want the embarrassment of an ambulance coming to collect me at the church. I told him I was fine, and apologized for disrupting his sermon. I couldn’t have been more humiliated. Stone and I seriously needed to consider attending the new church in town from this point on. I didn’t know if I could face anyone in the Rockdale Baptist Church again, especially Reverend Bob, who probably thought I was the village idiot. I’m sure he would love nothing better than to officiate my wedding in a few days. I decided this was not a good time to ask him.

The entire congregation was now standing on tiptoes, their mouths agape, trying to get a look at what was going on atop the chancel, behind the raised platform the pastor had been preaching from. I glanced over at the middle left section and caught the shocked expressions on Stone and Wendy’s faces. I watched them slide into the outer aisle and sprint to the chancel.

It probably goes without saying, but Stone and Wendy were not very happy with me. Stone looked disgusted, and Wendy was practically livid. I tried to explain to them I’d noticed Paula on my way to the restroom and had only approached her to offer condolences and to comfort her. For some reason they didn’t believe expressing sympathy had been my sole intent.

We left the church service early that Sunday. Wendy left out of embarrassment, I’m sure. It wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to be anyone’s child but mine. Stone and I left to head straight for the emergency room at the Wheatfield Memorial Hospital in St. Joseph, where they put an Ace bandage on my sprained left wrist and given me a prescription for a pain reliever called Vicodin. They instructed me to keep ice on the sprain the first couple of days, in order to minimize the swelling, and advised me to keep it elevated as much as possible. They also gave me an injection to lessen the pain immediately. I was sure this day could not get any worse.

Once again, I was wrong.

Chapter 6

Lunchtime found us back in the kitchen at Alexandria Inn. I was feeling a bit groggy from the pain medicine they’d given me at the hospital. A shot of morphine and a Vicodin had definitely relieved the pain I’d been experiencing, but it had also left me with an out-of-body sensation. I felt like I was riding the ceiling fan and looking down at myself sitting at the kitchen table. It was an eerie feeling I didn’t welcome. I had a strong urge to dust the tops of the blades of the ceiling fan too, something which hadn’t been done since the inn opened for business. Out of sight, out of mind.

Very little had been said on the car ride home from the hospital. I don’t think Stone trusted himself to discuss the incident with me while it was still fresh in his mind. He seemed to be mulling over important decisions, which made me slightly uneasy. With the wedding so close at hand, I didn’t want him dwelling too long on my good and bad qualities. I was not sure the good traits would win in a serious comparison. At the moment I couldn’t think of one admirable trait I had that would make anyone in his right mind want to marry me. My only hope was that Stone wasn’t in his right mind at the moment.

Stone was busy making a couple of turkey sandwiches for us to eat for lunch, while I sat silently in the chair. I had unwrapped the Ace bandage and was holding a Ziploc bag full of chipped ice on my wrist, as instructed.

Stone put away the bread and mustard, and tossed a few Fritos on each plate, poured himself a glass of iced tea and me a cup of coffee, and set everything down on the table. He finally took a seat and reached over to grasp my right hand with both of his.

“Are you ready yet to discuss what happened this morning?” He asked. “I am extremely sorry you were injured, but when I agreed to be involved in this investigation with you, you told me you wouldn’t try anything even remotely dangerous. I thought I could trust you, so I took you at your word, Lexie.”

“I know. And I meant it, Stone. But how can walking behind a curtain seem like something dangerous for me, or anyone else, to do—even remotely?”

“I’ll concede that point, Lexie, but didn’t it seem, even to you, like an inappropriate time to question Thurman’s daughter? Her father was being honored for his years of service at the church. Did you not think Paula would be more interested with what Reverend Bob was saying than listening to your words of condolence?”

“I only wanted to offer a quick word of sympathy and then proceed to the restroom,” I said. “It wasn’t like I was keeping Paula from listening to the sermon. She was behind the stage making phone calls. She didn’t act one bit interested in what Reverend Bob was saying about her father.”

“Need I read between the lines?” Stone asked.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd? I’m just saying—”

“Let’s just get through the funeral before we start interrogating and pointing fingers at family members. Okay? We’ve got the visitation tomorrow night. You need to take another Vicodin and go lie down. I’m going back to St. Joseph, to the Home Depot, to have some paint mixed. I’d like to paint over those hideous orange walls in suites three and five before our wedding guests arrive. I thought a pale green would look nice in those rooms.”

It sounded to me as if Stone was not seriously considering a postponement of the wedding ceremony. Did he think the murder case would be solved by Saturday, or did he really not care what anyone else thought? I felt a great deal of relief that he was carrying on as if nothing had happened to upset our plans.