Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (14 page)

“I’ve heated water for tea. I got some of the best Earl Grey at Wrigley’s the other night. I have coffee if you prefer,” Mary Ellen said as she took Adelaide’s coat, hanging it on a nearby hall tree.

Adelaide handed her the quilt. Immediately Mary Ellen unzipped the plastic bag so she could remove the contents. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. The workmanship is amazing.” They each took a side, opening it up. “I love the wedding ring pattern, don’t you?”

Adelaide did. “The women worked very hard on it. I’m really glad it went to someone who lives in Crescent Falls, someone who will appreciate the time and effort that went into its creation.”

The colors were varied, the interlocking circles perfectly aligned on a white background. “I know that it was made from scraps of material donated by so many people. You just know there’s a story behind each piece of material in this quilt,” Mary Ellen said wistfully. She pointed to a calico print. “That came from me. Our church collected three boxes of material when you sent out that plea last January. It was part of an apron my mother used to wear. I used it until it got so many tears in it I had to put it in the rag bag.” A tear formed in the corner of one eye. Swiping the tear quickly away, she smiled at Adelaide. “Thank you.”

“You put in the highest bid. Part of the money will go to the community food pantry.
Thank you
,” Adelaide said. When the decision had been made to involve other churches in gathering material for the quilt, it was agreed that half the proceeds would go to the church coalition. It seemed only fair.

They refolded the quilt and put it carefully back into the bag. Mary Ellen zipped the bag shut before looping it over the banister at the bottom of the stairs. She took an envelope from a nearby occasional table. “Here’s my check. It was worth every penny.”

Adelaide would never reveal to the public how much Mary Ellen paid for the quilt, as per the terms of the auction. But she knew sooner or later word would spread that the winning bid had been over one thousand dollars.

Following her hostess down a short hallway connecting the foyer to the kitchen, Adelaide glanced into the living room. A small Christmas tree, about three feet tall, sat on an oval antique table in the front window. She saw no other decorations.

A mewling noise accompanied by something brushing against her calf caused Adelaide to look down. Walking beside her was one of Mary Ellen’s cats. “Is that Misty or Ashley?” Adelaide asked, squatting down to stroke the cat’s soft silvery gray fur. “I can never tell them apart.”

Both of Mary Ellen’s cats were Russian Blues with large eyes and slender bodies. Shortly the second feline joined the party. Adelaide gave it equal attention.

“The one who came to you first is Misty. She’s the friendlier of the two. Ashley always hangs back waiting to see if visitors are to be trusted,” Mary Ellen replied.

Adelaide got up as the cats scampered away, disappearing somewhere into the recesses of the living room.

The kitchen was a bright, cheerful room, done in yellow and white with chintz curtains at the windows. The gleaming white floor tiles looked freshly polished.

Mary Ellen said, “Tea or coffee? I also have hot chocolate.”

Adelaide saw that the table was set up for tea. A plate of scones sat next to a porcelain tea pot. “The Earl Grey sounds wonderful.”

Mary Ellen was wearing a pair of navy blue slacks with a white sweater. Her tall, thin frame lent itself well to such a simple outfit. Today her light brown hair was held back off her oval face by a gold-tone barrette. Her turquoise eyes were not shielded by the usual wire rimmed glasses. Adelaide supposed she didn’t need them around home, since she seemed to recall Mary Ellen had once told her she was nearsighted.

Once they were seated, Mary Ellen poured the brewed tea into two delicately designed china cups. They sipped their drinks for a moment. Adelaide helped herself to a scone, enjoying its rich flavor.

“These are so fresh and tasty,” Adelaide finally commented.

“Well, I wish I could take credit, but they came from the bakery at Wrigley’s,” Mary Ellen admitted.

Wrigley’s IGA was located just west of town off State Route 550. Adelaide shopped there for most things but still frequented Buck’s Market, owned by Hal Buckner, for most of her fresh fruits and vegetables.

“They do have a good bakery. Try their sugar-free pies. I love them,” Adelaide said.

Mary Ellen seemed ill at ease all of a sudden. She fidgeted with her teacup, turning it around several times on the saucer. “It’s just awful what happened to Jerry Hatfield. I can’t believe he was killed in your church. Everyone at St. Mark’s feels just awful for your congregation.”

“Yes, it was quite horrible.” Adelaide watched as Mary Ellen squirmed in her seat. “Is something bothering you?” She eyed the woman closely.

Mary Ellen emitted a long sigh. “There are rumors, of course. I’m sure you’ve heard them.”

“There are always rumors in a small town.” Adelaide sipped her tea, waiting.

“I just don’t know whether this means anything. Oh, I have to think it might, considering the stories going around about Susan Hatfield and your minister. I need your advice, Adelaide.”

Adelaide felt her pulse quicken a little. “Advice about what?”

Mary Ellen reminded Adelaide of a skittish bird about ready to fly off a wire because it sensed danger. Afraid to spook the woman, she took another bite of her scone, chewing slowly.

“Thursday evening, two weeks ago, after I closed the library at eight, I decided to go to Wrigley’s before coming home. I needed milk, tea, bread…also I hoped they’d have some scones left, you know, marked down at the end of the day. They’re still fresh as long as they are baked the same day. In fact, I froze them until I got your call today, then just popped them in the microwave to thaw. It’s nice to have something like these on hand in case of unexpected company.” She stopped, catching her breath.

Adelaide was trying to figure out where this was leading. Figuring that silence would encourage Mary Ellen to keep talking, she kept her mouth shut.

“Believe me, Adelaide, I never expected to see…I mean, it was so unexpected.”

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Adelaide blurted, “What did you see?”

“I know Thursday night is choir practice at your church. It’s the same at St. Mark’s. That’s why I didn’t understand…well…why Susan Hatfield and Reverend Underwood were in her car driving west on Route 550 at that hour of the evening.”

Adelaide had her teacup halfway to her mouth. The shock of what she’d just heard made her almost drop it. Tea slopped out onto the saucer below. She put the cup down with a clang. “Are you sure it was them?”

Mary Ellen nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. It was them. They drove under a streetlight, the one right before the entrance to Wrigley’s. They were in her blue Honda. They kept going as I turned in.”

Adelaide did a quick geography scan in her mind. Wrigley’s was about five miles out of town. Going west, Route 550 led to a little town called Sharpsburg, where it connected with Route 377, ending there. That area abutted part of the Wayne National Forest. It would be a good place to find privacy for two lovers having a tryst.

“Have you told anyone else about this, Mary Ellen?” Adelaide asked.

“No, certainly not. But now I’m wondering if I should tell Daniel. Shouldn’t the police know? I mean, rumors are flying around town that Susan and Reverend Underwood are both suspects in Jerry’s murder. It seems far-fetched to me, but still, someone
did
kill him.”

Adelaide felt sick inside. “I’m sure Daniel will want to speak to you,” she finally said.

Mary Ellen looked about ready to panic. “Oh, I really don’t want to get involved. What if there was an innocent reason? I can’t face ruining someone’s reputation over something that could be—”

Adelaide held up a hand, stopping the chatter. “You will have to call Daniel and tell him what you told me. This is a
murder
investigation, Mary Ellen. Every bit of information is important.”

Mary Ellen was fretting now. “Oh, no. You tell him, Adelaide. That’s why I told you first. You must do this, please! If he wants to speak with me later, I’ll meet with him, but I’m just so…oh, please don’t make me….” Tears filled her eyes now.

“I’ll go with you. Better yet, we’ll have Daniel come here. Would that make you more comfortable? I’ll be here, too. I promise.” Adelaide saw the woman relax somewhat.

Mary Ellen reached across the table, grabbing Adelaide’s hand. “Oh yes. Thank you. Thank you.” Then her face turned to a mask of horror again. “I won’t have to testify will I? I couldn’t do that, not ever. Getting up in front of all those people in a courtroom…”

“We’re a long way from that. Let’s just take it a step at a time. I’ll call Daniel to set up a time.” Adelaide felt dread settle over her insides. It wasn’t looking good for Susan or Douglas. Still, she couldn’t see either one of them as a cold blooded killer.

* * * *

At precisely three o’clock, Reverend Douglas Underwood walked into the police station. Ignoring the dispatcher entirely he strode through the squad room straight to Daniel’s office.

With the blinds open again, Daniel had watched his progress and got up to motion him inside. “Take a seat, Reverend.” To say the least, the minister looked frazzled, yet there was a defiant tilt to his chin and a glint of determination in his eyes.

Luke Fagan entered the room, shutting the door soundly, causing the minister to start. “Afternoon Reverend, thanks for coming in.”

“As if I had a choice,” Douglas muttered.

“Life’s full of choices, Reverend,” Luke countered. “Sometimes we make the wrong ones.” He positioned himself just to the right of Daniel’s desk.

Daniel sat back in his swivel chair. Indicating the recorder on his desk, he said, “We’ll be making a taped record of this…interview.” He pushed one of the buttons and, as he’d done with Susan, Dora and Fran earlier, stated those present and the date. “Why don’t you tell us about the argument you had with Mr. Hatfield on Friday morning at the church?” No sense starting with chit-chat.

A look of surprise came over Douglas’s face. “Should I have a lawyer here?”

Daniel replied, “Do you think you need one?”

“We’re just gathering information, Reverend,” Luke added. “If you have nothing to hide, there should be no problem.”

Douglas squirmed in his seat, remaining silent.

“About that argument?” Daniel prompted.

“What argument?” Douglas asked.

“The one where he accused you of seducing his wife, then threatened to have you defrocked,” Luke replied.

Douglas looked from one of them to the other. Daniel could see the panic in his eyes as he frantically tried to get himself out of this tight spot. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Isn’t there a commandment that says
Thou Shalt Not Lie
?” Luke asked.

“We have a credible witness who overheard the argument, Reverend,” Daniel said calmly.

“No, there was no one in the hall—” Douglas stopped, his face blanching.

Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, Luke smiled. “You and Susan Hatfield have been having an affair. Jerry found out so he confronted you. He ended up dead the next day. How would you put that kind of puzzle together, Reverend?”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t!” Douglas cried.

Daniel saw the beads of perspiration dotting the man’s forehead and upper lip. He tugged at his shirt collar as though it was suddenly too tight. The blue suit he wore looked rumpled under the tweed topcoat.

“When did you leave the church?” Daniel asked.

“Around one. Fran and I went to Marietta for the afternoon. We shopped, then had a late lunch.”

“You’re sure you want to stick to that story, Reverend?” Daniel asked.

“Why not, it’s the truth,” Douglas said nervously.

“Here’s what I think happened. I think Jerry’s threat got to you. You saw your career along with your marriage to your wealthy wife going up in smoke. You confronted Jerry, killed him,
then
left the church. You met Susan Hatfield somewhere and the two of you spent the afternoon hiding out, probably trying to figure out how to cover up what you’d done. Maybe she was even in on it. She seems to have disappeared that afternoon right after she had a fight with her husband in the church parking lot. What happened? Did she tell you earlier that Jerry would make good on his threat, so you decided to take care of him as quickly as possible?” Stopping his monologue, Daniel stared at the minister.

Douglas’s mouth worked furiously as though he had peanut butter stuck to its roof. When he finally spoke his voice was tremulous. “Have you lost your mind? I never did that. I didn’t…couldn’t kill anyone. Besides, Fran and I were out of town Saturday afternoon.”

“Your wife has recanted her statement,” Luke said. “She now says she spent the afternoon alone in Marietta. She claims
you
didn’t get home until right before two officers showed up to question both of you that evening.”

Luke stepped toward the minister. “So, where were you between the time you killed Hatfield and the time you finally went home? With your accomplice, Susan?”

To Daniel’s surprise, the stunned look on Douglas’s face seemed genuine. Of course it was hard to tell if that was because he was truly innocent, or because he was shocked that they’d figured it all out. “Where’s the murder weapon, Reverend? Where did you hide it?”

Suddenly a shrewd look came into the minister’s eyes. He sat for a moment, looking at Daniel, his expression hardening. “I think it’s time I called a lawyer.”

Daniel clenched his fists on the desktop. Luke opened the office door.

Douglas looked around anxiously. “Am I under arrest?”

Daniel sighed. “Not yet. You’re free to go,
for now
. Don’t leave town.”

Without another word, Douglas hurried from the office.

Daniel looked at Luke. “We have to find that murder weapon. And I’d like to have DNA samples from both Susan and Underwood.”

Luke agreed. “We’ll need court orders for the DNA. I don’t see either of them offering it up voluntarily. Besides, I didn’t find much in the way of DNA evidence. The killer was very careful. Let’s start with search warrants for the church, parsonage and the Hatfield’s house and insurance office. I realize that it’s Sunday, but I know a judge who might be willing to comply.”