Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (27 page)

“What about Pamela?”

“She’s mother’s little helper. Such a bright, positive girl. Heck, she’s a young woman now. She’ll be thirteen in two months.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job with those two.” It was true. Both of the Fagan children were active in St. Rita’s youth fellowship. They also volunteered their time at the community thrift store and food pantry.

Luke’s expression grew somber, his brow furrowing in a frown. “It’s hard, Adelaide. Betty and I both know where this disease is heading. There’s no cure. She’s determined to see both of the children graduate high school.”

Adelaide didn’t think he sounded too positive about that happening. “You have to keep hoping, keep believing. Betty is a fighter.” She reached across the table, patting his forearm.

Daniel walked into the kitchenette, hesitating just inside the door. “I thought I saw you out in the squad room, Mother.” He was carrying an empty mug, which he proceeded to fill with coffee.

“Before you ask me what I’m doing here, Daniel, I’ll tell you. I have some information you might find interesting, something I heard after Jerry’s funeral yesterday.” Adelaide got up, taking her mug to the small sink. She washed it thoroughly, then turned it upside down on a dishtowel to finish drying.

“Let’s go into my office,” Daniel said. “Luke, want to join us?”

Luke took his coffee and headed for the door. “Betty has a doctor’s appointment this morning. I need to take her. I put in for the time off.”

Daniel nodded. “Right. I remember now. Sorry. I’ll bring you up to speed later.”

Once they were settled behind Daniel’s closed door, Adelaide said, “Is there a reason you wanted another officer to sit in?” She looked over her shoulder into the squad room. All but a couple of the desks were vacant.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Not really. Besides, Ray and Judy are out. They’re the only three officers helping with this investigation right now.”

Adelaide eyed him acutely. “Why are they the only ones helping you?”

Daniel leaned forward, putting his arms on the desk. “Because they’re the only ones on this force I can trust. Someone here has been leaking information to the press.”

“Yes, I read the articles this morning in the
Tribune
.”

“Julie didn’t pull that inside information out of the air. Someone fed it to her. So, you have some information for me?”

“Before we get to that, I know you took the computers from the pastor’s study, the parsonage, the Hatfield’s home and office. Did you find anything incriminating on them?”

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.” Daniel shuffled some papers on his desk.

“What about cell phones? I’m sure you checked those out also. I mean, people can use cell phones like computers these days. I’m not really up on that sort of thing, but—”

Daniel held up his hand. “Stop, Mother. I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

“Okay, on to the reason for my visit. Something was bothering Jerry in the months before he died, and it wasn’t Susan’s affair with the preacher. I know this for a fact. He was worried that something was wrong at the church. He confided as much to Susan. He also mentioned it to Carl Henshaw and Harold Purcell. He said something about justice could be best served by allowing the person to make things right.” She watched him closely for a reaction. When his expression remained inscrutable, she continued. “I think it has something to do with church finances. Perhaps theft. Around Thanksgiving, he told Susan there was a situation at the church that he hoped to handle without involving the
police
.”

Daniel didn’t act surprised. “We already know that. The widow Hatfield told us all about it earlier this morning, with her attorney present, of course.”

Adelaide felt her pulse quicken. “So what are you doing about it?”

“Alex Shane worked his magic on those computers. There were lots of love notes between Susan Hatfield and Douglas Underwood starting in early October. He also found an encrypted file on Jerry’s computer. Further probing revealed it was a spreadsheet.”

“It could have been connected to his business,” Adelaide suggested.

Daniel shook his head. “No. We contacted Marsha Burns; she’s never seen it before. Plus it was only on his laptop, the one he kept in his study at home.”

“What did it reveal?”

“Like I said, it was encrypted. Alex Shane is working on it with some forensic accountants. I do need to tell you we got a warrant to examine the church’s financial records. Brenda’s running the reports right now. Evidently those records are kept on the computer hard drive in the church office.”

“So you
do
think there could be another motive for the murder besides the romance between Susan and Douglas.” She told him what Carl had noticed concerning the money from the bazaar. “It could be someone was stealing from the offering plates between the time the money was put in the safe on Sunday and the time Carl and Jerry came in to count it on Monday morning.”

“I asked Brenda who had the combination to the safe. She gave me three names.”

Adelaide felt her stomach tighten. “I know who they are.” Her elation turned to dread.

“Then you know that Douglas Underwood could still be the murderer, only now he has two motives.”

“But, think about it, Daniel. The amount couldn’t have been significant on a weekly basis, or it would have been very obvious. Do you really think Douglas would need to pilfer the church offering and bazaar proceeds for what had to amount to no more than petty cash?”

“That’s another reason why the DA is reluctant to authorize a quick arrest. He wants
all
the evidence in before we make that move. We’re looking at all the angles, believe me.”

Adelaide did believe him. But underneath it all she had to wonder if the police and the prosecutor were just trying to fit this latest revelation around the case they already had against Douglas. When she mentioned this, her son glared at her.

“We will go where the evidence leads us, Mother.”

Adelaide got up. “I’m going to do some investigating on my own, Daniel. I wondered for a short while, but now I don’t believe for a moment that Douglas murdered Jerry. And I certainly don’t think he was stealing money from the church.”

“You might be right. But someone killed Jerry Hatfield and so far all roads seem to lead to the preacher,” he told her grimly.

Vernon called Adelaide at a little after four Thursday afternoon, inviting her to dinner at his place that evening. She almost declined again, then changed her mind. She needed a social evening with a dear friend.

On a whim, she dug a sapphire-blue dress out of the back of her closet. It was made of a medium-weight silky material with long sleeves and a rounded neckline. She seldom wore dresses, but tonight she felt like breaking with tradition. She chose to accessorize with a string of pearls and matching earrings. Remembering she had a pair of shoes that matched the dress, she rooted around in her closet until she found them.

After slipping on a pair of rubber boots over her shoes, Adelaide donned her full-length cashmere coat. Locking the front door behind her, she began her walk to Vernon’s home located on Buckeye Street, less than a block from her own. The night was clear, the air frigid. Above her, stars twinkled like scattered diamonds against the inky black sky. As she climbed the three steps onto his front porch and rang the bell, she glanced through the multi-pane front window at his blue spruce Christmas tree, its multi-colored lights blinking merrily.

Vernon opened the door and smiled. Tonight he wore a pair of navy blue slacks with a red sweater. As she stepped into the oval foyer, she could smell the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen. She took off her coat and hung it in the cedar closet next to the door. They never stood on formality when visiting each other’s homes. They’d been friends too long for that.

Vernon’s two-story white frame house was built shortly after the end of World War II. Adelaide had always thought it was oddly designed, with one bedroom downstairs, the other one taking up half the attic space upstairs. The only bathroom was on the first floor across from the bedroom in a short hallway that ended at a floor-to-ceiling, arch-shaped window.

She followed him into the dining room, where the table was set with a white damask tablecloth, gold rimmed china plates and stemmed glassware. He was using the good silverware, she noticed. The wide, elaborate centerpiece on the table consisted of Christmas greenery, holly, and poinsettias as well as several pine cones. Four white tapers rose out of the arrangement, their yellow flames reflecting sparks of light off the table settings. Even from here, Adelaide could detect the subtle scent of pine from the tree in the living room. She felt her spirits lift enormously. In spite of all that had happened, it was the Christmas season, a time of celebration. She knew the reason for this impromptu invitation. In his own way Vernon was trying to take her mind off the murder investigation and all of its ramifications.
Bless him for that
.

Adelaide followed him into a large, airy kitchen that had a small breakfast nook with a view of the spacious back yard. The streetlight in the alley behind his house illuminated the snowy landscape, revealing many graceful blue spruce trees. In the summer, Vernon’s yard was filled with flowering shrubs as well as a large vegetable garden.

“Take a seat at the kitchen table, Addy. I just need to put the yeast rolls in the oven to warm up.”

Adelaide pulled out one of the spindle-back chairs, turning it a little so she could watch Vernon work. She’d always liked this kitchen, with its golden oak cabinets, vintage gas stove, enamel sink, and granite countertops. It was warm and inviting, the kind of room meant to be the center of the home, where family members could gather to enjoy one another’s company as they prepared a meal. Only Vernon lived here all alone.

“How is your sister?” Adelaide asked. Vivian, four years older than Vernon, had been widowed for almost a year.

“Still trying to decide if she wants to stay in Cleveland or move to Florida.”

“Well, doesn’t she have a friend in Sarasota?”

“Yes. She visits there. I’ve encouraged her to go for it. I think the climate will be good for her.” He stirred something savory smelling in a big pot on the stovetop.

Adelaide got up to join him. The beef tips bubbled slowly, the thick broth making
glop, glop
sounds. Vernon turned the burner off and replaced the lid. In a separate pot, the noodles looked ready. He went to the refrigerator and took out a large wooden salad bowl filled with crisp-looking greens.

Adelaide took the bowl from his hands. “Let me put that on the table.”

Opening a kitchen drawer, he took out a set of wooden tongs, laying them across the salad.

When Adelaide returned to the kitchen, Vernon was taking the golden yeast rolls from the oven. With a narrow pastry brush he slathered melted butter over the tops, letting a little drip down the sides.

Adelaide saw a wicker bread basket on the counter. A linen napkin lay next to it. She unfolded the napkin into the basket. Vernon arranged the rolls inside the cloth nest. Without any conversation she took the basket to the table, while he began ladling up the beef and noodles into a large china serving bowl.

He followed close behind. “We work pretty good in tandem, don’t we Addy?” He put the bowl down next to the centerpiece.

After pulling out a chair for her he poured them ice water from a pitcher on the table. Once he was seated across from her, he said, “Would you do the honor of serving the salad?”

“I’d be delighted,” Adelaide said, giving them equal portions. “Is this homemade vinaigrette dressing?”

“My very own recipe.”

She noticed something in his mannerisms that was a little off tonight. He didn’t seem at ease; his conversation was forced. “I spoke with Luke Fagan today. I guess Betty is trying some new medication for her MS.”

“He got the prescription filled a few days ago. I hope it helps her.” He looked down at his salad, eating with purpose.

“Their son Frank is going to be working for Tim Hunter at the auto shop on Saturdays.” Adelaide ate hungrily.

“That boy will do all right. He has goals in mind.” He served her some of the beef tips and noodles, then put some on his plate.

“This smells wonderful. Is this the recipe Vivian sent you?” She took a taste, sighing with pleasure. The beef was so tender it nearly melted in her mouth. The rolls were crunchy on the outside, warm and flaky on the inside.

Ignoring her question, Vernon looked up, meeting her gaze. “I have a goal of my own, Adelaide. Call it a New Year’s resolution.” Putting down his fork, he studied her carefully. His green eyes, lighter than hers but no less intense, had umber flecks in them which the candlelight enhanced.

Adelaide began to feel a little bit uncomfortable. He’d stopped using her nickname. That sometimes meant something serious was about to be discussed. “And what is that?” She kept her tone light.

“We’ve been friends since we were children. In high school, you gave me as much of a chance as you gave Albert. In the end you chose him. I never resented that, Adelaide. He was the perfect husband for you. I loved him like a brother.” He stopped, taking a drink of water.

“Vernon, please, let’s not discuss—”

He cut off her protest with a wave of his hand. “Let me finish, please. I need to say this. I might not have the courage again.”

She stopped eating. Putting down her fork, she wiped her mouth with the linen napkin that had been resting on her lap. “All right. I’m listening.” She studied his cheerful, pudgy face. He was such a good friend. She desperately didn’t want to lose that.

“I told you back then how I felt. I was in love with you. I still…I still am. We’re not old codgers, Adelaide. We have a lot of life left to live. I don’t know what the future might hold for either of us, but the things that have happened this past week made me realize we can’t waste a moment regretting things unsaid or undone. I don’t expect you to feel the same kind of love for me that I feel for you. I just think it is important that you know my feelings for you haven’t changed a bit in all these years. They never will. You are the love of my life, even though Albert was the love of yours.” He sat back, sighing heavily as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.