Authors: Janice Thompson
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Religion & Spirituality, #Fiction, #Literature & Fiction, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Contemporary
In the
middle of one of Sheila’s one-liners, my husband took the microphone and asked everyone
to stand for the opening prayer. I glanced up at the stage, warmed by the sight
of him with his red, white and blue hat, which he removed as he began the
invocation. His words flowed, as always, like honey over my soul.
He
wrapped up and passed off the microphone to Sheila, who had apparently bounded
from my
side
the minute she realized the program had
started. I wasn’t sure why she felt the need to take the stage… until the music
for the national anthem began. Oh my. Don’t tell me…
She lit
in, hands waving in the breeze. All around, folks joined in, singing their
hearts out. Katie
Stolzfus
now stood next to Nikki,
with one arm slipped around the younger woman’s waist and the other hand over
her heart. She released it every few seconds to dab tears from her eyes. At
about midway in the song, several of my husband’s co-workers from the bank
grouped together, delving in harmony. Mayor Hennessey looked over the whole of
us like a proud papa. And I… well, I couldn’t help but brush away a few tears,
myself.
On and
on, Sheila sang, her eyes lifted heavenward. And I had to wonder if, somewhere
up in heaven, Judy Blevins wasn’t dancing along.
Sheila always said
life was like a roll of toilet paper…the closer you got to the end, the faster
it went. That’s kind of how I felt about this little investigation of mine; it
seemed to be taking on a mind of its own, barreling forward in some yet-unknown
direction.
With
Warren and Richard off the hook, I’d hoped to focus on Nikki and the
Mullinses
, narrowing down my list one way or the other. But
the information I’d acquired over the past several hours made me think I’d need
to purchase new running shoes if I wanted to keep up.
The Get
Out to Vote rally ended midafternoon, just about the time a light rain started.
We stuck around to help clean up, Warren focusing on the stage area, and me on
the food pavilion.
Janetta
, who looked exhausted,
worked like the dickens to gather up the remains of the food, then announced
she was on her way to the Blevins home, along with Kristina, to hand-deliver
the goodies. I asked her to give Richard our love, which she agreed to do.
After
tidying up the park, several of us piled into booths at the diner for coffee,
apple pie, and a spirited political debate. Seemed like the rally always ended
this way, though not necessarily with these players.
I ended
up in a booth with Amber, Nikki, and Carol. My daughters sat just across the
way with their respective fiancées. My husband had opted to take a booth with
Devin and Jake, and others friends and churchgoers filled the rest of the diner
to capacity. Every now and again, Sheila’s laughter rang out above the crowd,
bringing a smile to my lips. How does she do it, Lord?
I tried
to focus on the folks at my table, attempted to give them my undivided
attention. It was tough, especially with the frenzied look on Shawna’s
don’t-call-me-honey face as she tried to wait on all of us. She also definitely
looked uncomfortable waiting on Nikki. Interesting.
But not
everyone in the place made her uncomfortable. I took note of Shawna’s
occasional sideways flirtatious glances at Jake, and I also took note of Jake’s
more frequent glances at Nikki, who sat to my left.
Even more
interesting.
We talked
for some time about the rally then the conversation shifted a bit as Sheila
started a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday” for someone on the other side of
the room. As soon as the song ended, Amber looked up at her grandmother with a
smile. “It was your birthday, too!”
“That was
weeks ago, honey.” Carol smiled and reached over to squeeze her granddaughter’s
hand. “Remember?”
“I
remember. We went to your house.”
My
antennae went up right away. That’s right. Nikki did say she went to her
mother’s on the night before the money’s disappearance—for her mother’s
birthday.
“You were
a very good puppy-sitter,” Carol said with a smile. “But next time you come,
Grandma wants to stay with you. I miss you when I go away like that.”
“I miss
you too.”
Amber nuzzled against her
,
face alight with joy
.
Carol
turned to me to explain. “My husband took me on a weekend get-away for my
birthday, and Nikki and Amber took care of my poodle for me. He’s quite a
handful.”
“We
didn’t mind, really,” Nikki said. “Amber would do anything for her grandmother.
Those two are like two peas in a pod,” Nikki nodded in her mother and
daughter’s direction. “I’m almost jealous.”
“Oh,
pooh.” Her mother waved a hand in the air. “You know I’ve always adored you.
And I couldn’t be prouder. You’ve turned out to be a beautiful young woman.”
“After
those crazy teen years, you mean.” Nikki’s gaze traveled to the table.
“Oh
well.” Her mother reached across to take her hand. “What’s done is done. And
you’ve made a fine life for you and Amber. I’m very proud.”
Nikki’s
bashful smile warmed my heart. Have I jumped the gun? Is she really suspect
material?
“And,
of course,” Carol added, “I’m tickled to death that Charlie was able to get you
such a good job, though I wish it was a little closer to home.”
“Uncle
Charlie!” Amber let out a squeal. “He’s going to take me to Disney World for my
birthday.”
“Yes, he
is.” Nikki smiled in her daughter’s direction. “Your uncle is too generous.”
Ah. So,
her uncle really did help her get the job at the security company.
Here,
Nikki turned to face me. “Oh! That reminds me. I was going to tell you about
the car, what a miracle it was.” She paused for a second. “Well, a mixed
blessing, really.”
“Oh yes.”
I couldn’t wait to hear. This would surely put my investigation back on track.
Nikki
went on to share a fascinating tale. “I’ve told you about my dad,” she started,
“How he skipped out on us when I was little.”
I noticed
the look of pain as it registered on Carol’s face.
Nikki forged
ahead. “I saw him off and on when I was a kid, and I think he sent a little
child support every now and again.”
“‘Little’
being the key word,” Carol interjected.
“Anyway,”
Nikki’s brow wrinkled as she continued, “By the time I was in my teens, I’d pretty
much given up on him. And I think I only saw him once or twice after Amber was
born. Not that it really mattered to me at that point. I was used to not seeing
him. But a couple of months ago—” Here, her eyes began to cloud over. “A
few months ago, I got word that he was really sick. He was in a hospital in
Philadelphia. I’m not sure what possessed me to do it, but I went to see him.
Took Amber with me.”
“I wasn’t
sure it was such a good idea,” Carol threw in. “But she’s a grown woman now.
Has to make her own decisions.”
I nodded
then leaned forward to hear the rest.
“It was
kind of weird,” Nikki said with a shrug. “He was a lot different than the last
time I’d seen him. Not just physically.
That too.
But
he was… I don’t know. Almost religious.”
Here Carol
interrupted once again. “The man always could talk a good game. So when I heard
about this conversion of his, I told Nikki not to get her hopes up. He wasn’t
the kind to make amends. Never had been.”
“Ah.”
What else could I say?
“Anyway,”
Nikki drew in a deep breath. “The hospital called me a couple of weeks later to
tell me that he had died in his sleep.”
“Oh, I’m
sorry.”
Nikki
shrugged. “I felt bad, but like I said, I hardly knew the man. That’s why, when
an attorney called a few days after that, I didn’t know what to make of it.”
“Attorney?”
Carol
nodded, her eyes misting over. “Turns out, he’d had money all along. And I
guess he must’ve had some regrets for not taking care of Nikki better as a
child, because he named her as the sole beneficiary in his will.”
Oh my, oh
my.
“It felt
funny, taking money from someone I didn’t really love in the way a daughter
should love her father,” Nikki explained with a hint of a shrug. “But he
obviously wanted me to have it.”
“Of
course,” I interjected. “And you had every right to take it, especially with a
daughter to raise.”
“That’s
what I told her,” Carol said with a nod.
“Well,
Amber certainly benefited, what with the new school and all.” Nikki glanced
around the diner with a winsome look on her face. “And I needed a break from
the second job. I hated to leave Noah and Shawna in the lurch, but Amber needed
me in the evenings, and, to be honest, I was just exhausted from working both
places at once.”
Certainly
couldn’t fault her there. “And the car—?” I asked.
“Oh,” Nikki
broke into a broad smile, “I’d wanted a car like that for ages. It was just a
dream, you know? I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d actually
drive one. But I saw an ad in the Gazette, and it was a reasonable price for a
car of that caliber, so I bought it on impulse.”
Carol
shook her head. “I told her to get an SUV,” she explained. “But kids these
days—”
“I know,
I know.” Nikki giggled. “It was probably not the wisest decision I’ve ever
made, but there will be plenty of time for mom-mobiles later.”
“I love
our new car,” Amber interjected. “We named it Daisy.”
I leaned
back against the booth and looked at the women who sat around me. Somehow, my
case against Nikki appeared to have unraveled right in front of me. Her uncle
really had helped her get the job—albeit with a shady company—and
she really was in Lancaster on the night in question. What other proof did I
need?
A sigh
escaped my lips. So… Nikki Rogers hadn’t stolen the money after all. The news
should have had me overjoyed. Instead, I found myself a little depressed.
I
returned home after a long day of socializing, with only one thing on my mind.
I had to read my next lesson. The ninth title, A GOOD INVESTIGATOR RETURNS TO
THE SCENE OF THE CRIME, resonated with me, especially in light of today’s
revelations. I must eventually go back to the night in question one more time,
revisit the night deposit box and consider all of the facts.
Just
the facts.
I thought
about Jake, who had talked with my husband as if they were old friends. Every
now and again, he had looked my way and smiled. A chill ran down my back as
reality set in. Like it or not, I had to consider the possibility that the fine
officers at Clark County Sheriff’s Office had pinpointed the right man all
along.
And like
it or not, I had to consider the possibility that I’d pretty much wasted the
last several weeks of my life chasing rabbits.
They buried Judy
Blevins on a Tuesday. I’m not sure why that registered so strongly with me, but
it did. Richard decided to hold the ceremony at the church, with Pastor Miller
leading the way.
“It’s how
she would have wanted it,” Richard shared privately with Warren.
We all
agreed. And those of us who had known and loved Richard for years were thrilled
to welcome him home again. He sat near the front of the sanctuary with Judy’s
sister—a healthier, slightly older version of Judy—seated at his
side. Brenda. I’d met her the day before, in Richard’s living room. To her
right sat her husband and three grown children, with their respective spouses.
The
woman’s face appeared a bit strained. I’m not sure I saw her cry, but I did
notice Richard break down several times as the service progressed.
I found
it difficult to keep my emotions in check, as well. As Pastor Miller replayed
scenes of Judy’s life, I realized what an impact she’d made, both in our
congregation and our little community. And though she’d never experienced the blessing
of raising a child of her own beyond the tender age of four, she’d poured out
her life for the children of the church, working in the elementary department
for over twenty years.
Somehow,
thinking about Judy working with children got me distracted. I allowed my
thoughts to roll back to the story Richard had told about losing his son. And I
found myself looking across the sanctuary at Jake Mullins, who sat with the
rest of his family in the pew behind Richard. A couple of times, I noted,
Richard turned around to glance at the young man, a woeful expression on his
face. They two had clearly made a connection.
All in
all, the funeral was everything I thought it would be, and everything I hoped
mine would someday be. Funny in places, poignant in others, and deeply
spiritual, pointing would-be seekers toward the God Judy Blevins had loved with
her whole heart.
For his
text, Pastor Miller chose one of my favorite scriptures from the third chapter
of Hebrews: “Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today,” he
read aloud, “so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. We
have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we
had at first.”
I tucked
away, in the recesses of my mind, a reminder to encourage my husband and
children before day’s end.
While it was still today.
I
would count the moments, not let one slip by, unaccounted for.
Near the
end of the service, a slideshow with photos of Judy at various stages in her
life was presented. I did pretty well until a childhood photo of a little girl
in a frilly dress popped up on the screen. I could just see those skirts
twirling now, as she danced across the clouds. The image brought a lump to my
throat, and a bittersweet smile to my lips.
The
service came to a close and folks made their way to the front to visit with
Richard. I noticed the Mullins family paused longer than most. Something about
all of that
still intrigued me, though this probably wasn’t
the time or the place to wonder about such things.
Warren and
I finally found
ourselves
standing directly in front
of Richard. His tear-stained eyes registered more pain that I’d ever seen in a
man before. If ever he needed us, it was now. I reached out to embrace him and
he thanked me at once for being such a good friend to Judy.
I didn’t
feel like a good friend. In fact, a wave of guilt swept over me as I
contemplated the facts. I’d been so busy over the past few weeks trying to
incriminate all of my friends and neighbors that I hadn’t taken the proper time
to visit with
her
as I should have.
I
couldn’t ponder this for long because the line kept pushing me forward. Warren
took my place and gave Richard a bear hug as I moved along to shake hands with
Judy’s sister and her family.
I gave
Brenda a little nod and said, “Your sister was a beautiful woman of God. She
taught me so much.”
The
woman’s eyes, red-rimmed, filled with tears as I gave her hands a squeeze.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I just wish I’d spent more time with her while I had
her.”
I had to
agree. And Brenda’s words reminded of Pastor Miller’s sermon—about making
the moments count. I vowed, once again, to do that with my own family.
After
moving on to greet the others, I turned my attentions to helping Sheila in the
kitchen. Several of the ladies from the church had brought food items. At
Richard’s request, all Sunday school class members would join the family for a
meal together in the church’s Fellowship Hall after the graveside service.
I opted
to remain at the church and not follow the caravan to nearby
Clarksborough
Cemetery. Though torn about it, I knew some
of us would need to stay behind to make preparations for the return of the
others.
Ironically,
Janetta
Mullins found her way to the kitchen, as
well.
“You need
some help?” she offered.
“Sure.” I
pointed to a couple of casserole dishes in need of warming and she donned a
pair of oven mitts.
“
Jakey
and Kristina went on to the cemetery,” she explained,
“but I just couldn’t. I know it sounds weird, but cemeteries bother me. Ever
since my mom’s funeral—” She paused and put the casseroles in the oven.
“I don’t know,” she went on. “It just tears me up to see that part.”
“I
understand,” I told her. And I did. My grandmother’s funeral had left a lasting
impression on me as a youngster.
Instead
of dwelling on all that, we focused on the task at hand. As the three of us
worked side by side in the kitchen, we found ourselves with ample opportunity
to talk. Our conversation, naturally, started with the funeral service, which,
we all agreed, had been quite touching. We went on to discuss a plan of action
for caring for Richard over the next few weeks, including the daily delivery of
meals, as well as cards and letters from the Sunday school class.
Sheila,
who looked especially somber in her black on black skirt and blouse, headed out
into the Fellowship Hall, where she worked feverishly to wrap silverware and
set out paper plates and napkins. After that, she placed centerpieces on the
tables.
Janetta
remained with me in the kitchen, where
we both set about slicing several loaves of homemade bread she’d brought. I
took a little nibble and voiced my opinion right away.
“You
know,” I said, “I don’t know if I’ve ever just come out and told you this,
Janetta
, but you’re a wonderful cook. I’m a little
envious.”
I saw her
cheeks pink, which did my heart good.
“Thank
you,” she said with a bashful smile. “I’ve certainly been at it long enough. I
love coming up with recipes, putting my own spin on things.”
“Well, it
shows.”
“Thanks.
But I’ll tell you a little secret.” She gestured to the large stove in the
church kitchen. “It’s amazing what commercial appliances will do for you.
Having them has totally changed my life.
And my cooking.
I can do things now that I only dreamed of doing before.”
“Oh?”
She told
me about a commercial refrigerator she’d purchased last summer,
then
went on to sing the praises of her latest oven,
“perfect for baking wedding cakes and prime rib, alike,” she boasted.
Almost
made me wish I spent more time in my own kitchen.
Almost.
The
Fellowship Hall soon filled with hungry guests and I shifted gears to the task
at hand. My husband and daughters slipped into the kitchen to see if I needed
any help. I assured them all was well, and sent them to spend time with
Richard.
Sheila,
Janetta
, and I worked alongside a couple of the other
ladies to feed the crew. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Jake and
Richard chatted. Except for an occasional swipe of the eye with the back of his
hand, Richard appeared to be doing well—as long as people kept him distracted.
I did
catch him alone in the hallway at one point, leaning against the wall.
“Just
catching my breath,” he explained. He reached up to run his fingers across his
bald spot, and I couldn’t help but notice the trembling in his hand.
I nodded
and reached up to give him a hug. “I know you’re probably hearing this from
everyone,” I whispered, “But I just want you to know we’re here if you need
us.”
He
nodded, then pulled back and looked into my eyes with a fatherly-type smile.
“Judy loved you so much. And it meant the world that you brought her that
little ballerina.”
“Really?
She told you about it?”
“Told
me?” He broke into a broad smile, “She made me put it on the mantle at the
house and—” here he broke, and the tears started. With the wave of a
hand, he attempted to offer an apology for his meltdown, but I felt it
unnecessary.
“It’s
okay, Richard.” I gripped his trembling hands until he composed himself. “I
understand.”
“S–She
told me to think of her dancing every time I saw it.”
I
couldn’t speak. The mountainous lump in my throat wouldn’t let me.
Richard
brushed the moisture from his cheeks. “It’s sitting on my mantle right now.
I’ll never move it.”
With
emotions running high, I dismissed myself to return to the kitchen, under the guise
of wanting to help the Sheila and the others. In reality, I needed time to
absorb all of the information I’d acquired that morning.
After the
crowd thinned, I finally took a seat at one of the tables and nibbled at some
of the now-dried-out casseroles. Nothing appealed to me. I tossed my plate in
the
trash can
and eased my way down the now-empty
hallway toward the sanctuary, where I sat on the back pew for a little quiet
reflection.
Didn’t
last long. Within minutes my family gathered round me, full of questions.
Brandi gave the opening remarks.
“Mom—”
She sat, and then leaned her head against my shoulder. “I just wanted to tell
you how much I love you.”
“I love
you too, honey.” I kissed her hair, then nuzzled close.
Candy
took a seat on the other side of me and took hold of my hand. “We don’t tell
you enough how much we appreciate you, Mom.”
“We do,
you know,” Brandi interjected. “You’re awesome, and sometimes we take advantage
of that. We count on you for too much.”
“No,” I
argued, “I need to be included. You’ll never know how much.” I offered up a
shrug.
“It’s
just that—” Candy’s eyes filled as she continued on, “We don’t know what
we’d ever do if anything happened to you, Mom. It’s scary to think about.”
“Then
let’s don’t think about it,” I whispered. In truth, I didn’t want to think
about funerals. Or investigations.
Or commercial appliances.
I simply
wanted time to reflect on what was right in front of me. As I leaned back
against the pew with a daughter in each arm, Pastor Miller’s words washed over
me afresh: Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today.
I had
every intention of doing just that.