Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (19 page)

After a light dinner we found ourselves in a small cellar bar with a jazz quartet. By the time we returned to the apartment, it was almost two in the morning. John, who reminded me we had to be at the train station bright and early for our trip to Amsterdam, was sound asleep before I finished brushing my teeth.

*****

“I don’t think we’re as young as we think,” John said as our train sped through the Belgian countryside the next morning and crossed the border into the Netherlands. “I’m exhausted from yesterday. Police work is nothing compared to sightseeing.”

“Speak for yourself.” I tried to stifle a yawn. “I feel fine. Just fine.” I sank my head into John’s shoulder and asked a passing porter where I could find a cup of tea.

The train arrived at Amsterdam’s Central Station about eleven fifteen. If nothing else, we all agreed we had to see the Anne Frank Museum and get some tulips.
See
the Anne Frank museum was all we did for the line of visitors was too daunting and we were way too tired. Sam consoled herself with taking at least a dozen pictures of the outside.

“Well, I guess we could lie and tell everyone we got in. How would they know the difference?” Sam said.

“You would know,” I chided. “I’m sure everyone will be impressed we got this close.”

The canal side of the city teemed with atmosphere. Everywhere we looked, we spied a heavy black bicycle being pedaled along a canal. Some laden with a child perched on a back seat, some with a week’s worth of groceries strapped on a rack. Old, creaking houseboats were parked in the water like cars. The cobbled streets and the houses were seventeenth century.

“Now all we need to see to complete the stereotype image we Americans have of the Dutch is a little boy with his finger in a dike,” Michael said.

My brother-in-law was a good guy. He and Sam had been together for years and they were perfectly suited. He was almost as tall as John but not as solidly built. He was forty-four and his medium brown hair showed gray at the temples. He and John both had a lot of hair, though John’s was slightly darker.

“I’ll settle for all these flowers,” Sam exclaimed as we found ourselves in front of a flower market. “We’ve got to buy some. They pack them so you can put them in your suitcase.”

“Did you know tulips are actually native to Asia?” Michael asked. Sam gave him a “who cares” look and marched over to the stand selling bulbs. “It says in this pamphlet I picked up at the train station there are thousands of varieties.”

“I believe it.” I gushed. “Look at all these flowers. I know I’ll have to carry them for the rest of the day, but I’m buying a bunch for the apartment.”

“Correction,” John said to Michael, “
We’ll
have to carry them for the rest of the day. Who do these women thing they’re fooling?”

Armed with several dozen flowers in all colors imaginable and enough bulbs to start our own greenhouse, we decided the next thing on our list was lunch. We found a café with a waterfront terrace and a family of six just leaving a coveted table. Sam almost knocked down a waiter as she ran to get the table before a Dutch family coming from the other direction could take it.

“It feels so good to sit.” Still holding a bouquet of colorful blooms, I sighed as I lifted my head to the hot afternoon sun.

“We’ve been on a train all morning,” John teased.

“Yes, but we had to walk over here.” I smiled, innocently.

A waiter, who spoke better English than anyone we had encountered in Belgium, arrived to take our orders of sandwiches.

“As soon as lunch is over, I want to find a quiet spot, maybe in one of the hotel lobbies, so I can call the kids. I don’t want to chance getting back to the apartment too late.”

“There’s a hotel right there,” Michael said, pointing to a small tourist hotel next to the restaurant “Why don’t we go call them now while we’re waiting for our food.” The prompting from Michael was all Sam needed. She grabbed her cell phone and they excused themselves to go call the Henry and Kendall.

“You like it?” John gestured to my ring.

“I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted. Besides you, of course.”

“Of course. Happy?”

“Very. More than I thought I would ever be. Why I was so afraid to get married, I haven’t a clue.”

“It’s really no different than living together,” John said.

“No. You’re wrong. It feels different. I can’t explain it, but I feel at peace. I feel secure. Like my whole life has come together. I hope you can forgive me for all my doubts. I probably drove you nuts these last few months.”

“No more than usual.” He reached over and tilted my face toward his. He placed a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I’m glad you’ve been able to spend a few days sightseeing,” I said.

John smiled. “Me, too. It’s hard for me to let this investigation go, you know? As a cop I feel it’s a chance of a lifetime to get to see how other police forces work. Gerard is good. He’s calm. He’s not like TV cops. He just asks his questions and I can see him processing everything he hears, everything he sees.”

“Sounds like you,” I smiled.

“I’m not as patient. But I’m learning. I hope you don’t mind if I work with him a bit more this week. I hope he can solve this before we leave.”

“What is it, John?” I asked looking at my husband’s suddenly dark expression.

“I still have a feeling Bill is involved in something.”

“John, you don’t mean you think he killed Martine, do you?” I said turning to face my husband.

“No, I don’t think so, but he’s involved in something…” John stopped talking as Sam and Michael returned to the table.

“Well, they
loved
it. Can you believe that?” Sam sat down and reached for the sandwich the waiter had delivered a few minutes before. “They actually liked camp.” She shook her head and said, “What kind of kids are they anyway?”

I held back telling my sister the only reason she didn’t take to camp was she was a mama’s girl and couldn’t stand being away from home; an affliction her children did not inherit.

By six-thirty we were headed back to Brussels after an exhausting, but marvelous day. Sam and I fell sound asleep with a blanket of tulips covering our laps.

*****

“I’ll get it,” John said as he threw open the apartment door and ran toward the ringing phone. “Hello.” John looked at me and mouthed, “It’s Gerard. He’s been trying to reach me for two days.”

I looked down at a winking light on the answering machine.

“Sorry, Gerard, we’ve been out. What can I do for you?” John asked.

I glanced at my watch. It was well past eleven and we were all exhausted. I looked at Sam and said, “Lock the door. If he tries to escape, you have my permission to tackle him to the floor.”

A second later, a very solemn John put down the phone and turned toward us.

“What’s wrong, John?” I asked as fear crept up my spine.

“That was Gerard. Doug Parmelee has been murdered.”

Chapter 28

After the singing of several hymns, none of which I knew, Tom Mulberry walked onto the stage and set his notes on the lectern. He looked out over his congregation without saying a word and then a smile spread across his face and he welcomed one and all.

“Today we are going to talk about physical wellbeing,” he began, “and spiritual wellbeing. They go hand in hand and without one you can’t have the other.” His voice thundered across his flock startling me out of my seat. The people to my left smiled and a child behind me snickered until a parent admonished it.

“You all know what I’m talking about. You’ve all been victims at one time or another of boredom. What happens when the fatigue of boredom sets in?” he asked and I could almost see the wheels in each and every parishioner’s head turn, trying desperately to come up with an answer. “I’ll tell you what happens. We lose all energy. We become sluggish. Nothing matters anymore. Think about it,” he roared again from his perch on the massive stage. “Think about the young people who join gangs. Why do they it? I’ll tell you. Because they’re bored. They have no direction. No purpose in their lives. They feel insignificant and they’re searching.” Tom hunched down and pointed his finger out over the crowd.

I glanced at the members of the church and was amazed at what I saw; each and every one of them seemed totally enraptured by the words Tom preached. The entire room was mesmerized by what he said. I had to admit he was a powerful speaker. I felt a pang of guilt at my earlier impression of the man, which was he was a bit wimpy. But now the words and the volume at which they were spoken dismissed my earlier misgivings of him as a minister. He obviously had what it took to keep hundreds of people glued to their seats, eager for the next word, the next revelation.

But I had too many other things on my mind to allow myself to be totally captivated. After dropping John off at the police station to go over the details of Doug’s murder, I had driven over to the church. Sam and Michael opted to stay in bed late but promised to be ready at ten-thirty for another trip to the large food and antique markets.

I had bombarded John all the way to the station with questions of how Doug had been killed and whether or not his murder was connected to Martine’s. John told me he didn’t want to say anything before he had a chance to talk with Gerard and obtain all the facts, but had to admit it was too much of a coincidence not to be connected.

I was brought back to the service by another thunderous passage from the pulpit. I studied Tom as he gyrated around the stage. His thick gray hair neatly combed back with the aid of a bit of hairspray. He didn’t wear any robes or any other signs that would give away his profession. He stood there in a pair of navy blue wool slacks and a light blue shirt. A pair of red suspenders cut across his chest and for the first time, I thought of him as handsome, very handsome as a matter of fact.

“We need to have passion in our daily lives. No, not sexual passion,” he said, smiling down on the people in the first row, “Well, a bit of that doesn’t hurt in our marriages, does it,” he continued to the laughter of the crowd. “No, I mean a passion for life. A passion to accomplish. A passion for God. Without this passion, the fatigue creeps in and zaps the energy.”

I craned my neck to see if I could spot Jobeth. A blond beehive in the first row gave her away. Unless other parishioners were trying to emulate the preacher’s wife. Perish the thought. What an odd couple they made. What with Tom’s pristine appearance and Jobeth’s heavy makeup and total lack of any fashion import. But what Jobeth lacked on the fashion front, she had in spades when it came to drive and climbing the corporate ladder. I had been sure it was Jobeth’s prodding that made Tom apply for the position in California. But now, hearing him speak, I wasn’t sure anymore. He certainly had a way with people, a way that would probably serve him well in his new position, if he indeed got it.

As if to answer my question, Tom’s voice took on a more normal tone. He began by telling everyone how much he loved leading the Church of Renewed Hope and how proud he was of all the good they had been able to accomplish in his short time there. But now it was time to leave.

“I was notified last night I am to be the new head of the Domestic and Worldwide Mission Program back in California.”

Jobeth immediately heaved herself onto the stage and stood by her husband. Who of the two was the more excited was not evident. An immediate thunder of clapping hands took over the room but as I scanned the parishioners, I noticed there were also quite a few people with tears flowing down their faces.

Tom put his hands out in front of him and gently pushed them down. “Thank you. Please. I know it’s short notice, but I will be leaving at the end of this month.” Groans ran through the congregation. “I would like to introduce you to the man who will be replacing me in leading this great church into the future. Please welcome Bob Sommers.” A less than enthusiastic applause greeted a very nervous Mr. Sommers.

Bob Sommers cleared his throat and said, “We are all going to miss Pastor Mulberry, but I know he’ll want us to carry on the exemplary work he has started here along with the various groups within the church that have done so much in the community. It is my goal with the help of all of you to continue to prosper and keep the respect of our host country.”

With the end of Bob Sommers’ welcome speech, a few more hymns were sung and then the congregation began to slowly leave the church, shaking hands with the Mulberrys, who positioned themselves by the front entrance. I had purposely lingered behind and when I finally reached Tom, I congratulated him on his promotion and thanked him for a wonderful service.

“So glad you could come. I’ll be preaching until the end of this month so we would love to have you next week.”

“I’m sorry but we’re leaving next Sunday morning. But thank you for the kind offer.”

Jobeth, who had been speaking with a family of four, turned back to her husband and saw me. “Alex! What a surprise. Where’s the rest of your group?”

“They couldn’t make it. They’re waiting for me back at the apartment.” John had asked me not to mention Doug’s murder.

“Sleeping in, are they? I don’t suppose you’ll be returning to church once you’re back home?” Jobeth’s snide comment did not go unnoticed by her husband who frowned at her.

My already warm cheeks flushed further. “If Father Frank back at Saint Michael’s in Indian Cove had your magnetism, Tom, I might consider it.” I directed my comment to Tom and ignored Jobeth. “Well, I had better be going. Good luck in California.”

“Enjoy the rest of your stay, Alex, and have a safe journey home.”

Chapter 29

I closed the laptop just as Sam came into the kitchen.

“So John didn’t say anything about Doug?” she asked not bothering to mask her desire for more details.

“No. Nothing. I suspect we’ll get all the details as soon as he comes back from his meeting with Gerard.” As if on cue, the front door opened and a very wary John entered.