Authors: Elizabeth Lee
“On his way out the door the morning before he died, Millroy kissed me good-bye, the way he always does, and said something about deciding to get ahold of Pastor Albertson. He was going to ask the previous pastor’s advice. I told him I thought that was a very good idea.”
“Advice about what?”
“Well,
that
I don’t know. If Millroy wanted to share with me, that was always fine. But like I said, a man of the cloth is sometimes sorely burdened.”
“Did he call Pastor Albertson?”
“I couldn’t tell you. You might want to talk to Tyler Perkins. As president of the board, you’d think he’d know if there was something going on.”
I finished off my tea and got up to leave.
“I saw him going in the church a while ago,” Selma said. “Might still catch him.”
I was out of there and sprinting across the lawn between the two buildings. No word from Hunter yet. There was only one car in the parking lot, a red Cadillac. Somehow the white-steepled church and the shiny Cadillac didn’t go together, but I figured, as the only pharmacist in Riverville, Tyler had to do pretty well for himself.
I went on inside because I figured a car in the parking lot meant the man was still there. The church was stifling hot. I guessed the board saved money on air-conditioning when there were no meetings or services going on.
I heard the low rumble of voices from the back, where the church offices were located. I made my way back there, to Tyler’s office. He was seated at his desk, a phone clamped to his ear.
Tyler swiveled around to face me, then motioned me to a chair. He was saying something about an upcoming ceremony but cut it short to turn and give me a nervous, tight smile.
“Well, look who’s here.” He leaned back after he hung up. He put his arms behind his head. “What brings you, of all people, to church?”
The smirk on his face was irritating.
“I was over talking to Dora.” I launched right into what I had to say.
“Poor soul. No clue where she’s going from here. They came from Tupelo but I hear that’s not her and Selma’s home. Guess they’ll figure it out. Church board’s offered them the parsonage ’til we get us a new preacher.”
I smiled, letting him know I thought that was a fine gesture.
“Dora mentioned that Pastor Jenkins had been worried about something lately. She said it was something to do with the church.”
Tyler Perkins wrinkled his brow at me, thinking hard. “Can’t imagine what that could’ve been. He didn’t say a word to me. Seems, on the contrary, we’re doin’ fine. Maybe a little grumble here and there but nothing . . .”
“Grumble? Over what?”
“Nothing that concerns you, Lindy. You know we’ve got big plans for our little church. Ceremony for the new addition on Sunday—despite losing the pastor. Everything in place, Hawley Harvey says. Might as well get on with it. To tell you the truth, Lindy, we all been doing real well, with Hawley’s careful guidance. Still, some of the folks don’t think the money’s comin’ in fast enough. That’s all I ever heard. You know how greedy folks can get.”
I wanted to say I had no clue how greedy folks got, but didn’t. “Could one of those people have upset the pastor? I mean, complaining about their money going for the addition? Something like that?”
“Guess you’ll have to talk to Hawley Harvey. Think he’d be the one Millroy would talk to, if he was worried about something. Hawley’s handling all the money—if that’s what it was about. Doin’ a fine job of it, too.”
“Dora said the pastor intended to call the Reverend Albertson, talk to him about whatever was on his mind.”
The deacon’s arms came down and he shot forward in his chair. His face was red with anger. “Call Pastor Albertson? What on earth for? The man didn’t exactly leave us on good terms, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“We think he was trying to cause trouble for the new pastor. Always that way—the old one gets mad if he didn’t want to go.”
“You told me he retired.”
“Well, yes. He did that. But there are times retirement comes with a little push.”
“What happened?”
He coughed and looked away. “Nothing really. Didn’t mean to bring it up. Just a little disagreement before he left. Still, I would have warned the pastor not to call the man. Reverend Albertson doesn’t know a thing about what we been doing here since he left. Hope he didn’t go ahead and call.” His face was getting dark. The man looked very angry.
Unnerved by the unexpected anger, I calculated what would happen if I told him Miss Amelia was calling Pastor Albertson, too. I decided to throw caution to the winds and watch what would happen.
“My grandmother’s got a call in to Pastor Albertson right now. She had the same feeling as Pastor Jenkins, I suspect.”
“Well, you tell your grandmother for me . . . you tell her it was Tyler Perkins, himself, who said this. Church business is church business and it’s not up to her or anybody else to stick their nose in and stir up trouble that don’t need to be stirred. You got that? Think you can remember to tell your grandmother what I said and call her off from phoning Pastor Albertson?”
If a person can feel steam rising in her ears, I was that person at that moment. I’d been talked down to plenty of times in my life. Every woman has. But this was so blatant, and reached out to touch my seventy-seven-year-old grandmother. I wished I could put a hand across the miserable man’s desk and bang him on the head. Instead, I stood and glared.
“Deacon, one man is dead. A woman’s in the hospital for tasting the same poison that killed the pastor. Whatever’s happening in Riverville has moved way beyond ‘church business.’”
I stretched taller, as regal as I ever get, and glared down at Tyler Perkins.
He smirked though his red face matched his red hair. “Well, that’s what we got a police force for, Lindy. No need for little girls like you going around and muddying the waters.”
“I’m not a little girl.” I bristled up like a wild boar then told myself to get out of there as fast as I could before I tore the place apart. From the doorway I allowed myself one last pointed question. “By the way, where’d you get that shiny new Cadillac? Drug business in town must be booming. The legal kind, I mean.”
He cleared his throat and moved his head back and forth on his squat neck. “Yes, ma’am. Been doing well this year. The Lord is surely being good to members of Rushing to Calvary.”
“Glad to hear it. But red . . .” I couldn’t help turning the knife one more turn. “Isn’t that the devil’s color?”
Tyler was sputtering as I made my way back through the empty church, out to my ten-year-old Ford truck of a color nobody could name.
It wasn’t so much that I didn’t like Tyler Perkins as that I didn’t like his type. I looked at the flashy red car again as I drove out of the parking lot, wondering just how religious Tyler really was, or how much his affiliation with the church had to do with socializing and shmoozing in the community. Word was that the Rushing to Calvary Church was growing fast. I wondered, if the church had been a tiny backwoods place, would Tyler Perkins spend so much of his time there?
But that was mean of me, I told myself, casting aspersions on a man’s motives just because he drove a big red Cadillac that was somehow stirring ire in me I hadn’t felt since I was a kid and Hunter got a red dirt bike while I got Justin’s hand-me-down boy’s two-wheeler.
I could hear Miss Amelia’s voice in my ear now, as I had back then, telling me that jealousy was beneath me. I could hear her telling me to think higher thoughts. Unhappy that she could sneak into my head so easily, I immediately whispered to my meemaw to let me alone. With Meemaw out of the picture, I thought, who else but the town druggist would know how to grind hemlock roots and know just how much could kill a man?
I reminded myself to find a new drugstore in another town, then headed over to the hospital before it got too late. On the way there, I fielded worried phone calls. First from Mama wondering what was going on and saying she just left the hospital. Meemaw was staying there with Treenie.
Then a call from Bethany, warning that Jeffrey was on his way to town to see me. Something about me helping him secure a piece of property he was after. “He’s on his way, Lindy. So get right over here. I’m still at the Nut House. People from everywhere buying pies and things. We’re not going to have anything left if Meemaw doesn’t get back soon. Anyway, I’ve got a date with Jeffrey tonight so hurry back soon as you can . . .”
“I’m on my way to the hospital,” I said, meaning to stand firm.
“Oh, no. Jeffrey wants to see you—”
“Guess he’ll have to wait.”
“But we’ve got a date.”
“You can’t close until six. And I don’t know what your friend’s talking about: me helping him with a property. And I don’t think I’m interested in having any dealings with Jeffrey Coulter. Personally, I think the man’s a phony.”
“That’s terrible. Why I—”
“I’ll be there when I can, Bethany. ’Til then I guess you just have to hold down the fort.”
I got off the phone with a sputtering Bethany in full umbrage, claiming she had to get out of there and get home before her date. Her favorite pink outfit was in the dryer and . . .
The phone rang again. It was Miranda Chauncey. What a breath of fresh air it was, to hear Miranda’s terse voice.
“Me and Melody’s comin’ to town. All this awful bull crap going on, figured we’d better be there to protect whoever needs protecting. I’m bringing my pistol with me. Figure that’s better than walking in places with my shotgun. You know, don’t you, Lindy? Rattlers come in all sizes. You got female rattlers as well as males. Otherwise wouldn’t get no more rattlers. Couldn’t get ahold of Miss Amelia, but you tell her, okay? I’ll be sitting on the front porch of the Nut House watching and Melody will be helping inside the store.”
“Oh, Miranda, that’s so good of you but Bethany’s at the store right now. Miss Amelia’s at the hospital with Treenie.”
There was a pause and then Miranda turned away from the phone, talking to her sister behind her.
“Seems Melody’s sure she can help Bethany while I just sit out there with my gun letting people know they’d better not fool with Miss Amelia anymore.”
I wanted to tell the twins not to come to town; our hands were full as it was. But then I thought about Bethany’s face when the girls walked into the Nut House. Too precious not to take advantage of. Bethany would know she couldn’t leave Melody alone there, taking care of customers. Meemaw always gave the girls a deep, deep discount on anything they bought, knowing their ranch wasn’t producing the way it used to. If Melody started selling things for the prices they paid, we’d be out of business in a day or two.
And what was wrong with Miranda sitting on the front porch with a gun nestled in her lap? It would be like Wild Bill Hickok, Belle Starr, and Billy the Kid smiling at customers while cocking a pistol within their hearing.
I promised to be there later.
That was fine with Miranda. “You can be sure, Lindy, me and Melody will take care of the place for you. Give your grandmother our sincere wishes for things to clear up.”
I promised I would do that, hung up, and called Bethany, so pleased with my news I couldn’t wait to tell her.
Bethany wasn’t as excited as I was. In fact, she said she was going to chase the both of them right out of there.
“Best friends with Meemaw,” I reminded her. “You do that and you’re dealing with her,” I said as I hung up.
Laughing felt good.
I’d just parked in the hospital lot when the phone rang yet again. Hunter.
“Hey, you at the hospital yet? Your grandmother’s dead on her feet. You gotta take her home to get some sleep. I keep telling her Treenie’s fine but she thinks she got to be here to protect her. Like there’s a bunch of killers on their way in.”
“Do you blame her? With what’s going on?”
“Won’t help with her in there with Treenie, sound asleep.”
“Where are you?”
“Home. Had to take a shower. Did you get over to Selma and Dora’s the way you wanted to?”
I told him how relieved Selma was. Then told him about Dora saying Millroy had been calling Pastor Albertson before he died.
“Miss Amelia said she’s been trying to get ahold of him, too,” Hunter said.
“I know. But no return call yet. Think we’d better get after him.”
“I got a call from Morton Grover,” Hunter said.
“What’s Morton want?”
“I don’t know. He asked me to come over to the saloon to talk to him. You want to come after you get through at the hospital? Say about nine thirty. Have a couple of beers, relax, see what Morton wants? He asked me not to wear my uniform. Guess it kind of makes people nervous to have a cop sitting there.”
I wanted to groan. One hour’s worth of sleep hadn’t done much for me. It was wearing off fast. And Hunter hadn’t slept any more than I had.
Still . . . if it was something that could help us.
“Got some other things to tell you,” he said by way of enticing me to join him.
“Me, too,” I answered. “But do you really think a postage-stamp-sized table in a loud saloon is the best place to talk?”
“Who’s gonna hear us?”