Front Line Francis, page 55
“Are we going to stand out here and reminisce all day?” I asked.
“It’s almost worth it,” Savage said with a sigh.
He opened the door and slipped into the dim foyer, and Rosemarie and I went in behind him. It took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust, but everything looked the same. Marble floors, stained-glass windows, and weird wood-and-iron light fixtures that would instantly impale anyone if they fell from the ceiling.
The doors to the sanctuary were closed, and it felt like the church was completely empty. But a shiver still ran down my spine.
Savage slowly opened the sanctuary doors and we filed onto the red carpeted aisle. I could smell the linseed oil they used to polish the pews and the musty pages of the hymnals. Light filtered in from the floor-to-ceiling, stained-glass windows, and there was a giant cross that hung above the baptismal at the back of the pulpit.
My heart sank, and I looked over at Rosemarie. She crossed herself and held out her fingers in the sign of the cross toward me.
“No offense,” she said. “But you have the worst luck.”
I wish I could’ve argued with her, but she was right. There was a body hanging on the cross, and it didn’t belong to Jesus.
“Well,” Savage said. “Looks like you’re going to have to postpone the wedding after all. This is officially a crime scene.”
Chapter Seventeen
I think it was all just too much, because the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground and Savage was patting my cheek to wake me up.
“I think I fainted,” I said when his face came into focus.
“No kidding. Took ten years off my life.”
“That’s not Pastor Charles,” I said, glancing over at the body.
“I have a hunch it’s the guy that answered the phone that day you called looking for Tilda Sweeney. He’d need someone he could trust to help him with some of the details, and Emile Cardonas wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends. If Charles and his friend had any contact, Emile would know about it.”
I rolled to my side so I could sit up. Rosemarie had taken one of the hymnals and was waving it in front of my face for extra air, but it only made me sneeze, which made my face hurt again.
“You’re a mess,” Savage said. “I have a theory.”
“Listen, Mister,” Rosemarie said, getting in Savage’s face. “Unless your theory involves getting up there and moving that body out of this church so it’s no longer a crime scene, we don’t want to hear it. This is our wedding we’re talking about. And it’s happening whether you want it to or not.”
I put my hand on Rosemarie’s arm to try and pull her back, but she was fully invested. Savage wasn’t really the kind of guy to get overly excited about much. He was like Nick in a lot of ways, which might have been why I’d been a little bit attracted to him. He was still a cop, even beneath his suits, crazy socks, and devil’s smile.
All he did was give her a look and she let go of his sleeve. “Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s the wedding hormones.”
His lips twitched and he looked back at me. “They seem to be going around. I need to call in a team and secure the scene. We need to find Pastor Charles.”
“Rosemarie and I can look for him while you’re stuck here,” I said.
“You okay to drive?” He handed me the keys to his Tahoe.
“Just a slight malfunction. I’m good as new.”
“Maybe knock on Pastor Charles’s front door and see if he answers,” Savage said. He stared directly into my eyes and spoke in an unusually even voice. “It’s possible there’s been a break-in and the front door is already open. It would be perfectly natural and legal for you to go inside and make sure he’s okay.”
“Right,” I said, taking his hand as he helped me off the floor. “Perfectly legal. Come on, Rosemarie. Let’s see if we can find a fake preacher.”
“I think you should take vitamins,” Rosemarie said as we walked around the side of the church to the rectory. “This much added stress isn’t good for the body. Look at me, I take my multivitamins every day and I’m fit as a fiddle. I never get sick. And I look healthy. People always talk about my weight, but you don’t see me fainting at the drop of a hat or throwing up my eggs.
“Look at you, all scrawny and black-and-blue. You’re looking like Anne Hathaway in Les Mis after they pulled out her teeth and chopped off her hair. You need some sun and some pie.”
“We leave for Tahiti on Sunday,” I said. “I’ll get more sun and pie than I know what to do with. And sex. And maybe we’ll never come back. I could adapt to island life.”
“Better watch out,” she said. “I heard they have a very active cannibal lifestyle there. They hunt unsuspecting tourists, and before you know it you’re being roasted over a spit. Though you might be safe. You don’t look very appetizing.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I think.”
The rectory was a simple two-bedroom home made of the same stucco as the church. It was very plain and simple, which I guess was all a single pastor needed. I knocked on the door and then waited to see if anyone would answer.
As expected, no one came to the door, and I listened to see if I could hear anyone moving around inside.
“Should we bust out a window?” Rosemarie asked.
“Probably not,” I said, and tried the door knob. It was locked.
I got my phone and called Beverly.
“What’s going on?” she said when she answered. “I’ve already had a hundred phone calls from people asking me what’s going on at the church. I was just about to come in.”
“I wouldn’t bother. The church is going to be shut down for a little while. A body was found on the premises.”
She gasped. “Anyone I know?”
“Looks like an out-of-towner,” I said.
“Thank God.” And then she must have realized what she’d said because she followed up with, “Not that I’m wishing death on anyone. Wow, you have really bad wedding mojo.”
“I’m aware,” I said. “Is there an extra key to the rectory?”
“Is Pastor Charles in trouble?”
I didn’t want to tell her that Pastor Charles was a lying murderer so I just said, “We’re making sure he’s okay. No one has seen him.”
“He keeps an extra key under the little rock in the front flower bed.”
I thanked her and hung up, and then bent down to check under the rock. Sure enough, there was a house key sitting there. I unlocked the front door and Rosemarie and I went inside.
“That was easy,” I said, looking around.
It was a simple room. White walls and mission-style furniture. There was a crocheted afghan thrown across a worn recliner, and one wall was lined with bookshelves and filled with tattered books. Charles had done a great job of adapting to his new life and making it credible. The fact that he’d been preaching almost every Sunday for ten years blew my mind.
“You know,” Rosemarie said. “I always liked his sermons. But I guess it makes sense that I never heard him preaching on the Ten Commandments. The whole murder thing was probably a sticking point.”
I grunted and moved to the bookshelf, looking at the tattered volumes. I took out a few of the more used ones and flipped through the pages. Rosemarie was moving between all the framed pictures.
“None of these pictures have him in it,” she said.
“Because those are from someone else’s life,” I said. I went over to the phone and looked through the trashcan next to it. It had been emptied. And then I went through the drawers. They were empty. Where was the clutter? The stuff that showed a person had actually lived there for ten years?
“I’ll check the bedroom,” Rosemarie said.
I went into the tiny kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Basic stuff—milk, eggs, lunch meat. The freezer was much the same. A stack of TV dinners. I pulled them out and then noticed one of the middle ones wasn’t sealed all the way. I pulled back the wrapper and inside the TV dinner were two flash drives.
“Bingo,” I said. I put everything back inside the freezer and pocketed the flash drives. There was no telling what was on it.
I joined Rosemarie in the bedroom and she was going through his nightstand drawers.
“Can you believe it?” she asked. “Not even a dirty magazine. How does a man in the prime of his life go without sex for ten years? I’ve never seen him with a woman or even look like he was interested in anyone. And believe me, I looked. Because that man is hot. I wouldn’t have minded being a preacher’s wife. Just like Whitney Houston in that movie. I like a good church choir.”
“How would you have felt about being a murderer’s wife?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I was pretty desperate there for a while after my divorce. Anyone would’ve looked good after Roger.”
I looked under his mattress and beneath the bed. Rosemarie was right. There wasn’t anything even the least bit naughty. “Maybe when he became a preacher he really found God,” I said. “Maybe he’s on the up-and-up now and repented. I mean, he’s still going to go to jail, but at least he’s saved his soul.”
I heard a noise from the living room and I froze. Rosemarie’s eyes got big and round and her head swiveled back and forth, like she was trying to decide whether to hide in the closet or crawl under the bed. If it was someone we’d known, surely they would’ve called out instead of trying to be sneaky.
I put my finger up to my lips to signal her to be quiet and moved to the side of the door. The only weapon I could find was a small vase sitting on a secretary. I picked it up and held it over my head. Rosemarie made a little squeak and clapped her hand over her mouth.
My heart was racing a mile a minute and I was going on pure instinct. I brought my hands down just as someone walked through the door. Before I knew it, my wrist was numb and the vase had fallen to the floor.
Savage just stared at me and shook his head. “Aren’t you carrying a gun? That wouldn’t have been your first choice of weapon?”
“I forgot,” I said, completely humiliated. “Besides, it’s too hard to get to.”
“I’m sure the bad guys love that.”
“Except it’s just you,” I said.
“I can be bad,” he said, and then he winked.
“Good Lord,” Rosemarie said and fanned herself.
I rolled my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Crime scene team is here. Did you find anything?”
“Yeah, the door was open and we thought there might have been a break-in. So we came in to make sure Pastor Charles was okay.”
“That’s very neighborly of you,” Savage said.
“And while we were looking for his body, I stumbled across these,” I said, handing him the flash drives. “They were right in the middle of the floor in plain sight.”
“Careless of him to leave them laying around.”
We followed Savage back outside, and I noticed the parking lot of the church was full of official-looking vehicles.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Did Charles have any close friends? Anyone he met with on a regular basis?” Savage asked. “If he’s not dead, then he’s close by. Cardonas is playing with him. He’s got eyes on him, and the dead body is a message. He knew Charles would see the body.”
I called Beverly again.
“Is he dead? Did you find him? I’m worried sick. My phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
“We haven’t found him yet,” I said. “Did Pastor Charles have any close friends? Anyone he met with on a regular basis?”
“He was friendly with everyone, of course.” Then she paused. “Ohmigoodness. I’m using past tense like he’s already dead.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I lied.
“Well,” she continued. “He’d have Bible study with a group of men on Tuesday mornings at the café.”
“Do you know if he met with them this week?” I asked.
“No, he had to cancel. He canceled all his appointments for this week or passed them on to Pastor Becky. She’s been doing double duty. And she’s scheduled to preach on Sunday too. Pastor Charles said he had some personal matters to take care of this week. I didn’t pry.”
“Can you text me a list of the people he met with most often?” I asked. “Or whoever he was closest to?”
“Sure, I’ll do my best.”
She hung up and I relayed the conversation to Savage. “You said earlier that you had a theory,” I said. “What is it?”
“Oh,” he said. “It was a theory about you. Not the case.”
I looked at him quizzically. “What theory?”
“You sure you want to know?” he asked.
“Of course. Can’t wait to hear it.” Savage never got personal. I was expecting him to come up with some cockamamie reason Nick and I shouldn’t get married.
“Okay,” he said. “I think you’re pregnant.”
Chapter Eighteen
I was having an out-of-body experience. That’s the only way I could think to describe what I was feeling. If I’d been capable of speech, I would’ve denied Savage’s theory. As it was, I couldn’t make my mouth form words.
“Oh,” Rosemarie said, and then looked me up and down. “That makes sense. I knew she was acting more nuts than usual, but I figured it was the wedding.”
I shook my head no, but I was frozen. I couldn’t be pregnant. And then I started doing some math in my head.
“Think about it,” Savage said. “You cry at random times for no reason, your sense of smell is heightened and you’ve been nauseous. And I didn’t want to say anything, but your breasts are…” He made a gesture with his hands. “They seem bigger than normal.”
“They’re huge,” Rosemarie said. “They look like they could feed the whole town.”
“Ohmigod,” I said, looking down. They were right. Scarlet had jinxed me. I was going to have a seven-month baby. “What do I do?”
“Well, I wouldn’t tell Nick until after you say ‘I do’,” Rosemarie said. “Just in case history tries to repeat itself.”
“Maybe you should start with a pregnancy test,” Savage said. “Just to confirm.”
“I can’t buy a pregnancy test in Whiskey Bayou,” I hissed, looking around just in case there was anyone to overhear. “Everyone in town will know before I walk out the door with it.”
“I can’t do it either,” Rosemarie said. “Everyone knows I can’t have children. They’ll assume I’m buying it for Addison.”
“You have to do it,” I told Savage. It was the first and only time I’d ever seen him completely taken aback.
He had a deer-in-the-headlights look and took a step back. I grabbed his arm. “Please. I’ve got to know. I can’t wait.”
“And while you’re doing that, I can get some pie,” Rosemarie said. “This has been a stressful day. I don’t know if we’re ready for a baby. I’m looking at a career change.”
Savage blew out a breath. He was looking a little pale. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”
I was actually surprised he’d agreed. Now that this was happening, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the outcome.
“Park around the corner,” I said. “And then you head to the drugstore. Rosemarie and I will walk over to the cafe. After you go to the drugstore, walk back around the building like you’re going to your car and then cut across the alley to head back to the café. They’ll be watching to see which direction you go.”
“This is way too complicated,” he said.
“It’s Whiskey Bayou,” Rosemarie and I said in unison.
Savage headed toward his Tahoe, and Rosemarie and I walked down the street to the café. It was a silent trip. I think both of us were in shock.
When we walked into the café a roomful of people turned to look at us. It was the morning crowd, plus a few extras who were wanting to know what was happening over at the church.
I was greeted with looks of horror as people took in my black eyes, and then a lot of enthusiastic hellos and mentions of the wedding. Nothing could dampen the potential for an open bar. Everyone was looking forward to the party. It looked like there would be a party whether there was a wedding or not. Now that we were without a location, things were looking grim again.
“We’ll figure out something,” Rosemarie said, reading my mind. “Even if we have to do the ceremony outdoors. We’ll just bundle up good. All that matters is that you’re married. One way or another. Especially now,” she said out of the side of her mouth and pointed to my stomach.
There was a corner booth available back by the restrooms, so we took a seat and waited for someone to come by and take our order. Two waitresses were bustling about, trying to keep up with refills and getting orders filled. Jolene came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of food and delivered it to a table not far from us. When she was done she headed in our direction.
“Good grief,” she said. “What happened to your face?”
“Had a runner,” I said. “Just part of the job.”
“Huh,” she said. “Never happened to Magnum P.I. Going to look like the Corpse Bride come tomorrow night. Hope you got a thick veil.”
“She’s got drag queen makeup,” Rosemarie said. “It’s like putting Kilz all over your face. Nothing shows through.”
“Good to know,” she said. “We’re busier than usual this morning. Heard there was a body found over at the church. When I realized you and that sexy FBI hunk were in town I figured you’d know the details. Where is he?”
“Doing FBI stuff,” I said. “We don’t know much right now. All I can tell you is it’s not Pastor Charles or anyone else local.”
Her lips pinched tight and she turned our coffee mugs over, filling them up with the pot she carried. I turned a third one over and had her fill that one for Savage.
“Well, that’s good news at least,” she said.
“Has anyone seen Pastor Charles?” I asked.
