Blue Blood by Richard Poche

Author:Richard Poche [Poche, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-12T22:00:00+00:00

Detective Guinness stormed through the empty church. He hated church as a boy but liked any building that had no people in it. The church during off hours would be a welcome sanctuary if only for Pastor Paul Pressley.

Walking past the bulletin board, he saw the church secretary approach up ahead. A short and heavy-set woman in her early sixties, he never quite figured out her connection to Pressley, whether she was a congregant or a relative. She had a cell phone in the crook of her neck and laughed like a hysterical hyena. She looked up and her smile immediately faded upon seeing Guinness headed toward her.

“He’s in the back garden,” she said. Her face and neck were crimson as if she had just undergone some type of heavy exertion. “And potluck this Sunday if you’re interested. Plenty of food.”

“Thank you.”

Reaching the rear exit of the church, Guinness saw Pastor Paul smoking a cigarette, staring up at the sky. The detective noticed that the sad-faced preacher looked right at home among the stone angels and dying bushes in the garden.

Stepping out in the foyer, he could smell the jasmine in the air. The pastor had it good here. He had place to get comfortable and relax.

A place to hide.

“Been a long time since I had one of these,” Paul took another long inhale from the cigarette. “This taste so fucking good. I don't think I've had one since my Army days.”

Guinness watched as the pastor took out the box of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to him.

“I never have,” Guinness said. “And never will.”

“Never say never,” Paul yawned before taking another inhale. “Forty years of studying the Word and that's about the only wisdom I have. How about you? Do you have any wisdom for the day?”

“If you don't want bad habits don't start one.”

“Nice,” Paul took another inhale and threw the cigarette down, smashing it with the heel of his foot. “But I've renewed a lot of bad habits lately. I forgot how much fucking fun they were.”

“Like swearing?”

“Shee-iit,” the pastor laughed and waved for Guinness to follow him as he started to walk. After a few yards, they reached a bush that stood to the side of a life-size statue of Jesus.

Reaching into the bush, the pastor pulled out a brown paper bag. Inside, he revealed a small bottle of Jack Daniels.

He held it up to the statue as if to salute it then took a long sip.

“Wooo!” the pastor offered the bottle to Guinness. The wind rose up and leaves rustled across the ground as if God himself expressed his disapproval.

The detective just shook his head in disgust.

“Teetotaler,” the pastor squealed before letting out a long, drawn out burp and punching his chest. “I used to be like you. I guess maybe that's why I get you.”

“How so?”

“You're the type of man that thinks he has to be clean in order to catch the dirty people.”

Guinness didn't respond. He shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly.

“The girl used to come her for services,” Paul said.

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