Generous Death by Pickard

Author:Pickard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 1987-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

It was like Friday night at the theater, only this time there were three of us in the Jaguar and the flock of police cars was congregated at the church. As soon as Geof had learned that Minnie had been summoned to the chapel, he had phoned police headquarters to request assistance, pronto.

I introduced Geof and Michael on the way over, it was obvious from the expressions on their faces that the introduction raised more questions than it answered for them. Hunched in the vestigial back seat of the Jag, I felt tense and frightened; I wondered what had happened to the firm control I’d had over my life only a week ago. The rhyme still lay on the dashboard; there hadn’t been time to read it. The thought of it there did not settle my nerves.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Michael said when we commandeered him and his car, “but when a cop gives me permission to speed, I’m not going to miss my chance.”

He took full advantage of that opportunity, skidding around icy corners and sliding past slower cars as if someone’s life depended on it. As, of course, it might.

“Stay here, both of you.” Geof unfolded himself from the sports car. Then he was gone, racing up the front walk to the church before we could protest.

“I’m getting out,” I said, and did.

“So am I,” Michael said. “What the hell’s going on?”

We hustled up the walk and I told him as much as I thought I should. Geof saw us approach and threw us an irritated look, We heard a uniformed policeman say, “We found a back door open, but there’s nobody inside. No body, either.”

“Positive?” Geof looked as if he didn’t believe it.

“Yeah. This church is so small, it only took us a minute to search it.”

I should have felt relieved. Instead, tension continued to build inside me until I thought I’d burst with the gassy uncomfortableness of it. Geof’s next question didn’t help.

“Jennifer,” he said sharply, all business. “What is it in particular that Mrs. Mimbs loves about this church? Any special room or activity?”

“I don’t know …” I tried fiercely to recall things she had said in the past about her affection for the place.

“Think, Jenny!” Michael’s eyebrows shot up at the peremptory, familiar tone in Geof’s voice.

I stared at the house of God as if He might suddenly step out the front door and provide the answer. Failing that, perhaps the solution might appear on the bulletin board, that announced next Sunday’s sermon. Port Frederick ministers cannot resist seafaring metaphors of the Bible and evidently the young Episcopal priest was no exception. According to the bulletin board, next Sunday he would command his flock to be “Fishers of Men.”

My eyes lingered on the announcement.

“That’s it,” I said. “The sea. She loves this church because of its setting by the sea. She says she loves the sound of the waves on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.”

I don’t think Geof heard any more than my first four words.

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