The Hypocrite: A Celestial Murder Mystery by Ron Winter

Author:Ron Winter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spectre Communications
Published: 2020-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Big Fish—Small Pond

The town hall was located—conveniently and appropriately—between Old Main Street and Church Street about a mile from the parcel where the elders hoped to construct their church.

Meetings of the zoning commission and related agencies normally would not draw much of a crowd and were held in one of several small meeting rooms elsewhere in the building designed especially for that purpose. But, tonight’s meeting was in the chambers reserved for council meetings and larger gatherings. City officials wisely decided to use the council chambers, as a large crowd, composed primarily of church members and supporters, was gathering.

Bruce and Julia McAllister entered the room from the main entrance at the rear and were unnoticed as they found seats close to the door in the public seating section. McAllister recognized several elders from The Church of the Lord seated in the front row with family members.

Moran Smythe was in front of the first row of seats, standing with his back to the general public, but speaking in an animated fashion to several other church members and some members of the Rocky Hill government. McAllister recognized some of the city officials because of the campaign flyers they had sent to Smythe’s office before the last election—which were still in the reception area.

Smythe’s voice could be heard, but McAllister could make out only brief snippets of the conversation—words such as “misunderstanding,” and “clear the air,” and “cooperation.”

But it wasn’t Smythe and his center-stage-grabbing antics that caught McAllister’s attention. Rather, it was the look Smythe was getting from Derrick Simpson who was standing off to the side and slightly behind Smythe. While Smythe directed his attention to the town officials, Simpson was directing his attention to Smythe and his face was the same square-jawed, serious visage that McAllister remembered from their first encounter in the Center Cemetery back in July.

Julia was not familiar with any of the main players on the stage except by name and she occasionally leaned close to McAllister’s ear, asking “Who is that?” as one or the other took the lead in the conversation at the front of the room. McAllister filled her in as best he could, identifying them by name and position.

He was turned toward Julia at one such point, just before the start of the meeting, when the door behind them opened noisily and in strode Lemming, her bright red hair sticking straight up from her head after she pulled off her cap without bothering to smooth it down. She appeared to have a halo of fire shooting out of her skull as she purposely headed toward the front of the room, looking neither left nor right, stopping at the second row of seats, directly behind the row where the elders were sitting. This night she also had added a swatch of bright red, garish-looking lipstick that went far outside the boundaries of her mouth. McAllister wondered if she had deliberately made herself up to look like a clown.

The second row on the right side

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