The Last Sinner by Lisa Jackson

Author:Lisa Jackson [Jackson, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

The double doors to Our Lady of the Grove Church were open when Bentz pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. A thicket of live oaks surrounded the little church, while its spire needled high into the heavens where the sky was morning blue, broken only by the remains of a jet trail beginning to disintegrate. The gravel lot was nearly empty, but he spied an older Olds Alero parked near the raised porch.

Opal Guidry’s car.

It wasn’t alone. A dirty Dodge Ram pickup, once painted black but now sporting one white fender, sat at the far end of the lot near a gate to a small cemetery wedged between the back of the church and a park. The truck was old, the tailgate dented, the body muddy despite the ancient mud flaps behind the back tires.

Bentz killed the engine of his Jeep, grabbed his iPad, and crossed the space to the porch, his footsteps quick against the concrete steps. Inside, he paused, crossed himself from habit, and strode into the nave.

A small birdlike woman in a housedress was standing a few rows back from the altar, above which a huge cross was suspended. Her back was to him as she polished the back of the pew in front of her, and as she did the smell of pine wafted to him.

“Mrs. Guidry,” he said, and she started, whipping around to peer at him with wide, owlish eyes covered by thick glasses, one hand flattened to her chest. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well, you did.”

“Sorry. I’m Detective Bentz,” he introduced himself, showing his ID. “We spoke earlier on the phone.”

“Oh! Yes, yes.” The hand over her heart fell away as she let out breath. “I didn’t hear you. Of course. But, please, call me Opal.” A tiny cross dangled from a fine gold chain and glittered in the hollow of her throat, and her teased white hair didn’t quite hide the hearing aid tucked into her ear.

She dropped the oily rag she’d been using into a nearby bucket. “You’re here about the car. I mean my license plates,” she guessed. “My stolen plates.” Her lips pursed into a knot of disapproval. “Who would steal them? I mean why? And here? Right out of the church’s parking lot! At the Lord’s house.” She made tsking sounds with her tongue.

Bentz asked, “You know they were taken while you were here?”

“No. Well, not for certain, I suppose, but it’s the only place where I leave my car unattended for any length of time and sometimes I’m here at night.” Her eyebrows raised over the rims of her glasses. “Still, why would anyone do such a thing?” More tsking. “The world today.” With a sigh, she ran her gloved fingers over the top of a hymnal in the book rack fastened to the back of the pew. “Let’s talk outside,” she said, glancing at the altar. “Not here. Not in the Father’s house.” Before he could respond she was yanking off her rubber gloves,

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