[Reverend Alma Lee Mysteries 01] • All Things by Belldene Amber

Author:Belldene, Amber [Belldene, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780997221169
Goodreads: 41883645
Publisher: Amber Belldene
Published: 2018-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Halfway to the apartment Naomi shared with her brother, I realized my mistake. What could I say? Your brother did it, and the cops know. That would not go well. Better to wait it out, let her come to me for comfort instead. I headed to my office to do the work that paid my bills.

Five days after the murder, every time I approached the church behind which I lived, I still had to avert my gaze from the stoop where I’d found Cindy. Hopefully, when the case was solved, I’d be able to make eye contact with the doorway again.

Kayla hopped up and waved a pile of yellow message slips at me. She was twenty-two and more tech savvy than half of Google’s employees, but she preferred to use the carbon copy forms, torn out of a spiral notebook. I think she believed the stacks would convince me to spend more time at my desk, or somehow propel me toward a come-to-Jesus moment about my lack of organization.

She refused to understand my preference for disorder was a spiritual choice. It left me open to hear God’s call out of the chaos.

“Al has been trying to reach you all day. He says it's urgent.”

Maybe he’d taken Jenny Wong’s advice and decided it couldn’t wait until lunch on Thursday. Was today the day to read aloud his litany of complaints against me? I did not feel the Holy Spirit tugging me to respond, so I put his message on the bottom of the pile.

“And someone called from Good Sam. Your healthcare for the homeless task force met this morning and you no-showed without telling anyone.”

Crap. I scrolled through the notifications on my phone. There it was—a reminder that I must have completely ignored while I was in the police station. I’d need to write some groveling emails to apologize for my truancy on a committee I’d urged the hospital to form.

I flipped through the stack of messages as I walked toward my office. Three down, Kayla had written-screamed, BISHOP’S OFFICE. PHONE IMMEDIATELY.

Why were they calling? Was this about my continuing education form? I’d filled it out, but had I sent it?

I glanced at my desk. Oh, hell…

Kayla had organized my scribbled notes, the articles I’d printed out, my church leadership books open face down on the desk. In neat piles, the whole seemed far less than the sum of its parts. I eyed the recycle bin. Had Kayla deemed some of my papers disposable?

If so, she’d been sneaky. The bin was empty.

I clenched my teeth and mentally chanted a mantra. Thou shalt not murder. Thou shalt not murder. Then I remembered her holding my hair back while I vomited, calling my mom and Cesar out of concern for me. My ballistic rage subsided, giving way to domestic-grade irritation.

Stacked up together, the pile of yellow message slips teetered precariously. Gently, I laid the new messages atop and picked up the phone to call the bishop.

“Jenny just emailed to say the newsletter copy is due in an hour,” Kayla shouted from her desk.

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