Interior Motives (13 page)

“I love you too,” she murmured.

Then we both joined the congregation’s song of praise. Little by little my nerves began to uncoil. I sat back to wait for Dad’s sermon. And I waited. As did the congregation. The seconds morphed into minutes, and I tensed up again. If Bella had been worried by my lateness, I could just imagine what Dad’s would do to her.

Finally he came across the chancel to the pulpit, his gait uneven, a hand at his waist. Had he fallen and hurt himself? What had he been doing while I fought my battle with the bedsheets?

Guilt struck, even though I knew accidents happen all the time. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, asked forgiveness, and prayed for Dad.

He started his sermon and before long stepped out from behind the pulpit. He never can stay put while he delivers the message and always walks back and forth before the altar table.

But no sooner did he take three steps than he backed up, his hand again at his waist. At the pulpit, he stared down where he always puts his notes, but he didn’t continue with the message. His frown deepened. He seemed to struggle, to try to find the right words.

What was wrong?

Had he left his notes at home?

He rarely relies on them. I can’t remember the last time he needed a prompt, but he always brings them just in case. Today I couldn’t figure out what was going on. And it worried me.

I prayed harder.

Dad spoke again but didn’t quite pick up where he’d left off, and he hesitated every so many phrases. It didn’t go unnoticed in the pews. A few people traded glances. Some shrugged. Others seemed oblivious. One older gentleman, who shall remain nameless, let out a snore.

Then Dad began to pace again. And again, after he took a couple of steps, he grabbed at his waist and hurried to the shelter of the pulpit. It took him a bit longer to fumble his way back into his sermon. My concern continued to grow.

I prayed even more.

I watched the same pattern repeat itself over and over until he wrapped it all up. He gave the final blessing, nodded to the choir, and grabbed the sides of the pulpit instead of coming down the aisle to stand and greet the worshipers at the church’s front door—what he always does.

When I went to leave the pew, Bella caught my hand.

“Wait,” she whispered. “Let them go. You don’t want to scare anyone any more than they already are.”

Nothing much got past Bella. “You’re right. Dad wouldn’t want me to make a fuss.” I stared at my father, but he didn’t move a muscle. “What do you think is going on?”

“Beats me, Haley girl. But we’re going to figure it out as soon as this place empties.”

Most of the congregants left, their plans for the afternoon set. A few, mostly church board members, lingered at the door. Bella elbowed me, then jerked her head in their direction.

I smiled, nodded, and waved. After a couple more nods and waves, they left too. That’s when Bella and I rushed forward.

“Dad!”

“Hale, what’s up? What’d you think you were doing up here?”

Our questions seemed to startle Dad. He narrowed his gaze, glanced down at the pulpit, shook his head, then turned to me. “Haley?”

“Yes, Dad. Of course, it’s me. What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?”

He patted himself, his chest, his front pockets, the back ones as well, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I can’t remember . . .” He grabbed for his waist again. “Haley? Where’s my belt?”

“Do you mean to tell me you aren’t wearing one? That’s what all the weird stuff up here was about? Your pants falling down?”

“That’s it. But I know I took the belt off the hook on the closet door. I thought I put it on . . .”

A quick check under his jacket showed me empty belt loops on his pants. “What about your notes? It seemed to me you didn’t have them.”

Bella weighed in. “I figure he forgot the belt, forgot the notes, and almost lost his pants. What a morning, Pastor Hale!”

She got a smile out of him. I let out my breath.

Then he said, “I don’t have my notes. I know I wrote them, but . . . I don’t have them now.”

The absentmindedness was growing worse by the day. “Okay, Dad. Let’s go home and find your stuff.”

When we got to the manse, the belt and the notes were spread out on his bed, where he’d probably put them when he started to dress.

Maybe it was time for a checkup. I had to make sure to set up an appointment for him with Dr. Cowan. I’d call first thing Monday morning.

Today, however, I too had plans. I was going to the Weik-ert home. I had questions for Jacob.

I prayed he’d be lucid enough to understand.

I got to the Weikerts’ at the same time Cissy did. “Hi there!”

“Haley! I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“After our conversation yesterday, I knew I had to do something. I’ve thought from the start that there’s more to Darlene’s death than her disease. I just have to find a way to prove it.”

“Prove it? Isn’t that a job for the police?”

“It should be.” I spread my arms and turned 360 degrees. “What do you see them doing?”

She made a face. “There’s just the two of us here.”

“And Jacob inside.”

“There’s the new nurse Tommy and Larry hired. They didn’t want me near Jacob. They had the gall to say I would kill him to get my hands on the rest of Darlene’s money.” I turned to the house. I didn’t want her to see me blush. I’d thought so too. But now I was pretty sure Jacob had always been safe in Cissy’s care. I didn’t know if I could say the same about the new nurse.

“It can’t hurt to visit Jacob, can it?”

“What a splendid idea! We really should see how my replacement is doing.”

A burly middle-aged man opened the door when we rang. “Yes?”

“Hi!” I nearly choked at my perkiness. “We’re friends of the family and stopped by to see how Jacob is today.”

The man’s heavy brow furrowed. “He’s the same as always. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant. We’d like to visit awhile.” “He’s not well enough for that. He’s too confused.”

“We know.” Cissy extended her right hand. “I’m Cecelia Sparks, longtime friend. And you’re . . . ?”

Sparks? What was that about?

He shook her hand. “Dave Williams, Jacob’s new nurse. I just started this week.”

Cissy smiled. “I’m so glad to see he has someone to lean on. His disease is so devastating.”

They discussed the horrors of Alzheimer’s for a few minutes, then Cissy brought the conversation back to Jacob and our hoped-for visit.

“We care for him,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. “That doesn’t change just because he’s sick. And we won’t stay long. Just enough to say hello, maybe play a game of checkers or two. He loves checkers.”

We must not have looked like mass murderers or terrorists, and the Brothers Brat must not have provided Dave with a picture of their dreaded Cissy, because he led us inside. Jacob sat in the faded parlor, the antique French bergère chair dwarfed by his bulk.

“Jacob!” Cissy said, her voice cheerful and a touch loud. “How are you?”

He turned toward us, a vacant look on his face.

She pulled a matching chair to his side, sat, and leaned close. “It’s Cissy. Want to play checkers?”

“Checkers?”

“Oh my, yes! You love checkers.”

“I do?”

“Mm-hmm. You always beat me too.”

A trace of a smile curved his lips. “And Dari?”

Cissy breathed in hard. “Oh dear. No, Dari won’t be playing with us today. But this is my friend Haley. She wants to play. Will you let her join us?”

“Haley?”

That was my cue. “Hi, Jacob. We met before. On your beautiful front porch.”

“Teddie?”

Cissy smiled. “Good, Jacob! You remembered Tedd. Haley knows her too. Now let’s play.”

Cissy pulled out a checkerboard and wooden pieces from the bottom drawer of a chest by the window. She spread the game out on the coffee table, and we started to play. Jacob moved pieces at Cissy’s direction but didn’t remember what he’d done only seconds later.

Every so often he looked up at me. “Dari?”

Cissy answered that his wife wasn’t home, that I’d come to see him. And we played on. Finally, when my heart was about to break at the sight of a grown man trapped in his still vigorous body by his ravaged mind, I turned to Cissy.

“We have to find out what happened. We owe it to Darlene and to him.”

“What should we do?”

“We have to revisit that autopsy. We have to ask for a toxicology screen.”

“Can we do it?”

“I think so.”

“How do we go about it?”

I prayed my trust wasn’t misplaced. “You are the executrix of the estate, right?”

She nodded.

“And in spite of what the sons did—replace you with Dave—you’re Jacob’s legal guardian, aren’t you?”

“I am. I don’t know why Darlene did things the way she did, but I know she trusted me with Jacob. She knew I’d never waste her money and that I’d take good care of him when she wasn’t with us anymore.”

“Then the best thing to do is approach this from the angle of protection for Jacob. If someone killed Darlene for her money, then he could be next.”

I held my breath. Her response would say a lot.

She passed my test. The color leached from her face. “Oh, Haley. We have to hurry. We can’t let anyone hurt him. Poor man. It’s bad enough that the disease has done this to him and that Darlene’s gone now, but for someone to kill him? For money?”

Her fingers trembled when I clasped them. Either she was innocent or the Sissy Spaceks and Nicole Kidmans of Hollywood had a lot to fear when Oscar time rolled around again.

“We have to do this for your sake too. You’re in the way of anyone with an eye on the money.”

She
hmphed
. “As long as the kids don’t squander the money while their father needs it, I couldn’t care less. Whoever wants it can have it. I’ll give up my claim—but not before I take care of Jacob to the end.”

Her fierceness came as a surprise, especially in contrast with her small frame, her bland face, her quiet voice. She angered big.

“I don’t want you killed either,” I said. “So we have to get that tox screen. We can’t let up until we get what we need.”

Cissy stood and held herself tall. “Count me in. Just tell me what I have to do.”

“It won’t be easy,” I warned. “We have to convince a hardheaded homicide detective that there’s more here than she thinks. We’re going to have to spar with a pro.”

I headed for the front door. “Dave? We’re on our way. Thanks for the time you gave us with Jacob.”

The big man came out from the rear of the house. “It’s good for him to see people. And I haven’t seen Tom or Larry since they hired me. When do you think you can come back?”

Cissy made arrangements to return in a few days, and then we left. Once we stood on the sidewalk, I turned to my companion and said, “Sparks, Cissy? Where’d you come up with that name?”

“It’s my maiden name. I doubt Tommy or Larry know it. But I do know they’d object if Dave told them I’d been by.”

“Let them wonder. We had to do it, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did. And sometimes, Cissy, you just have to follow your gut. This is one of those times. And it’s also time to go. There’s a detective at the Wilmont PD we have to bring on board.”

I prayed Lila would listen—listen and agree.

We would need more than just my own prayers on this one. You never know what it will take to sway Lila. I took a chance and put Bella on the job. She started up the Wilmont River Church’s prayer chain.

Cissy and I drove straight to the cop shop.

Bella would meet us, bring up the rear. My prayer request had incited questions, and those questions aroused our favorite pet detective’s curiosity. Just try to keep Bella away. Try it.

Prayer? Yeah, we needed prayer. Lots.

9

You never can tell with Lila. This time she just about shocked the socks off me—not that I wear socks with my Birks.

“I figured you’d get around to this sooner or later,” she said once Cissy and I had laid out what we knew. “We can’t refuse the family’s request, or in this case, that of the executrix of the estate. If Mrs. Grover signs the necessary documents, a forensic pathologist will run a toxicology screen on the remains.”

I’d come loaded for proverbial bear; I’d found an educated kitty cat instead. But I’d gotten what I wanted. And we would soon have the answers we needed.

Waiting wouldn’t be easy, not for someone who lacks all patience. But I didn’t have a choice. The tests would take a few days.

And I did have to work on Tedd’s office. Not to mention the tons of paperwork stacked on my desk at the auction house. It was there, at my office in the warehouse, on Wednesday, that I got Bella’s phone call.

“Haley? I got a problem.”

“Only one?”

“This is no joke. I need your help.”

She sounded serious, but in the background I could hear the familiar and fearsome wails and snarls of her two cats. “How much trouble are you and the beasts in?”

“Depends on what you call trouble.”

What were the chances that whatever had Bella in an uproar wouldn’t strike me as trouble? “Give it a whirl and tell me what’s up. I’ll tell you if I call it trouble.”

“My car broke down.”

“Call AAA.”

Dead silence. Except the cats.

Bella has a special talent; I can always count on her to test my lousy excuse for patience. “Did you hear me? Why’d you call me instead of the auto club?”

“Um . . . they won’t come to where I am.”

“What? They’re everywhere. They even offer some international services. What do you mean, they won’t come to where you are?” A horrible possibility hit me then. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the country.”

“Well . . . it’s like this. I . . . ah . . . took a little trip and wound up all turned around. Now my car’s broke down, and they don’t have a local auto club all that close to here.”

“Bella, where are you?”

A fantastically loud howl made me strain to hear her response. I thought she said something about a desert. But that made no sense. Even if it was Bella on the phone.