Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (8 page)

“I suggest that you quote the minutes on some of these less embarrassing cases and just allude to the others."

“That's what I'll have to do,” she said and then grinned. “But I hate to leave out the juicy stuff."

He laughed. “I don't see why you have to leave anything out. The requirement to quote only from the minutes is self-imposed. For the juicy stuff, why don't you simply tell the stories like you just told me?"

She nodded. “That would be one way around my dilemma."

“What kinds of punishment, other than exclusion, did the church use to discipline those who strayed from the straight and narrow?"

“Oh, sometimes they made demands of the condemned, as in the case of the alcoholic, and sometimes they would resort to knee-jerk discipline as in the case of the suicide. Occasionally they would require that thieves make restitution, but as in the case of the woman with the wandering eye, the discipline normally was exclusion from fellowship. I still haven't figured out exactly what all that entailed, but apparently it was a mark of disgrace. Eventually the sinners would go before the church, ask for forgiveness and restoration of fellowship. It was always granted."

“Nobody was put in stocks or publicly flogged?"

“Nope."

“Shucks."

Leora laughed. “Nobody was burned at the stake either."

“Did the church have any black members back then?"

“Nothing is said about it in the minutes, but the membership roles have ‘Negro’ written beside numerous names, so I assume blacks were participants in the early days."

“Still are,” Borders said. “That's at least one thing the church does right."

“Borders, you were gone a long time yesterday afternoon. Where were you?"

“I thought you'd be pleased with my absence."

“I was, but I'm curious too."

“I was in Charlotte talking junk with the guys. I still have it in my blood, you know."

“Did anything come up I would be interested in?"

“I don't think so. For the most part we talked about the shooting."

“Have they made any progress?"

“Not really. They found the spot in the woods where they think the shooter fired, but there were no clues—no footprints or shell casings. Both bullets went clean thorough Bobby's body. One they can't find and the other flattened out against the brick foundation of his house and is of no use for a ballistics test. The only suspect is Eddie Crow, the new guy working for George Bennett. A deputy questioned Crow on the day of the shooting and found he had a recently fired high powered rifle in his truck, but Crow had an excuse and there's no evidence linking either Crow or the rifle to the shooting."

“Maybe it's time you become actively involved in the investigation. I don't like the idea of someone lurking in the woods taking potshots at us."

Borders chuckled. “My buddies made a point of reminding me that I am retired and should stay out of it."

“Oh,” Leora said as they came in sight of the Dot Baptist Church. “Look at all the gorgeous flowers in the cemetery."

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “and look at all the cars in the parking lot. It's going to be a long day. You can count on it."

“You look real nice this morning Mom,” Billy Frank said as he helped Dottie into the cab of his wrecker."

“That's a beautiful hat, Dottie,” Billy's wife, Tracy, commented as she squeezed over to make room for Billy to get in the driver's seat.

“Nobody wears hats anymore. I wish I hadn't let the two of you talk me into going this morning,” Dottie groused.

“Mom,” Billy admonished. “It's Easter."

“Why do you insist on driving the wrecker to church?” Dottie asked irritably. “It's embarrassing."

Billy laughed. “Because it's good advertising. Everybody in Dot will be at church today and they can't miss seeing the wrecker."

“Stop,” Dottie said. “Turn around."

“What?"

“I've changed my mind. I'm not going."

Billy ignored her. “Mom, you know you want to go to church on Easter. All your friends will be there."

“We'll see how many friends I have tomorrow. Can you believe that bastard is offering a free meal to everybody?"

“Mom—such language,” Billy joked. “It's going to cost Mr. Bennett a fortune, but you must admit, it's a sure way to get people to try his food."

“That damn sanctimonious fool will be sitting in the fourth pew on the left, bowing his shaggy mane during the prayers, drowning out everybody else singing the hymns, and nodding his twofaced head in agreement with everything Mack says during the sermon."

Billy reached behind his wife and squeezed his mother's shoulder affectionately. “Yes,” he agreed, “but he'll be sitting alone while you are with people who love you."

Stretching the shoulder strap to its limit George opened the passenger door from the inside. “I warmed the car up for you,” he said as Maggie slid in, “but don't you think you need a jacket?"

“I'm fine,” she said with the heart-stopping smile on her lips. “It'll warm up soon and a jacket would just be in the way."

He watched her latch the shoulder strap and admired the shape of her breasts as the belt tightened between them. “I appreciate you going to church with me, Maggie. I feel a bit out of place when I go alone. I should have bought you a corsage."

“The pleasure is mine, kind sir, and I look foolish wearing flowers” she replied jovially. “I don't talk about it much, George, but I rarely miss a Sunday in church, and certainly not Easter Sunday."

He put the car in gear and headed down the circular driveway. “Here I go again, sounding like a dirty old man, but Maggie, you are such a lovely creature. Why do you usually dress so sloppily?"

“To keep the guys from hitting on me,” she replied without hesitation. “It usually works, too. For instance, when you first met me you said something to the effect that I have small breasts. Men like big ‘uns,” she laughed. “I keep mine strapped down so they won't get in my way and don't attract unwanted attention."

She noticed the tint to George's cheeks and gently placed her hand on his knee. “I didn't mean anything by that,” she said lamely.

“I ... I shouldn't have commented on your anatomy at all. I apologize."

“George,” she said rubbing his knee with the palm of her hand, “lighten up. I like you. You're a great guy."

“You're a great gal, too, Maggie. I feel like my whole life has changed for the better these past few days."

“Me too,” she said as she let her head fall back on the headrest. “Your home is like a palace to me, George. Letting me have the run of the place is like a dream come true."

He glanced in her direction and saw her eyes close and a dreamy expression emerge on her face. Her lips seemed to glow. Perhaps she was wearing some type of lip-gloss.

“One of the things I am going to do in church this morning is to thank God for you,” she said with her eyes still closed. “The other is join the church. Are you a member, George?"

“Well, I go nearly every Sunday and give them a little money, but I've never formally joined."

“I believe in being a church member,” she said, “and since Dot has only one church, my choice is easy."

He laughed. “You know,” he said. “You are setting a good example for an old man. I think I'll join this morning too."

“Does the church have a good choir, George?"

“It's small, but I think they do a good job. They have a wonderful little pipe organ one of the members donated, but the teenager who plays it is not the greatest organist I ever heard. Why do you ask?"

“I sang in the glee club in high school and the only thing I truly enjoyed at Clemson was the glee club. I was thinking I might want to join the choir. You have a sweet baritone voice, George. Do you sing?"

He nodded. “Used to. I've been thinking of joining the choir too, but I hate to go alone."

“Now you don't have to,” she sighed and she moved her hand to his thigh.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. “You're excited about tomorrow, aren't you?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded. “The Grande Opening."

“The place will be packed."

“I certainly hope so."

“I should think giving away meals will guarantee it."

“That's the idea. I just feel a little bad about Dottie."

“Dottie?"

“Dottie Frank. She owns the Dot Diner."

“So?"

“The Korner Kafe will drive her out of business."

“You think so?"

“I know so. I will do whatever it takes. This town just won't support two restaurants. I offered to buy her out but she got snooty on me. She thinks her customers are friends who won't desert her, but money talks. I tried to warn her."

“Is that why you set our menu prices so low—to drive her out of business?"

He nodded.

“That doesn't sound like you."

“I tried to do the right thing. When her business is on the ropes, I'll make the offer again. She'll come around."

“Something in the sound of your voice makes me think this Dottie woman is more to you than just a competitor."

“Maybe she is. I'm old, but I'm not dead yet.” He grinned. “Dottie's about my age, a widow, and a very handsome woman."

“Oh,” Maggie said as she removed her hand from his thigh.

George pulled into the parking lot and sighed. “There's nothing to do but park under the basketball goal,” he said.

“I hardly think anyone will be playing basketball this morning,” she replied frostily as she released her shoulder strap.

“Wait a minute, Maggie,” he said as he put the lever in park. “I ... I want to ask you something. You don't have to answer right now, but I want you to be thinking about it—praying about it maybe."

She turned to him. “What is it?"

“I don't want you working the graveyard shift. You're so damned attractive, even when you are wearing brogans and sloppy clothes. Who knows what kind of people roam through Dot at three in the morning?"

“I can handle myself, George. We've already been over this bridge."

“Maybe you can and maybe you can't. I don't want you hurt, Maggie. I don't want you raped."

“Are you firing me?"

“Oh, mercy no,” he said. “I ... I really like you, Maggie, and during these past few days I've come to highly respect you for the many talents you have. You're a beautiful lady, both inside and out. I want you to manage the place with me."

“You want me to be a manager?"

He nodded as he smiled.

“You want me to work closely with you like you and your wife used to do?"

He nodded vigorously.

“Sounds to me like a position you should offer Dottie Frank,” she said and she made a hasty exit from the car.

He caught up with her on the front steps of the church. “What kind of answer was that?"

“If you want someone to play the role of your wife it should be someone you love."

“I don't love Dottie Frank."

“Oh?” She pretended to pull away from him, but allowed him to restrain her. “Then what are your feelings for her?"

“Don't make me do this,” he said.

She just looked at him.

He glanced from side to side to make sure no one could hear. Softly he said, “A man has needs. I would like to have sex with her. I know I shouldn't say things like that but damn it, you asked."

“Do you love me, George? Is that why you want me to play the role of your wife?"

“I ... I..."

“Do you want to screw me, George? Is that why you're being so nice to me?” This time she pulled her arm from his grip and mounted the granite stairs.

Mary Lou McGee slipped through her husband's study door. She admired the dark haired man as he sat at his desk, poring over his sermon notes. When he looked up she said, “The sanctuary is packed.” She crossed the room to his side and kissed him on the cheek. “They're bringing in chairs from the Sunday School rooms. I just wanted to wish you good luck.” She kissed him again and turned to leave.

“Mary Lou,” he said as he stood up.

She stopped and turned. He folded her in his arms so tightly she found it difficult to breathe.

“This is Easter Sunday—the high point of the Christian year. A time to celebrate and rejoice in Christ's victory over death and our hope for eternal life."

“Yes,” she wheezed while wedging her hands against his chest.

“The graves in the cemetery are covered with beautiful flowers. Roses adorn the altar. Every person here today is wearing his very best clothing. Many of the ladies will be wearing new hats, purchased just for this occasion. Dogwoods have opened their empty-cross blossoms. All are expressions of joy and hope."

“What's wrong, Mack?” she asked as she pushed him away and stared into his tear-filled eyes.

“I just received a call from Charlotte Memorial. They were trying to reach you. As you know, Bobby Elliott beat the gunshot wounds, but he just died of pneumonia."

Mack shook the hand of the final departing church member and hurried back to his study. Instantly Mary Lou was in his arms, covering his face with kisses. “You did a beautiful job, my husband. The way you tied Bobby's death to the hope we have in the resurrection was perfect. People all around me were weeping and I was a bit teary-eyed myself."

He held her tightly for a long moment before he spoke. “I need to find Adele and do what I can to comfort her. Those fundamentalist preachers have it all over me at times like this."

“What do you mean?"

“They simply pass off a tragedy as being God's will."

“The God you and I know would never will a sniper to kill a good man like Bobby Elliott."

“I know, but one who is grieving, like I know Bobby's wife is, craves answers—needs to believe that there was some reason, some purpose in the tragedy—that some good may come of it. I don't have such words of comfort to offer."

“Just knowing that you care is a great comfort, Mack."

“Adele is at the hospital?"

“No. As soon as the service was over, I came back here and called Charlotte Memorial. She just left. They think she is on her way home."

“Then I need to be there to meet her."