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He winced and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. “A couple of weeks after you went into the hospital. I’ve never actually met the man. He’s not one to be seen around town much, and it’s been a while since I’ve sat in a pew on Sunday mornings.”
“Well, I guess it’s nice to know I won’t have to spend an eternity in hell by myself. I’d hate to think I’d be stuck down there with the rest of my family.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, sugar. We’re the good guys. But I’m still not going to church. Every time I’ve tried to go to service it feels like Reverend Thomas is preaching on the sins of the body and lust, and how our duty is to settle down and procreate. And if we don’t, we’re damned to spend an eternity roasting in hellfire. I don’t mind the settling down part, but the procreation part makes me break out in hives. I figure I’ve got some years of fun left before I start all of that. And I can get that same kind of abuse from my mother without having to wake up early and listen to Betty Schumaker butcher How Great Thou Art. Last time I was there she’d set it to rap music so it would be more current for the younger folks in the audience. I thought Reverend Thomas was going to have a heart attack. ”
“Shut up,” I said, laughing.
“I’m serious,” he said, a smile quirking his mouth. “That woman hasnotperfected her beat boxing techniques. I thought her false teeth were going to fly right out.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I said, slapping him on the arm. “Go back to your mother. She couldn’t possibly be abusing you in any way. That woman would commit murder for you, and she’d beat Reverend Thomas on the head with her handbag the whole time she was pulling you out of the fiery depths of hell.”
“Maybe,” he said, lips twitching. “But that’s easy for you to say. You haven’t had to listen to her talk about how nice it would be if she had grandkids before she gets too old to enjoy them.”
“That’s what you get for being an only child.”
“Which is exactly what I told her. She stopped talking about it once I started signing her up to get information from adoption agencies. Apparently, she doesn’t want to raise another child. She just wants to spoil mine and send them back home with me.”
“I always thought your mother was a smart woman.”
Jack grunted and we drove on in companionable silence. St. Paul’s was almost a hundred years old. It was a large, square box of freshly painted white wood with a sharp steeple and a bronze bell that was rung every blessed Sunday morning and could be heard all over town. I’d gotten used to sleeping with my head under my pillow so I wouldn’t be disturbed by the reminder that I could add sloth to my considerable list of other sins.
We pulled into the recently paved parking lot behind the church, the smell of fresh tar still heavy in the air, and Jack parked in the little graveled driveway beside the rectory. We got out of the car and headed to the front door of Reverend Thomas’s personal lodgings, but I heard the crunch on the gravel behind us and we both turned around to see who was there.
“Lorna,” I said on a gush of breath. I couldn’t decide if I was more annoyed at Lorna for sneaking up on us, or at myself for startling so easily.
Lorna Dewberry was a small sprite of a woman in her mid-forties, and she’d been the church secretary for almost twenty years. She held a basket of what looked like herbs hooked over her wrist, and a pair of shears and gardening gloves lay on top of them. If I ever bothered to do yard work, it looked like I spent half my time rolling in the mud, but Lorna looked fresh and spit-polished.
Her face was smooth with only a few fine lines around pale blue eyes, and she never bothered with makeup of any kind. She’d been overheard telling more than one person that makeup was the Devil’s tool. Her hair was a mousy brown that was always pulled back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and she was allergic to color of any kind. I’d never seen her in a dress that wasn’t brown or navy or black. Sometimes I liked to think she added color to her wardrobe by wearing red lacy underwear or the occasional thong, but it probably wasn’t normal to think about what people wore under their clothes, so I never mentioned it aloud.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” she said, gifting Jack with a simpering smile that had my hackles rising before I could control it. I forced myself to relax. I’d never been jealous of Jack’s hordes of women. There was no reason to start now, especially considering Lorna was the polar opposite of Jack’s type.
Lorna’s smile disappeared and a stern frown took its place when she turned that watery blue gaze to me.
“I didn’t realize you were back in town, J.J. We all thought you’d decided to go for good since trouble seems to follow you around. Sins of the father. Remember that. Repentance is the key, child. I’m sure I’ll see you at services Sunday morning.”
A snarl was trying to work its way out, and I was thankful at that moment that my voice chose to fail me. I’d been considered a bad omen of sorts ever since I moved back to Bloody Mary. When I’d been growing up, I’d always been known as that odd Graves child—the one whose parents liked being with the dead more than socializing with the living. The one whose grandmother had drunk herself to death and whose great-grandmother had been pushed from a third-story window. I came from bad stock, but I was fourth-generation so they tolerated me. Jack’s mother was the only one who’d really welcomed me into her home and treated me like one of her own.
Now I was known as that odd Graves woman, whose parents had killed themselves to avoid going to federal prison for running an international smuggling ring through their funeral home. After I’d gotten my head bashed in and my throat crushed this past December, I’d heard a lot of people say it was no more than I deserved, considering what I’d come from. No more than they’d expected. As if I was the one who needed to pay for my parents’ misdeeds. Them driving off a cliff into their own fiery hell hadn’t been punishment enough, apparently.
Jack took a step closer to me and put a protective hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even flinch this time. I wasn’t sure if it was to show his support or hold me back in case I decided to pop Lorna in her prissy mouth, but it made me feel better all the same. Especially since Lorna didn’t particularly care for the fact that Jack and I had always been close.
“We’re here to see Reverend Thomas,” Jack said. “He’s expecting us.”
She nodded stiffly and switched her herb basket to the other hand so she could dig in her apron pocket for keys. “I’m supposed to show you into his office. One of the water heaters busted this morning, and the Reverend is talking to Leo Sklut. Ever since Leo put his name in the yellow pages under the plumbing section he thinks he can charge an arm and a leg for his services. The Lord will show him the way, or Leo will burn in a fiery hell with the rest of the sinners of this world.”
“It’s going to be crowded down there,” I muttered. Jack pinched my arm, but I could feel his silent laughter as we followed Lorna inside.
She led us through a plain entryway with dark wood floors and stark white walls. Small ornamental crosses hung on the walls to the left, and a large picture of the Virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus was painted on black velvet and framed in gold on the right. It smelled of Pine Sol and old people, and I had the sudden urge to turn around and go back outside so I could breathe the fresh air of the newly tarred parking lot.
“Please don’t touch anything,” Lorna said as she showed us into the Reverend’s office and pointed to the two straight-backed chairs in front of a scarred wooden desk. “The Reverend is very particular about his things. He said he’d only be a few minutes.”
She tried to back out the door, but Jack stopped her. “While we’re waiting, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Reverend Oglesby.”
Lorna’s eyes went hard and her mouth pinched, but she nodded and stepped back inside the room. “Very well. Though I won’t participate in vicious gossip. I know how these investigations go. You think you can horn in on people’s private lives and then all you cops sit around your box of donuts and judge the law-abiding citizens of this town. The Bible says,Judge not, lest you not be judged.Remember that, Sheriff, so you don’t end up on the path to hell with this one.”
“Ms. Dewberry,” Jack said with more patience than any one man should possess, “This will go much faster if you’d just let me ask a few routine questions.”
Her lips pinched together even tighter, if that was possible, and she nodded her head.
