“Grandpa, what are these?” I held the church ledgers that I’d been through line by line.
He traced the letters on the first cover. “You know what they are, Ladessa.”
“Why do you have them?” I didn’t enjoy grilling my grandfather, but Mary’s response made me want to clear the names of two innocent men, Grandpa and Mary’s husband.
“These are duplicates. The church has the originals—the updated originals,” Grandpa said.
“For the same period?”
Grandpa stared at the ocean and squinted at the glare of the evening sun reflecting off the water.
I tried again. “Most businesses keep all their records in one place.”
“Some errors cropped up. They were fixed,” Grandpa said softly.
“Did you fix them?”
“I helped. Mary’s husband, the associate minister, tried to be a good steward. We invested the capital campaign monies in a sure investment and lost the money. I put personal funds into the same venture, bet my house on it. Shows how confident I was.”
“So you both lost money?”
“Pastor Rollins and I scratched up enough cash to reimburse the church fund, but news leaked out about our bad decision. The church board requested that Rollins resign. Leaving the church broke his heart. I think it killed him. I don’t think Mary knows the whole story.”
I decided not to mention what Mary told me and brought up Noelle’s opinion. “Noelle blames Trent Sharp for discrediting her dad. Do you?” I asked.
“Sharp fed the town gossips news about the imprudent investment.”
“But wasn’t Sharp on the committee?”
“Yes. He portrayed himself as an innocent and didn’t contribute a nickel in reimbursement to the church. Sharp blustered about the incompetence Rollins and I displayed in not analyzing potential investments. He insisted the church stewards, meaning me and Rollins, bear the blame and make restitution.”
“So you lost the house and then forfeited your savings to reimburse church funds. Is everything gone?”
“Everything. Don’t tell your parents, your aunt, uncle, or anyone. I hoped you could help me with this huge mess, but I’m sure it’s too late.”
Grandpa’s calling it a “huge mess” understated the problem.
“Where did you invest the money? I wasn’t able to tell from the disbursements.”
“Trent Sharp had connections with a venture capital company backing senior apartment complexes like Happy Days. He showed us all the figures. Pastor Rollins and I believed the investment would multiply the money, like the talents in the Bible.” Grandpa’s retelling seemed to shrink him.
“Then the venture failed?”
“Company moved its headquarters to the Bahamas and disappeared, along with our church’s money and my personal investment.”
“And you created two sets of financial records—one that showed the specifics of the disbursements to the bogus company and another that only showed the withdrawals and the reimbursements. The result is the same, Grandpa, whether the funds disappear because of a bad investment or embezzlement.”
“Not the way I see it. Embezzlement is willful. We placed our trust in the wrong person. The fiasco bankrupted both Rollins and me. I have my pension, but the church revoked Pastor’s retirement allowance. So Mary does hair and nails, plays the piano, anything to bring in a buck, and I don’t have any money to help her.”
“Does Noelle know what happened?”
“She knows Sharp fueled the rumors about her father’s lack of integrity. She blames him for the loss of her father’s position and his self-respect. She doesn’t know that Trent was the one who suggested the investment then left her father and me to make up the shortfall in the church coffers.”
“Oh Grandpa.” I held out my arms, and he allowed me to hold and comfort him.
“That’s not the end. When I sold my house to replenish the church funds, Trent bought it, turned it into a rental, and shuttled me off to Happy Days. I stay here until my death, with room, board, and medical provided.”
My smart grandfather didn’t make foolish decisions. I couldn’t imagine him investing money in any stock or company without examining it thoroughly.
He continued. “I signed so many papers, I was dizzy. Felt like I’d been bilked, but I was too ashamed to call my daughter or son and admit my foolishness. Then I remembered you’re a CPA. My situation is beyond help, but if you can figure out what happened, maybe my misfortune can warn other seniors.”
I didn’t want to disappoint Grandpa. But was his current situation the result of a conspiracy to fleece elders or just the culmination of bad decisions?
Somehow, waiting tables increased my self-esteem and made me believe I could help my grandfather. I felt better about myself today than I had two months ago when I labored in a prestigious firm. I wore an orange Punkin’-Chunkin’ shirt and running shoes, not a tailored suit and heels. My clients were friendly regulars or tourists rather than stressed-out company executives. I offered happiness with crumpets and tea, which wouldn’t work with accounting clients organizing detailed records.
That’s what I needed: records—Sharp’s records. Grandfather said Sharp presented this certain-to-make-money investment. If I connected Sharp to the scheme, then I’d have …
Then I’d have a motive for Grandpa or Mary to commit murder.
At Wednesday’s choir practice, I saw Mary and Noelle seated on the front pew. Even from the back, I could tell the mother-daughter exchange was confrontational. Their rigid body postures warned me not to interfere. Of course I did.
“Evening, Mary, Noelle. Is it cold in here, or is the frosty atmosphere coming from the vibes you two are giving off?”
Both murmured hellos, and Noelle answered, “Mom’s being stubborn. I want her to leave, to shake Sea Side’s dust off her feet. She can live with me in Boston. I left a thriving business there, and they’ve requested I come back. It would be a clean start for Mom. She can put the past behind her.”
When Mary turned to me, I felt like a judge, with the Rollins women each pleading her case. I hoped I wouldn’t have to render a verdict.
Mary spoke as if Noelle wasn’t an arm’s-length away. “Noelle knows her father is buried in the church graveyard and that I place flowers on his stone every week. She should understand why I don’t want to leave.”
“And my mother should understand why I do want her to leave. Visiting Daddy’s grave every week is admirable, but it prevents her from starting a new life.”
I learned things by keeping quiet, so I endeavored to keep my face neutral and my mouth closed.
Mary turned to me again. “Noelle needs to give up this campaign to get me to leave. She can go back to Boston. I’m happy here, just as I am.”
This three-way tête-à-tête was becoming weirder and weirder.
Noelle took her turn. “Ladessa, Mom knows I don’t want to abandon her. She knows a location change will be in her best interest.”
“Noelle needs to forget about me going to Boston, a big city I don’t know. A young woman needs her space, and so does an old one. Ladessa, you agree with me, don’t you?”
Both waited for my astute conclusion. I had nothing. “Maybe this is a no-win argument.”
Noelle and Mary grumbled their agreement, and arriving choir members thwarted any extended analysis. We vocalized before practicing Sunday’s congregational hymns and the choir’s special music. I loved singing in a group. How could anyone be angry with another when all worked together to create harmony?
The music convinced me not to tell Mary or Noelle what I learned studying the ledgers. I recalled a verse from Ephesians Mary had us memorize as children. “Be ye kind one to another.” In kindness I would say nothing until I had facts I could prove about Sharp’s role in the disgrace of a beloved husband and father.
We stopped in the tea shoppe after choir practice, where my fellow waitress, an orange-clad Diana, offered us sweets and tea. We chose tea.
“Will is returning next week,” Noelle said. “He’s coming for the vote on his development center, but he’s not optimistic. He didn’t mention Logan.”
“Logan called. I collect his mail and keep an eye on the house.” I added honey to my tea and stirred.
“You two make a nice-looking couple,” Mary said.
“I like Logan. He’s friendly and flirtatious when we’re together, but he behaves the same way with Jane. Could he be interested in me? I’m not sure what to think. My Texas church friends say I push people away because I’m afraid of relationships. What do you think?”
“Good grief, Ladessa.” Mary slammed her teacup down so forcefully the amber liquid spilled on the saucer. “Just follow the Golden Rule, and you’ll be fine.”
“I agree with Mom.” Noelle shrugged into her jacket. “Ready to go, Mom?”
I’d accomplished one thing. I’d reunited Mary and Noelle, even if their forged truce was at the expense of my lame approach to relationships.
Walking home, a police car pulled alongside, and Detective Hardy lowered the window. “Want a ride?”
“In the front or the back?” I gestured to the barrier between the seats.
“Front, for now.”
“I planned to call you tomorrow.” I got in and fastened my seat belt. “I remembered something about the day I discovered the body. Sharp’s nasal spray was on the café table the day he died. I noticed because he’d used it at the airport and made loud, obnoxious snorts. I remember hoping he wouldn’t do that in the tea shoppe.”
“Your point?” Detective Hardy kept his eyes on the road.
“When I found him, or rather his dead body, it wasn’t there. So I wanted to ask you if the nasal spray was in his pocket.”
“I can’t tell you.” He stopped at my apartment. “Don’t meddle in police business.”
His attitude annoyed me. “When Will officially identified the body, the coroner gave him his uncle’s belongings, and there was no nasal spray.”
“I’ll be making an arrest this week. But your little tidbit proved helpful. I’m confident I have the killer. Good night.”
As I tackled the steps to the apartment without using the handrail, I realized my legs were stronger than when I arrived. Inside, I tugged another blanket from the trunk, resisting the urge to turn up the heat. I brushed my teeth, cleaned my face, and snuggled under the covers.
The sheep I counted to put me to sleep mutated into suspects until I got up, grabbed my computer, studied names and motives, and tried to organize my thoughts. For a man who appeared to be so charming, Trent Sharp had a full house in the enemy department.