Natchez
Michael awoke to a ruckus below his window on the street. Either the trash haulers were trying to wake the dead, or someone irate was attempting to gain entry to his building. Stretching lazily, he padded to the coffeemaker in time to see a rock bounce off his kitchen window. A rock large enough to rattle the glass but small enough not to break the pane.
Michael pushed up the window and stuck out his head, becoming an easy target for the hooligan in the alley. “Who’s down there?” he shouted.
“Your partner.” Beth’s voice drifted skyward. “Why aren’t you answering your buzzer? I’ve been standing here for ten minutes.” She moved from under the overhang to the Dumpster.
With her red hair curly from the rain, she would have looked adorable if not for her frown. “No need to break my window just because the buzzer’s broken. They’re coming tomorrow to fix it.”
“How do you know when you have company, Preston?” she called, arching her neck and shielding her eyes from the rain.
“Never had any so far. You’re my first guest. Why didn’t you call me last night with an update?”
Beth lifted both hands in supplication. “Could I please come upstairs so we can discuss this out of the rain?” Her voice intensified with each word.
“Sure. Why didn’t you just say so?” He shut the window, released the door lock, and pulled on a sweatshirt. His daily exercises hadn’t yet produced bodybuilder results, but he could feel his endurance and stamina improving. When he opened the door to the hallway, Beth was at the top of the steps, shaking like a poodle.
“Come in, Miss Kirby. Did you not notice today was Saturday?” He handed her a towel for her hair.
“Until Nate comes home I’m the boss, and I mandate Saturday a workday. You’re not a nine-to-fiver anymore.” Beth headed straight to the coffeemaker. “I didn’t call you last night because I played rummy with my dad until midnight. I seldom get to spend much time with him. However,” she drawled, filling a mug to the rim, “I’ve already been on the phone with Mrs. Dean. She returned from her sister’s last night and said we could come over this morning, as in now. So go put on something classy.” She flourished a hand at his workout clothes. “I’ll tell you about my conversation with Detective Lejeune along the way.”
Michael grabbed his coffee and bolted to the bathroom for a shower. Odd how working weekends hadn’t been half as appealing at his old job. Not even while engaged to the office assistant.
“Is it okay if I have some of this apple Danish?” Beth shouted from the kitchen.
“Eat all you want. There’s juice in the fridge too.”
Ten minutes later, he yanked on clean clothes and towel dried his hair. “Are you sure Mrs. Dean knows I’m coming too?” he called.
“Yep. I smoothed things out between you two. Just don’t say or do anything to annoy her.”
Michael appeared in the doorway. “That implies I can recognize annoying statements in advance. How’s this? Decent enough?”
“Wow, the speed at which men get ready astounds me. Yes, chinos and a polo shirt are perfect.” Beth popped the last bite of pastry in her mouth. “Thanks for breakfast, Mike. I escaped Hotel California before mealtime.”
“You’re welcome.” Picking up his briefcase, Michael opened the door for her. “Ready to go?”
“I’ll drive since we’re in a hurry. You look nice, by the way.” Beth ran down the steps at breakneck speed.
“Thank you, Miss Kirby. I’m hoping for a good report to the boss. Tell me about your visit with Detective Lejeune and Chief McNeil.”
Beth drove so fast Michael barely had time to process the conversation before they arrived at the Deans’.
“Here’s our plan,” she said, braking to a stop in the driveway. “Alice said you may check her husband’s computer in his office. She’s furious about what Buckley had been doing behind the pastor’s back. While you’re digging up dirt on Ralphie, I will talk Alice into an exhumation of her husband’s body and convince her to pay for it.”
“Can’t I help with my newfound tact and finesse?” He winked as he slicked the damp hair back from his face.
“Let’s postpone your demonstration of those skills for another day. I need you to comb through Paul’s emails to board members. Look for anything having to do with the finance manager.” She jumped out of the car.
“Will do. I’m the man for the job.” Michael trailed her up the walk.
“Ready?” Beth waited a split second and then knocked.
Whether he was ready or not, the widow swept open the door. Although perfectly groomed in a tailored suit, Alice looked as though she hadn’t slept well in days.
“Good morning,” she murmured. “Please come in. Mr. Preston, you know the way to Paul’s study. Beth, you and I can talk in the family room. I have a carafe of coffee waiting for us.” She turned and led the way through the house.
Michael had to slink off, coffeeless, down the hallway. But his endeavors in the pastor’s study were not in vain. He soon found emails between Reverend Dean and several board members about Buckley’s devious scheming. The copy machine whirred as he printed off page after page of potential evidence, including one major break in the case. Like a schoolboy hoping to impress his teacher, Michael couldn’t wait to show Beth.
For the next hour he combed through the pastor’s private correspondence, gaining insight to a man he knew only in death. The picture which formed was of someone dedicated to his faith, tireless in serving his church, and fully committed to his wife and daughter. Michael saw no signs of dementia. Just the normal mental commotion from juggling too many balls in the air.
“Are you about done, Mr. Preston?” A voice over his shoulder broke his concentration.
Michael turned to see Alice in the doorway with Beth hovering behind her.
“I am, ma’am. And I believe we have enough for the police to get an arrest warrant for Mr. Buckley.”
“You found proof that snake was poisoning the board against Paul with lies about Alzheimer’s?” she asked.
“Yes. A string of emails between Buckley and several board members. One of them didn’t buy into the allegations and forwarded the entire thread to Reverend Dean. Buckley was definitely trying to regain control of the building fund.”
“I knew something was bothering Paul, but he refused to discuss it with me. I’m in your debt, Mr. Preston,” she said, meeting his eye. Then she reached for Beth’s hand. “Thank you for your kind words, Beth. Please keep me informed of any new developments.” Alice turned on one high heel, cutting short the warm-and-fuzzy moment. “If you’re finished in here, I’ll see you to the door.”
Michael shoved the printouts into his briefcase and followed Beth down the hall. On their way to the car, she returned his earlier wink.
“I take it you have good news too?” he asked.
Beth waited until they were inside the car to hoot with joy. “Alice not only agreed to the exhumation, but is willing to pay for it as well. She fears Buckley might flee the country with the congregation’s money if he’s not caught soon. Her only stipulation is that her daughter not be told.”
“Well done.” Michael slapped her on the back. “Buckley bolting for the border is a distinct possibility. His passport is up-to-date, and he speaks both French and Spanish.”
Beth started the car and pulled into traffic. “You learned a lot about Mr. Wheeler-Dealer in a short amount of time.”
“I don’t watch much TV. What comes next?”
“With the exhumation going forward, I’ll call my friends on the Vicksburg police force. One of them might be willing to contact the state medical examiner to speed things along.” Beth stopped at the end of the block and swiveled to face him. “You find anything else on the computer other than proof Buckley was stabbing Paul in the back?”
“I believe I hit the mother lode,” Michael murmured, trying to prolong the drama. He nodded at a young mother pushing a stroller in the crosswalk.
Beth arched one eyebrow. “Spill your guts, Preston. Or as soon as these witnesses are gone I’m beating it out of you.”
He made a dismissive cluck. “You do realize I’ve been back to the workout room several times.”
“You do realize I hit every can along the fence rail dead center.”
“True. Okay, I found a recent email from Pastor Dean to one of the elders. Attached was an Excel file showing Buckley had transferred sixty thousand dollars to his personal account.”
“No kidding?” Beth pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“No kidding. Sixty thousand from the building fund into the joint account of Tamara and Ralph Buckley. Tammy is his lovely wife of twenty-six years, by the way.”
“We’ve got him on grand theft!”
“Even better. When Reverend Dean read Ralph’s slanderous emails, he looked deeper into the guy’s financial shenanigans. Up until that point, he thought Buckley simply invested too aggressively. That’s when he found the bank transfer and demanded, in an email, that Ralph replace the funds immediately. Buckley went to talk to him the next day, unaware that Reverend Dean had already sent proof of the theft to another board member.”
A slow smile bloomed on Beth’s face. “We’ve got motive for murder.”
“We’ve got motive, all right. And while we wait for autopsy results, the police can keep him in jail on the theft charge. Old Ralphie isn’t taking off with sweet little Tammy.”
Beth turned onto the road along the river. “Well done, Preston. I’m recommending you for a raise when Nate gets back. You’ve all but tied a bow on this case.”
Michael hoped his blush blended into his tan. “In the meantime, why don’t you buy me lunch? And I’m not talkin’ the drive-through lane.”
“Fine, but let’s eat fast. I can’t wait to talk to Jack. Correction, for both of us to talk to him. He will soon be eating crow instead of a double cheeseburger and fries like us.”