Natchez
Michael couldn’t believe he’d pushed Beth to talk about her personal life. What was the matter with him? He was worse than the ladies who worked at the bank with his mother. They could sniff a marital problem at fifty yards and then badger the person for details. Maybe misery did love company. Those unlucky in love took comfort from those equally challenged. He’d left himself wide open with his comment about the clothes. He hoped his partner would forget all about last night.
As for him? It would be a long time before he forgot how nice she looked in that green dress.
Michael downed a cup of coffee, punished his body with pushups and sit-ups, and then ran five miles at an easy pace. After a shower and more coffee, he considered his workday. With Beth on her way to Vicksburg to talk to old contacts, he was a boat without a rudder.
When his phone buzzed, he answered on the second ring. “Michael Preston.”
“Hi, Mike. Jack Lejeune, Natchez PD. How’s it going?” Beth’s nemesis greeted him as though they were old friends.
“Good, thanks. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Nothing. It’s what I can do for you. Lo and behold, Ralph Buckley, with legal counsel present, gave us a videotaped confession last night.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Michael tossed the rest of his coffee in the sink.
“Caught us by surprise too. Maybe Buckley got the idea that if he’s up-front, the DA might charge him with a lesser crime, maybe even a misdemeanor. And he could be right.”
“He confessed to murder and wants a misdemeanor?” Michael barked into the phone.
“Simmer down. No, not murder. I told you and your partner Buckley was no killer. He ain’t the type. He wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty or rip his shirt.”
“What exactly did he confess to?” Michael dropped into a kitchen chair.
“Come down to the precinct. I’ll let you watch the video. Because Buckley asked to make a statement, nothing on that tape is confidential. It’ll be good for your training. And who knows? Maybe you’ll want to apply to the police academy. You’re the right age and all that.”
Michael considered his response carefully. Having Lejeune on their side would be advantageous. “I appreciate your offer, Detective, but my partner is in Vicksburg today. Can we come by the station tomorrow morning? Will that work?”
There was a raspy laugh before Lejeune answered. “It will not. This is a one-time offer which will soon expire. Come this morning or kiss your chance goodbye.”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Good. You’ll find me at my desk. Oh, and Mike? You’ve probably heard that Beth and I are no longer besties. Since the chief ordered me to cooperate with Mrs. Dean’s ridiculous investigation, I thought you and I would make a better team. Catch my drift?”
“Loud and clear. See you soon.”
Michael hung up, feeling sweat soak his shirt despite a cold shower less than ten minutes ago. He didn’t like Lejeune. Maybe it was because the guy didn’t defend Beth with the backstabbing good old boys. And Lejeune still was sneaking around her back. Or maybe his irritation stemmed from Lejeune’s eagerness to dismiss the case. Lazy, just like his partner described. Either way, he had a job to do. Sixty minutes later Michael was buzzed through the reinforced door and shown to the detective’s cubicle.
Lejeune smiled and shook his hand heartily. “Follow me, Mike. I’ve got the camera set to replay.” With his boot heels clicking on the tiles, Lejeune led the way to the conference room.
Michael took a chair on the opposite side of the table and opened his binder to a fresh sheet.
“Taking notes for your new boss? Betsy won’t be happy when she gets back to town. She was ready to tie the noose around Buckley’s neck. Too bad Mississippi uses lethal injection for their mode of execution.”
“I’m still new on the job. I want notes to review for my sake.”
“A fine idea.” Lejeune started the camera and leaned back in his chair.
For close to two hours, Michael watched Buckley admit to stealing sixty thousand dollars from the church he attended. According to his testimony, his wife had run up a huge credit card bill with a vicious interest rate. After their son moved back home with his wife and new baby, Tammy demanded a two-story addition be added to their house. After all, Ralph Junior had bravely served his country overseas and now needed a decent place to live. Ralph Senior decided sixty thousand would be sufficient for both requests.
“Why didn’t you take a second mortgage like every other American?” asked Lejeune during the interview.
Buckley had a ready answer: “The bank wasn’t issuing new loans until after the first of the year. The manager told me to reapply after January first but assured me that with my credit score it would be approved.”
“Why didn’t you request a short-term loan from Pastor Dean and the board? You were a longtime member of the church.”
“You seem to know very little about the rules governing nonprofits, Detective. The board was in no position to grant such a request. Otherwise, half the congregation would be lining up for loans.”
Michael had to agree with Buckley’s assessment. He glanced at Lejeune. The guy’s mood was almost gleeful.
“So you helped yourself from Calvary Baptist’s account to keep the little wife happy.”
Buckley shook his finger at the camera. “I planned to pay back every dime as soon as I got my loan. No one would have been the wiser, but Paul decided to check the books with a magnifying glass. He called me on the phone all furious, threatening to call the church attorney. That hypocrite!”
“Why would you call Reverend Dean that?”
“Because he was doing the same thing but on a much larger scale. Paul demanded I come to his house to discuss this. When I agreed, I had no idea he’d already told Robert Scott, one of the church board members.”
“Was this the day Reverend Dean died?”
Buckley glanced at his attorney, who nodded his head. “It was, but in the meantime I got a call from Bob Scott. Reverend Dean had forwarded an email about the sixty thousand dollars. So the night before my meeting, I did my own audit of the church accounts, including the building fund.”
“Didn’t Reverend Dean take control of that account because he didn’t like your investment strategies? Weren’t they pretty fast and furious for a small Southern church?”
Lejeune pressed “Pause” and slapped the table with his palm. “I got that info from you, Preston. Good background prelims.”
“Thanks,” said Michael, unable to take his eyes off the monitor. Lejeune pressed “Play.”
“Yeah, and my fast and furious investing turned two hundred K into half a million in less than four years. If I’d been left alone, I might have tripled the amount by the time we broke ground for the new school.”
“Or you could have lost it all in a market crash.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?” Buckley set his mouth in a tight line and glared at the camera.
“Let’s talk about your meeting with Reverend Dean on the day he died.”
“I’ll tell you one thing, I didn’t go there alone. Bob Scott picked me up at my house and drove me. Paul looked surprised that I brought him along. The three of us hashed out more than one problem that afternoon.”
“Did this conversation take place in the barn out back?”
Buckley blinked into the camera. “No, it took place at his dining room table with my Excel sheets spread across the table.”
“What was the outcome of this meeting?”
“I agreed to pay back every cent within seven days. If I did, they would keep the matter quiet. I’d already cut up Tammy’s credit cards and told my son he could move into the basement.”
“What about this other evidence you found, regarding money missing from the building fund—the account Pastor Dean had sole control of. Tell us about that.”
“Bob Scott demanded an explanation from Reverend Dean, but Paul just sloughed it off. He said the money was currently in transit and would be posted soon. In transit—what did that even mean? But Bob was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, the guy is a landscaper. What does he know about financial transactions?” On camera, Buckley had grown agitated, his face mottled with sweat. “Both men knew I was leaving town for a bachelor party. I was given seven days to pay back the loan, but Pastor Dean was to produce a corrected balance sheet in the same amount of time.”
“Was Reverend Dean alive when you left, Mr. Buckley?”
“What are you talking about?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “Of course he was alive when both of us left the Deans’ home. Bob Scott dropped me off in my driveway. Even my nosy neighbor saw me get out of his car. Most likely Mrs. Taylor was still spying when Tammy drove me to the airport an hour later. Check the airlines. I was on a flight from Baton Rouge to Las Vegas.”
“Oh, we will, Mr. Buckley. And thanks for coming in today.”
Lejeune switched off the camera and grinned at Michael. “Then the lawyer produced proof Buckley had indeed paid the operating account what he owed and yada yada.”
“So Buckley walks away from this free and clear?” Exasperated, Michael ran a hand through his hair.
“Nope. What the finance director did was illegal, but my guess is the DA will reduce charges to a misdemeanor. Buckley will be barred from similar jobs in the future, but I doubt he’ll spend another night in jail.” Lejeune stretched his arms over his head. “But the real upshot of this is that Buckley is off the hook for murder. That is, if there was any murder in the first place.”
A cat with his whiskers in a bowl of cream couldn’t look smugger than Detective Lejeune.