The bell above the door announces my arrival at Marcia’s Nook. Marcia is busy ringing up customers at the bakery counter, so I wander over to the mystery section in the back to browse the new titles even though Marcia said she had a book on hold for me. I almost run into a man reading the back cover of a book while roaming the aisles.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure the near collision was more his fault than mine.
He looks up from the book and smiles. “Apologies are all mine. I’m afraid I get so wrapped up in what I’m reading I tend to forget the rest of the world exists. Does that ever happen to you?”
“All the time,” I say.
He extends his hand. “I’m Adam by the way.”
I hate shaking hands with strangers like this. For some reason, certain people are harder not to read than to read, and I never know who that will apply to before it’s too late.
Adam lowers his hand to his side, and I realize I’m staring blankly at the space between us.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m somewhat of a germaphobe. It is flu season and all.” It’s been my go-to excuse for years, but I still don’t make it sound convincing.
He gives me an awkward nod and walks away without another word.
“That was painful to watch,” Mitchell says, emerging from behind the next aisle.
“Yeah, well no one invited you to spy on me.”
He holds up both hands. “I wasn’t intentionally spying. I came here looking for you, and Marcia said you wandered back here.”
I pretend to read the spines of the books on the shelf to my left. “Well, you found me. Any luck finding where Pastor Evans is staying?”
“Nope, but I figure we’ll ask him as soon as you get your coffee and we head to the church.”
“Great. Let’s go then.”
“No book?” Mitchell gestures to the shelf.
“Marcia has one at the register for me.”
“Then what were you doing back here?” The corner of his mouth tips up ever so slightly. “Other than breaking that poor guy’s heart, that is.”
I glare at him. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know that guy from—”
“Adam?” Mitchell laughs. “He was flirting with you, Piper. You must have picked up on that.”
Flirting? No way. “All he did was try to shake my hand.”
“Yeah, about that... Were you afraid you’d see his thoughts if you touched him?”
Yes. But they surely wouldn’t have been about me.
“I can tell you what he was thinking, and I’m not even psychic.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“I know men, and I saw the way he was smiling at you. He thought he’d met an attractive woman who shared his love of reading, and he would have asked you out for coffee, if not dinner, if you’d only acknowledged his introduction in some way. But you wouldn’t even give him your name.”
“I don’t have time to date. Haven’t we been through this?”
“You hung out with me last night. You easily could have coffee with a guy.”
“Not interested. End of story.” Mitchell knows why I can’t get close to people. I’ve already told him as much, so why is he pushing this issue? I walk past him to the register where Marcia has two coffees, my book, and a white pastry bag waiting for us. I take out my phone to pay, but Mitchell slaps a fifty on the countertop.
“I’ve got it.”
“You’re not paying for my book or my breakfast.”
“It’s both our breakfasts, and the book is insurance that I won’t have to entertain you tonight, so it’s my treat.”
“Ha-ha.” I quickly pay and motion to his money on the counter. “Don’t forget that.” I grab the bag and thank Marcia for the book.
“You two are always entertaining,” Marcia says, leaning forward on the counter. “You should really come in more often. I miss you guys when you’re too busy to stop in.”
“Well, then we’ll have to change that.” Mitchell smiles as he picks up the fifty-dollar bill and places it in Marcia’s tip jar.
“Detective, I can’t accept that.” Marcia immediately removes the bill and slides it across the counter, but Mitchell backs away.
“Sorry, but we’re in a hurry. You’ll have to hang on to that for me.” He winks and gets the door for me.
Marcia looks completely stunned as we leave.
“Why do you do that?” I ask, mentally counting the twenty-three steps back to my office.
“Do what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Why do you give her such insanely large tips?”
Mitchell pauses at my office door. “She has one employee helping her run that entire store. What does that tell you, Ms. Private Investigator?”
“She can’t afford to hire anyone else.”
“Exactly. She works hard, and she deserves those tips.” He bobs one shoulder. “I have the extra cash, which I would be spending on dates if I actually dated anymore, so why not give it to someone who truly deserves the money? It’s a no-brainer if you ask me.” He opens the door before I can say more. Sometimes he really surprises me.
“Good morning,” Dad says.
“What are you doing here so early?” I ask him, placing my coffee and bag on the desk. “I would have gotten you coffee if I’d known.”
“I had some before I left the house this morning. I wanted to get here early to do a little research.”
“What kind?” I sit down but don’t put my purse in the bottom drawer since I don’t plan to stay at the office for long. I need to talk to Pastor Evans and find out the names of everyone who is working in the cemetery right now.
“Well, when the case began, it seemed like the kidnapper was targeting women who rejected him.”
“I hope for your sake it’s not Adam,” Mitchell says, winking at me.
“Who’s Adam?” Dad asks.
“No one,” I snap before taking a sip of my coffee. “Go on, Dad.”
“The whole forbidden fruit thing is tripping me up.” He taps his index finger on the desk. “Why switch from forbidden fruit to the seven deadly sins?”
“Maybe he realized these women were the physical embodiments of the seven deadly sins, and that made him stray from his original plan.”
Dad and I both stare at Mitchell.
“That was unusually insightful for you,” I say, voicing what Dad and I are both thinking.
“Hey, I can have good insights, too. Just because you’re the psychic doesn’t mean you’re the only one who can piece things together.” He leans back in his chair.
“You’re right, though. I can feel it. He started out targeting women who rejected him. But when he realized they had bigger faults, that they were all sinners in what he deems the worst ways, he switched tactics.” I allow my mind to go completely blank, and I recall the killer’s anger. “He’s not just anger. He’s all seven of the sins.”
“What do you mean?” Mitchell sits forward and narrows his eyes at me. “Keep thinking out loud, Piper. I think you’re onto something.”
“He’s lust because he lusts after women who rejected him. He’s pride because he thinks the police will never catch him since he’s keeping the bodies hidden and he’s stopped leaving his calling card—the forbidden fruit. He’s greed because he keeps taking more victims, and since it’s never enough, he’s also portraying gluttony. He envies his own genius in this plan he’s concocted. Yet he’s angry that he’s sinning so much.”
Mitchell counts on his fingers. “One is missing.”
“Sloth,” Dad says. “How is he displaying characteristics of sloth?”
“He will in his death. Instead of running or trying to remain a free man after killing all these people, he’ll kill himself. Death is the ultimate form of sloth in his mind. It’s giving up.” I swallow hard and shake my head, allowing myself to come out of my meditative state.
“Wow, Piper.” Mitchell reaches across the desk, but I pull away because it’s my right hand, and I don’t want to accidentally read him now. My mind feels like mush after putting the killer’s motives together like this. “Sorry,” he says, leaning back in his seat again.
“It’s okay. My mind is just very open at the moment, and I promised I wouldn’t read you anymore.”
He nods in understanding and then consults his watch. “If we leave now, we’ll get to the church right around the time Pastor Evans usually does.”
I stand up and grab the bag of food I neglected to even open. “Dad, you want to tag along?”
“No. I’m going to head to the morgue and find out if any bodies have turned up. I still can’t figure out where the killer is hiding them all. That is if you’re sure they’re all dead.”
I’m not sure they’re all dead. Yet. But they will be. Soon. “Good thinking,” I say.
Pastor Evans isn’t exactly happy to see us. I can tell he was hoping we’d have this case cracked by now. He and I both. He gestures to the chairs across from his desk. “What can I do for you today?”
“We have reason to believe the kidnapper works for the church,” Mitchell says, wording it much nicer than I would have.
Pastor Evans sits up straighter. “Works here?”
I can tell he thinks we’re accusing him, so I add, “It’s someone who is working on the grave relocation.”
“Oh.” He visibly relaxes. “I assume you’d like a list of all the employees on that project then so you can interview them.”
Sure, why not let him think that’s what our process will be. I nod.
He slides his chair a few inches to the left where his laptop is resting on the desk. No one says a word while he types away and then the printer behind him hums to life. He whirls around in his chair and pulls a paper off the printer tray. “Here you go.” He holds the paper out to Mitchell but doesn’t let go of it. “Detectives, I’d appreciate it if you could handle this with a little discretion. The church is under quite a bit of financial strain as it is with this relocation. If my members think it’s not safe to attend services, I’m not sure how much longer any of us will be employed here.”
“We understand,” Mitchell says.
Pastor Evans finally releases the paper, and Mitchell passes it to me.
I take a deep breath and focus on the list of names. To my surprise, three pop out at me. I bring the paper closer to my face. “This can’t be right.”
“What is it?” Mitchell asks.
“I only sensed one killer.”
“Killer? I thought this was a kidnapper you were looking for.” Pastor Evans’s tone is riddled with panic.
“Three names are popping out at me.”
“Popping out? Detective, what is she talking about?”
I ignore the minister and direct my statement at Mitchell. “Lester Chapman, Randall Williams, and Pastor Evans.”
Mitchell’s head whips in the minister’s direction. “Pastor, why would your name trigger Piper’s radar?”
“What radar? What are you both talking about?” His tone is getting more panicked by the second, and his gaze volleys between Mitchell and me.
“Pastor, you’re already aware of what I can do. When I look at a list of names, some jump out at me as being important. I don’t always know why they’re important, but your name is on this list.”
“Yes, because I have to approve everything that concerns the church and its members.”
“That’s not why I’m seeing your name.”
“You’re seeing it because anyone who can read can see it.” He gestures to the paper in my hand. “It’s right there in black and white.”
“Why are you getting so defensive?” Mitchell asks, sitting up straighter.
“This is my church. For you to accuse me of—”
“No one accused you of anything,” I say. “Like I said, I don’t always know why something is important when it presents itself to me.” I lean forward and rest the paper on his desk. “You said my ability is a gift from God. Why does that suddenly seem to frighten you? You do want me to solve this case, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t know why you’d be seeing my name in the way you’re describing.”
I don’t know why either, but I highly doubt the good minister is going to allow me to read him right now. He’s close to losing his mind. “We’ll need to speak to Lester Chapman and Randall Williams.”
“Lester took the day off, and Randall works on the night crew.”
Mitchell and I exchange looks. Both conveniently missing right after Monique was taken. He cocks his head, and I know he’s wondering if Lester and Randall are working together. I shake my head. This is a solo operation. Which begs the question why are three names practically jumping off the page at me?
“Pastor, who are you staying with while your home is uninhabitable?”
He swallows so hard I see the lump in his throat. “I’m staying with Lester.”
Well, things are starting to look a whole lot worse for the minister.