Light the Hidden Things (37 page)

The Chief glanced back at Crow. "That's enough, sir. Mr. Vanderkirk says he's leveling serious accusations against Pastor Richards. The Pastor agreed to attend this meeting so Mr. Vanderkirk can detail them to the entire church board. It's all by the book and it's all board members of this church - except you, and that fellow with you. I'm asking you to leave."

Lila made a sound in her throat. She grabbed Crow's forearm. But it was the Pastor who spoke. He faced the others for the first time. Crow wished he hadn't. The man was broken, old beyond imagining. His eyes were as dull as slate. He seemed to have difficulty focusing on Crow. "Please. Stay. The other man as well, if he's your friend. You're a good man. I know you for a troubled one. I want you to learn the consequences of letting trouble make your decisions for you. I owe you that."

Crow said, "You don't owe me...," and got no farther. Pastor Richards made a weak gesture and turned away.

Van filled the silence. "All right, let's stay on point. Lupine's trusted and believed Richards for almost fifty years. I'm telling you every day of it's been a lie."

There were gasps in the crowd. Then a low, growling mutter. Three men stood up. So did the Pastor, sternly erect. He faced them. "Calm, friends, please. I agreed to this meeting because what Mr. Vanderkirk has to say must be heard and I must answer. As it's written in Chronicles, How many times shall I adjure thee that thou say nothing but the truth to me in the name of the Lord?"

Van nodded without glancing the Pastor's way. Then, "How many people here have received financial assistance from this church?" Several hands went up, Marge's, Herman's, and George's among them. Only then did Crow remember Lila's secret that she shared so light-heartedly because he was supposed to be gone the following day. Her hand rose reluctantly, barely reached her shoulder. She stared at her feet. Then Crow saw Van's concentration on her. And the quick, slick smile that made him think of snakes.

Continuing, Van said. "I'm sure you all remember how thorough the application process is. The forms you had to fill out? The legal stuff? And the interest you agreed to pay?"

Heads nodded. Van went on, enjoying himself. "Those rules are there to protect everyone. The thing is, it's not the Pastor's money. You donated it to the church, not him. If he uses the money for his own purposes, or to help someone without proper accountability, that's embezzlement. Pastor Richards did just that."

"I want to speak now." The Pastor was on his feet. "I have to explain."

Van opened his mouth, but the Chief was ahead of him. "We'll hear from Andy."

Van protested. "I'm not done yet. There's more..."

"Give it a rest." Red-faced, the Chief dared response. Van sat down. So did Crow and the entire audience. Major kept place in the aisle next to his master.

Pastor Richards looked toward the choir loft. A distant gaze implied he was talking to someone beyond the building. "I've known Lila Milam since she was a little girl. When I heard she'd come back here - come home - and was in need with her rebuilding project, we penciled out what we hoped would cover her expenses beyond her own financial strength. The amount was far more than the church budgets for its loan program. I weighed it very carefully. Once complete, her project will be like Herman's clockworks, a sort of magnet, only Lila's will draw an outdoor crowd the way his shop drew other craftsmen as well as customers to Lupine. I authorized the loan. Only if she'd swear to keep it a secret. I didn't want others assuming we could finance larger projects. We agreed she'll repay the amount and interest accrued when the business allows."

"That's all warm and fuzzy, but it's not legal," Van told the gathering. "It was just a trick to keep someone like me from developing that land properly. Plain and simple, it's embezzlement."

The self-satisfaction brought Crow back to his feet. He made no sound, so it surprised him to see every head in the pews swivel his way, waiting. Only then did he realize Marge, next to Lila, was on her feet, as well.

She spoke before he recovered. "Andy Richards, you sweet, silly old thing; don't you ever learn? Did you really believe this was all your secret?" She looked to a blonde woman sitting in the second row. "Susan, you keep the books here: When did you notice Andy moved that money to a different bank?"

"Three days later. I remember, because..."

Marge jumped in. "What'd you do about it?"

A bit miffed, Susan was brisk. "I called a friend. She told me who had access to the funds. Then I called you."

"And I called you, John. You're our board president. Then what happened?"

John was a younger man with a tiny blond wife who clung to him with a visible pride that made Crow swallow hard to hide a smile. Both seemed quite happy with John's answer for Van. "As the church board, we wrote up the loan as a unique venture. We all signed the agreement."

The Pastor stammered, confused. "You never told me."

Van said, "You can't do that. You can't just lend out money that way."

Still smiling, John said, "Why not? Like you said, it's our money."

The Chief said, "I believe we can all go home now." To Van, he added, "You're probably thinking about calling in your lawyer. You do that. I'd like to see the news services get hold of that one."

Van's answer was cold, controlled. "If you leave now, you'll miss the important stuff. I told you all this man's lied to us with every breath he's taken here. I was surprised to learn he's a thief." The angry swell from the group made him blink, but he pushed on. "That theology degree he has on his wall's trash. It was a diploma mill. Doesn't even exist anymore. He's a fraud."

Marge was still on her feet. She said, "Some of us knew that from Day One. Just like we've known you for a bully since you were born. That school was accredited when he went there; we checked. But you know what? We were already helping him build this church because we knew he was the man we wanted." She tossed her head and resettled her gaze on the other man, Piers. "Best you learn here and now, Mister; dug-up dirt's not always a bad thing. It grows flowers sometimes. So why don't you just take your little Power Point thingy and stick it..."

"Marge." The Pastor's shout drowned out her suggestion. He went on, "More secrets, Marge? You let me believe - let all these other folks believe..."

This time she cut him off. "I've told you a thousand times, Andy Richards; I'm a gossip, not a tattletale. And you're a man of God as sure as I'm standing here. No piece of paper changes that."

Lila glanced at Crow to see his reaction to Marge's revelations. She was shocked to see his attention was still locked on the man Piers. She nudged him. "Aren't you listening to any of this?"

He muttered. "Every word. Look at Piers. He's swallowed a canary. What's going on here?"

Van was saying, "...so you know things I didn't. I wouldn't be so smug if I were you."

"He's right," Pastor Richards said. "I lied to you. I'm ashamed."

On his feet now, Van moved to stand beside Piers, telling him, "Show these people the things you showed me." The intense light blasted onto the white screen. Van said, "You may not care that your preacher's a fraud, a liar, and an incompetent thief, but I think you'll change your mind about him when you learn he's also a murderer."

Piers said, "You want me to throw up the slides now?"

Spontaneous audience outcry shouting denial at Van shook the walls. He retorted, his voice lost in bedlam. One of the few not shouting was Piers. His unwavering smile wandered across the gathering like a happy puppy making new friends.

Lila held onto Crow. He, in turn, kept a hand on Major's nervous, searching head.

The Pastor and Chief quieted things. Occasional outbursts welled up, gusts marking a dying storm. Crow heard them as a sadness; he felt fear in them. Leaning toward Lila, he said, "That Piers guy - he's too calm. It bothers me."

"Don't let this get to you." Tension bit Lila's words short. The sound seemed to trouble her. She reached across her body to clutch Crow's arm with that hand, as well. "Promise me you won't do...you know...something foolish."

He said, "I'm trying. I'll promise that."

Lila swallowed the argument already on her tongue. Instead, she held him all the tighter. She made her own promise

I'm not letting go.

Maybe not ever
.

Here, now, I know. Something inside is never letting go.

Somewhere a woman laughed. Not a nervous giggle. An entirely inappropriate sound, almost happiness. The contradiction of it shocked Lila as much as any profane tirade. She searched for the source to no avail.

Pastor Richard's was stoic. "You all know I love you. But I've lived a lie among you." A tired grin lent a sliver of life to the deadened features. "Not as badly as I thought, thanks to my precious Marge and her wonderful accomplices. Still, to salvage what shred of honor I have left, I must face what I've done. Mr. Vanderkirk has done me a favor: He's freed me of my deceit. I assured the Chief I wouldn't interfere with Van's accusations. I didn't know exactly what they'd be, but I had reason to suspect. When he's done, I'll say what I must, including my goodbye to all of you."

He sat down, head up, back straight, facing the screen. Van nodded at Piers. All the church's lights save those in the vestibule went out. A newspaper image blasted onto the screen, stark black letters:
Hippy Killer Flees.
The page crawled upward, bringing a photograph of a bewhiskered, unkempt young man. The name in the caption was James Scott.

Someone said, "That's just someone who looks like the Pastor." Others agreed.

Piers flashed a video. Behind an anchorman another photo showed James Scott neatly dressed, clean-shaven, smiling. Any identity doubts were crushed. The newsman said, "Exclusively on our breaking news interruption, this may be Scott's present appearance. Before he joined the radical group he was a well-regarded electronics student at Brooks Technical School. The captured members of the group all point to him as the designer of the bomb seized by the authorities. They report it was the argument about where to place it that led to the fight that ended in the death of Mr. Roland."

Another picture on the screen. Van said, "Note the date, please; exactly a year after the first slide I showed you. And the article headline:
'Bomb-Making Radical Scott Still Running?"

The screen went blank. The church lights reappeared. Without standing, drawing out the accusation, Val said, "There you are, Scott or Richards or whatever name you're using today. You've done a lot of good things since those days. To avoid prison for murder, nothing more than that. Changing your name and carrying a bible doesn't change what you did."

A woman flounced down the aisle to shake an finger in Van's face. She was short, plump, plainly dressed, close to being a caricature of a raging housewife. Her chin trembled desperately. Nevertheless, her voice was firm. "You're a bully. Everyone in town knows this all started because Lila Milam won't back down for you. We all know how you've been sniffing around her, too. You destroyed her friend - and ours - out of plain spite. Andy Richards is a better man than you'll ever be. What do you think she thinks of you now, big man?"

Van leaned forward, towering over the woman. He said, "She's the victim, not Richards. He talked her into borrowing money, money he had no moral right to lend her. Now she owes his church and the bank. I started the background check to protect her. Finding out this other stuff was just a bonus."

"Bonus?" The woman's eyes bulged. Spit speckled Van's face and shirt. He grimaced, stepped back. The woman drove on. "It makes me sick to hear you talk about 'moral right.' Whatever Pastor Richards did all those years ago, I know he had a better reason for it than you have for what you did tonight."

Agreement was low thunder among the listeners. Van found his handkerchief and dramatically finished wiping himself clean. Barely restrained fury twisted his features. "People don't always understand what's best for them. Not at first. My business is realities. Facts. Even if they hurt." He looked past the woman at Lila.

"I know what's best for me," she told him, as if they were alone in conversation. "I've grown accustomed to realities I don't like and facts that hurt. No matter how bad things get, though, there's always at least one bright spot. Mine now is I never have to speak to you again. And if you ever try to speak to me, I'll hit you with a restraining order."

Pushing past the woman blocking his way, Van positioned himself in the aisle between the pews. He jerked a thumb back at the screen and Piers. He said, "Richards is a con artist and a killer. This is about protecting people, protecting you."

In the pew behind Crow, Garza said, "Why was your man checking out Crow? You trying to get something on him, too?"

"Shut up. None of this is your concern."

Crow held out his left hand to keep Garza behind him. Without taking his gaze from Van, he said, "Garza, just stand at ease; this is mine." Then, to Van, "You've done your damage. Move on, why don't you?"

Van ignored him. He told Lila, "You're mad because I made you face facts. I'm the one looking out for you." Then he shifted his attention to Crow, digging into a pocket for a folded paper. He waved it. "This is you, hero. Three arrests for drunk and disorderly. Two more for disorderly conduct - street fights, actually. And, like your holy man friend there, a major felony - intent to kill."