Dead Ringer (21 page)

With a bounce in her step, the reverend's sister led me into the church. Although I pasted a smile on my face as I followed along behind her, I couldn't help but wonder what I was getting myself into.

 

Chapter 22

W
HY OH WHY
didn't I come up with a different excuse for being at the church?

That was the thought that ran through my head as I traipsed up the church's interior stairway behind Estelle. Guilt gnawed at my stomach because of my lie. I really had no interest in joining any church, let alone the one where Jeremy had met his violent demise and where Susannah and I had nearly become charred remains. Not to mention the fact that I suspected the resident reverend of murder.

At least I had told my lie outside the church this time, but that didn't make me feel a whole lot better. Even though I wasn't a religious person, I liked to be respectful. Three years of my parents sending me to Sunday school at a tender young age had probably had an effect on me as well. I didn't much like to lie under any circumstances, and the church setting only made the deed seem more sinful.

Still, I didn't want to draw suspicion on myself, and I wasn't sure that I could have come up with a better excuse for my presence on a nonrehearsal day even if I'd had more time to think. Whether I'd have a chance to dig around for more clues now remained to be seen. Sneaking away might not be so easy if Cindy McAllister was indeed available to give me the run-­through on the church and its community.

I crossed my fingers behind my back as we ascended the final stairs, hoping Cindy would be absent from her office or otherwise occupied. We left the stairwell for the corridor and approached the office across the hall from Reverend McAllister's. The door stood open and Cindy sat at the desk, eyes riveted on the computer screen before her.

Estelle tapped her knuckles against the door frame. “Cindy?”

The reverend's wife snapped her head toward us, startled. She made a hurried move with the mouse, giving it a quick click before folding her hands in her lap and fixing a smile on her face. Although the computer monitor was angled away from me, I was certain she had just minimized or exited a program. Straight away I wondered why she would do that. What was it she didn't want us to see?

I longed to get a look at her computer, to have a chance to see which program she had minimized or take a quick gander at her Internet browsing history. Maybe she simply didn't want to get caught shopping online for frivolous items when she was supposed to be focused on church business, but I had to wonder if she was up to something more sinister. It wouldn't have surprised me, considering all the other suspect behavior of late.

Checking out Cindy's computer wasn't in the cards for me at the moment, however. Instead, I was about to pay for the lie I'd told Estelle.

“Cindy, this young lady is interested in joining the church.” Estelle gave me an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. I know my brother told me your name . . .”

“Midori Bishop,” I supplied.

Cindy stood up and gestured at a seat in front of her desk. “How lovely. Please, sit down.”

I fought the urge to hightail it out of the church and instead did as invited, setting my purse on the floor next to the chair.

“Do you need me for anything?” Estelle asked her sister-­in-­law. “Otherwise I'll go shower and change.”

Cindy held up a finger. “Actually, would you mind taking Midori to Peter's office to show her our pamphlets?”

“Sure.” Estelle's response was agreeable enough but the smile that went with it was strained.

I reached down to pick up my purse again.

Cindy fluttered a hand in the air. “Oh, you can leave your things here. It'll just take a moment to get the pamphlets, and when you come back we can have a nice chat.”

I almost gulped, already wondering how I could get myself out of the upcoming chat. But I did as instructed, leaving my bag next to the chair as I followed Estelle out of the office. When we entered McAllister's office across the hall, I glanced at the woman's profile. The strain had gone from her expression but I was certain that I hadn't imagined it moments earlier.

Was there some ill will between the sisters-­in-­law? If so, why?

Although I was curious about the McAllister family dynamics, I doubted I'd ever get answers to my questions. Besides, it really wasn't any of my business. Unless it had to do with the recent crimes, some of which had been directed at me. I couldn't think how the women's relationship would be relevant, though. I wasn't even sure that the reverend's relationship with his wife was relevant.

My mind went back to the e-­mail I'd surreptitiously read the last time I was in McAllister's office. Did the reverend know who had betrayed him and the church by misappropriating funds? It would be a betrayal for anyone in the church community to be the thief, but it would be even more scandalous and treacherous if the reverend's own wife or sister were involved.

I gave myself a mental shake. The missing money probably had nothing to do with Jeremy's death or the other crimes. I was getting too suspicious, reading too much into everything. I needed to stay focused on my mission. McAllister was still my prime suspect, and I needed more evidence to link him to one or more of the recent nefarious acts. If I didn't have something more than my next-­to-­useless information about the hooded sweatshirt by the time Salnikova got back to me, I'd feel like a fool.

Exactly how I was going to search for clues if I couldn't shake my well-­meaning church ladies, I had no idea. Maybe once I made it through Cindy's sales pitch I'd be able to slip away. But even that wouldn't really solve my problem. The upstairs offices were the places I wanted to explore, and I couldn't do that unless both Cindy and Estelle went elsewhere.

I decided to take things one step at a time. Perhaps an opportunity for a spot of in-­depth snooping would arise down the line.

“Here you are.” Estelle's voice drew me out of my thoughts. She snagged a glossy pamphlet and a slim, magazinelike brochure from a shelf behind McAllister's desk and handed them to me. “These should give you a good idea of what we do within the church and the community, but I'm sure Cindy will be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

I opened the pamphlet for a quick peek, feigning interest. “Thank you. I appreciate your time.”

Estelle's smile was less strained this time. “I'll leave you in Cindy's capable hands. I hope to see you around more in the future.”

I forced a smile and followed Estelle's lead as she left the office. While the reverend's sister jogged off down the stairs, I returned to the office across the hall.

Cindy was in the midst of hurrying around her desk to retake her seat. She appeared flustered, but as soon as she saw me she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed her expression into a welcoming but rather bland one.

“Did Estelle find everything for you?”

I held up the brochures. “Yes, thanks.”

The phone on Cindy's desk let out a shrill ring, and I recognized a chance to escape.

“I can see you're busy,” I said as the phone rang a second time and Cindy's eyes flicked in its direction. I waved the brochures. “Why don't I go take a look at these on my own and get back to you later if I have any questions?”

“Yes, of course. Feel free to get in touch with me anytime.”

I snatched my purse up from the floor and pasted another smile on my face as I backed toward the door. “Thanks again.”

As Cindy reached for the telephone, I slipped out into the hallway with a great sense of relief. I stuffed the church brochures into my purse and descended the stairs to the main floor. I paused next to a large potted plant, sucking on the inside of my left cheek as I considered my options. I could call it quits and head back to JT's, or I could poke around other parts of the church, perhaps asking anyone I found a few questions under the pretense of my interest in joining the church. Neither plan was my original one, but the second was better than the first. I didn't want to give up. Not without at least attempting to gather more clues and evidence.

I heard voices coming from inside the nave. Female voices. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I wondered if I should push through the doors and speak to whoever stood on the other side. I doubted the owners of the voices would be able to provide me with the information I sought, but one never knew. Perhaps some members of the congregation were observant enough to have noticed some suspicious, or at least unusual, behavior on McAllister's part recently. It was worth a try.

I took a step toward the nave but then paused. Cindy McAllister came down the stairs behind me. She flashed me a quick, distracted smile as she breezed past me.

“Ladies, how is everyone today?” she greeted as she swept into the nave.

The doors shut behind her, muffling the responses from the other women.

I hesitated for only a split second. This was my chance. With Cindy down on the main floor, her office—­and the entire second story—­would be unoccupied.

I pivoted on my heel and flew up the stairs. I spared only the most cursory of glances for the second floor hallway—­empty, as I expected it would be—­before darting into Cindy's office.

Even though Reverend McAllister was my primary suspect and target, I didn't want to leave any potentially slimy stone unturned by skipping over the second office. Besides, I wanted to know what Cindy had been in such a hurry to hide from Estelle and me upon our arrival.

I skittered around the desk and slid into the vacant swivel chair. A quick glance at the computer monitor told me that Cindy had left no programs open. Perhaps there were some interesting files on the hard drive, but I didn't know if I'd have time to browse through who-­knew-­how-­many folders searching for who-­knew-­what. So I zeroed in on the Internet browser.

A double-­click on the Firefox icon brought the browser to life, and from there I accessed the browsing history. As my eyes ran over the list of sites recently visited, my eyebrows crept up toward my hairline. While the visits to Gmail and the church's Web site were unsuspicious and uninteresting, I couldn't say the same about another page.

Although the name of the site gave me a good idea of its contents, I clicked on the link anyhow, seeking confirmation. Less than five seconds later I had it.

Somebody had used the computer to visit a gambling Web site. Although I couldn't be certain that Cindy McAllister was the person who had done so, I felt in my gut that she was. Without stopping to think about what that meant, I delved deeper into the browsing history. Someone had visited the same gambling Web site the day before, along with another gambling site. I scrolled through the site visits for the past week and spotted the same two sites again, along with a few other similar ones.

I sat back and shook my head. What did this mean? Did it mean anything?

Even assuming that Cindy was the gambler, that didn't mean she had a gambling problem. However, the frequency with which the sites had been visited, and the number of sites visited, suggested otherwise. Cindy—­or perhaps somebody else—­had far more than a casual interest in gambling.

I reached up and tugged at my ear. As interesting as it was that the reverend's wife might have a gambling addiction, that didn't help me link McAllister—­or anyone else for that matter—­to Jeremy's death, the fire, or any of the break-­ins.

Or did it?

Numerous scraps of information shifted around in my head, trying to fit together but not quite managing it. I wasn't sure if I still needed more pieces to complete the picture or if I had everything I needed and simply couldn't see how to put it all together.

I returned my attention to the computer and scrolled through the browsing history once more, checking for sites other than those related to gambling. Nothing else of interest popped out at me. I exited the browser and considered going through the files on the hard drive. I didn't know if it would be worth my time, and I'd already been in the office several minutes. The last thing I wanted was to get caught using the computer.

After considering my options for another second or two, I decided to wrap up my snooping for the day. I needed time to let the new information percolate in my brain, to see if I could make sense of the jumbled information in my head. Maybe I could talk things over with JT. He wouldn't be pleased that I'd poked my nose in other ­people's business again, but he might be able to see something I couldn't, make a connection that had so far eluded me.

I shifted my purse from my lap to my shoulder and crept out of the office. I took a direct route to the stairway, still moving with stealthy steps. As I reached the landing and started down the second set of stairs, a floorboard creaked somewhere not too far off. I froze, but only for a second. I didn't want to wait around to find out if someone was coming up the other stairway. My fictitious interest in joining the church might have saved my skin earlier, but I doubted that Cindy and company would continue to buy that explanation a second time, especially if someone caught me sneaking around where I didn't belong.

Keeping my steps as light as possible, I slipped away down the stairs. I let out a relieved breath when I reached the narthex and found it empty. Determined not to run into Cindy or Estelle again, I hurried to the main doors and pushed through them out into the fresh air.

With brisk steps, I set off down the street. I glanced back at the church as I went, my eyes darting up to the second story windows. I thought I caught a flicker of movement in the window of the office I'd just left, but when I slowed my pace for a better look I saw nothing. Continuing on down the street in the direction of the bus stop, I told myself that my eyes had played a trick on me. I didn't really believe that, though. In fact, I was almost certain I'd seen a figure in the window.

A figure looking down at me.

A shiver tickled up my spine like a spider shimmying up its dangling silk thread. As I turned a corner and passed out of sight from the church, the first raindrops of the day pattered down from the sky.