Murder with Macaroni and Cheese (15 page)

CHAPTER 29

S
o, here I am back at Rebirth Christian Church, but, as it's a weekday, the parking lots are mostly empty. After nabbing a space close to the entrance and walking into the massive building, I follow the instructions Alvetta gave me for finding her office. We spoke on the phone earlier, and I told her I had an errand to run in the neighborhood and wanted to check in with her and see how she's doing following the loss of Raynell.

I make a left down a wide hall to an elevator, which promptly deposits me on the third floor. I stride past a large office with “Pastor Michael Marshall” displayed on the open door. I take a quick peek inside and see a spacious executive suite fit for the CEO of a
Fortune
500 company . . . and given the amount of revenue this place brings in, I guess it shouldn't be surprising.

When I reach Alvetta's office I find her on the phone. She smiles and waves me in. While it's not quite as grandiose as Michael's space, I'd still be surprised if Michelle Obama had a more lavish office in the White House. I step onto the thick cream-colored carpet and sit down in a beige leather chair across from Alvetta. She's seated behind an imposing wraparound wooden desk that sits in front of a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the church grounds and some of the few remaining acres of farmland in Prince George's County.

“Hello, Halia,” she says to me after hanging up the phone. “The work of a minister's wife is never done. I'm trying to make final arrangements for Raynell's service, and my phone won't stop ringing. Three couples want the chapel for their weddings the first week in October, and they are all trying to sidestep the process and get me to work it out for them.”

“Chapel?”

“Yes, it's on the other side of the building. It's a smaller space than the main sanctuary . . . only holds five hundred people. Parishioners often prefer to have their ceremonies in a more intimate setting. And some like that the chapel has the feel of a traditional church with wooden pews and stained glass windows.”

“I love that a space that seats five hundred people is considered an
intimate
setting.”

Alvetta laughs. “It's all relative I guess. Welcome to the megachurch world. Very little is done on a small scale here.”

“Hey . . . whatever works.” I take a slow look at her face. “So, are you okay? You and Raynell were so close. How are you coping?”

“How I always cope—by staying busy. Raynell and I talked almost every day. I would fill her in on church gossip, and she would tell me I looked tired and needed a new moisturizer, or that my hair was going limp, and she'd heard about a new balm that would help.”

I smile. “God bless her. She was no stranger to offering criticism.”

“That was just her way. Somehow it made her feel better about herself. I never took it to heart.” I notice Alvetta's eyes start to well up. “She was really the sister I never had. Yes, she was bossy and sometimes . . . well, much of the time she built herself up by tearing other people down, but she always looked out for me.”

She pauses for a moment to keep the lonely tear lingering just outside her right eye from erupting into a full-fledged sob and grabs a tissue to delicately wipe it away. “She even introduced me to my husband.”

Your husband, whom she was having an affair with,
I think to myself.

Her affection for Raynell and angst over her death does
seem
sincere. If she knows about Raynell's affair with Michael or had anything to do with her untimely demise, she's hiding it well.

“Sorry.” She lifts her shoulders and raises her head, determined to fight off further tears. “I'm still grieving I guess, but I don't like to get emotional in front of other people.”

“There's no shame in crying over a loved one who's passed.”

“I know, but as First Lady of this church, I've gotten used to not letting my emotions take over. I've been to more funerals than you can count, and it's my job to be strong and keep it together so I can comfort others. I guess it's just habit.” She gives her eyes one more dab with the tissue. “And speaking of funerals, I've got a meeting with the choir director to go over the music for Raynell's service in a few minutes, so I do need to run shortly, but it really was nice of you to drop by, Halia.”

“Sure. I'll let you get back to work, but before I go, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Not at all.”

“When we talked the other day you said Gregory and Raynell had a secret romance in high school and had recently reconnected. Did you ever find out who reached out to whom to start working together? Do you know if he initially contacted Raynell, or if she reached out to him about her real estate services?”

“I asked Christy about it, and she said Gregory originally called Raynell. He claimed he had heard she was the best and wanted her help in scouting restaurant locations and a home in the area.”

“A home? He was looking to move here as well?”

“I guess . . . or at least spend enough time here to warrant owning a house.”

“Interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just can't get past the idea of Gregory reaching out for help from someone who wronged him so badly. Raynell probably stood to make a lot of money off any sales she facilitated for him. Why would he want to reward someone who did nothing but use him—even if it was a long time ago?”

“You're not back to that whole murder thing? The police met with Terrence yesterday and assured him it was an accident. Besides, you don't really think a successful restaurant entrepreneur like Gregory would risk everything and kill someone over some petty high school shenanigans, do you?”

“I normally wouldn't, but I have it on good authority that Gregory was at Raynell's house the night she died.”

“How do you know that?”

“I really can't say, but someone saw him approach her house late Saturday night.”

Alvetta hesitates for a moment. “Well . . .” She takes a breath and looks down at her desk. “That's really not surprising. Terrence was out of town, and Raynell and Gregory . . . well . . .”

“They had a thing going?”

“I shouldn't be sharing this. Wow . . . I feel like I'm violating Raynell's confidence, but, yes, Gregory and Raynell shared more than just a business relationship.”

“Wow” just falls from my lips as I try to make sense of him flirting with me at the reunion and my date with him on Monday night.
Why is he showing a romantic interest in me if he had a relationship with Raynell?

“Yes. I loved Raynell, but, like all of us, she was imperfect and didn't always make the best choices. Apparently they started working together and . . . you know . . . one thing led to another.”

“Did Terrence know?”

“No. At least I don't think so. Raynell's work involved all sorts of odd hours, so I doubt Terrence would have gotten suspicious if she wasn't home some evenings. And she and Gregory had the perfect excuse to spend time together. I think she worked it out so Christy handled many of the business outings with Gregory—that way Raynell's time with him could be more . . . shall we say
social
.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It was mostly Christy who showed Gregory commercial properties and multimillion-dollar homes. She scheduled the appointments and did the research . . . and answered his calls.”

“Multimillion-dollar homes? Gregory's restaurant chain must really be doing well.”

“It would appear that it is. And what you said earlier about Raynell standing to make a lot of money is very true. Commissions on commercial leasing are steep, and whoever sells him a home now will probably net tens of thousands of dollars from that commission alone, and—”

Alvetta's interrupted by a buzzing sound. She looks at the screen on the phone. “That's the choir director. I really do need to meet with her.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Thanks again for stopping by.”

“Of course. I hope you and Michael will come by the restaurant some time soon.”

I get up from the chair and try to give Alvetta a hug, but the desk is too wide. Instead, I take her hand in mine. “Please call me if I can do anything for you. I'm sure this a rough time.”

I exit Alvetta's office with my mind aflutter. She has given me so much to think about. Despite her apparent grief, I still wonder if she knows about Raynell's affair with Michael. Your supposed best friend sleeping with your husband is certainly motive for murder. I also wonder if Terrence knew about Raynell's affairs with Michael . . . and/or Gregory. (Sister
got around
. That's for sure.) Another motive for murder. Then I consider whether or not an old high school wound is enough motive for Gregory—or Kimberly—to kill Raynell. And, as I make my way to my van, I can't help but think about what Alvetta said . . . how, with Raynell out of the picture, whoever helps Gregory close some real estate deals stands to make out like a bandit. If Christy has been Gregory's go-to girl all along, wouldn't she be his logical choice to assist him now that Raynell is dead? Is being positioned as the next in line to a hefty real estate commission enough reason for Christy to kill Raynell?

Alvetta, Terrence, Gregory, Kimberly, Christy—they all had reasons to do away with Raynell. I guess it's now up to me to figure out if any of them actually acted upon those reasons.

CHAPTER 30

W
hen the elevator opens on the main level of the church I quickly scurry down the hall toward the exit. I'm in a rush to get back to Sweet Tea so, as I hasten toward the door, I almost miss her. But, as I pass the reception counter, my eyes take note of a familiar petite figure talking to the security guard. She's holding a large cardboard box with both hands.

“Christy?”

“Halia. What are you doing here?” Christy asks and steps toward me.

“I just came to check on Alvetta. What brings you this way?”

“Alvetta asked me to pick up some photo albums from Raynell's house and bring them over. She's working on a tribute for Raynell's service. I e-mailed her a bunch of electronic ones, but she wanted some of the older prints as well.”

“Why didn't she ask Terrence?”

“Because Terrence probably wouldn't have known where to find them.”

“But you did?”

“Please. I know where everything is in that house. When you work . . .
worked
for Raynell, you have a very loosely defined job description. I did much more than just assist her with her real estate business. When you pick up and put away someone's dry cleaning, organize her closets, and oversee the installation of her new hardwood floors, you learn where things are.”

“I guess so. Sounds like Raynell kept you very busy. Alvetta was just telling me that you were the one who did most of the work to help Gregory scout locations for his restaurant and find a home in the area.”

“I guess that's true, but he's a nice person . . . easy to work with.”

“So will you continue to work with him now that Raynell has passed?” I'm hoping it doesn't sound too obvious that I'm fishing for information. “Sounds like you deserved whatever commissions were to come from the deal anyway.”

“Maybe so, but unfortunately I'm not a licensed agent, so I'm not eligible for commissions. Technically, I shouldn't have even been showing Gregory properties without a license, but Raynell wasn't exactly one for always following rules.”

Well, that blows my theory that Christy offed Raynell to get her hands on some real estate commissions.
“I guess Gregory will have to find a new agent.” I almost add “and another mistress,” but keep those words to myself as I have no idea if Christy is aware of Raynell's proclivity for extramarital affairs. No wonder she needed Christy to do all of her work. She was too busy swinging from the chandeliers with Gregory and her best friend's husband, and God knows who else, to sell real estate.

“Terrence has asked me to stay on for a few weeks to help field Raynell's phone calls and settle some affairs, so I'm a little swamped, but I'll give Gregory a call this week and set him up with another agent in Raynell's office.”

“That's nice that you're helping Terrence. I'm sure it's a difficult time for him . . . and for you. How are you doing?”

“I'm okay. Raynell was a hard ass and not the most respectful person in the world, but . . . I don't know . . . I sort of miss her. She was like one of those yippy little dogs that growls and tries to nip everyone, but you sort of get used to having them around . . . and they leave a void when they're no longer there.”

“So you miss her like you might miss a mean Chihuahua? I hope you're not writing the eulogy,” I say with a smile.

Christy laughs. “No. I'm not sure who is . . . probably Alvetta or Terrence.”

“How is Terrence?”

“He's hanging in there. I haven't seen him in a few days.”

“He wasn't at the house when you went to pick up the albums?”

“No. I think he had some errands to run.”

I want to ask her how she got in the house if Terrence wasn't there, but I think I've asked enough nosy questions for the time being. And, besides, it's probably safe to assume she has a key to the Rollinses' house given all the personal work she did for Raynell.

“Well, give him my best next time you see him.”

“Sure. I'll probably be helping him out for another week or two, and then I need to start searching for a new job.”

“I'm sure you won't have any trouble on that front. What's it they say about New York? ‘If you can make it there you can make it anywhere.' I think the same thing goes for working with Raynell. If you can work for her, you can work for anyone.”

“I hope you're right,” Christy says. “I guess I had better get these albums to Alvetta.”

“Okay. It was nice to run into you. Best of luck on your job search.”

Christy and I part company, and, on my way to the parking lot, I visualize my suspect list in my head. I'm about to draw a line through Christy's name—if she's not eligible to receive any real estate commissions, that strips her of a key motive for killing Raynell. In fact, if she didn't stand to make any financial gain from Raynell's death, it's unlikely she'd kill the person who signs her paychecks and makes it possible for her to earn a living. I picture a line going through her name, but I'm not quite ready to cross her off the list entirely. Maybe she didn't get rich off Raynell's demise and is facing unemployment as a result of her death. But, much like everyone else Raynell came into contact with, she treated Christy pretty badly. From what I saw she mostly just barked orders at her all day. And that's how Raynell treated her in public—who knows how bad it was in private. Maybe Christy had enough, was going to quit anyway, but, before she did, figured she'd kill Raynell for no other reason than Raynell being an insufferable witch.

 

 

¾ cup tequila
¼ cup triple sec
⅓ cup honey
1 large orange, peeled and de-seeded
1 lime, peeled and de-seeded
1 lemon, peeled and de-seeded
6 cups ice

 

Combine all ingredients in blender. Blend on high until smooth. Salt rims of glasses if desired.

 

Four Servings

 

Note:
If blender is not large enough to add 6 cups of ice at once, start with 4 cups, blend until smooth, then add remaining cups, and blend again.