Euphoria Lane (15 page)

“Ah, you found Harry’s present on the porch.” Jessie gulped the milk from the glass. “Save some of those Harry cookies for me. I’d like to bite off a limb or two.” Jessie rinsed her glass and placed it in the dishwasher. “I gather Harry’s trying to get us to move because you started the anti-board.”

“
I
didn’t start the anti-board,” Andi said, her agitation growing with each passing minute.

“You inspired it by having the audacity to fight back. I bet no one ever fought back before.”

“Only once or twice, and they paid the price. Harry’s giving me a lot more credit than I deserve. I barely helped fight back. Meg took off running with the ball and then passed it to Roxie.” The idea of that eccentric old woman, who apparently had no boundaries, being in charge of the anti-board was probably scaring Harry to death. It frightened Andi because she paid for everything they did.

“Harry probably thinks he can regain control of the community if he can get you to move, you instigator.”

“Yeah, that’s me—a horrible instigator.” Andi pulled the sugar and flour canisters to the center of the kitchen counter. She was still determined not to tell Jessie that Harry also wanted them to move because he thought Jessie was a drug-dealing hooker.

“I’m going back to bed,” Jessie announced. “But first, I need to ask a favor.”

Andi resisted the urge to sigh. She really needed some downtime. “Can I make my cookies first?”

“Sure. I need you to question a few of the parishioners from the reverend’s former church. I received an anonymous message at the detective agency from a woman who thinks the reverend’s former girlfriend, Helen, is the real killer. Whoever left the message used a church phone. It came up on my Caller ID.”

“What about the porch?”

“I’ll take care of the porch later.” Jessie yawned loud and long. “I made you a list of questions and left them on the kitchen table. It’ll be easier than making those cookies look creepy enough to resemble Harry. You’ll see. Now, don’t forget to save me a few of those gingerbread men,” she said on her way to the living room.

“I’ll save you a whole plateful.” Andi inspected the gingerbread man cookie cutter. “I bet I could turn you into a HOA president voodoo doll.” She snickered at the thought before prying open the flour canister.

Luke hopped into the passenger side of Andi’s Mustang before she could protest. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I was just out back, checking on your porch.”

“Then you saw the pigeons and the birdseed.” Her expression twisted from one of surprise at seeing him to one of disgust.

“And the bird droppings.” She had to be ready to shoot Harry. Roxie would gladly draw a target on his chest for her. “I hope the camera caught a great picture of him creating that mess.” Luke wanted that man off the HOA board almost as much as Andi did.

“No such luck. He hid behind an umbrella. I swear he had to have known about the camera.”

They should have known Harry would cover his tracks. “He might have just been cautious. We’ll figure out a way to catch him, you’ll see.” He buckled up the passenger side seatbelt. “So, where are we off to?”

“We?”

“Yes, we. There’s a murderer running around here. Consider me your bodyguard.”

“I hardly need a bodyguard to question parishioners at Nichols’s former church.”

“Sure you do.” He patted the dashboard. “Let’s go.” He resisted chuckling at her annoyed expression.

How can I explain that I just want to spend time with her?

The reverend’s former church turned out to be a quaint wood-and-lattice building in need of a coat of fresh paint. Folding tables covered the lawn and women of all ages were decorating them with linens and trays. A sign leaning against the bushes read “Bake Sale. Support the Church Renovation Fund.”

Luke stuck to Andi’s side as she strolled over to a young woman covering a long table with an enormous cloth.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Andi took a corner of the freshly washed, white linen from the blonde wearing a lilac sundress with a dark-purple ribbon tied in a bow at her waist. She handed Luke the other corner.

“Thanks.” The woman stepped around the corner of the table. They stood at opposite ends. “I haven’t seen you before. If you are here for the bake sale, you’re early.”

“Early bird gets the worm,” Andi said with a bright smile that quickly turned into a cringe that said she just remembered the mess on her patio. “Or in this case, homemade brownies.”

Luke remained silent, wondering how Andi would work Reverend Nichols and Helen into the conversation. On the way over, Andi told Luke she needed to know what the congregation was saying about their former members now that they were gone. Did they have information that would make them think Nichols or Helen killed Bernice? He heard about Helen’s former boyfriend. Could the millionaire have arranged for Bernice’s death and framed the reverend for the ultimate revenge?

Perhaps I should ask a question or two of my own.

The pleasant young woman smoothed the wrinkles out of the cloth. “You’ve come to the right place. Mrs. Cox makes walnut brownies that are to die for.” She gestured toward a table near a large paloverde tree. “She’s the woman in the apron with the bun in her hair.”

If this woman didn’t know Reverend Nichols, the gray-haired, brownie lady might. “How long have you been attending church here?” he asked, unable to stay out of the conversation.

Andi shot him a warning look.

“About . . .” the woman’s lifted her gaze upward to the sky, as if asking God for help remembering. “Four months.”

“So you heard about Reverend Nichols and why he had to leave?” Andi sighed, as if the reverend’s plight was so sad.

The young woman shook her head. “Not the details.”

“Did you ever meet Helen?” Andi leaned closer to the parishioner. “I heard it was all her fault.”

Nervous, she glanced over her shoulder at the other women preparing for the sale, as if she didn’t want them to overhear. “I don’t know whose fault it was. The first week I was here, someone said the whole ordeal was scandalous, but someone else said he left to get married. The women who run the church haven’t taken me into their confidence. Whenever his name comes up, they form the sign of the cross and pray.”

“The women here are cliquish, huh?” Andi nodded her head knowingly.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Worse than high school. I help with every fund-raiser and they still treat me like an outsider.”

Andi nodded again, smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth, and glanced across the lawn. “Those brownies over there are calling my name.”

Luke followed, impressed by her ability to get the woman to tell what she knew, even if it wasn’t much.

“You’re not going to tell me what really happened either,” the woman complained as they walked away. Her voice revealed her frustration at once again being left out of the loop.

Feeling sorry for the young woman, Luke noticed how Andi acted as if she hadn’t heard the plea and strolled across the lawn. It wasn’t like her to ignore anyone. Detective work couldn’t be easy for her. Ready to assist in a new approach, he pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his jeans pocket and handed it to Andi. By the time they reached the brownie lady, the woman had her table set up and was ready for business.

Andi pointed to the plate of brownies with her twenty. “I’ll take those.”

The woman with the bun in her hair removed the plastic wrap from the brownies. “How many would you like?”

“The whole plate.” Andi lifted a brow. “Do you have a bag? I want a little of everything.” She placed her arm around Luke’s shoulder. “I have a hungry man here.”

The feel of her arm on his back left Luke wanting to pull her close, but he managed to resist. Instead, he pointed to the chocolate-chip cookies. “Don’t forgot those, sweetie.”

“Of course.” She patted his shoulder. “They’re your favorites.”

And they were.

The brownie lady’s smile turned warm and genuine. “I have enough bags to hold the entire table.”

The not-so-subtle hint wasn’t lost on Luke, but he wasn’t going to give in so easily, not unless the woman planned to talk like a parrot. He pointed to the lemon tarts. “We’ll take three of those.”

The woman reached under the table and brought up a brown paper sack with a grocery store imprint on the side. First she placed the plate of brownies on the bottom, then she added the lemon tarts.

Andi pointed to the chocolate-chip cookies. “Half dozen of those.” She appeared nonchalant as the woman worked. “I’m going to miss Reverend Nichols. I can’t get over the fact he left.”

The woman’s smile faded. She eyed Andi over her wire-framed glasses. “Reverend Morris is nice. You’ll like him in due time.” She placed the decadent desserts in the bag. “What else?”

“Half a dozen peanut butter cookies.” She pointed to a plastic plate nestled against a pecan pie. They appeared to be a bit on the dry side. A great peanut butter cookie needed to be moist and chewy.

“Half a dozen coming up.”

“I ran into Helen recently,” Andi said, scanning the contents of the table. “She looked tired.”

Tired was an understatement. Helen looked like a zombie.

“She should take a vacation.” The woman stiffened her posture, her dislike for Helen more than evident. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

Not if you’re not going to talk.
Luke hoisted the bag into his arms.

“I was just wondering if you know how Helen’s old boyfriend is doing,” Andi said. “Is he still raging mad over the breakup?”

“No, he’s not. He’s found a lovely new fiancée. Not that it is any of your business,” the woman snapped.

Luke was quickly getting used to sticking his nose in other people’s business. In this case, it paid off. The millionaire was most likely not their murderer.

Andi glared at him while handing the woman his twenty. She held out her palm until the woman reluctantly handed over her change. After leaving the table, Andi scanned the sale. “Who looks like they have a loose tongue? We need someone to spill their guts about Helen and Reverend Nichols.”

“Let’s take a cookie break.” Luke found a cement bench on the side of the building. He dug eagerly into the bag while Andi reluctantly joined him. “You need a new game plan,” he said.

“I know. I’m new at all of this.” She reached for the lemon tart he handed to her.

They had just settled into quietly eating the sugary confections when he heard two women speaking around the corner of the building.

“I bet that girl was another one of those nosy reporters,” the brownie lady said in a disgusted tone.

Luke lifted his fingers to his lips, suggesting they both remain quiet.

The voice that answered sounded high-pitched. “Did you tell her anything?”

“Of course not, Agnes. You can’t trust the press and the police already think Reverend Nichols killed his mother.”

“We both know he would never hurt a fly. He helped my Joey turn his back on a life of crime. You know he shoplifted those candy bars. Who knows what he would have done next if Reverend Nichols hadn’t talked to him? He also paid for Gracie’s wheelchair when she couldn’t afford it.”

“Who could forget?” the brownie lady said, “but the police don’t know him the way we do. We have to protect him.”

Protect him? I thought his church had turned on him?

“This is all Helen’s fault,” Agnes replied. “She turned him away from his good work.”

“You may be right, Agnes. I think she killed the reverend’s mother. I heard his mother convinced Helen to break up with him, and then when she changed her mind, he was too hurt to take her back.” After a pregnant silence the brownie woman added, “My husband told me that the reverend hired a detective agency. I called the owner and told him to look into Helen. I’m not going to let the reverend pay for a crime she committed.”

If the brownie lady’s theory was correct, then Helen put peanuts into her own coffee creamer to keep the police from suspecting her. Since she carried an EpiPen with her, she wasn’t really putting her own life in danger. She could have seen the medical students out front through her window and timed it perfectly.

“Do you have proof Helen killed his mother?” Agnes asked.

“No, but the detective will find proof. Helen has to be guilty. There is no way Reverend Nichols killed his mother. It’s not possible.”

“I tried to convince the reverend not to leave the church, but he wouldn’t listen.” Sadness laced Agnes’s words. “He knew too many people blamed him for losing the money needed for the renovation project.”

“I believe Mr. Money Bucks would have left the church anyway, to avoid seeing Helen,” the brownie lady replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “In any case, we owe it to the reverend to steer nosy reporters away from the church. Without their interference, the police will eventually catch the real killer.”

“True, and once Helen is behind bars, we can all relax.”

Back home, Andi strolled down the street toward the pond. Their trip to the church uncovered only another theory, no real facts. The women there wanted Helen to be guilty because they liked the reverend. Not unlike the fact that she wanted Harry to be guilty because she couldn’t stand him.

She hated to admit it, but she missed Luke. He had promised his mother he would take her shopping for a new dining room set. A smile tugged at her lips. He was such a good son. His mother probably had no idea that Luke put up with the likes of Harry just so he could buy a house with a mother’s cottage. The other men she had dated would never want their mother to live near them, let alone out back nestled in a cottage.

Her thoughts returned to her mission. She had no idea what she expected to find at the pond. She knew only that her gut kept telling her the dead fish held the key to the mystery. According to Jessie, the police were convinced Bernice was killed in her condo. If the murderer did not kill her elsewhere, move the body, then clean the crime scene with bleach, why were the fish dying? Luke said there was nothing wrong with the aerator located in the center of the pond.

“Miss Stevenson?”