Heart’s thumping like a drummer on crack, so I walk around each floor of my house: basement, main, and second. By the time I finish checking the perimeter, my anxiety has abated somewhat. The fort is secure. Civic responsibility has been addressed. Now the hunt can truly begin.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FIRST STOP IS the Church of the Spirit, and the police-averse bookkeeper, Daniel Chandler. I find his office. It smells like fast food and furniture polish. It’s small and cramped, with sagging bookcases, faux wood desk, and acoustical tile ceiling. One of the tiles has a telltale brown splotch: water intrusion.
Daniel himself looks exhausted, with bags under his eyes and lines etched in his cheeks. Strands of his thinning hair stick out all over, as though he’s been running his hands through it. Despite the signs of emotional upset, he’s not bad looking, in a kind of professorial, intellectual way.
“I just had a little confab with Detective Olafson of the Astoria police.” Pause to see if this has any effect on the man. It doesn’t, so I continue. “He told me that you said I could tell him about anything I discover in the course of my investigation. Is that true?”
“I haven’t spoken with anyone from the APD.”
I’m not surprised to learn the detective lied to me. Typical cop trick. “Good.” I nod. “Do you have a church directory? I’m going to need a list of all the members and their phone numbers.”
He leans back, rubbing his forehead. “Audrey, can you explain why you’re still involved? I appreciate it, naturally, and support Claire’s decision, but I honestly don’t understand why the investigation is still active — either with you, or the cops. Vicky’s not missing anymore. She’s…dead. And we’re not exactly swimming in money.”
I clock the slight hesitation before he states the word ‘dead.’
His face reddens. “It’s such a terrible accident.”
Uninvited, I sit down in his visitor’s chair anyway. “Mr. Chandler, two things. First, I hear Ms. Harkness wants to sue you, which is going to cost more than my bill. Second, I’m not sure Victoria’s death was an accident.”
“What? Why not? Surely you don’t think she killed herself? She would never leave the church. It was her child — her greatest achievement.”
“At the very least it is a suspicious death. Maybe even a homicide.” For sure it’s a homicide, but hallucinations are not evidence.
His mouth drops open, then shut, then open again. So textbook, it’s almost comical. “That’s ridiculous.” He glares. “That’s preposterous. What — why —”
I explain my reasoning, citing the presence of the detectives at the vigil. “Did you record the vigil at their request, or was it your own idea?”
“Mine. But they said they might want to watch it later.”
“See? They want to screen it for suspects. Or suspicious activity. Didn’t they talk to you first?”
“Yes, but they said it was just routine.”
“Mr. Chandler, regardless of what the police think, or do, we’ve got to move forward. The more time passes, the more difficult the investigation becomes.” I bait a little trap, because I don’t trust him. “The cops are going to come sniffing around, unless I can hand them a solution.”
He shifts the position of his stapler by two degrees. “I see.”
“I’ve got a lot of experience in solving homicides. More than anyone in this town.” Which may or may not be a good thing, from his point of view.
“Well. Carry on, then. I’d like to minimize the intrusion as much as possible. And I don’t want the media to inflate her death into a circus. The scandal would break her heart.”
“Great. Now, I want a list of the members of the congregation.”
“I just said I want to limit any intrusion, not abet in an invasion of privacy. No one in the church would harm her, or anyone!”
“All the better to rule them out early, then. If this turns out to be a murder investigation. Don’t worry, I’ll be polite and discreet. Also, did Victoria have a husband? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?”
Chandler’s face flushes. “A — a girlfriend? Certainly not! And she wasn’t married. Or seeing anyone else. As far as I know. And I think she would have told me.”
“What makes you think that?” Was Daniel a confidante, or just an employee? Plus, he said anyone else.
“We were close. I’ve known her for years.”
“How close?”
He jumps to his feet. “What are you insinuating? Whose side are you on?”
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “I’m just trying to understand Victoria’s milieu, her life and the people around her.” I wait until he sits down, then ask, “What is your role in the church affairs?”
His head jerks up. “There are no ‘affairs,’ Audrey.”
“I meant, your role in the administration.”
“As I said earlier, I do the books, keep track of donations, revenues, and expenditures.” His voice is testy now, annoyed.
“Do people pay to be members?”
“There’s no fee. People give tithes, or make other donations. Vicky sometimes got paid for public speaking at other venues. And she had her own money, which she used to cover the rent on this building, for instance. Some of our members are recognized artists, and their spirit offerings are sold to interested collectors.”
“Do you get a lot of spirit offerings?”
“Let me show you.”
Chandler takes me to the worship hall. When he clicks on the lights, I see the walls covered with paintings and collages and lithographs. I’d noticed this before, but only peripherally. Now I pay attention.
He says, “It varies. Usually Vicky decided what she wanted to display. She judged the pieces on individual merit but also on the donor, whether or not they could benefit emotionally or psychologically from seeing their work displayed.” He clicks off the light, and we go into the adjoining fellowship hall. “More here, as you can see.” Pictures and photographs arranged haphazardly, and a lovely full-length portrait of Harkness. She’s shown as an
