She flinches, and doesn’t look at me. “Is it a done deal? I mean, do we know for sure she was murdered?” She twists the bar cloth in her hands.
I hesitate. The cops haven’t been forthcoming with any conclusions, but I know. “That’s the assumption I’m working on, until we learn differently. Unless you think she killed herself.”
“No. I don’t.” Claire leans forward and puts her face in her hands.
“Are you sure? Has it ever come up in any of her sermons? Did she ever talk about it with you? I understand her childhood was less than ideal.” I sip my soda and munch a couple of fries. I’m reaching for that conclusion, but based on Daniel’s description of her book and my own experience with her mother, it’s not much of a stretch.
“She believed that trauma could be processed and healed through art. I don’t think she would take her own life. It would devastate her congregation. And believe me, that would matter to her.”
“Okay, not suicide.” Although it was interesting that self-harm had been North’s first assumption. “But it also seems to be a strange sort of accident for someone to have.”
Claire raises her head. “If it’s not an accident, I won’t waste your time saying no one would have wanted to hurt her, because someone obviously did.”
Bravo, I think.
“That being said, I don’t have much in the way of ideas. The only person I know who has a visible problem with her is that preacher, Takahashi.”
“Do you know him at all?”
“I’ve talked to him, briefly. He was upset with Pastor Harkness for stealing one of his sheep.”
“Is it that big of a deal? I mean, people switch churches all the time. I would think.”
She nods. “Churches are like any institution, they can get stale. Victoria’s message was fresh and exciting. It resonated with people.”
“I agree.” I eat some more fries. The salty starchy goodness is extremely satisfying. “What about the lost sheep, Jason Morganstern?”
“What about him?”
“I don’t know. He seemed a little…belligerent…at the vigil. He’s not very friendly in general.”
“He’s been with the church a couple of years, almost since we came here. I think Pastor Harkness helped him find a job. He was a little smitten with her, but so are most of the guys.” Claire frowns. “You know, she had a real gift, a real message. I think it bothered her when her followers were…attracted to her, you know? At least, that’s the feeling I got.”
“We should all have that problem.”
“I know, right?”
“Did he ever seem threatening?”
“Jason?” Claire frowns as she wipes down the taps. “I wouldn’t have said so, but then I only have ever seen him in the context of the congregation. He might have tried to contact her privately. Daniel might know.”
“When I talked to him, he indicated he had offered Victoria protection. Do you know what from?”
“Protection? I can’t imagine why. I mean, protection from him, maybe, but —“
“Why do you say that? I thought he wasn’t threatening.”
“Not threatening, but he was kind of persistent. Look, Audrey, I’m not privy to all of Pastor Harkness’s personal life. But she worked closely with Daniel and so I got to know her, too. She mentioned that Jason kept asking her out. To repay her for her kindness, he said. But she didn’t want repayment; as far as she was concerned, helping people was all part of the job. She laughed about it, but she had a hard time discouraging him.”
Jason had those anger flashes while talking to me, and moments of aggression. How would he have handled it if Victoria had rejected him? Lots of guys can’t stand that. It enrages them, and they have to get back at the woman, sometimes by killing her. I’ve seen it happen.
And speaking of men: “What about Eric North?”
“He knew her from when she lived here before. Did you see that nice painting he gave to the church? He obviously thought highly of Pastor Harkness.”
I finish my snack and drain the last of my root beer. I’m not sure what all to tell Claire, and truthfully, I’m not sure what the result of my tree-shaking is. I’ve learned some things, have some leads, but no evidence or smoking gun. Still, part of this maneuver is a waiting game. The fruit doesn’t always fall right away.
“Audrey, are you sure this was a murder?”
I take a deep breath. Calm. “Yes, Claire. I am. The evidence in her apartment, that she left her purse and billfold behind, that her car is still in the parking lot. It looks like she went for a walk and never made it home. You’ve said yourself that she wasn’t suicidal. And neither of us think she just fell off a pier into the river.”
“Maybe it was just a random stranger. There’s lots of transients and tourists in town.”
“Maybe, but why? She didn’t have any money with her — no purse, right? No one wanted her car. Why would someone just attack her for no reason?”
Claire takes my dishes away. She replenishes her supply of glasses and wipes the taps again.
“Audrey?” Her voice has taken on a serious edge.
“Yes?”
“How do you know she left her bag in the apartment?”
I feel the ground give way beneath me. A high-pitched hum vibrates the crystalline silence. It’s hard for me to think.
“Audrey?”
Claire’s voice seems far away. I’m back in Harkness’s bedroom, lying beside the bed, staring at the booted feet in the doorway. Hearing the buzz of the fly in the window and the rush of blood in my ears. Feeling the rough nap of the carpet beneath my cheek.
“Audrey? Are you all right?”
I don’t want to know what happens next. I just know somewhere, sometime, I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“Audrey!”
A hand clamps on my forearm, followed by a quick, vigorous shake. I blink, look around, feel the hard edge of the bar under my elbows, smell the deep fat fryer in the back.
“What’s going on?” Claire’s face is close, her eyes wide. I notice she
