She nodded.
“Andveryhappy that Reverend Wilkie is back.”
“Yes. That was made clear.”
I was wondering what was going on there. My guess was that Reverend Hessel had something to do with them both stepping down. Was it blackmail? Was something romantic going on between the choir leader and the reverend?
“Is Reverend Wilkie married?”
“He is. Tragic story. His wife has Alls-heimers. She’s in a home. Been there for years. People say he only goes to see her once a week, after the service to tell her how it went. Typical male. It’s all about him.”
“What do you want him to do? Talk politics?”
That earned me a sniff. Friends of hers began stopping by to tell her how well she looked and how happy they were she was getting better. I tried to smile when she introduced me but—outside of a West Hollywood gay bar—I sort of suck at small talk.
“You should mingle,” she said, under her breath. “Try to find out more about this hate crime idea.”
I just shook my head. Even if I believed that theory, there’s no way anyone there would be able to give me more information. I refused to mingle and stood there for another fifteen minutes. Then I remembered that one of the two offices at the far end of the room was the one Reverend Hessel was killed in. That was something I wanted to see.
Nana Cole was chatting with a woman twice her size who talked about her dog, managing to use the term ‘wiener dog’ about three times in each sentence. Subtly, I drifted off to the other end of the large room. Both office doors stood open, I peeked into the one on the right and found what looked like a conference room, or maybe a break room, I couldn’t be sure. There was a large table in the center, a cupboard with a sink in the center, and a rolling cart that held a microwave. Not the room Reverend Hessel was killed in.
The second door opened onto an office. It smelled freshly of paint. There was a large desk, a credenza, a chair behind the desk and two chairs in front of it. Pictures and diplomas sat on the floor waiting to be hung. They were Reverend Wilkie’s. He’d already moved back in.
Bludgeoned, I remembered. Did that mean Reverend Hessel bled a lot? Had the killer tried to clean it up or had someone else—
Oh crap. That’s why it smelled like paint. They hadn’t been able to clean the blood off the walls. They’d painted over it. Which made me wonder,What about the clothes the killer wore?Had they been destroyed? Or were they still floating around somewhere?
Then I noticed a cardboard box sitting behind the desk next to the credenza. Slipping all the way into the office, I could see that the box held pens and pencils, floss, a stapler, a coffee cup that read Treble Maker, a bottle of aspirin, a family photo of Hessel with a red-haired woman, and an Emo-looking teenaged boy—well, young man really, a certificate of honorable mention for a piano competition in Downers Grove, Illinois, and a photo of Ronald Reagan. There were a few things underneath I couldn’t see.
I was about to do a deeper dive into the box, when someone behind me cleared their throat. I turned and there was Reverend Wilkie.
“Oh, hi,” I said. “I was looking for the bathroom?”
“The bathrooms are in the church itself. On either side of the vestibule.”
I thought it was cute that he thought I knew what a vestibule was. He must have read my mind—a creepy talent in a minister, if you think about it—because he added, “Just as you enter the church.”
He meant the lobby. Why didn’t he just say lobby? I smiled at him, saying, “Okay, I guess I’ll just do that.”
“I suppose you think it’s inappropriate the way I’ve moved my things back in.”
“No. Why would I—I mean, my opinion doesn’t matter a whole lot, does it?”
“It was my office first, you’ll recall.”
“Actually, I don’t recall. I mean, I just got here in February.”
He looked me up and down. I considered hopping from foot to foot as though I urgently had to pee, but I didn’t think he’d buy it.
“You’re Emma Cole’s grandson, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Judgmental. The two of you.”
I opened my mouth to object—I mean he didn’t know me from Adam—but then I stopped. He didn’t like Nana Cole, but she seemed popular at the church. And only half the congregation applauded when Sue Langtree talked about how nice it was that he was back. So, was there a whole group who were against him? Was that part of why he retired?
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m going to go find that vestibule.”
