“It must have been awful,” I said to Carl. “Finding your stepfather dead.”
“Yeah, it sucked.”
“Was he a good stepfather?”
Carl just shrugged. Ivy stepped in. “Things were challenging once he became pastor. He continued to lead the choir, so between rehearsals, ministering to parishioners, preparing hissermons, and doing the business of the church… Well, we didn’t see him as much as we’d have liked.”
It was quiet for a moment, then Ivy said, “You’re the boy who found Sammy Hart’s killer. You got a reward for that, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Well, you should know… we’re not offering a reward.”
“I didn’t—I knew you weren’t. We just came to return the dish.”
“And now we need to leave,” Nana said pointedly. “I’m so sorry about the reverend.”
“Oh yeah, me too,” I added.
“We all are,” Ivy said sweetly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We created quite the racket getting out of Ivy Greene’s house, down the boardwalk and back into Nana Cole’s Escalade. I’m sure the Hessels were happy when we finally got situated in the car.
Wait, were they the Hessels? Ivy’s last name was Greene, she’d never changed it. And Carl’s last name. Crap, I’d forgotten it. What was it? Well, whatever. I knew it wasn’t Hessel.
“Why did you have to ask about Reverend Hessel having an affair? You know that’s not true.” Nana Cole said as I pulled out of their driveway.
“I don’t know that’s not true. How would I know whether he was having an affair or not? I only met him twice. Besides, what’s more important is whether his wifethinkshe was or not.”
We were back on the 22 before Nana Cole said, “I have to admit, Ivy didn’t seem very upset about losing her husband.”
“No, she didn’t, did she? Do you think she killed him?”
“No, of course… not. But they might not have been as happy as we all thought.”
Obviously.
“Who do you think he was meeting that night?” I asked.
“A parishioner.”
“You couldn’t narrow it down? You can’t think of anyone who might have been troubled?”
“It could have been anyone. People don’t always talk about their troubles.”
“And yet everyone knows everything about their neighbors up here.”
She looked distraught. “No, it couldn’t have been anyone from our church. That doesn’t make any sense. In fact, I don’t think it was anyone from Masons Bay. I’m sure it was someone from… somewhere else. Detroit, maybe.”
“Because criminals like to vacation at this time of year?”
“Don’t make fun of me. That’s not kind.”
It wasn’t, and I knew it. I changed the subject. “Do you really believe he didn’t keep a diary?”
“Why shouldn’t I believe that? Why would Ivy lie?”
