Chapter 7

Jenny called Eve on her newspaper office phone. She invited her and her hubby to dinner at one of the Nashville restaurants. Eve evidently complained about the timing, but Jenny answered her with a good story.

“Well we are leaving over the weekend for home. It would be nice if we got together before we got busy tying up loose ends.” she said. There was a hint of an orgy but nothing was promised. “Maybe we could trade information.”

“So Ed will be there too?” Eve asked.

“Honestly, it was his idea,” Jenny suggested.

“Let me get with my husband. I’m sure that we can work it out for tonight, or tomorrow night,” Eve replied.

“Either one will work,” Jenny said. “So, you will call with a definite time?”

“Of course,” Eve promised.

“So what now?” Jenny asked me.

“We are going to church,” I said. “Leave the whiteboards set up but turn them around so they are not visible to the casual observer. In other words the pakie maid.”

“Racist,” Jenny said.

“Don’t even go there,” I demanded.

We were in the car headed for church, when out of nowhere I had an idea. “What if the reverend of our tiny protestant church is a cult leader. He could easily be the killer with a motive for each,” I suggested.

“I get that Sharon was beyond redemption in his eyes. The baby, he could think he was saving from a similar life. Ralph was selling dope which was a sin in his eyes. He could justify that as saving all those users from a junkie’s life. The gateway drug argument,” I said.

“So how about Ester?” Jenny asked.

“The totally submissive wife. You know wherever thou goest and all that,” I replied.

“So the preacher plans it. He carries the pistol into the house and shoots Ralph and Ester first,” Jenny said.

“No he shoots them according to his own order. The most serious threat first. He shoots Ralph first. Then moves on to Ester, Next would be Sharon. She would be a ritualistic killing using what he sees as a sacred method. Something from the old testament, maybe.

The baby he has to see as innocent. She gets the merciful death. In our little piece of fiction, it is a plastic bag over her head. The bag still over her head and tied on with a piece of cheap twine. The twine came from the kitchen. After all the Reverend had all the time in the world by the time he got around to Amy,” I suggested.

“My god that makes perfect sense. In a totally unbelievable way,” Jenny said. “So what trips him up?”

“When the reporter goes to interview the Reverend he seems a little out of plumb. She notices, what the Reverend swears is an authentic priest’s dagger from the pre christian ages. It’s called a sicae he explains. That will also be what trips her up as well. He notices her interest and suddenly she know, and he knows that she knows or something like it,” I said.

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” she asked.

“Like you said before, my mind goes in a hundred directions at once,” I reminded her.

“So do we go through with the interview of the Reverend?” she asked.

“Absolutely, we want to know what the church and our priests looks like,” I suggested. “You know he doesn’t have to be an old man, he could be a psychotic kid preacher. That’s your choice.”

The real Reverend was a man in his early forties and a really nice guy. But that would be his facade of course. He could be hiding a very dark soul, I told myself. I checked my messages since Jenny and I both had our phones turned off during the interview. There was a message from Eve. It was in the form of a text. She gave me the name of a Nashville restaurant and a time. The rest of the message was simple. My husband and I will be there at eight. I will be in a bright red cocktail dress. You two can dress anyway you like.

I read the message to Jenny. I guess the cocktail dress was meant for you. Everybody knows that I don’t do that shit. I will wear long pants though. I mean I brought a pair so why not,” I explained.

“Eve obviously wants to be the one people look at the most,” Jenny said. “It’s a woman’s trick.”

“Now who is making generalizations?” I asked.

“I know, but I am a woman, so I’m allowed,” she said with a laugh.

“Now Jenny try to buddy up to her. You want to spend the day with her tomorrow,” I suggested. “If you are going to use her as the basis for a major character, you need to get a feel for her. What she likes how she reacts to certain situations, that kind of thing. Tomorrow is Saturday try to get her to allow you to follow her around all day. Pay attention to what she says and does. Make her think you want to be a real journalist one day. Don’t worry about getting it right, just make it interesting. That is just my take on this. Feel free to ignore my advice.”

“Don’t worry I probably will. At least when it comes to Eve,” she suggested. “Sorry, something about her rubs me wrong.”

“Good then use it,” I suggested. Since we were in the Maple Leaf Motel parking lot, I went inside the office and bought a copy of the surveillance footage for the night of the drugs dealer’s visit.

It was an unusual request but it didn’t matter to the manager, the hundred bucks looked good to him. I went back to my room and forwarded the footage to the geek. With a message about facial recognition and a criminal records check.

Jenny and I went to her room to study the white board again. I was sitting there drinking the convenience store coffee from my large thermos, when Jenny started to speak.

“You know it’s too obvious that Sharon was the intended victim. It seems pretty unlikely that it was the baby or the grandmother. My vote is back on her drug slinging father.” Jenny said.