it when they’re done.”
“So anybody could have a key,” I said.
“Pretty much,” Laverne said.
Nev and I exchanged looks. For this, I was grateful. It meant that, at least for now, we had put aside the Evangeline question and were back in investigating mode. Investigating was good. Investigating was all about logic, and with any luck, I could keep my emotions in the background where they belonged. At least until Nev and I had a chance to sit down and have a real heart-to-heart.
Even before Nev said, “I think we need to talk to Reverend Truman,” I was already headed for the door. Yep, we were back to being a team and thinking alike. I didn’t even realize that it felt as if a hand was squeezing my heart. Not until the pressure let up.
We found the minister in an oak-paneled office with bookcases on two walls and a window that looked out over the parking lot. He was an African American man in his sixties with gray hair, and he looked decidedly unclerical in khaki pants and a green golf shirt. When we walked in, he had a dust rag in his hands, and he was rubbing away at the side of his desk.
“Be with you in a minute.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder at us. “Just can’t stand the thought of a mess in here. Whatever this is, it wasn’t here when I left yesterday evening, that’s for sure. And now there’s this white greasy stuff all over the side of my desk.”
Nev stepped forward and whisked the dust rag out of the minister’s hand before he could take another swipe. “It might be evidence,” he said.
“Oh.” Reverend Truman had a round, pleasant face and bulging eyes. “Oh,” he said again after he’d had a moment to think about it. “I’m sorry. I never thought it might be important. After what happened here last night . . .” His gaze drifted to the hallway and the gallery beyond. “I prayed, of course. I prayed for the poor man’s soul and the soul of whatever monster did this to him. And then I couldn’t keep still. I had to do something and cleaning up seemed like the right thing to do. I never thought—”
“It’s OK.” Nev had plastic evidence bags in his pocket and he took one out and dropped the rag into it, then took a look at the smudge on the desk. “You’re sure this wasn’t here yesterday?” he asked.
“I would have noticed.” The reverend nodded. “Yesterday was Thursday and Thursday is cleaning day. We can’t afford to have a crew come in and do the work. We each clean our own offices.” He looked toward Laverne for confirmation. “I cleaned this place top to bottom yesterday. Dusted, vacuumed. I would have noticed something smudged on my desk, that’s for sure.”
“We’ll get the techs in here,” Nev told him. “And they can take samples.”
“You think . . .” The reverend’s gaze slid toward the smudge. “You think the murderer might have—”
“We don’t know, Reverend. Not yet. For now . . .” Nev put the evidence bag with the dust rag in it into his pocket. “We’re wondering about keys to the church. Who has them?”
“Everybody!” Reverend Truman confirmed what Laverne had told us a little while before. “We’re a small congregation and running a church and a food pantry and the little thrift store we maintain to bring in a few extra dollars and the gallery, of course . . . well, it’s a lot of work. Pretty much anyone who’s ever helped has a key.”
“I’ll need a list of those people,” Nev said and the reverend looked to Laverne, who nodded. “And I’ll need to know if there are extras.”
“Extra keys?” For a moment, Reverend Truman seemed confused by the question. “Well, there are . . .” He walked around to the back of his desk and opened the top drawer. “There are these.” He took out a key ring with three keys on it. “And these,” he said, taking out a second key ring. “These are the ones we leave when the utility companies need to come in, you know to check the water meter and such.
“So anybody could have a key,” I said.
“Pretty much,” Laverne said.
Nev and I exchanged looks. For this, I was grateful. It meant that, at least for now, we had put aside the Evangeline question and were back in investigating mode. Investigating was good. Investigating was all about logic, and with any luck, I could keep my emotions in the background where they belonged. At least until Nev and I had a chance to sit down and have a real heart-to-heart.
Even before Nev said, “I think we need to talk to Reverend Truman,” I was already headed for the door. Yep, we were back to being a team and thinking alike. I didn’t even realize that it felt as if a hand was squeezing my heart. Not until the pressure let up.
We found the minister in an oak-paneled office with bookcases on two walls and a window that looked out over the parking lot. He was an African American man in his sixties with gray hair, and he looked decidedly unclerical in khaki pants and a green golf shirt. When we walked in, he had a dust rag in his hands, and he was rubbing away at the side of his desk.
“Be with you in a minute.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder at us. “Just can’t stand the thought of a mess in here. Whatever this is, it wasn’t here when I left yesterday evening, that’s for sure. And now there’s this white greasy stuff all over the side of my desk.”
Nev stepped forward and whisked the dust rag out of the minister’s hand before he could take another swipe. “It might be evidence,” he said.
“Oh.” Reverend Truman had a round, pleasant face and bulging eyes. “Oh,” he said again after he’d had a moment to think about it. “I’m sorry. I never thought it might be important. After what happened here last night . . .” His gaze drifted to the hallway and the gallery beyond. “I prayed, of course. I prayed for the poor man’s soul and the soul of whatever monster did this to him. And then I couldn’t keep still. I had to do something and cleaning up seemed like the right thing to do. I never thought—”
“It’s OK.” Nev had plastic evidence bags in his pocket and he took one out and dropped the rag into it, then took a look at the smudge on the desk. “You’re sure this wasn’t here yesterday?” he asked.
“I would have noticed.” The reverend nodded. “Yesterday was Thursday and Thursday is cleaning day. We can’t afford to have a crew come in and do the work. We each clean our own offices.” He looked toward Laverne for confirmation. “I cleaned this place top to bottom yesterday. Dusted, vacuumed. I would have noticed something smudged on my desk, that’s for sure.”
“We’ll get the techs in here,” Nev told him. “And they can take samples.”
“You think . . .” The reverend’s gaze slid toward the smudge. “You think the murderer might have—”
“We don’t know, Reverend. Not yet. For now . . .” Nev put the evidence bag with the dust rag in it into his pocket. “We’re wondering about keys to the church. Who has them?”
“Everybody!” Reverend Truman confirmed what Laverne had told us a little while before. “We’re a small congregation and running a church and a food pantry and the little thrift store we maintain to bring in a few extra dollars and the gallery, of course . . . well, it’s a lot of work. Pretty much anyone who’s ever helped has a key.”
“I’ll need a list of those people,” Nev said and the reverend looked to Laverne, who nodded. “And I’ll need to know if there are extras.”
“Extra keys?” For a moment, Reverend Truman seemed confused by the question. “Well, there are . . .” He walked around to the back of his desk and opened the top drawer. “There are these.” He took out a key ring with three keys on it. “And these,” he said, taking out a second key ring. “These are the ones we leave when the utility companies need to come in, you know to check the water meter and such.
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