Patterson motioned me toward the couch. “Won’t you have a seat, Detective Beaumont?”
I moved toward the sagging couch. It too had been thoroughly vacuumed. The stray popcorn leavings from the day before had disappeared completely. No dust rose from the cushions as I lowered myself onto them.
“I take it you and your wife are friends of the family, Mr. Patterson?”
Floyd hung his head. “Of Alvin more than Charlotte, I’m afraid. Charlotte’s, well…she’s always been difficult.”
“You can say that again,” Alva offered tartly from the kitchen, where she was furiously scrubbing the counter. The odor of undiluted bleach wafted into the living room. “You should have seen the parsonage after they moved out. I tell you it was criminal.”
“Now, Alva,” Floyd cautioned mildly. “Remember, judge not…”
“That’s easy for you to say, Floyd,” Alva snapped, cutting him off in midsentence. “You menfolks didn’t have to clean those filthy bathrooms. The women did. And the kitchen! We found roaches in some of the kitchen cupboards, can you imagine? And don’t you think for one minute that I’m here working today because of Charlotte Chambers. Absolutely not. I’m doing this for Richard so that when his friends stop by to visit, he won’t have to be embarrassed.”
“So you’re members of the church where Alvin Chambers used to be the minister?” I asked, directing my question to Floyd.
He nodded. “That’s right. The Freewill Baptist down in Algona. I’ve been deacon there for fifteen years. I was on the committee that hired Pastor Al when he first came to us ten years ago. I hated to see him go when he left, especially for a job like that. It’s such a terrible waste, but then…” Floyd left off and shrugged. “It was just one of those things, I guess.”
“Why did he leave?” I asked.
“Because of the remodeling,” Patterson answered without hesitation. “It was all because of that.”
The fall from grace of numerous televangelists as well as that of a few of the less reputable local clergy had prepared me for the worst. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised by the recounting of any number of peccadillos, but the word “remodeling” definitely wasn’t on the list of what I expected to hear.
“Did you say remodeling?” I asked.
Patterson nodded sadly. “It was all so silly. We…” He paused. “The church had finished paying off the mortgage. In fact, we celebrated with a mortgage- burning at the annual dinner. I remember Pastor Al telling me how much he was hoping we’d be able to spend some of that extra money on a new outreach program that he had in mind. Mission work we could do in our own backyard, right there in Algona. But at the very next board of directors meeting, someone came up with the idea of remodeling the sanctuary, and that’s what the board voted to do. Remodel. I think it broke Pastor Al’s heart.”
Alva Patterson appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on the front of her apron.
“It wasn’t just that, Floyd, and don’t you sit there and say it was.”
“Now, Alva,” Floyd cautioned, holding up his hand.
“Don’t you ”Now, Alva‘ me,“ his wife returned. ”You know as well as I do that the remodeling was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. The real problem was Charlotte. She was the problem then, and she’s the problem now.“
Without warning, Alva Patterson pulled the skirt of the apron up to her wrinkled face and sobbed into it. “That poor man. Whatever did he do to deserve the likes of her for a wife! It’s not fair. He should have had better!”
At that precise moment, my pager went off. Floyd Patterson directed me to the kitchen telephone, where I dialed Margie’s number.
“Beaumont here,” I said.
“I’m glad you called right back,” Margie said. “Detective Kramer telephoned before court went into session and wanted me to get in touch with you. He said to tell you ”Bingo.“”
“Bingo? What the hell does that mean?”
“Beats me. That’s all he said.”
I wondered, had he learned something important during the course of his lunch with Jennifer Lafflyn or had the fingerprints from Pete Kelsey’s spoon shown up somewhere on the AFIS system? It was just like my friend Kramer to play games and not tell me exactly what was happening.
“Where’s Kramer now?” I asked.
“In district court. Court was just then being called to order. He said he’ll probably be there all afternoon. Do you want me to try to get word to him?”
“No. Don’t bother,” I said. “I’ll handle it myself.”
Damn! Charlotte Chambers’ next-of-kin interview was going to have to wait a little longer. I flung the phone back on the hook and turned back toward the living room, where a still-sobbing Alva Patterson stood leaning heavily against her husband’s comforting shoulder.
“What is it?” Floyd Patterson asked.
“Something’s come up,” I told him. “I’ve got to go back to the department. Do you know where the phone book is?” I asked. “I need to call a cab.”
“Don’t bother with that,” Floyd said. “I’ll be glad to give you a lift. Alva can stay here to handle the phone calls if Richard’s plane should come in before I get back.”
It was a generous offer, and I was happy to take him up on it because time was of the essence. I rode back downtown in an aging Mazda.
“Alva’s right about Charlotte,” Floyd told me, once we were alone in the car. “She’s a sick woman, and I’m sure Pastor Al was burdened by it, but where could he go? We always expect our ministers to help us when we have problems, but who helps them when they get into trouble?”
He shook his head sadly and lapsed into silence. I was relatively certain Floyd Patterson himself hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he was nonetheless carrying a heavy burden of guilt over what had happened to Alvin Chambers.
“You knew him well?” I asked.
“As well as anyone, I suppose,” Patterson replied. “We had the whole family over to our house for dinner several times in the early years. And our two sons ran around with Richard some, but after Charlotte got so bad, it was hard to invite them over together.”
“What happened to her?”
Patterson shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. It was sort of gradual. She stopped going out much, except to movies, and she started putting on so much weight. Pastor Al told me once that he had tried to get her into counseling for depression, but she refused to go.”
“So you and he remained friends in spite of it?”
“Yes.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He was a kind man, a good man,” Patterson declared firmly. “And it’s terrible for him to have been gunned down that way. Where will all this godlessness end?”
“This isn’t easy to ask, Mr. Patterson, but to your knowledge, did he ever fool around?”
“Fool around? You mean with other women? Absolutely not! I’m telling you, Pastor Al was a God-fearing man, in the strictest sense of the word. He believed adultery was a sin, plain and simple. Just because he left out church didn’t mean he left his calling.”
I might have pointed out that being a man of the cloth hadn’t prevented any number of other ministers from doing things they shouldn’t have, but Floyd Patterson was clearly affronted by my question and he was, after all, going miles out of his way to give me a ride.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said placatingly. “In the course of an investigation like this, it’s important for us to have some idea of what kind of man he was.”
“I already told you,” Floyd replied. “Pastor Al Chambers was a good man, a good man through and through.”
Floyd Patterson dropped me off in front of the Public Safety Building. Inside the lobby, waiting for the slow-moving elevator, I wondered if Detective Kramer had actually picked up an AFIS report or if he had just called in to check on it. Instead of going directly back to my cubicle on the fifth floor, I stopped off on four.
Tomi Nakamoto, one of the clerks who works in the AFIS section, used to work in Homicide. We’re still buddies.
I stopped at the counter and waited until she looked up. When I waved, she smiled broadly. “How’s it going, Beau? Long time no see.”