“From time to time, usually out of frustration. He thought that Sam Reese was coasting in his job, that Lloyd Morgan was a functionary overly concerned with nit-picking, that Marley Wilkenson ran the music programs as a separate fiefdom and obstinately refused to answer to anyone.”
“What about Mrs. Reese and Mrs. Bay?”
She laughed, which was pleasant to hear. “Lord, I sound like the town gossip, don’t I? I’m glad you’re not taping this.”
“I’m not even taking notes.”
“Good. Well, Roy never liked Carola much — he thought she was kind of on the cheap side, although he conceded that she’s a fine singer. As far as Elise Bay, I can’t remember him criticizing her much; he mainly complained that she shouldn’t be in the Circle, that she was there only because of who she was. That bothered him about Carola, too.”
“As far as you know, were any of the Circle of Faith members having financial problems?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Roy never said anything about it that I can remember. And what you asked before — about whether there were rifts between him and any of the others. As we’ve talked, I’ve been thinking, and there was something Roy mentioned a few weeks back. I can’t even remember how the subject came up, but — oh, I know! — I was complaining to him about someone who works for me who was falling down on the job. I said I’d warned this person twice but there hadn’t been much improvement, and it looked like I was going to have to let him go. Then Roy said he had a staff problem, too, and that it would have to be dealt with.”
“Can you remember his exact words?”
She closed her eyes and made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Let’s see... I think he said something like ‘I’ve got a situation myself. It’s going to give one way or the other in the next few weeks. I’ve set a deadline.’”
“That was it?”
She nodded. “Yes. I asked him what he meant, what that situation was, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He just clammed up.”
“Was that unusual behavior?”
“Not really. I know from what I’ve been telling you that it sounds like Roy griped about the church to me all the time, but that’s really not so. I just lumped together all the things he complained about over the years. In fact, most of the time, he didn’t want to talk shop at all. I unloaded a lot more about my job than he did.”
“And he never brought it up again?”
“Never.”
“Did he seem particularly depressed recently?”
Sara inhaled and let the air out slowly. “No, I didn’t notice anything, and I think I’ve always been pretty sensitive to Roy’s moods.”
“One last thing: Have you been to the church to go through your husband’s effects?”
“Oh, I did stop in to pick up a box of things, and I need to go back again. What I got was mostly mementos and pictures of me and our son...” Her voice caught on the last three words. The calm facade was beginning to crumble, so I got to my feet.
“I’ve taken enough of your time, Mrs. Meade. I am grateful for your seeing me.” I handed her my card. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, I would appreciate a call.”
“I can’t honestly say that I wish you luck,” she replied softly, walking me to the door and shaking my hand with a firm grip, “but I do want to have the assurance that the right person is punished, whether it’s your Mr. Durkin or someone else.”
“I agree completely,” I said over my shoulder as I walked down the front steps, wondering how a guy as apparently disagreeable as Meade could end up with a woman like her.
Fourteen
Ten minutes after I left Sara Meade, I wheeled the Mercedes into the Silver Spire Tabernacle’s parking lot. Except for a dozen cars huddled near the entrance, it was as empty as Shea Stadium in January. I found a spot twenty paces from the main door and sauntered into the lobby, where the redheaded receptionist was pondering People magazine and jawing on a stick of gum.
She looked up and unleashed both her pearly whites and her dimples. “Hi! Back again? You must like it here.”
“I do. Half the fun of coming is seeing you and your smile and your outfits. That blue number is very becoming.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing like a freshman on her first date. “It’s my boyfriend’s favorite color.”
“With good reason. Say, could you call Diane and tell her that Mr. Goodwin is here and would like to see Dr. Bay?”
“My pleasure. And you didn’t have to tell me your name — I remember it.”
I thanked her and waited while she used the telephone. “She says to go right on back,” the redhead told me as she cradled the receiver. “You know the way.”
“Hello, Mr. Goodwin,” Diane sang when I got to the office. The secretarial pool at the tabernacle seemed untouched by the recent murder. “Dr. Bay is in a meeting, but he knows you’re here and said to wait, that he wouldn’t be long.”
And he wasn’t. A tall, lean, bald-headed specimen that I hadn’t seen before sauntered out of Bay’s sanctum, nodding soberly to Diane and the other receptionist, who never seemed to look up from her typing. “You can go on in now,” Diane said. Her smile wasn’t as blinding as the redhead’s, but it was more genuine. I smiled back.
“Hello, Mr. Goodwin,” Bay said neutrally when I got within three feet of his desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but we weren’t expecting you. I was just meeting with the chairman of our stewardship campaign. You know, the dollars-and-cents side of things.” He smiled. “Everybody needs more money to operate, even us church folk.”
“Your cash flow good?” I asked.
He gave his palms-up gesture. “Pledges are right on target, even slightly above. We’re down a bit in our loose offering, though — that’s the money, most of it currency, that we get Sundays from our one-time visitors and other nonmembers. The members almost all write checks, a lot of them monthly or quarterly. But then, all businesses have money problems, and as I get reminded frequently, we are among other things a business.”
I told Bay I wanted to spend a few minutes in Meade’s office. “I’m not looking to steal anything; you can have somebody in there with me the whole time if you’d like.”
“What are you looking for?” He smiled but narrowed his eyes.
“I won’t know until I see it — if then.”
Bay folded his arms across his chest. “It sounds to me a little like a fishing expedition. Up to now, we’ve indulged you and Mr. Wolfe, but there’s a limit.”
“I don’t think we’ll be making many requests of you after this. And I won’t be here more than an hour.”
“Sara — Mrs. Meade — has taken a few personal items away already, and she mentioned she’ll be back for more later, when she feels up to it. Lloyd, Sam, and my secretary Diane all have been going through Roy’s correspondence and other papers, mainly to make sure no church business falls between the cracks. I can’t imagine what you expect to find that would help you in your... quest.” Bay rose slowly and walked to his mullioned window, tugged a cord that opened the cream-colored draperies, and gazed out on the acres of blacktop and the Cana Chapel beyond, nestled snugly in its grove of trees. He turned back toward me as if striking a pose, then absently fingered a silver chalice on an ebony table next to the window. “Do you truly feel all this is necessary?” he asked quietly.
“It’s probably just the proverbial goose chase,” I conceded. “But what have you — or the church — got to lose? Meade didn’t have anything to hide, did he? And even if he had, Morgan, Reese, Diane, or his wife surely would have discovered it by now. I assume his office has been unlocked since his death.”