Missed You In Church: A Hunter Jones Mystery Read online

  “You look worried, Mom,” Bethie said after Hunter got off the phone. “What was Dad calling about? Was it about why he left church? Why did he need Mallory’s number?”

  Sam had become a single dad when Bethie was five and he had a rule about protecting his daughter from the grimmer side of his job. If it were up to him, Bethie would see him as Andy Griffith in Mayberry.

  Bethie, however, was now 11 going on 12, and news traveled like wildfire in their small Middle Georgia community. If she didn’t hear about Noreen Bremmer’s death at home, she’d hear it from one of her friends.

  And in this case, Hunter thought, she had a right to know the truth. After all, it involved Mallory, who had just recently become one of Bethie’s “most favorite people in the whole world.”

  Bethie was waiting for an answer.

  “It’s very sad news,” Hunter said. “Mallory’s stepmother died, and her dad had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance, so your Dad is going to need to call Mallory and Miranda and tell them.”

  “I know where they went,” Bethie said. “Mallory told me they were going to Atlanta to a wedding shower party for Miranda. She said everybody was going to give Miranda fancy pajamas and nightgowns to wear after she gets married. I told her that you just slept in Dad’s old shirts after the two of you got married.”

  “Thanks a lot!” Hunter said with a laugh.

  Bethie reached for a handful of potato chips.

  “I didn’t know Mallory had a stepmother,” she said after a few crunches. “I knew her mom died because she has that gold bracelet she wears all the time. Her mom gave it to her when she was 16.”

  She reached for more chips and kept on talking.

  “She said Mallory was her mom’s last name before she got married, but she changed her name to Bremmer. Mallory says if she gets married, she’s going to do like you did. She’s not going to change her name.”

  Hunter put the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches together and poured them both some sweet iced tea. Telling Bethie a limited version of the truth seemed to have gone well.

  Then Bethie asked the question Hunter had thought she dodged.

  “How did Mallory’s stepmother die?”

  Hunter bit her bottom lip and told the truth.

  “Somebody shot her,” she said. “Your Daddy will find out who it was and put them in jail.”

  Hunter’s phone rang again. It was her former managing editor, Tyler Bankston, who had recently retired but still owned the paper, wrote the weekly editorials and signed the paychecks. He also still liked to know everything that was happening.

  “What’s going on out at Jack Bremmer’s house?” he asked.

  This time, she didn’t bother shielding Bethie.

  “Somebody shot and killed Noreen Bremmer,” she said, “And Jack had to be taken to the hospital after he found her.”

  “That’s bad,” he said, “She was a nice woman.”

  Then he added with his usual practicality, “I guess your new reporter can’t be much help with that story.”

  “I’m sure Mallory will need a few days off,” Hunter said. “Maybe more if her dad’s got a major problem.”

  “Let me know if you need some help,” Tyler said. “I can do some proofreading at home if you need my help.”

  He paused and added, “I hope Jack’s got a good alibi.”

  “Do you know something Sam needs to know?” Hunter asked.

  “Just talk around town,” Tyler said, “I’m sure Sam knows as much gossip as I do, or if he doesn’t, he will by tomorrow.”

  “No doubt,” Hunter said.

  “Mallory’s doing a good job with the layout,” Tyler said, abruptly changing the subject. “Better than either of us ever did.”

  “I agree,” Hunter said, knowing from long experience with Tyler Bankston that he had said all he was going to say about Jack Bremmer.

  After she was off the phone, she finished her sandwich.

  She knew that she should be caring the most about the murder victim and her bereaved husband, whether he needed an alibi or not, but her first concern was for Mallory.

  CHAPTER 3

  A MONTH EARLIER, MALLORY BREMMER HAD walked into the storefront office of the Magnolia County Weekly Messenger with a folder full of writing samples.

  At first glance, she looked to Hunter like a freckle-faced teenager, with her thick auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, and round glasses magnifying her hazel eyes.

  Her one-page resume included working three summers doing clerical work at Bremmer Insurance Agency, and a part-time job as a marketing assistant in the college alumni office during her college years. Her writing samples had been two A+ English literature term papers – one on Jane Austen’s “Persuasion” and the other on Walt Whitman. There were also two copies of the alumni magazine.

  Hunter had been browsing through the writing samples when she noticed that Mallory was looking at her computer screen.

  “That’s PressDesign, isn’t it?” Mallory asked. “I used that in the Alumni Office to put the magazine together. I’m pretty good at it if you need somebody to do page layout. I could build you a website, too. I’m sort of a computer geek. I’ve got a good camera, too.

  Those were blessings Hunter hadn’t dared hope for. She was desperate for help, with Tyler gone, and equally desperate not to hire any of half-dozen local ladies who had the idea that working at the paper would fit into their children’s school schedules.

  Regardless of their titles, she and Tyler had done a little bit of everything from reporting and feature writing to proofreading and laying out pages. Despite being wheelchair bound from childhood polio, Tyler Bankston was known statewide for having the best community weekly in Georgia, and the walls of the office were covered with plaques and commendations. There was no part of the work that he couldn’t or wouldn’t do himself, but, at 75, he wanted to settle down and write a long-postponed book. His wife, Ellie, was getting to the point that managing the van and his electric wheelchair lift was too much.

  Novena Baxter, who had been with the paper for 20 years, sold the advertising. She was also Lifestyle Editor, which meant happily chatting with anyone who brought in social news, writing it up any way she chose and counting on Hunter to “make it sound right.” Novena was invaluable doing exactly what she had always done, but Hunter needed somebody who could cover meetings and write stories that didn’t have to be rewritten. If that person had more than one talent, all the better.

  “Let me see how you would have done this page,” Hunter had said, bringing up the file for the last issue’s front page, and swapping chairs with Mallory.

  While Mallory was happily clicking and dragging stories and pictures around on the computer screen, Novena had come in and beamed at both of them.

  “Mallory Bremmer! Noreen just told me you were home and looking for a job, and I told her you ought to come to work for us.”

  Mallory had helped Hunter out by laughing and saying, “I haven’t gotten the job yet, Miss Novena.”

  “For heaven’s sake, hire her,” Novena said to Hunter. “She was valedictorian at the high school.”

  Hunter went into the office that had been Tyler’s and called him at home.

  “That’s Jack Bremmer’s daughter, the older one?” he asked when she told him about Mallory Bremmer’s wanting a job. “The one with glasses? Not the blond one who’s engaged to old money from Macon?”

  “Not blond,” Hunter said. “Dark red hair. Glasses. Freckles. Novena says she was Valedictorian at Magnolia High. She was an English major, but she knows computer layout. She’s worked with PressDesign before. She designed the University’s alumni magazine.”

  “Don’t let her get out the door,” Tyler interrupted. “I’m surprised that she’s even come back to Merchantsville. You can offer her whatever you started at. Give her an AP stylebook to study over the weekend, and have her come over to my house Monday morning for a crash course on the public’s right to know. I’d come i
n, but Ellie’s got some book group she’s going to.”

  So Mallory had gotten the job, and it turned out that in addition to having a good eye for page design and knowing everything about computers, she had promise as a reporter. She asked smart questions and listened to the answers, wrote well, was a reliable proofreader and could take good photographs. On top of all that, she knew her way around Merchantsville and Magnolia County.

  All that, and she was fun to be around and completely reliable.

  Whatever she had to do to help Mallory through the weeks ahead, Hunter thought, she certainly would do it.

  When Sam got to the hospital, he found Jack Bremmer connected to heart and blood pressure monitors and propped up in bed, wearing a hospital gown. He was red and puffy around the eyes as if he’d been crying, but he didn’t appear to be on the verge of death, and he already had visitors.

  Thomas Hale, the minister of Merchantsville First Baptist Church, and Clarissa Scarbrough, the older sister of Jack’s late first wife, Grace, were both there with him. Clarissa was a slim silver-haired woman in her late 50’s, dressed entirely in pale blue

  “The doctor said it was a panic attack,” Jack told Sam, sounding embarrassed and miserable. “That and the heat. I’m sorry you folks even had to bother with me.”

  “Don’t give it another thought. You had a terrible shock, but you did all the right things,” Sam said. “I’m very sorry about Noreen.”

  “Has anybody called Mallory and Miranda?” Jack asked. “I don’t want them to get home and see…”

  He faltered and Clarissa intervened.

  “Jack, I’ll call them the minute I get home,” she said, to Sam’s complete relief, “Don’t you worry about them at all.”

  As she and the pastor were leaving, she took Sam’s arm, and gently tugged, leading him out of the hospital room.

  “What on earth happened to Noreen?” she asked in a soft voice once they were in the hallway. “Jack said she was shot.”

  Sam confirmed that Noreen had been shot.

  “But what happened?” Clarissa asked again. “Who was it? A burglar? Or was she… you know… assaulted?”

  “She was just shot,” Sam said. “There was no sign of any kind of struggle. We’re just starting to investigate, but I think it may have been a burglary.”

  “I just can’t take this in,” Clarissa said. “I tried to call Noreen when I found out she missed Sunday School because I was worried she was sick. Of course she was fine when I saw her yesterday, but it just wasn’t like Noreen to miss Sunday School or church.”

  Sam tried to break in, but Clarissa seemed to be a compulsive chatterer.

  “And she was supposed to give the Sunday School lessons for the couples class. I should have gone right out there when I heard she didn’t show up when she had the Sunday School lesson. I was about to call her again right when we got out of church, but LuAnne Peavy came running up and said she heard that Jack had just been brought here in an ambulance. I thought I should come here first, and Pastor Hale was kind enough to drive me because I was so upset. ”

  “Excuse me,” Sam said after Clarissa wound down, “but what time did you see Noreen Bremmer yesterday?”

  “It was a little before 1:30,” Clarissa said. “I stopped by yesterday on my way to Macon just to pick up the RSVPs. I’m coordinating Miranda’s wedding, but the RSVP envelopes are addressed to their house, and anyway I had to be in Macon at 3:30 and I always leave myself plenty of time. I just ran in and out. Noreen was working on her Sunday School lesson, and she got the RSVPs for me. You know I thought about just going by on my way back, but…”

  Sam broke in.

  “Was anyone else there when you dropped by?” he asked. “Do you know if she was expecting anybody?”

  “No, and she was fine then,” Clarissa went on, “Do you know when it happened? Oh, I’m so glad the girls weren’t home.”

  “When you stopped by, which door did you go to?” Sam asked.

  “Oh, I went around the back,” Clarissa said. “I’m family. We all go in through the kitchen.”

  Sam shifted to practicalities.

  “Mrs. Scarbrough,” he said. “Jack and the girls won’t be able to get into their house until tomorrow noon at the earliest,” he said. “They’ll need a place to stay.”

  “Oh, of course, I’ll tell Miranda they should come straight to my place,” Clarissa said. “It’s the Mallory family home, you know.”

  Sam nodded. He knew that, but Clarissa chattered on.

  “Grace and I both grew up there and it’s like the girl’s second home. Miranda and I are doing all the wedding planning there, and the bride and bridesmaids will be getting dressed there since I’m so much closer to the church, you know. Oh, and Sheriff Bailey, we were so glad to get the RSVP from you and Mrs. Bailey. Oops! I mean your wife. Miss Jones. Is that what we should call her? You know, Mallory just loves her and she is so pleased about getting that job with…”

  Sam was rescued by the Rev. Hale, who took Clarissa Scarbrough gently by the arm and said, “I think the sheriff needs to talk with Jack before he falls asleep.”

  Sam told Clarissa that someone would need to take a statement from her the next day, and then went in to talk with Jack Bremmer, who had turned on his side and shut his eyes.

  “They gave me some kind of medication,” he said, trying to sit back up. “I think it’s about to kick in.”

  He tried his best to answer questions while Sam took quick notes.

  He had been out of town since Friday, he said. He was attending an insurance company conference in Atlanta that he attended every year. He gave Sam the name of the conference center and two names of other insurance agency owners he could call to verify that he was there. If he minded being asked for someone to vouch for him, he didn’t show it.

  “I wish I had talked Noreen into going,” he said, “but the girls were going off, too, and she said she was looking forward to being alone for most of the weekend. You know it’s been kind of a full house with both of the girls home, and all the plans going on for Miranda’s wedding. I know that she wanted a little peace and quiet, but I’d give anything if I had talked her into going with me. Anything.”

  Sam asked him if he had moved the body at all. Jack shuddered and said no. Sam moved swiftly away from that topic to ask about Noreen’s habits with the ring.

  “No,” Jack told him, “She never took her rings off. The engagement ring was a diamond solitaire, a big diamond. When I first gave it to her, she kept worrying about the stone coming out and getting lost or going down the drain when she was washing dishes. She would take it off when she cleaned the house. But then she took it to some jeweler who tightened the prongs or glued it down or something, and after that she wore it all the time.”

  “It was a big diamond,” he said again, with just a touch of pride. “Cost me… a bundle. Got it from Winston Bolton.”

  Sam made a note, thinking that Winston Bolton at the local jewelry store could probably provide a more accurate description of the ring than Jack could.

  He went back to his questions, hoping Jack could stay alert for a while longer.

  “No credit cards,” he said when Sam questioned him about the missing wallet. “Wouldn’t use them. Real penny pincher. She went through some hard times before we met.”

  Suddenly, Jack Bremmer winced as if a thought had hurt his head. “Somebody needs to call Ben.”

  “Ben who?” Sam asked.

  “Noreen’s son,” Jack said, shutting his eyes. “Ben Barstow.”

  “Have you got his number?” Sam asked. It was news to him that Noreen had a son.

  “No,” Jack said without opening his eyes. “Ask Mallory.”

  CHAPTER 4

  WHEN HUNTER HEARD SAM’S CAR PULL into the back driveway, she started putting sandwiches together for him.

  “Mallory just called me,” she said, as Flannery bounded in from the living room to greet Sam. “They’re already on 75 south of Atlanta. Her
aunt called Miranda, but Mallory wants to talk with you and make sure Miranda got the facts straight. She said Noreen has a son who needs to be notified.”

  Sam told Flannery to sit, and went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, and dry them on a dish towel. Then he tilted his chair to shake Hunter’s calico cat, Katie, off the seat. He took one of the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches from his plate on the table and wolfed it down while Hunter made two more and poured him a glass of iced tea.

  Bethie came in to hug her dad, and told him, “Mom only put a five dollar bill in the collection plate for us.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, “I’ll make up the difference next week.”

  “Will there be a media briefing?” Hunter asked.

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “Thanks for reminding me. Let’s say 5:30 p.m. Taneesha will let you know if that changes.”

  “Can I go?” Bethie asked.

  “No,” Sam said, “It’s grown-up stuff, but you can sit in my office and read.”

  Bethie made a sad face, which got her nowhere.

  Sam made the calls from his car. He had the motor running and the air conditioning on but didn’t leave the driveway. With the kind of calls he had to make, he didn’t want to be driving.

  First he called Mallory Bremmer, who pulled her car onto the shoulder of the interstate highway to listen. She seemed stunned but kept her composure until her sister began interrupting with questions and began to wail.

  “Let me get out of the car,” she said, and after more wailing and the sound of a door slamming, she was back.

  “My sister’s upset about her wedding gifts,” she said. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

  He told her the little he knew so far about the crime, explained about Jack’s panic attack and gave her the doctor’s name and number. He also told her about the few items that seemed to be missing,

  “She never took that ring off,” Mallory said. “It’s a huge diamond, over two carats. She kept her driver’s license and money in a quilted cloth wallet that matched the purse – blue and green flowers. I gave it to her last Christmas for a present. I can find you a picture of it online when I get there.”