Church Lady P.I. Part # 2 Ginnette

CHURCH LADY P.I, - Part #2

Ginnette 

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. due to the fact clues are everywhere. (L-L)

As Ginnette, Sarah and I strolled down the church aisle towards the door, Sarah explained to her mother that I was going to help her find Velveteen. Ginnette looked at me suddenly and asked with some amazement, “You are?”

I told her that I didn’t mind helping to find Velveteen and didn’t think it would take long because I am a professional Investigator.

She repeated herself with the same amazement, “You are?”

This reaction I’m used to. I’m a grey-haired, dowdy Christian lady. Not exactly the Philip Marlowe or Thomas Magnum type and few people have heard of Miss Marple these days.

So after Ginnette glanced me over, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know, there’s really no need to go through all that trouble”.

I looked down at Sarah who was starting to get a bit of a panicked look in her eyes.

I looked back up at Ginnette and continued, “Oh, it’s really no bother. I’m sure it won’t take longer than a few minutes”.

All three of us had arrived in the foyer and Ginnette turned to me purposefully. She began to explain in a tone you would use on a rather stupid child, (probably a tone Sarah was used to), “You don’t seem to understand Miss, uh, May was it?“

“No. Mai is my first name. It’s actually Miss Breeze. Mai Breeze.“

“How charming” she responded condescendingly. Then she continued,

“What I mean is, Sarah loses that silly rabbit all the time.” (I heard Sarah mutter “Bunny. Not rabbit.”) while Ginnette proceeded in her bored tone,

“She loses it, complains and sulks for a couple days, then it either turns up again or I go buy her another one. They are only $5.00 at Harker’s Dry Goods down town. So you really needn’t bother.”

Then she dismissed the issue with a casual wave of her hand and I knew the topic was closed as far as she was concerned. But from the defeated look on Sarah’s face I knew it was far from closed for her.

I watched the two of them get into their jackets and then head for the door and the Minister with his out stretched hand. Just as Ginnette took the Reverend’s hand, I said rather loudly from where I stood planted, “You don’t mind if I keep looking, do you?”

Ginnette, Sarah and the Minister all quickly turned to me and stood frozen for a moment as I observed their reactions.

Ginnette finally shrugged her shoulders and said in a throw away fashion, “You can do as you wish.” And was about to saunter out the door with her daughter when I rushed over, grabbed Sarah’s hand and led her quickly downstairs as I called over my shoulder, “Good! I just need Sarah to help me for a few minutes downstairs. We’ll be right back.”

As soon as we got downstairs, we both instinctively looked up the stairwell to see if we were being followed.

Then Sarah turned to me and said in a excited whisper, “You’re going to help me. You’re really going to help me.”

“Yes. Of course, Dear. But your mother’s waiting so we have to be quick about this.”

And I immediately got to work doing my “Private Eye Thing”.

I had Sarah retrace her steps, as I interjected questions to clarify things and finally got her to give me a detailed description of the missing bunny. Just then her mother called her from the top of the stairs and I told her to go and not keep her mother waiting. Again that sad, defeated look took over her face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep looking. And, I’m coming back for the evening service, so if I don’t find it now, I’ll find it then. She gave a big sigh and started to run up the stairs to her mother. After about 3 steps she stopped abruptly and turned back to look at me.

“She.” she said.

“I beg your pardon?“ I asked.

“ Velveteen is a ‘she’, not an ‘it’.”

“Oh." I replied, finally allowing myself a smile.

Sarah turned and hurried back up the stairs.

There were still a few people milling around the church basement, so I asked them about Sarah’s bunny, and poked around for a little while longer, but came up empty handed.
I must admit I didn’t look very hard at that time. I had the feeling that there was more going on underneath than merely a child’s missing toy. And also, I didn’t want to be found snooping around uninvited through a church I didn’t belong to and had never attended, in a town I had never visited. That’s how one can end up at the police station on the wrong side of the bars. I thought I would take the afternoon to think things through and come back for the evening service and decide what to do then.

About 20 minutes after Sarah had left with her mother, I wandered upstairs to leave. I was expecting to find the foyer deserted but was surprised to see the Minister of the church still standing at the door. He reminded me of the guards at Buckingham Palace. All he needed was a tall, black furry hat and red coat to make the image complete. If he was still waiting there to shake my hand, I figured he was one of the most dedicated and determined Pastors I had ever met.

I took a glance around the foyer to see if anyone else was there, but it was just him and me. As I walked over to the door he watched me, but didn’t say anything.

I decided to break the silence,

“If you’ve been standing here all this time just to shake my hand, I’m flattered.”

He didn’t respond at all to my little joke. He just held out his hand, I shook it, then he told me to have a nice afternoon, that he hoped to see me again soon and immediately shut the door behind me when I stepped outside.

I stood there on the steps of the church, blinking in the afternoon sunlight, as one thought repeated itself over and over in my head: “Weird. Weird. Weird.”

Every moment since entering that church had been a “weird” one, but I couldn’t exactly place my finger on what was wrong.  I suppose that’s what makes something “weird”.

I did know one thing for sure, wild horses couldn’t keep me from coming back. No matter how many wild horses they had.

LINK to Part # 3 "Second Service"





　

Copyright 2015 "The characters and events in this story are not meant to represent any persons living or dead and are entirely a product of the imagination of the writer." LR