CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 8 (More Missing)

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CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 8

(MORE MISSING)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)


I told the police all that I knew, but to be completely honest, at that point I wasn't sure what I did know. I had impressions and instincts about what was important, but I just didn't understand how they all fit together. It felt like I was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle without the box's cover picture. I may have had all the pieces, but since I didn't  know what the picture was supposed to look like, I couldn't get very far very fast. As I spoke about disappearing and reappearing stuffed bunnies I'm sure I sounded very much like a raving lunatic. After a few minutes of being questioned by the Chief of police he handed me off to a junior officer who was to take my official statement. However, I actually gleaned more from him than he did from me. 

Apparently Sarah had been very upset because the Velveteen bunny I had returned to her had gone missing, but this time it had been more than the little girl could handle. She had been crying for quite some time before her mother had decided to phone me to see if I would come over and try to calm her daughter down.

No sooner had Ginnette hung up the phone in the kitchen after talking with me when she was hit on the head from behind. She blacked out for only a few minutes but she woke on the kitchen floor to discover Sarah was gone. Ginnette did a quick and frantic search and then  phoned the police. They had made it to her house in record time and by the time Marc and I showed up, which was by no means a lengthy time either, the police had searched the area and were already starting to question neighbors and arrange a search party.

Marc stood by my side now as I spoke to the young officer and when he was through taking my statement  (which didn't take very long), Marc asked me if I wanted to take a look around for myself. I looked at him quizzically. He responded by saying in a low voice, "You are an investigator. If you wish to have a look around on your own I could run interference with the police. Perhaps distract them in some way."

I had been so caught off guard by discovering that Sarah was missing and caught up in the emotions of the situation, I had momentarily forgotten that I was a professional investigator.  I was glancing around the living room from my place on the sofa where I had plunked myself and was trying to focus on what to do next when the good Reverend Wright walked in.

On the surface it seemed perfectly natural that he would come to  console someone from his congregation in a time of hardship, but I felt myself cringe inside at his presence. As I looked at a clock on the wall with some amazement that he had gotten there just on the heels of the arrival of the police, I saw him walk directly up to the Chief of police, pat him on the back and call him by his first name.

"Hey Chuck," he said to the chief.
 "It's good to see you again. I'm just sorry it's under such bad circumstances." 

The pat was such an intimate gesture that it freshly reminded me what it meant to live in such a small town where everybody knew each other. I was about to dismiss this occurrence in my mind, but when I looked at Marc I saw he wore a large frown as he watched this overt exchange between preacher and policeman. It was an expression I did not see on his face often, even after all our years together.

Suddenly the eyes of the minister met mine and I was looking at another frowning face. But only for the briefest of moments. He quickly replaced it with a countenance of sympathetic concern, gave a nod of acknowledgement to me, then walked over and sat in the empty chair next to Ginnette at the kitchen table. He placed a fatherly arm of concern across her shoulders and started talking to her in such a hushed voice that I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Suddenly a sparkle caught my eye and I saw the lady with the rings on her fingers I had first seen in church go towards them, carrying a box of Kleenex tissues which she gently deposited on the kitchen table right in front of Ginnette.

I wondered out loud, "What is she doing here?" without even realizing I had said it, until Marc answered me. He was following my gaze and said simply, 
"That's the minister's wife and he has his arm around a pretty, young parishioner. Where else would she be?"

I said to Marc directly, "Have you even seen so much cubic zirconia in one place at one time?", referring to all the rings on her fingers.

Again Marc answered, "Don't let her hear you say that. She would be offended just to hear anyone suggest that she would let anything but real diamonds near her, let alone physically touching her."

I looked at Marc who was watching Mrs. Wright with a certain amount of disgust, which was another expression I rarely saw on his kind and understanding face.

"How do you know so much about her?" I questioned.

"We dated for a while in high school." which he uttered in a throw away manner, as if it was of no consequence.

I guess my surprise at this revelation registered on my face because Marc continued, "We actually were quite serious about each other for a while. At least I was. I even mentioned marriage to her."

My surprise expression turned to one of amazement. "And she didn't jump at the chance to marry you?"

"It's not like you are exactly jumping at the chance either."

I looked deep into Marc's dark brown eyes and for the first time realized the amount of hurt I was causing him by holding off my decision to marry him and I felt a horrible pang inside my chest.
I said simply, "Let's get out of here. I don't think there's anything more I can learn from staying."

But before I left I went over to Ginnette and told her that I was leaving and to let me know if there was anything I could do for her. She got up from her chair, disengaged herself from Reverend Wright's grasp and pulled me by my wrist into her bedroom. Marc followed along behind us as if he was physically tethered to me, like the caboose on the tail end of a train.

Once alone in the bedroom with Ginnette and Marc, Sarah's mother  began with the simple statement, "I believe you're right."

"You do?" I responded. "Right about what?"

"All this has something to do with Sarah's toy rabbit. But the police don't want to hear about that. They are already disregarding a lot of what I say. I don't know if I'm being dismissed because they are viewing me as 'the distraught mother' or because they are holding to the belief that I may be involved somehow, but I know Velveteen going missing is somewhere at the heart of why my baby was taken. And right now you are the only other person who is holding that same belief. I don't care how much it costs, please find Sarah." she added with her concern and desperation coming through loud and clear. 

At that moment I knew there would be no backing out or 'palming' this case off onto the police. The Lord had placed this directly in the middle of my plate and there it would stay until the Almighty said otherwise.

LINK to Next Part # 9 "House of Prayer"



Laura-Lee Was Here Blog "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I.

CHURCH LADY P.I.: Introduction



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

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 9 (House of Prayer)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 9

(HOUSE of PRAYER)

REMEMBER: This is a mystery and it must be read in order, including the  Introduction, then Part 1, Part 2, etc. Also read the Companion Blog Post from my Personal Blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here" called, "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." There are clues everywhere. (LR)


I took my leave of Ginnette, promising her that I wouldn't stop looking for Sarah until she was safely home again. As I walked out of the bedroom toward the front door I made a brief stop in front of the chief of police where he was again in quiet conference with Reverend Wright. I asked if it was alright for me to leave, as Marc continued to faithfully follow me.

The chief verified that he had my contact information and then asked me if I would be staying in town for a while. I said an even toned, "Yes.", which he answered with a firm, "Good." With that exchange done, Marc and I left, but as I was walking out the door I paused to wiped my feet on the mat that sat crooked on the front porch. My own action puzzled me because people don't usually wipe their feet on the way out of a house.

By the time Marc and I returned to his Aunt and Uncle's house not only had his entire family gathered there, but also some friends, some members from their church and even a few neighbors I had been introduced to earlier in the week. Even though the house was bursting at the seams a quiet had descended on it. They were all there for the same reason: to pray.

 Everyone had made themselves comfortable and had settled in to pray for as long as it would take to get Sarah back. The large living room was a bit stuffy, but someone had opened the windows to let in fresh air and as Marc and I joined the others and made ourselves comfortable as well, the air in the room took on a 'thickness' hard to describe. The density was not from lack of oxygen, but from the tangible presence of Him who is always present, but never so evident as in our times of deepest need.

Now I've heard people refer to praying through a crisis as "wrestling in prayer" or "storming the gates of Heaven", but as all these people were gathered with eyes closed and heads bowed what I heard in their voices and felt in my heart was a peaceful confidence. Especially as one male voice I knew so well took over to lead. A man who approached the throne of his King with the assurance that he would be heard because his King was also his loving Father.

Marc began:

"Oh great King of Heaven, Creator of all, Savior ... our Dearest Friend.

We come to you again with all our weaknesses and all our sins exposed. Nothing is hidden from You. We are grateful that you are a generous and giving God who desires that we pour out our hearts to you, just like you poured out your life for us and your love into us. You know us better than we know ourselves and have provided for our needs before we even know we have them. You make a way for us before we even know what to ask for."

Marc took a deep breath as if he was just getting warmed up, then let it all out again and said simply and with humility,

"Thy will be done. "  And nothing more.

As I opened my eyes to look at Marc I saw that several others had done the same. Most with looks of surprise or expectancy. But to me it suddenly made sense that he stopped.

What really is there to add to that statement? You either desire God's will with all your heart and act accordingly or ... you don't.

The scripture verse of Micah 6:8 jumped into my mind:
"And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to  love mercy and walk humbly with your God."

As I looked at Marc and he looked at me and everyone looked at both of us I simply added, "Amen"

"Amen" was echoed all around the room.

 I knew the Lord was near because I had that "peace that transcends understanding."{Philippians 4}. I knew I had nothing to fear because the perfect love of Jesus would "cast it out" {1 John 4}. I knew I was safe because God was my refuge, my fortress and my shelter {Psalm 16 & 91}. I knew He could keep me from falling {Jude 1:24}. I knew I could hold unswervingly to the hope I professed for He who promised these things is faithful. {Hebrews 10:23}

 I knew that I had to go and see ... Bert.

LINK to Next Part # 10 "Factory Work"




"FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." from Laura-Lee Was Here Blog (COMPANION POST)

CHURCH LADY P.I. Introduction






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

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 3 Second Service

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part # 3 

Second Service

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)

After lunch I spent the afternoon just walking around this little town. I came here a day earlier than planned expressly with the hope of seeing some of it before I had to get to the real reason I was here. I walked up and down the little streets, looked at the little houses with their little flower beds and eventually found myself in it’s little down town area. I wasn’t exactly thinking of anything specific. I was just taking in the atmosphere. I had even stopped focusing on the strange little church I been to, at least I thought I had, until I rounded a corner and found myself staring at a big sign that said, “Harker’s Dry Goods”. Suddenly my entire morning came rushing back to me.

I crossed the main street which was practically deserted and looked in the front window of the store I had heard about that morning. Then I became aware of the fact that not only was this store closed, but all the stores were closed. Many years ago this would not have been unusual, because with the “Lord’s Day Act” in effect nobody would have had a business open on a Sunday. But these days people didn’t even know there was a time when places weren’t open 7 days a week. What a unique little town this was. Okay. I wasn’t thinking the word “unique”. I was thinking the word “weird” again.

Then something else jumped into my head; the houses. They were just like the fashions I’d seen at the church that morning. All the houses were well kept but they were either tiny homes of the poor or huge old mansions of the rich, with no "in-betweens". There seemed to be an absence of middle class homes. Everywhere I looked this place was populated with the “haves” and the “have nots”. Where were the “kinda gots”?

That evening I was not late for the church service. It was to begin at 7:00 pm and when they unlocked and opened the doors, I was standing in the exact same place I was when the doors were shut behind me earlier that day. But the Minister that opened the door for me was not the same Minister who shut the door behind me. That Minister, Reverend Wright, wasn’t there at all that evening. The night service was in the hands of the junior Pastor, Reverend Fortier.

All in all it was a pleasant service and I enjoyed myself much more than during the morning one. I was less distracted through this service and although there were fewer people in attendance, everything seemed to be a little more “together”. For instance, when they put a Bible verse on the screen at the front they actually got it‘s location in the Bible correct. The two men who had been fidgeting in the morning were back, but they seemed less animated and were actually sitting together and not at opposite ends of the sanctuary.

Pastor Fortier helped guide us into Jesus‘ presence with deep sincerity and good old fashioned loving-kindness. It was a time of quiet contemplation, rejoicing and spiritual refreshment. Exactly what I needed to calm my agitated nerves that had been present since attending this same church in the morning. It’s interesting how a different leader can make things so different. But it wasn’t only that. Few of the people that had been there in the morning were there in the evening so the entire service had a different feel to it.

As the service came to an end and Pastor Fortier dismissed us, he also encouraged anyone who felt like lingering in prayer to stay and take some time to “wait upon the Lord.” Most of the people quietly left, but I got off my pew, turned around and knelt on the floor with my elbows resting on the pew seat. I bowed my head to have a good, long talk with the Lord and just let His peace replace the events of the day in my heart and mind. It felt good  to spend some focused time with the Lord, but the troubled face of little Sarah did pop into my heart and mind a few times, but without all the worry this time. I knew it was a definite sign that Jesus was near.

Pastor Fortier said we didn’t have to rush so I lost track of time a little, but every few moments I heard some rustling and concluded it was somebody else finishing up their prayer time and leaving. Yet I had my eyes closed the entire time and didn’t take any notice of anyone or anything specific. Then things got completely quiet, inside and outside of me, and I decided it was a good time to depart.

I gently opened my eyes to discover that the entire Sanctuary was empty except for one inhabitant other than myself. Sitting on the pew only a few feet away from where I was resting my elbows, I looked into a bright face with wide eyes and full red lips. Her head was tilted to one side and she had the expression of one who has an amusing joke to tell. She was wearing a burgundy velvet dress which was partially covered with a green polka-dotted apron and she had one ear tilted toward me.

I spoke, "You must be Velveteen. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

LINK to Part # 4 "Some Bunny's Home"




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

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

CHURCH LADY P.I. Part #1 Sarah

CHURCH LADY P.I. - PART #1

Sarah

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)

Drawing by me of Church Lady, PI. LLR

I should start by saying that as long as I can remember I have been attending church. In fact, my first memory is in a church. My big brother was being baptized and I got loose from my mother’s grasp and headed to join him for his “bath” in the baptismal water. So, it should come as no surprise that when I found that I had to travel to a small town for a few weeks on a personal errand, when Sunday rolled around, I found myself in the lobby of the nearest Bible-Believing Church.

The building was of a medium size and as I entered into the crowded lobby of mingling Christians, I was met by an Usher who welcomed me, handed me a bulletin and pointed me toward the door into the main sanctuary. As I arrived at that door, I was handed off to another Usher who asked if I would like to have help finding a seat. It was all very slick and extremely familiar to me. I’ve been in so many different churches in my tenure in the “Body of Christ” that I can instantly tell a church that has a good administrative team. All the staff were in their assigned places and knew their assigned duties. Very impressive indeed.

I knew that I would not be meeting the Minister at this time because this close to the “Main Event” (the church service) he and his team would have taken themselves away somewhere quiet and private to pray before they stepped in front of their congregation and guided them through the worship service.

I peeked into the Sanctuary and came to the conclusion that I could fit in a quick trip to the washroom to “powder my nose” and tidy my appearance and still have time to find a good seat before the service started.

I smiled and “Good Morning”-ed my way to the washroom where I took care of “business”, fixed my hair, pulled up my south-travelling pantie-hose and made sure I had extra Kleenex tissues on hand. (I’m not called “The Church Crier” without cause! It seems to be the one place I feel I can let my emotions out for a while. )

From inside the washroom I heard the congregation begin singing and knew that was my cue to get myself into a seat. I was hurrying out of the bathroom and up the stairs out of the basement, when I came across a little girl sitting on the bottom step with tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Since I had just made my tissues handy, I stopped to offer her some.

She took them from my hand and look up into my face with such a forlorn look that I just couldn't rush past. So I asked, "Do you mind if I just sit here next to you for a minute before going in with all those strangers?”

She nodded her consent, and we sat side by side on the bottom step in silence for a couple minutes.

Finally, I introduced myself and she told me her name was Sarah. I asked her why she was crying, which only brought forth a new flood of tears. Through her nose blowing, mumbling and crying, I was able to piece together why she was upset. She had lost her “best friend in the whole wide world.”, a stuffed bunny answering to the name, “Velveteen”.


I told her that I was a Private Investigator and “found things” for a living. She looked up at me with a look somewhere between hope and scepticism. Her sceptical look was what started sounding warning bells off in my head for the first time. It is a strange emotion to see in so young a child. But I continued to engage her trust by saying, “If you let me sit next to you during the Church service so I‘m not alone, then I will help you find your bunny after it’s over.”

A frown creased her forehead so I continued, “I’m pretty good at finding lost things. In fact, it’s what I’m best at.”

I was waiting for her look of acceptance but it still didn’t come. This was definitely no ordinary child or situation.

Finally she broke her silence and asked me, “How much?”

“How much what?” I asked her back.

“How much money do I have to give you for you to find Velveteen?”

She said it so business-like, as if she was negotiating a merger, that I had to actually fight my urge to chuckle. She was so innocent and sweet and small, but she was behaving like she should be sitting behind a big oak desk with a big cigar sticking out of her mouth. But I knew enough to wipe the "isn't-she-cute" look off my face. Often what we adults interpret as adorable, is deadly serious to a child and absolutely NO laughing matter from their point of view!

I told her that due to the serious nature of her problem, I would do it for free.

“I simply can’t stand to see best friends torn apart” was my explanation.

Once she led me to our seats near the back of a quite full Sanctuary, I asked her where the rest of her family was. She pointed at the lady sitting at the piano. The pianist was her mother and the only family she had.

It was a typical Church service. The worship music was lively, but the sermon was only mildly interesting. However, I must confess I might have found it slightly boring because my new tiny friend sitting next to me was taking up a great deal of my brain‘s attention. And of course, I’ve actually heard thousands of sermons in my lifetime and sometimes they can seem to blend into one another. As I look back in my mind, the only thing that stood out about that particular sermon was that a couple of Bible verses were misquoted. They were put on the screen for everyone to read, but the verses’ location in the Bible were inaccurate. I didn’t think much of it at the time and just chalked it up to human error.

But as the sermon continued, my mind wandered all around the room and around the facts. The deductive reasoning that makes me such a good Private Investigator, also caused my attention to switch to other things while in the sanctuary. I observed, made deductions and drew conclusions. It’s what I do. I could no more stop thinking that way than I could stop from burping after drinking a glass of Ginger ale.

The mistakes about the Bible on the over head screen brought me to the realization that, besides myself and four other people, nobody else sitting there that day had brought a Bible to church with them. And that is a very strange thing for a church that actually makes a point of advertising that they are a “Fundamentalist, Bible Orientated Church".

I also noticed there seemed to be a big difference in the way people had dressed for the service. A few peoples’ attire just screamed money, while the majority of the people there seemed to be dressed according to meagre means. The poorer families were clean and orderly in appearance, but a lot of their clothes didn’t seem to fit properly. As if they had been bought for someone else, or they had gotten them at the local Thrift Shop. But it wasn’t only that. According to their fashions, there didn’t seem to be anyone who fit into a middle class category. There were the poor and rich and nobody in-between. But I’ve never exactly been a “slave to fashion”, so I figured there might be another reason for this vast difference and I just hadn’t comprehended it.

But there is one thing I do know and that’s how to interpret human behavior. And because of that, I couldn’t keep my eyes from two men who were both fidgeting fiercely, even though they were sitting at opposite ends of the church. I actually found their constant movements quite distracting.

Then, as I continued to scan the members of the congregation, I caught sight of something sparkly out of the corner of my eye. There was a woman near to my right side who had several diamond rings on her fingers. In fact, they were on almost EVERY finger except for her thumbs. I immediately assumed they were cubic zirconium or rhinestones because if they had truly been diamonds she would have needed a body guard detail 24/7 just to watch over them.

With the final prayer said, the final hymn sung and the final doxology pronounced, the Minister dismissed us and raced toward the front door of the church to take up the usual “Ministers’ Position". This is something almost all reverends do in order to say “good-bye” to everyone leaving because they were unable to say “hello” to everyone arriving.

I took Sarah by the hand (or rather she took me) and we went up the aisle to see her mother who had been playing the piano during the service and was now gathering up her music.

I introduced myself and the young mother eyed me suspiciously before introducing herself back. From the expression on her face the thought rushed through my mind, “like mother; like daughter”. I felt I was seeing a younger and older version of the same suspicious nature. We shook hands and she said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah’s mother, Ginnette. Has she been making a nuisance of herself with you?”

The way she said this statement irked me. Her tone seemed sweet, but she made sure to proclaimed her authority over Sarah by emphasizing the word, “mother” and then criticized her daughter by referring to her as a “nuisance“, all in less than 5 seconds. I had been in this church for only 90 minutes and already the strange occurrences were stacking up extremely fast. And the vibes were all wrong.

LINK to Next Part # 2 "Ginnette"






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

Church Lady P.I. INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTION: Church Lady P.I.

“M-A-I”

It’s the French word for May, as in “The merry, merry month of _____.” It also happens to be my first name. First name, “Mai”. Last name, “Breeze”. I was born in 1960 and I think my parents always had aspirations to be hippies, but my father was an accountant and my mother was just a regular, suburban house wife and much too practical to be a "flower child". As she would always say, “It’s all well and good to ‘drop out’ of society until someone needs a Dentist!”

But besides my name, I am a very ordinary person. Yet quite recently, I’ve had some rather unusual events take place and I feel motivated to record them in writing. I want to share my story but I’m having some problems with publishers. Apparently, my story is too short to be a book and too long to be an article. I suggested maybe publishing it in a magazine in installments but I’m told that there are very few venues for that anymore.

When I told Laura-Lee these recent events, she responded by saying, “It’s such an amazing story I’m sure it will eventually be published, become a big hit, be turned into a Pay Per View movie and you will become immensely rich. But after all that happens and you have all the money you need, can I have your story to post on my blog?”

It was at that moment that it struck me, “Of course. Put it on the Internet!”

I don’t care about the money, and I’m quite sick of waiting for some publisher who barely knows me to decide what is or is not worthy for the public to read. I think I'll let you decide that for yourself.

Laura-Lee helped me complete my story by prompting my memory with questions, as well as polishing and editing the final edition and even picking the title for the story.  She has kindly turned this blog over to me so I can tell my story and if you will lend me your attention, I will happily share with you a story of what happens when an ordinary person surrenders to an extraordinary God. How can anything but an adventure occur?

Oh, one more thing, I'm told that for legal purposes I must say: “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.” And since I always like to ere on the side of caution, I suppose I should also add: “I do not exist and you are not reading this.”

So please follow me through the blog posts of what NEVER happened to me.

~ Mai Breeze, 2013
"Church Lady P.I."



UPDATE  (December, 2015)

If you have not read the Blog Post: "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I." at my "Laura-Lee Was Here" Personal Blog, you will need to do so. (Follow Link Provided)

When I originally began writing this story years ago it was mere weeks after the death of my Mother. I knew all the facts of the case and had them written down in point form, with long hand on loose leaf paper. All of which I lost.

When I came to rewrite it, all the facts and events of the case were revisited and it was decided that the things left out for brevity's sake were put back in for clarity's sake. And, also for the fact they were just too amazing to omit. So what was originally a story in 9 parts has become a whopping 18 chapters! 

If you have not read the "companion" blog post from my personal blog, "Laura-Lee Was Here", I urge you to do so. (Click on LINK provided)

 Without any further [years of] delay, I give you (FINALLY) "The Church Lady P.I." 

  Sincerely, Laura-Lee Rahn


Laura-Lee Was Here Blog "FINALLY FINISHED: Church Lady P.I."


NOTE: All direct Bible quotations come from the New International Version (NIV) of the Bible. 

There are some instances where the characters quote partial Bible verses or paraphrase the Bible into their own words. In these cases, where the actual Bible quotation is from is placed within these brackets {   } for the personal reference of the reader. They are not meant to be part of the story, but to remain true to the accuracy of the infallible Word of God.

LINK to Next Part #1 "Sarah"