Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel (37 page)

“I know that’s right, and we should start praying, see, we’re late, because I took too long to get dressed and ready.” Rita winked at her, and Mary laughed.

“Ha! I don’t mean to doubt your faith, but I’ve prayed for a parking space before, and it never works.”

“Prayer does work, this I know.” Rita smiled in a lighthearted way, nodding as she kept looking. “Your calling me today, that was the power of prayer at work, yes it was.”

“Then parking must be the exception, because my car’s in the impound lot.” Mary didn’t believe God’s ultimate plan was to enrich the Philadelphia Parking Authority. “I drive around every night, looking for a space in Center City with my fiancé.”

“You’re getting married?” Rita practically squealed, and Mary could see her mood brighten as they got closer to the church. “Then that’s the answer, that’s why! If you can’t get a parking space, it must be that God wants you to stay in the car and spend some quality time with your young man.”

“Ha! You might be right.”

“See that lot?” Rita waved at a rubble-strewn vacant lot, through which the back door of the church was visible. “I don’t want you to get the idea that we sit on our hands at United Bible, for God helps those who help themselves, yes he surely does. We tithe to the Building Fund, and we’re hoping to buy the lot some day, then clean it up and pave it to make a parking lot for church officials, the elderly, and the handicapped.”

“Great idea.” Mary spotted a space in the middle of the row. “Look, a space. What does that tell you?”

“Our Lord and Savior wants his Pyrex dishes?” Rita burst into unexpectedly girlish laughter, parallel-parking like an expert. She cut the ignition, engaged the brake, and dropped her keys in her purse. “We’re going to get very wet. You sure you don’t mind helping me with the bags?”

“No, not at all,” Mary answered, and the women got busy, unloading the car and carrying shopping bags full of platters and casseroles wrapped in newspaper, so they wouldn’t break. They walked through the vacant lot to get to the church office, then down to its basement, struggling in the rain to bring bags back and forth. Mary had spent her childhood doing the same thing for her own church, so she felt at home, even though she was the only white face. Everyone made her feel so welcome, and Rita introduced her all around as a lawyer who was helping Lonnie get out of prison. Mary could hardly wait to meet Linda Wall and ask her about the guilty plea.

“Well, okay Miss Mary, thanks so much for your hard work.” Rita brushed rainwater from her teal jersey pantsuit, which she had on with low black heels, now soaked.

“You’re very welcome.” Mary looked around the basement of a church that was a smaller version of the one in her parish church, with a windowless rectangular meeting room, the width of a city block. Inexpensive panels of fluorescent lights illuminated inspirational posters plastered over scuffed white walls, like, Be Strong and Courageous! Do Not Tremble or Be Dismayed for The Lord your God is with you, Wherever You Go. Joshua 1:9. Beige plastic folding tables had been set up end-to-end on both sides of the room, and they were covered with packaged napkins, plastic cutlery, paper plates, off-brand paper cups, and rows of mustard, ketchup, and relish, next to bulk packages of hamburger and hot dog rolls. Thirty well-dressed women milled around the basement, inventorying and repacking the supplies and food, filling the room with chatter, laughter, and friendship, but none of them was young enough to be Linda Wall.

“Rita,” Mary asked her, “is Linda here? Do you see her?”

“Why, no, I don’t. Let me just check into that for you.” Rita tapped Sister Christina on her padded shoulder. “Sister, have you seen Linda? I was sure she’d be here tonight.”

“Oh she will be, the Deaconess just called. She and Linda are on their way back from Belmont Plateau. They had to make sure the permits were all in order.”

Rita frowned. “Oh, how late will they be?”

“The Deaconess didn’t say, but Lord knows, we have plenty of chores to keep us busy. Excuse me a sec.” Sister Christina waved at an older janitor with a sour expression, threading his way through the cheerful women. “Brother Washington, how are we coming with those folding chairs? Did you count ’em up for us?”

“Yes, Sister.” The janitor nodded, frowning in a cranky way. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Rita wagged a finger at him. “Now, Brother Washington, please keep a civil tongue. We have a guest here, in Miss Mary DiNunzio, and this is the Lord’s sacred house. We’re all working just as hard as we can, and we’re all in the same boat. Let’s make this a joyful celebration, not a pressure cooker.”

“All right, all right.” Brother Washington turned away and disappeared among the women.

Rita looked at Mary. “Sorry about that, but you know how men can be, so we let him think he’s boss.”

Sister Christina laughed. “I know that’s right!”

Rita smiled. “Mary, I’m sure Linda will be here soon, and if you can wait, we can sure put you to good use.”

Sister Christina nodded enthusiastically. “Miss Mary, we could use you to help Brother Washington with those folding chairs.”

“I’d be happy to help.” Mary checked her watch, and it confirmed her worry. It was after six o’clock, and if she were going to wait for Linda, she’d miss drinks with Anthony and his colleagues. She held up an index finger. “Ladies, just let me make a quick phone call. Please excuse me for just a second.”

“Of course,” Rita answered, with a grateful smile.

“Be right back.” Mary hit A to speed-dial Anthony and walked away from the crowd to the basement door, where there was an anteroom that was being used as a temporary coat room, holding jackets, umbrellas, purses, and other belongings on rolling metal garment racks. She pressed the phone against her ear, barely able to hear it ring for the hubbub coming from the meeting room and the rain pounding against the metal door.

Anthony’s voicemail came on, and Mary realized she wasn’t sure what message to leave him. She knew he wanted her to go out with his colleagues, but she was on fire to interview Linda Wall. “Babe,” she said, after the beep sounded, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t make drinks with your colleagues, at least not on time. I’m in West Philly on the Gardner case, and I just can’t leave. I’ll try my damnedest to get there, I hope you understand. I’m really sorry, and please make apologies for me.”

Mary pressed the End button and returned her BlackBerry to her jacket pocket, torn. She left the anteroom, following the noise of the women laughing and talking as they got ready for the picnic, hurrying this way and that with supplies. They made quite a commotion for only thirty women, and Mary watched them for a moment from the threshold of the meeting room, which was when it struck her.

And she got a hunch that she didn’t have to wait for Linda Wall.

Chapter Forty-five

Mary waded into the crowd in the meeting room and made a beeline for Rita, who was at the table on the right, packing paper cups. “Rita, let me ask you a question. Remember today, you told me you got cancer and ended up in University Hospital?”

“Yes, I surely do.”

“When exactly did that happen? When did you get your diagnosis? You said that you had cancer while Lonnie was in prison.”

Rita frowned in thought, cocking her head. “I was diagnosed in May, six years ago, yes, that’s right.”

Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. “And that was almost about the time that Fiona Gardner was murdered. She was killed on May 1, and Lonnie was arrested immediately, that night. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Rita stopped packing cups, evidently picking up on the urgency Mary was feeling. Sister Christina and Sister Helen lingered behind them, fussing with Brother Washington, but Mary screened them out, trying to put two and two together.

“When was the first time that the plea bargain was offered to Lonnie, do you remember?”

“No, not really, but it was fairly soon, I would say sometime in about a month, like maybe in June.”

“And that was the one he turned down, correct?”

“Yes that’s correct, yes it surely is.” Rita’s brown eyes flared slightly. “Does this matter? Why are you asking me this? Will it help Lonnie?”

“I’m not sure, let me follow up this train of thought, and you could help me think.” Mary paused. “When did the church start tithing, or beginning to raise funds for your operation? You said they had been doing it for a year.”

“Almost right away, they started, we all started chipping in, yes we did, and I remembered it was going strong through Christmas, I remember thanking Jesus with all my heart that everyone was so unselfish and loving that they were, when they had their own families to take care of, presents to put under the tree.”

“Then, if you follow the chronology, Lonnie’s trial starts about nine months after his arrest. In February, if I remember correctly from the transcript.”

Rita nodded again. “Yes, it was February, I remember because he was on trial on Valentine’s Day, and my heart about broke for him, for Linda, and for all of us, it was the darkest time, the darkest time of all.”

Mary became vaguely aware that Sisters Christina and Helen, as well as Brother Washington, were eavesdropping, so she lowered her voice. “Who in the church would know how much money was raised for you, and when? Who kept track of that, back then?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” Rita answered, her voice trailing off, and Sister Christina came over.

“Sister Rita, don’t you remember, it was Brother Kelverson. He was in charge of the Treasury Ministry, and the tithing for your fund went through him. That’s how I remember it.”

Sister Helen nodded, chiming in, “Me, too.”

Mary turned to the three of them. “Where is Brother Kelverson now? Can I speak with him?”

Rita shook her head. “No, may God rest his soul, he passed.”

Mary couldn’t stop now. She was practically tingling, she felt so close to something. “Who’s the head of tithing now? Is he or she here?”

Rita pointed to Sister Elizabeth, who was packing hot dog buns into a shopping bag, at the table on the left. “There, Sister Elizabeth does it now. You met her earlier, when she held the door for us, she’s a wonderful Christian woman. But why are you asking?”

Mary didn’t want to announce it to everyone. “I’m just curious, for the moment. I’ll let you know if I find anything out. I’ll come back and help you after I go see Sister Elizabeth, is that okay with you ladies?”

“Of course,” Rita answered, nodding excitedly. “If it helps Lonnie, please, Mary, do what you need to do, and go with God’s graces and the power and glory of God, working for you and through you.”

Mary put a hand on her shoulder instinctively, hoping it would calm her down. “You ladies keep up the good work, and I’ll be right back. Thank you very much.”

“Harrumph!” Brother Washington muttered under his breath. “I
know
I’m not carryin’ those chairs hither and yon, all by myself.”

“Mary, go, don’t worry about him.” Rita squeezed her arm, and Mary took off, wending her way through the crowd to Sister Elizabeth, who was short and heavyset, with big round eyes, pleasantly chubby cheeks, and a broad, omnipresent smile. Sister Elizabeth looked up at Mary, which meant she was only five feet tall.

“Sister Elizabeth, remember we met earlier? I’m Mary, the lawyer trying to help Lonnie Stall.”

“Yes, of course.”

“They tell me you’re in charge of tithing, and I have a question or two about the way funds were raised for Sister Rita’s operation, for cancer, about six years ago. You weren’t in charge of tithing then, Brother Kelverson was, but I’m wondering if you know where those records are kept.”

“What records?” Sister Elizabeth’s eyes blinked up and down, like a plastic doll.

“You know, records like who contributed how much.”

“Most of it was cash, in the basket on Sunday.”

“But some had to be in checks.” Mary had put checks in the collection plate herself, when she was short on cash, and so had her parents. “And those checks had to be recorded somewhere, didn’t they? In a ledger or in a computer?”

Sister Elizabeth curled her upper lip, in doubt. “I’m not one to speak ill, but Brother Kelverson wasn’t known for his record-keeping abilities. Our ministries are volunteer positions, and we don’t have any kind of accounting training, or record-keeping on financial things. I’m a dental hygienist, and I do the best I can, like with my own checkbook at home. I use the computer, Quicken and Excel. He didn’t even do that.”

Mary felt momentarily stumped. “Here’s what I’m trying to understand, and I’m going to lay it out for you. Sister Rita told me that the congregation raised $50,000 for her operation, and that doesn’t make sense to me, now that I see how small the congregation really is. This isn’t a large church, and it seems like it would be too hard for this small a group to raise that much money in such a short time. Can you explain that to me? Where’s my reasoning faulty?”

Sister Elizabeth leaned closer, wreathed in a powdery perfume. “I don’t know the answer to that question for sure, but I can tell you the rumor. But you have to keep it to yourself.”

“I will, I swear.” Mary couldn’t believe her ears. The last piece of the puzzle was falling into place. Her working theory was that Tim Gage got to Lonnie while he was in prison and made a deal with him to plead guilty to Fiona’s murder, in exchange for a large donation to Rita’s fund. Lonnie would have sacrificed himself to save his mother’s life, because he was devoted to her, and it explained why he took the deal the second time it was offered, but not the first. Evidence of such a deal would be a home run, not only undermining the guilty plea, but nullifying it entirely.

“Sister Rita doesn’t know about it, and if she ever caught wind of it, I could get in a heap of trouble with the pastor and the first lady, real trouble.”

Mary felt her heartbeat quicken. “I promise I won’t tell her, just tell me what you know or what you heard.”

“Everybody did commit to tithing, and this congregation always does, whenever any one of us falls ill. Sister Rita is one of our most popular members, and everybody gave just as much as they could. I’ve heard that they even went to the merchants on Lancaster Avenue and asked them to contribute, and they did. You know, the stores that the church patronizes, like the grocery store where we bought these rolls, for example.” Sister Elizabeth gestured at the hot dog rolls.