The First Church (11 page)

“The article doesn’t name the thief, though,” Jim said with a frown.

“It wouldn’t,” his grandfather replied.  “The boy was young, a teenager
,
according to Mr. Boyd.  His name would have been kept
confidential.”

“How are we going to find out who he was then?” Jim asked.

“We’ll need someone with access to old police reports,” he said.  He tapped his fingers on his cane.  “We will have to speak with Brian, but it may be best to bring in the State Police Detective who came to the house.”

“What?” Jim asked, surprised.  “Do you really think a police officer is going to believe us?”

“All we can do is ask, James,” his grandfather said gently.  “And we won’t be able to break into the police station to search for old records which may or may not exist.”

Jim realized his grandfather was right,
and he sighed.  “Okay.  Detective Brown just didn’t look like he was the kind of person who believed in ghosts.”

“You never know, James,” his grandfather said with a smile.  “Now, let’s do a little more research and try to find anything else which may be useful.”

“Okay, Grandpa,” Jim said, and he turned back to the computer screen.  He went back to the search
results and started to read through them.

Chapter 27: Resisting

Colleen Staples sat in her chair and looked at State Police Detective Dan Brown.  On her
lap,
she held Romeo, her young Siamese cat.  The animal purred
steadily,
and she scratched between his chocolate pointed ears.  Detective Brown looked uncomfortable, his tea cup exceptionally small in his large hands.  He smiled at
her, and she returned it.

“Mrs. Staples,” he said, setting the porcelain down and picking up his pen.  He held it above his notepad, ready to write.  “I was wondering if you might be able to tell me what’s been going on over at the First Church.”

Colleen looked at him for a moment.

She had never in her life been a busy body.  Other women had indulged themselves in gossip, but Colleen never had.  Gossip hurt, and it was just as bad to cause pain with words as it was with something far more physical.

“What exactly are you inquiring about?” she asked.  Romeo rolled on her lap and exposed his stomach.  Absently
, she moved her hands and rubbed under his arms and the fur on his chest.

“Well,” Detective Brown said, “you were the one who discovered the two boys who had been injured.  I was wondering if perhaps you knew about any other curious happenings in the Church.”

“I don’t pay any mind to things I haven’t seen or heard myself, Detective,” she replied.

“Of course not,” he said, smiling broadly.  “Is there anything, however, you might have seen or heard which would qualify as curious?”

“Not particularly,” Colleen said easily.  “Everything seems to be in order, except for the terrible accident which befell Matthew and Carlton.”

“Was it an accident?” Detective Brown asked.  “I thought perhaps it was another boy.”

“Another boy?” Colleen asked.  “No, no I don’t believe so.”

“Not James Bogue?” he said.

Colleen gave him a stern look, one which used to send her husband Kenneth out of the room.

It caused the detective to clear his throat and lower his eyes.

“I don’t believe James Bogue would be capable of such an act,” she said firmly.  “He’s a quiet boy, and I’ve seen bigger boys pick on him.  He always stands up for himself, and for others.  He might punch and kick, but I know he
would never
have put out the eyes of Matthew and Carlton.  No matter how angry he became.”

“So nothing stands out as strange?” Detective Brown asked.  “Nothing at all?”

“I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary, Detective,” she said.  “Why all of this interest?  Have you found
who hurt the boys?”

“No,” he said, putting his pen away.  “We had an officer killed in the Church yesterday.”

Colleen’s breath caught in her throat,
and Romeo sat up on her lap.  The cat looked over the edge of the table at the detective.  “How?”

“We’re not quite sure,” Detective Brown said.  He stood up and put away his notebook.  “Thank you very much for the tea, Mrs. Staples.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied.  She set Romeo down on the kitchen floor and slowly stood up.

Detective Brown took out a business card and handed it to her.  “Please, if you think of anything, anything at all, call me.”

She nodded as she took it from him.  “I will, Detective.”

“Thank you.  I’ll show myself out.  Have a pleasant evening.”

Colleen smiled and watched him leave.  The side door clicked
loudly,
and she walked over to it.  She turned the deadbolt and glanced out the side window.  A few police cruisers and a single, dark blue van remained parked in front of the Church.  She watched Detective Brown walk to the back, past the burial
ground, and into the building.

Colleen went back to the table, gathered her cup and the detective’s
.  She brought them to the sink, rinsed them out and set them aside to be washed later.  She then looked down at the floor.

Romeo lay on his side.  His tail twitched as he watched Violet enter the room.  The slightly younger female did so cautiously, fully aware of where Romeo was, the air of playfulness given off by his twitching appendage.

“Romeo,” Colleen said sharply.  “You leave her alone.  She’s allowed to eat
, too.”

Romeo rolled onto his back, looked at Colleen and yawned.  Violet took the opportunity to steal past him and make it safely to the food and water dishes.  The Siamese looked from Colleen to Violet, twisted and got up, and with a final, disdainful glance at both of them, wandered off.

A moment later, one of the other cats cried out, and Colleen saw Lily run past the open doorway for the stairs.

He’s a brat,
Colleen
thought as she walked back to the side door. 
Of course, you’ve never had a Siamese who wasn’t.

She pulled the curtain aside and caught sight of Detective Brown.  He stood beside the police van, which had “State Forensic Unit” painted boldly across its side, and spoke with the driver.  The other police vehicles had left, except for one unmarked gray sedan.  A moment later, the detective stepped back, waved goodbye and turned away.

Colleen watched the van leave,
and Detective Brown go to the solitary car.  In a
moment, he was in the gray vehicle and it, too, pulled away from the Church.

The police were gone.

Colleen let go of the curtain, put on her coat and hat and glanced over at Violet.  The calico cat sat upright and politely cleaned her paw.

“Make sure they behave, Miss Violet,” Colleen said.

The cat looked at her with an expression of bored incredulity, and then the feline went back to her bath.

Colleen smiled, opened the door, turned out the light and stepped out into the cold air.

The sun had started its descent,
and the street lights flickered into life as she made her way to the back of the Church.  As she got
closer, she shook her head in anger.

The window to the right of the door was broken in and open to the elements.

Yellow police tape formed a cross
over the window as well as the back door.  Colleen paused at the base of the stairs and saw a dried splash of blood on the asphalt.

Reverend Joseph fell there
, she realized.  With a
sigh, she shook her head, turned her attention once more to the Church, and climbed the steps.

Without the slightest regard for the authority of the State Police, Colleen pulled the tape down and let herself into the office.

The gasp which escaped her throat was completely involuntary, as was the mixture of horror and rage she felt.

The office was destroyed.

It looked as though a team of teenagers had tromped through the small room and ripped it apart, every last portion of it.  She felt physical pain as she stepped further into the office.  Papers littered the
floor, drawers were piled haphazardly upon one another, and the furniture was thrown helter-skelter.

Colleen shook with rage, furious with the mess around her, and then she had a terrible, hideous thought.

Is there more? 
She wondered.

She picked her way through the mess to the door into the rest of the Church,
and she opened it.  A glance to the left showed nothing amiss, but to the
right, she saw more yellow tape.

Across the kitchen doorway.

A frown creased her brow,
and she left the office.  She stalked down the hall and came to a stop in front of another yellow ‘X’.

If the office was a mess, then Colleen wasn’t quite sure how she might describe the destruction someone had visited upon the kitchen.

Every cabinet, every drawer, every container, even the refrigerator and the closet, had been emptied out.  If an item could be broken, it was broken.  Glasses, plates, bowls, serving trays.  All of them shattered, shards of porcelain and glass scattered amongst piles of sugar and salt.  Loose tea and ground coffee was sprinkled about, as though someone had attempted to decorate with the ingredients.

Puddles
formed from water, soap, milk, and creamer lay in the low points of the old tile floor.  Packages of goldfish and saltine crackers had been open and crushed.  Flatware had been bent and twisted.

It would take Colleen hours to clean it all.

Hours.

I’m not waiting until tomorrow
, she thought angrily. 
If they even let me come in tomorrow.  No, they must have gathered their evidence.  I can’t see it any other way.

She turned around, stepped back into the hall and took off her winter hat and coat.  She put them away in the coat closet and then turned her attention back to the kitchen. 

Something rattled in the basement.

Colleen straightened up and paused.

The sound of voices drifted up through the floor vent to her.

Are the police still here? s
he
wondered.  The place was filthy and needed to be scrubbed.  If the police decided she shouldn’t be there, well then they would have a fight on their hands.  The upkeep of the Church was her responsibility.

She made her way to the basement door, opened it and started down the long, narrow stairs.

And what type of animal vandalizes a Church?
she
asked herself. 
How wretched must such a person be?

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused to turn on the lights, passed by stacks of old wooden folding chairs and made her way through the basement.

The voices came from the furnace room.

And there was no light to be seen from beneath the closed and locked door.

In fact, she had needed to turn the lights on when she came down.

The ghosts,
she realized.

The voices in the darkness spoke a language she couldn’t understand.

The anger she felt about the mess in the kitchen and the office was drowned beneath a sudden, horrific wave of fear.

These ghosts had blinded the boys.  Killed a police officer.

Colleen gasped and staggered.  When she regained her balance and looked
ahead, she saw she was no longer alone.

Two men stood before her.  Young Japanese men, clad in khaki uniforms stained with dirt and blood.  One of them snapped a question at
her, and she couldn’t answer.

She didn’t understand them.

The other asked another question.

“What have you done to the Church?” she demanded. “Where is Miles?”

Both of the men looked surprised, and then they laughed.  One of them said something and the other laughed harder.

“Who do you think you are?” Colleen said, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You cannot simply come in here and do as you please.  You hurt those boys, and you killed a police officer.  You are not, I believe, Christian men.”

The laughter faded, and the smiles vanished at the word ‘Christian.’

“Now you listen to me,” Colleen continued. “Miles Cunningham assured me, that you and your
friends
would be here to protect and care for my Church. He also assured me at least one of you would be able to speak English.”

The two ghosts looked at each other and one of them repeated the word ‘English.’

“Yes,” she snapped. “Do either of you speak it?”

Neither of the men responded.

Anger boiled up within her. “This is completely unacceptable. How am I supposed to make certain you will be able to take care of this Church when I’m gone if I cannot even communicate with you.”