Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) Read online

  “So, what are we all going to have?” Michael asked peering at the menu through his glasses. My brother-in-law is a handsome man, about an inch shorter than John and with lighter hair. He’s been a great husband to my sister and a terrific father.

  “I’m having the half chicken and frites. That woman over there has it and it looks delicious,” I said. Frites in Belgium were one of life’s pleasures. They were double fried to perfection, crispy without being charred. Belgium was the inventor of this delicacy despite them being called French Fries in America, and I planned on eating a lot during our trip.

  Sam craned her neck to see where I indicated and decided to have the same.

  The waiter arrived and took our orders using perfect English.

  “These people are amazing,” John said. “How they manage to switch between French and Flemish is beyond comprehension. The two languages are so different. And then added to that they speak English as well.”

  “The canal ride we checked before coming here says the guided tour is given in French, Flemish, English, German, and Spanish. And as far as I could see, there was only one guide on each boat,” Sam added

  “We’re very limited in the U.S.,” John said, “by the fact our country is so big. We can travel in any direction for hours, days, and never have to speak anything but English. Here, with Belgium being a very small country, a few hours in any direction takes you to another country and other languages. Plus, have you seen the number of TV stations they get?”

  Michael added, “The other night I think I was watching something in Polish. And they get stations from Italy and Germany.”

  The waiter arrived with our lunches—four chicken dinners, and another round of beer for John and Michael. Sam was drinking a fruit concoction and I opted for more bottled water.

  We spent the rest of the day taking a canal tour, shopping, and stopping for tea in the late afternoon. By the time we were ready to leave, traffic was so heavy heading back to Brussels we decided instead to go another eight miles to the coast and have dinner there.

  The Belgian coast ran along the English Channel, and even though it was summer and the air was warm, the water was not. We walked out to the end of a wooden pier straining our eyes in the direction of England.

  “There it is.” Sam gestured across the water. “Land of Churchill, your hero.”

  “I can’t see a thing.” I said with disappointment. “I thought it was only twenty miles away.”

  “It is, but it looks like clouds are rolling in again,” Michael said.

  “I wish we had time to go,” I said wistfully looking across the cold dark sea.

  “Well, maybe we can. We can take the Chunnel,” John suggested.

  Sam put her hands on her hips and eyed me. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Aren’t you going to quote him? We’re right here looking out at the land of his birth, kind of, if you squint through all the clouds.” Sam turned her eyes to the sea.

  I looked sad. “I can’t think of anything. Damn! My mind’s a blank.”

  “You’re just awestruck.” John put a comforting arm around my shoulder.

  “I hate to break this up but maybe we had better go find a restaurant before the approaching bad weather drives everyone inside,” Michael, whose lanky frame was leaning against a railing, said as a sudden gust of wind blew a strand of hair into his face.

  I turned to look across the sea one last time with longing.

  After trying three restaurants and getting the last available table in the fourth, we enjoyed a wonderful seafood dinner of the catch of the day, some delicate white fish with a tomato and cream sauce, and fresh sautéed vegetables. By the time we arrived back in Brussels it was well after midnight and a call to the office of Always Prepared would have to wait.

  Chapter 16

  “Well, here we are again—alone. This terrace is beginning to feel like home,” I said.

  The air was cooler today and I decided to wear a pair of leggings and a thin sweater.

  “There’s one consolation.”

  “What’s that?” I asked my sister.

  “With the guys gone, we get to eat all these croissants ourselves. Now, if I could just figure out a way to get rid of you, then I could have them all,” Sam said, once again holding a plate of freshly baked croissants. “What are you’re reading, Alex?”

  “I found it by the phone. It looks like a directory of the members of the women’s club Wanda was telling us about. There’s also a listing in the back for other clubs and churches and hospitals and schools.”

  “Does it have the address for Tom Mulberry’s church? What was it called—the Church of Lost Hope?”

  “Renewed Hope. And here it is.”

  “Jobeth gave me a business card, but I think I left it at the Westlakes.”

  I put the directory down on the plastic table and reached for a croissant and a sip of my tea. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather wait for the guys to do the major sightseeing.”

  “Me, too. I liked Michael’s suggestion about going to Amsterdam. Maybe we can do that on Saturday. So then what should we do today?”

  “Well,” I smiled mischievously, “how about we go talk to a few people.”

  “Like?”

  “Tom Mulberry for one. We have the address right here.”

  “Why him?” Sam asked, as she tossed a few crumbs over the side of the railing for the birds gathering in the courtyard below.

  “Because he was counseling Martine and Martine was pregnant. And if the baby wasn’t Paul’s this would be something that would cause her great anguish. Maybe she confided in him as to who the real father was.”

  “And he’s going to tell us, some American tourists. Yeah, right. Think again.”

  “He may very well let something slip, you never know,” I said optimistically. “Then I thought we could head over to the club. Donna mentioned something about working there on Wednesdays in the little restaurant and Wanda thought we would enjoy it. I wouldn’t mind talking with Jane again either. If she had an affair with Paul, she may very well have wanted Martine dead.”

  “So I gather today we’re back to Madam Maigret and cohort,” Sam said, not really sounding as if she minded playing detective.

  “You don’t really mind, do you?”

  “Nope. As a matter of fact, it’s kind of fun.” My sister quickly amended her words. “Not that someone got killed, but you know, playing detective. I can see why John likes his job so much.”

  Smiling, I asked, “Okay, then where do we go first?”

  Sam looked at her watch. “Well, if we leave now, we can probably go to the church first and then head over to the club just in time for lunch. Where is the church anyway?”

  I consulted our well-worn map and confident I knew where I was going, we headed out. John had taken the tram into town and the police station and Doctor Dilworth had picked Michael up bright and early so the car was all ours. I knew Jane lived in the same area as Wanda, one street over, and that the club was not too far. We would save Jane for last.

  The modern brick building looked more like an elementary school than a church. The only indication it was the latter was a small cross by the front entrance. I parked the car in the spacious parking lot glad I didn’t have to use my limited skills in parallel parking. We stood at the reception desk looking around for someone when a young woman came out of the door to the left side of the lobby and asked if she could help us.

  “We’re looking for Tom Mulberry,” I said giving the woman my best smile.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. But we met him last Saturday and he told us to come by anytime. We’re visiting friends here,” Sam said.

  “Well, he’s in a meeting with the head of the summer school program.” The young woman glanced at her watch. “But he should be done soon. Why don’t you have a seat? He’ll pass through here on his way back to his office.”

  Sam and I took a
seat on a blue sofa made of industrial strength upholstery. It looked out of place in the huge lobby with the cathedral ceiling—a hint that maybe it really was a church. “Summer school program.” Sam leaned close to me and whispered, “maybe they do have a school here.”

  “Well, it sure doesn’t look like a church. At least not a Catholic one.” A door opened on the other side of the vast reception area and we could see a bit into the church. “Looks more like a movie theater, if you ask me. There’s a stage and everything. It’s big enough to have one heck of a bingo night. Meme would love it.”

  “All that’s missing is a large screen, but maybe that’s what’s behind the curtain up on the stage.”

  While we waited, I looked around the large area. The paint, though a dull pale blue, looked new and in good condition—not a hint of a peel anywhere. On a wall to my left, which looked more like a support beam painted the same blue, hung an oil painting. The painting was massive, starting from very high up and coming down to just four feet from the floor. It depicted people of various nationalities coming together under the glow of heaven. I wondered silently if they were all members of the same religion. My somewhat limited experience with what I considered “off-shoot” religions was they tended to be all forgiving and encompassing, as long as you were a member of their specific flock. They didn’t show much tolerance for other religions. I was spared any more ecumenical thoughts about the various denominations of the world and their good and bad points by the sound of a harsh voice somewhere near my left ear.

  “What are you two doing here?” Sam and I never heard the zaftig Jobeth come up beside us and she scared us half to death.

  “Jobeth!” I rose and extended my hand. “We were at loose ends today and your husband suggested we drop by so we thought today was a good time.”

  “I certainly hope it doesn’t have anything to do with Saturday night.”

  “Saturday night? Oh. You mean the murder.” I wondered why that would bother her.

  Sam jumped up. “No, no. Nothing to do with murder. We just thought we’d come by for a little look-see. Nice place you have here.”

  “Thank you. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment. Tom should be through with his meeting shortly.” She turned and walked through the front door, pushing the second one a bit with her hip.

  “Probably needs to have her roots touched up,” Sam said. “Though I like the beehive. It’s a good look for her. It’s making a comeback. You heard it here first.”

  I giggled. “What was all that about? Why didn’t you tell her we were here to snoop?” I asked.

  “Because I didn’t want her to hang around. I get the feeling old Tom might not be so forthcoming with Jobeth looming about.”

  “Never hold discussions with the monkey when the organ grinder is in the room,” I quoted. “Good point. Samantha, you’re really getting into this detective business,” I said with pride.

  Sam sank into the sofa and stretched her tanned legs. “Yeah, well. There’s no way I’m leaving the country until we find out who the killer is. The fact a nice young woman got killed aside, this is better than the book I’m reading.”

  “What book is that?”

  “The Skull Beneath The Combine.”

  I rolled my eyes heavenward, which I found very appropriate being in a church and all. “Sam. You’re not reading one of Millie’s farm mysteries, are you?”

  “Well, she seems to love them, though they’re pretty gruesome.” Sam gave a shudder. “She let me borrow it for the plane ride but I’m not sure I can finish. It’s just too gory. And Millie looks like such a nice girl, doesn’t she? Who would have guessed?” Sam shook her head in true bewilderment.

  “You’re smarter than I am. I stuck in there and read three of the stupid things,” I said as I sank into the scratchy blue upholstery and folded my arms across my chest.

  “Speaking of Millie, let’s call in to the office when we get home.”

  “If Tom ever arrives,” Sam sighed. “I don’t want to miss lunch at the club. Wanda says they have some good sandwiches and an actual Belgian chef who prepares daily specials.”

  As if on cue, Tom Mulberry walked across the lobby without even noticing us.

  “Tom!” I called.

  He turned and looked at me for a moment, staring, until recognition spread across his face and he smiled. “Alex, Sam. What on earth…”

  “We thought we’d take you up on your offer to come and see your church.”

  “How nice. Hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”

  “No. Just a few minutes.”

  “Good. Well then, why don’t I start with a brief tour? Just a second and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Well, that was easy. I half expected him to throw us out but I guess it wouldn’t be very church-like, would it?” Sam whispered to me while Tom stopped at the reception desk and put some mail in a basket.

  “Why don’t we start in here.” Tom gestured to the large room we had spied earlier. “This is where we hold our services.”

  “It’s huge. You must have a large congregation.” I took in the vast auditorium. The pews were padded in the same blue as the sofas in the lobby and there was nothing to kneel on. There was no alter, just a lectern, and not a stained glass window in sight. At the front of the room, to one side, I saw what looked like a movie camera. “Is that a camera?”

  “Yes, it is. We tape our services for distribution to our missions all over the world. We’re a very large organization.”

  “So is this the headquarters, then?” Sam asked.

  “No, no. That’s located in Ohio. And their services are broadcast directly, but my services are used as a kind of tutorial, if you will, for new ministers at our various organizations.”

  “I would imagine you’re going to miss all this when you take the other position,” Sam said waving her hand across the room taking it all in.

  “You flatter me, Sam. Nothing is certain yet. But I should be hearing some time this week. And if I do say so myself, I think I have a pretty good shot at it.” Tom Mulberry turned and took long strides back to the double doors of the auditorium. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you our school.”

  “School?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s just kindergarten through third grade for the moment. We’re hoping to be able to expand some time next year. We’re at the stage now of talking to architects and trying to get building permits. This being Belgium it may take years. That’s the down side of taking on this new position; I won’t be here to see the renovation.” Tom sighed and shrugged.

  “Didn’t you mention this new position was in California? I thought you said the headquarters for the church was in Ohio.”

  “Yes, that’s right, Alex. But I’ll be heading up the world mission branch of the church centered out of San Diego.”

  “San Diego,” Sam said, “that ought to be a welcome change from here, at least weather-wise. No wonder you’re hoping to get it.”

  Tom shook his head. “On the contrary. I love it here and I’m not a person who likes warm weather all the time. But it’s a promotion and a chance to really sink my teeth into things. I think I could make a very substantial contribution to the program.”

  We went down a flight of stairs and arrived in the area where the school was located. I had seen a large binder on a stand in the lobby when we walked through and the title piqued my curiosity. “What was that large leather book I just saw in the lobby? It said ‘Pledge of Moral Purity’ on the cover.”

  “Just a new program we’ve started here. It’s been done in other churches around the U.S. and the world with much success. It’s very simple, really. We ask our young members to make a pledge of sexual abstinence until they’re married. Inside the binder are pages on which each member signs his or her name and date and the reason why they’re making a promise to God to abstain from pre-marital sex. In this day and age of AIDS and teenage pregnancy, we’ve found it necessary to take such measures.”<
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  “How do you know if they keep their promise?” I asked wondering if there was an examination room with a table and stirrups somewhere behind the wine-colored curtains in the main room.

  “Well, they’ve promised God, haven’t they?” Tom Mulberry answered, satisfied promises would be kept. “These are the classrooms.” He gestured into a small room with about ten desks and a blackboard. “Very basic as you can see, but we hope to remedy that with the renovations. Besides, we try to instigate good moral values in the children and you don’t need a lot of fancy equipment to do that. Unfortunately, after grade three, they have to leave us and go to other institutions which, I am sorry to say, don’t hold with our values, but once we have the rest of our school finished, we’ll be able to offer a Christian upbringing until they’re young adults.”

  After peeking in all the rooms, which were furnished with just the essentials, Sam and I followed Tom back up the stairs and found ourselves once more in the lobby. “There are offices upstairs, but I won’t bore you with those. I must confess I think there was more to your coming today than just wanting a tour of our church. You didn’t seem very interested on Saturday, Sam. What changed your mind?”

  “You’re right, Tom,” I said, “there was another reason, actually, for wanting to see you.”

  “I suspected as much. Your husband put you up to it.”

  “No. No, not at all.”

  “Is he still working with the inspector?”

  “Well, yes, he is.”

  “I thought as much. He seemed to really love his job, the way he took over after Paul found Martine.”

  “He does, but he didn’t ask us to come.”

  “What my sister means to say,” interjected Sam, “is she has a very curious mind. She’s been involved in murder before and has been quite good at ferreting out the guilty party.”

  “Involved in murder?” Tom asked, his bushy gray eyebrows coming together over his pale blue eyes.

  “Oh, not involved, exactly.” I smiled and waved off the compliment with a wave of my hand. “I’ve just been in the unfortunate situation of finding a body and well…”