Chapter 13. Almost Heaven #2
We ended the call, and I slid my phone into my pocket.
I exhaled a shuddering breath and stared into space for a moment.
I was glad Sanderson was in custody, but I was concerned they hadn’t been able to pin the murder on him.
Tyler’s killer is still out in the world, free as a bird.
The thought made me anxious, especially because it wouldn’t be long before I’d have a child living in that same world.
A clerk asking “Can I help you with something?” snapped me back to reality.
“No, thanks,” I replied. “Just trying to make a decision.” I turned back to the task at hand, deciding on the crib’s finish.
I decided to go with white paint. Stain was too much like the blood that had seeped from Tyler’s back.
White, on the other hand, was the color of innocence and purity and peace.
I picked up a gallon of easy-clean semi-gloss and put it in my cart.
To my dismay, I heard nothing from Detective Alonzo the rest of the week.
She must not have been able to pin Tyler’s murder on Quentin Sanderson.
If nothing else, I hoped he’d been sent to jail for stalking Tyler.
At least I’d begun working on the crib. I’d also finished several more of Tyler’s podcasts.
It was eerie hearing his voice, like he was speaking to me from the great beyond.
It was a shame his life had been ended so soon.
His podcasts were informative and engaging, with the perfect mix of narration and dialogue from interviews.
He had a way of making even dry subjects, such as Tennessee’s high sales tax rate, seem interesting.
Collin was the homicide detective on call for the weekend.
We’d planned to spend Sunday painting the nursery and crib, but he was summoned to work early that morning when a man shot his next-door neighbor.
The two had been feuding for months over the fact that the neighbor routinely parked his car at the curb between their homes rather than in his driveway, where he shot hoops with his teenage daughter, the star point guard on her high school basketball team.
The victim was clinging to life in intensive care.
Depending on how things played out, the shooter would be charged with either murder or attempted murder. He better pray his neighbor lives.
The thought of prayer brought my mind back to the Redemption Fellowship.
I recalled from my earlier perusal of the church’s website that they held a ten o’clock service on Sundays.
I had nothing pressing to do that morning, especially now that Collin was away.
Why not attend the service and see if I can glean anything about the pastor and his wife?
I knew from Tyler’s article and podcast that the church was hoity-toity, so I dressed in the pale blue sheath dress and high heels I normally wore to weddings.
I added the Burberry Westminster silk scarf I’d purchased at a resale shop in the upscale Nashville suburb of Brentwood.
No one could tell just by looking at it that I hadn’t paid full price.
I applied heavy makeup and spun my hair into a tight twist on the back of my head to look sophisticated and elegant, and headed out to the garage.
My dirty boots still sat on the rubber mat next to the door, but the mud that had caked them earlier in the week had begun to dry and fall away.
A few more days and maybe all I’d have to do is knock them together a few times to rid them of the last of the mud, then brush the dirt from them.
The church was tucked away down its own private road, so I’d never driven past it before.
The building was even larger and more magnificent than it appeared on the website or in the drawing on the postcard sent to Tyler Yee.
The steeple comprised what must have been thousands of glass panels, reflecting light like the facets of a diamond.
I wondered if the same glazier who’d installed the glass panels in the nearby Gaylord Opryland Hotel had custom-built the steeple.
The building was painted a soft gray, with white shutters on the windows.
The enormous double doors on the front stood open, beckoning people to come inside.
I followed the sign for guest parking. All of the other cars parked there were newer luxury models.
My SUV looked common in comparison. I was glad I’d driven it through the car wash to remove the mud it had accumulated at the Pittman property on Monday.
It might not be new or fancy, but at least it was clean.
I climbed out of my car and headed to the front door.
The landscaping was colorful and meticulously maintained.
Pink and white rosebushes alternated along the walls on either side of the main entrance, not a single spent bloom or dry leaf among them.
Lush English ivy filled the bed below, some of it climbing the walls as if trying to find its way to heaven.
Between the windows stood trellises bearing the bright yellow bell-shaped blooms of Carolina jessamine.
The perfect blooms, greenery, and bursts of color made the lawn look like the Garden of Eden.
A man in a navy-blue business suit greeted me as I walked into the foyer. His straight teeth, perfectly trimmed hair, and expensive watch told me he’d been blessed financially.
I returned the greeting. “Good morning.”
As he handed me a bulletin, a shiny pin on his lapel caught my eye. The pin was gold, like his watch, and spelled out the word Redeemed in a script font.
A large sign in the center of the foyer instructed visitors and first-time guests to check in at the visitors’ table, and had an arrow pointing to the left at the bottom.
I briefly debated checking in, but the women working the table were likely to ask what had brought me here today.
I couldn’t tell them I suspected their pastor and his wife could be murderers, and that I was here to assess them.
But I didn’t want to fabricate another reason for my presence, either.
Lying in church seemed wrong. Best to avoid the situation altogether.
I continued into the worship hall. It was early, so the cushioned pews were mostly empty. I figured I might as well sit up front where I’d have an unfettered view.
I slid into the front pew, finding the cushions were even softer than they appeared.
No hard benches here. While I waited for the service to begin, I perused the bulletin.
It was nearly as thick as that polarizing romance novel I’d been reading.
Personally, I agreed with the clerk at the bookstore.
She should totally go for the hunky veterinarian.
The bulletin included the usual announcements and schedules at the front, along with an extensive list of members requesting prayer.
These typical entries were followed by reminders that, in addition to personal checks, the church accepted tithes and pledges via cash, credit card, debit card, PayPal, Venmo, Apple Pay, and Google Pay.
The next few pages included photos of Bess Ivarsson-Carmichael and her twin sister Tess Ivarsson-Bixby singing on stages across the Bible Belt.
They’d sung in Dallas, Little Rock, Shreveport, Jackson, Montgomery, and more during their recent Rise & Shine Easter-themed album tour.
QR codes were provided so members could download their album from iTunes or listen on Spotify.
There were also QR codes for tour merch, including concert T-shirts, ballcaps, insulated travel mugs, and bumper stickers.
Members could also donate to the Grace Notes music ministry to enable them to “share the good word far and wide through praise and song.”
After the concert photos came pictures of church members at various functions.
There were photos of members dressed in casual designer clothing at a “Saturday Social” that, according to the caption, had been catered by member-owned Rib Ticklers Barbecue.
Another set of photos featured a group of women at the Wednesday Women’s Bible Study, donuts courtesy of member-owned Halo Donuts.
The final picture showed a man on a riding lawnmower with the caption: “Keeping God’s green earth green!
Landscaping courtesy of member-owned Lowry Landscape Solutions. ”
The final dozen pages contained one advertisement after another, all placed by member-owned businesses.
An upscale women’s boutique. A car dealership.
Six certified public accountants, four financial planners, and dozens of attorneys in every legal field ranging from tax, corporate, and personal injury to estate planning.
Two architects offered custom home designs.
A real estate developer offered investment shares in new residential communities “for as little as $250,000.” I couldn’t imagine being so wealthy that a quarter million dollars would seem like a small amount of money.
Two dentists and a cosmetic surgeon had placed advertisements, too.
Even a winery had bought an ad. According to the verbiage, the member-owned vineyard provided the wine for communion.
The sacrament served as both a rite and a wine tasting.
As the minutes ticked by, traffic into the sanctuary picked up and, along with it, the noise level. I glanced around as I waited for the service to start. Everyone was dressed to impressed.