Chapter Six #2
Cordelia opened her driver’s-side door. “Where should we take him?”
“We can’t drop him off at home,” Daisy said. “Stella won’t need that kind of trouble. She’s about to have enough on her plate.”
“We’ll take him to the church,” Belinda Sue said, her lips pressed into a firm line.
A sick feeling churned Cordelia’s gut. She didn’t know what the afterlife held, but planting the pastor in the church probably wasn’t scoring her any points in the game of eternity. “Is it appropriate to bring a dead body there?”
“Of course it is,” Belinda Sue said. “Where do you think they hold funerals?”
Cordelia found she couldn’t argue with that logic.
Belinda Sue used to skin jackrabbits, so she wasn’t as squeamish as the rest of them.
She fished the pastor’s keys out of his pocket and started up his car without issue.
The old Cadillac roared to life, and a small smile touched Belinda Sue’s stern face as she ran her hand over the buttery leather seat.
Arline jumped into the pastor’s car with her and the two of them donned sunglasses like they’d just landed starring roles in a Miami crime drama.
Daisy opted to ride with Cordelia and remained mostly quiet, a worrying change for her, as they drove into town.
They had a good ten-mile stretch of dirt road, and the only light came from the vast field of stars overhead.
Halfway to the gas station that marked the outskirts of Sarsaparilla Falls, Cordelia could’ve sworn she saw the pinprick of headlights in the distance, but it was just a blink, then it was gone. Must’ve been a trick of the open sky.
It was right after midnight when dirt turned to tar, but it might as well have been three in the morning.
Shadows stretched across the sidewalks and the ding of a tin can rolling down the street sounded loud as bullets against the otherwise quiet night.
They passed a bar with five cars and a motorcycle out front.
The neon sign for the Harbor Bar still had the same letters burned out as when she was a kid.
The locals probably still called it the Orb.
They didn’t pass another car on their way to the church.
If anyone peeked out their window, the pastor’s Cadillac would be recognizable to those who attended church.
Which was to say, everyone. But Cordelia had specifically asked for the most nondescript car on the lot.
With any luck, no one would glance twice at her vehicle.
Right before the entrance to the church, Cordelia shut off her headlights and pulled around to the back to park. She popped the trunk and stared down at the pastor, right where they’d left him. Moving his body still didn’t feel right, but they were in deep now.
Belinda Sue stepped up beside her, flipping through the keys on a keychain engraved with the Lord’s Prayer. “Which one of these do you suppose opens the church?”
Arline took Cordelia’s emergency blanket out of the back, wrapped it around her hand, and punched through a glass window in the back door.
“Gosh darn it, Arline.” Belinda Sue scowled. “We had the keys right here.”
“Why did you feel the need to break the window?” Cordelia steepled her fingers and pressed them against her lips to keep from screaming. “Now it looks like a crime scene when he was supposed to have died here alone.”
“It’s my fault for letting her come along. Arline gets a thrill out of breaking the law. It’s why we can’t take her anywhere.” Belinda Sue once again took charge and motioned for Cordelia and Daisy to follow her. “Let’s go find us a cart or one of them rolling chairs.”
The church didn’t turn on their air until June, but May in South Texas could get hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch.
Not exactly an ideal condition for storing a body.
Though Cordelia figured better a hot church than the cool satin sheets at the Chickadee.
The broken window would be a problem, but nothing they could do about it now.
As they crept through the church, every creak and groan made them jump. Pipes. Just the pipes. Not God coming down from on high to personally smite them.
Seeing as the four of them weren’t regulars at church, it took them a while to locate the pastor’s office.
The desk was solid oak with various chips and nicks that spoke to its age.
Shelves stuffed with books on theology lined the walls.
A picture of the pastor proudly shaking hands with Kirk Cameron was the focal point of the room.
The pastor did indeed have one of those rolling chairs, high-backed black leather with a plush seat.
On top of his desk, papers with next week’s sermon, fully written, were spread about.
Belinda Sue clicked on the desk lamp. Arline swiped a stapler and a paperweight and tucked them into the pocket of her floral caftan.
“This is a real nice office.” Daisy trailed the tip of her finger over a divot in the desk. “I think he would’ve liked knowing we brought him here.”
Belinda Sue wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “Let’s just hope he puts in a good word for us with the man upstairs.”
She grabbed the chair and rolled it down the hall.
A single squeaky wheel created a seesaw rhythm Cordelia found oddly comforting.
Her gaze darted around the walls, picking out faces she recognized from her childhood in the potluck and fundraiser photos.
She couldn’t quite remember their names.
They sifted like sand through her faraway memories.
Hauling the body out of the trunk ended up being easier than lifting it in. Cordelia and Belinda Sue ended up doing most of the work. Daisy couldn’t look at the pastor’s crumpled form without tearing up again, and Arline didn’t make any move to contribute.
They had just wheeled the pastor into his office when a distant shrieking caught Cordelia’s attention. “Does anyone else hear that?”
“Honey, I can’t hear my TV when it’s at top volume and I’m sitting right in front of it,” Belinda Sue said. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“It sounds like . . .” Cordelia strained her ears and all the color drained from her face. “It sounds like police sirens.”
“Arline probably triggered an alarm.” Belinda Sue practically shoved them out the door. “That’s our cue to hit the road.”
Belinda Sue, Daisy, and, much to Cordelia’s surprise, Arline blazed down the hall toward the back door. Cordelia tried to keep up, but her lungs burned. All that cardio the ladies did entertaining the patrons of the Chickadee paid off in spades.
“Oh, Lord.” Belinda Sue clutched at her side. “My hip just popped.”
Cordelia shoved her forward. “Put some ice on it later, we’ve got to move.”
They burst through the back door just as tires squealed against the pavement a block away.
As the sirens grew closer, the blaring screech of them rang in Cordelia’s ears like a gong.
If they got caught, this whole night would be for nothing.
Everyone would know the pastor had been with Daisy, and to top it off, they might face charges for tampering with a body.
That thought alone gave Cordelia a final shot of adrenaline to get her legs working in time with her brain.
She jumped into her car and had the engine revving as the chicks hopped in.
Choosing to leave the lights off, she ran her car over the concrete parking stops at the back of the lot and peeled through the grass.
Belinda Sue pumped her fist and let out a Texas holler loud enough to get the neighborhood dogs barking as Cordelia aimed for an opening in the fenced yards that took them down a deserted alley.
Her heart hammered in her throat as she weaved her car along various back streets, and even though she’d long left the sirens behind her, she didn’t turn on her headlights again until they hit the dirt road that would take them back to the Chickadee.