Chapter Forty
After requesting a criminal background check on Al Novak, Midge dials the number Johnny gave her. It rings, and she puts the line on speaker as she heads down Chestnut toward Shore Street.
“Hello?”
“Al Novak?”
“Yes?”
“Detective Sergeant Midge Kennedy with the Mulberry Bay Police.” Hearing his gasp and realizing he thinks the worst about a loved one, she immediately adds, “Your family is fine. It’s not about anything personal.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m driving, and I about went off the road.”
“I’m so sorry. I understand you’re the custodian over at Congregational?”
“I am.”
“Are you on your way over there, by any chance?”
“No, why? What’s going on? Was there a break-in or something?”
“Nothing like that. I’m just trying to track down a young woman who was there yesterday for Bible study.”
“Oh, they had to cancel that. The AC was on the fritz. Of all days, right? Crazy that if it was any other time, it wouldn’t matter. You’d just open the windows. But on a day like that, the place must have been a furnace.”
“Must have been? So you weren’t there?”
“No, the kids were supposed to let themselves in. I’m just part-time, and this is supposed to be my vacation week.”
“Did someone in the group get ahold of you, then? To let you know the AC wasn’t working?”
“No, the minister did.”
“Do you mean Reverend Parker?”
“No, he’s away. I heard about it from the pastor who’s filling in for him this week.”
“Really.” Midge frowns. That’s not what he told her.
“Yeah, nice guy. Seems like it on the phone, anyway.”
“You haven’t met him?”
“In person? No.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“Let’s see. It was Joseph . . . Nelson?”
“Nelson? Not Nielson?”
“Oh, yeah, maybe it’s Nielson.”
“What did he say, exactly?”
“He said he showed up in the morning to do some work in the office, and the air was broken, so he canceled the class and called the repairmen. Everything was under control, and he told me there was no reason for me to be there. He said he wouldn’t have bothered me at all, but he didn’t want me to hear about it around town and go running over.
Like I said, nice guy. We chatted for a bit. ”
“Do you happen to have his phone number?”
“I don’t, sorry. He called me from the office phone.”
“Do you know where he’s from? His home church?”
“Let’s see . . . Mount Vernon, I think?”
“Mount Vernon? That’s down in Westchester County.”
“Mount Vernon was Thomas Jefferson’s plantation house, right? That’s how I remember it, because I helped my son build a scale model out of toothpicks for a social studies project last year.”
“George Washington’s plantation was Mount Vernon. Thomas Jefferson’s was Monticello.”
“Right! It was Monticello. My son got an A on that thing. Well, we got an A, if you know what I mean.” He chuckles. “And you get an A-plus for setting me straight.”
“So he’s from Monticello?” Midge asks, thinking of the church website she found earlier, with a pastor by the same name.
“That’s what he said.”
“All right, well . . . I hate to ask, but is there any chance you can meet me over at the church office sometime today? I need to have a look around.”
“I wish I could help you out, but I’m in the car right now, driving to Utica to visit my mom in the hospital. She’s not doing great. I’m not sure how late I’m going to stay, but I can—”
“No, no, I’m sorry about your mom, and I’m so sorry to have bothered you at a time like this.”
“No worries. Tell you what. The code to the door is 4113—go ahead and let yourself in.”
“It’s probably not a good idea to give it out to a stranger on the phone.”
“Hey, you’re not a robber; you’re a cop. Unless you’re not who you claim to be?” he adds in a teasing tone.
“Oh, I am.” Not everyone can say that, though.
“Four-one-one-three,” he repeats. “That’s been the door code for as long as I’ve been there, and it’s no state secret. Heck, they pretty much advertise it. It’s the Bible verse that’s carved on the cornerstone. Isaiah 41:13.”
Maybe, but Midge has no intention of using that code without a warrant.
“How long have you been there, Al?”
“Going on twenty-seven years.”
“One last question. Are there security cameras anywhere on the premises?”
“Nah. Reverend Parker’s old school. No cameras, no alarms, nothing like that. There’s nothing anyone would want to steal, unless they’re into religious stuff—you know, like Bibles and statues. And people who are into all that are law-abiding citizens, right?”
Not everyone, Midge thinks again.
Reverend Bauer certainly wasn’t.
As for Joseph Nielson . . .
Why would he lie to her about Al summoning him to wait for the repairmen?
And if he lied about that . . . what else was he keeping from her?