Free Tara Holloway 03 - Death, Taxes, and Extra-Hold Hairspray by Diane Kelly

Maybe I could save myself some money.
    “Our annual women’s retreat is next weekend,” Judy said. “There’s information in the bulletin if you’re interested. We’re taking a charter bus down to the Hill Country Resort and Spa in Fredericksburg.”
    A sauna, facial, and massage? Yep, I’d call that a spiritual experience. “I’ll look into it.”
    She gave us one last smile as we stepped away. “Have a blessed day.”
    “We damn sure will,” Nick said.
    The greeters’ grins became confused.
    I pulled Nick away, rolled up the bulletin, and smacked him with it. “Behave,” I hissed. “God is watching you.”
    “I thought He loved me.”
    “He does,” I said. “But He’s keeping an eye on you, too.”
    “God sounds a lot like my granny.”
    In the center of the lobby stood an enormous cylindrical saltwater aquarium, extending upward the full three stories. Colorful angelfish and clown fish swam around a pastel-hued display of coral. A sizable sea turtle swam upward, its flat underbelly exposed as he climbed inside the tank. Children gathered around the base of the aquarium and watched the fish. Some of the kids were mesmerized by the animals’ fluid movements, while others were more animated, pointing and pressing their faces to the glass. Around the perimeter of the lobby hung enormous, rough-hewn rope nets. A white nylon banner was strung across a wall, proclaiming I WILL MAKE YOU FISHERS OF MEN.
    The smells of coffee and vanilla wafted through the lobby from a busy coffee bar and café across the way. A sign to the left caught my eye. GIFT SHOP . I jerked my head toward the store. “Let’s check it out.”
    Nick groaned. “What is it with women and shopping?”
    “Coming here was your idea, remember?”
    “It might have been my idea, ” he replied, “but it was your decision .”
    “Oh, right,” I said. “In that case just shut up.”
    We wound our way through clusters of chatting churchgoers and entered through the glass door of the shop. The gift shop featured a wide variety of Christian- and ocean-themed items, all of them overpriced. Ceramic angel figurines on white pedestals graced the entryway, welcoming shoppers with their beatific smiles. On the side wall hung crosses in copper, wood, and glass, something to match every décor. Rods and reels stood in a rack against the back wall. An assortment of colorful lures even Big Bob would envy hung from pegs to one side. A rotating glass case featured pendants, earrings, and charm bracelets shaped like starfish, sand dollars, seahorses, and crosses, some made with so much bling they were nearly blinding. A nearby shelf displayed fish-shaped car magnets in two sizes. Boxed starter sets of plastic Noah’s ark toys sat on another shelf, pairs of the more exotic animals sold separately. A wooden bin overflowed with plush angelfish, sharks, and stingrays that could be purchased for twenty bucks a pop, a portion of the proceeds dedicated, of course, to funding the Ark’s mission trips.
    Nick and I stopped before the display of lures. Nick fingered several in the selection, eventually choosing one that resembled a small green and blue dragonfly. I selected a couple of colorful lures, too, and stepped up to the counter. The register was manned by an attractive brunette woman modeling some of the jewelry, Swarovski crystals refracting light from her ears, neck, and fingers. As she rang up my purchase, her jewelry sparkled in the lights, making her look like a human disco ball.
    “You fish?” Nick asked me.
    “Nah. They’re for my dad.”
    Next to the cash register stood a display of hardback books, Pastor Fischer’s face beaming from the cover. I had to admit, the guy looked angelic. From his shimmery, white-blond hair to his sky-blue eyes and perfectly proportioned, nicely tanned features, he looked like a modern-day Lucifer.
    The title was embossed in gold lettering across the top of the book. Toss Your Net . Nick picked up a copy.