Free Husband and Wives by Susan Rogers Cooper Page B

in mysterious ways,’ he said. ‘I’m still praying on this one, though. I don’t think this was God’s will. Somebody murdered that poor woman and took a good mother away from her children. I am at your beck and call, Sheriff Kovak. Anything you want or need, I will help you receive.’
    ‘Thank you, Brother Earl,’ I said. ‘If we could sit for a spell so I could ask you a few questions?’
    ‘Absolutely! We got about a couple hundred folding chairs back in that closet,’ he said, pointing to the right of the podium. ‘Sheriff Bill, why don’t you round us up a few?’
    Before Bill could even think about protesting, the two of us were knee-deep in the closet pulling out beige folding chairs. ‘How come we ended up doing this?’ he said in a half whisper.
    ‘Beats the hell out of me,’ I whispered back, before I remembered I was in a house of God and therefore shouldn’t be cussing out loud, or even to myself, really.
    We took the chairs back to where Brother Earl waited for us. Once the three of us were seated, I said, ‘Brother Earl, I thank you for taking the time. I just wanted to know if you had any idea who might have done such a thing? If Mary or her husband Jerry Hudson had any enemies that you knew of?’
    ‘Well, now,’ he said, looking off, ‘I don’t know the Hudsons really well; they’ve only been with us two years, and though I did get to know Jerry some through our men’s group, I didn’t know Mary that well. My ladies tell me she was a wonderful mother and a gifted homemaker.’
    ‘Any troubles that might have reached your ears? Rumors about trouble in the family, some other lady mad at Mary about something? Any gossip at all?’
    Brother Earl frowned. ‘I don’t hold with gossip, Sheriff,’ he said in a stiff tone. ‘As a group, we do not condone gossip and I’m sure no one would tell tales to either myself or my wives.’ At this point he sighed heavily. ‘But, and this is a big but, gentlemen, I have been known to hear things through . . . um . . . the grapevine, shall we say?’ He leaned forward to impart his wisdom. ‘Sister Carol Anne Hudson’s brother seemed to be a bother to Sister Mary.’ Straightening up, he added, ‘Now I can’t say what it was about, just that there appeared to be a . . . um . . . dispute amongst the two.’
    ‘That’d be Dennis Rigsby?’ I said.
    ‘Um-hum. He and his mama come to our church with the Hudson family. I just noticed the two of ’em having words after Sunday service a couple of weeks ago. And one of our congregation mentioned the two of them having at it after a Thursday social supper, last week I think it was.’
    ‘You remember which member of your congregation mentioned this to you, Brother Earl?’ I asked.
    ‘That would be confidential, Sheriff,’ he said. ‘I would not be at liberty to divulge that information.’
    I looked at Bill Williams and he shrugged. I took a minute to think about it. I knew Catholic confession was confidential, but I knew that anything told to a priest outside of the confessional, in conversation, wasn’t. So, in a Protestant sect, counseling would be like a confession, and a conversation would just be a conversation, right? I hoped so.
    ‘Brother Earl,’ I said, ‘were you having a formal counseling session with this person?’
    ‘What person?’ he countered.
    ‘The one who said they saw Mary Hudson and Carol Anne Hudson’s brother Dennis having at it?’
    ‘Now, what do you mean by a formal counseling session?’ he asked.
    I sighed deep. ‘Mr Mayhew, I do believe you know what I’m talking about. If this wasn’t a formal counseling session, then it was not confidential and you are required to tell me who it was.’
    He sighed right back at me. ‘Rachael McKinsey,’ he said. ‘Brother Michael McKinsey’s wife.’
    ‘And where would I find them?’ I asked, looking quickly at my list of congregants. I didn’t see the McKinseys on there.
    ‘Michael and his