Free Blind Trust by Sandra Orchard

all.

    Tom slipped past the ushers at the back of the church and scanned the pews. Half the people sat quietly listening to the pianist playing a medley of praise songs. The others were hugging and visiting and still finding their way to seats. His sister and her husband had taken their overactive twins to the balcony, while Dad sat up front with Lorna for the third week in a row. As weird as seeing his dad sitting with someone else less than a year since Mom’s death felt, Tom was happy to see him embracing life again.
    The worship team assembled on stage, and the congregants still standing hustled to their seats. But there was no sign of Kate. Tom scanned every row again. It wasn’t like her to be late.
    Verna Nagy, flanked by her son and grandson, ambled down the center aisle pushing a walker. Not a sight he’d expected.
    He hadn’t been able to confirm Julie’s aspersion about Brian’sgambling debts, but apparently his ex-wife had cleaned him out. He’d gone from living in a nice bungalow to crashing in a dinky apartment on the outskirts of town. And his colorful description of his former bride would draw lightning bolts if repeated in church. Yet when Tom asked Nagy about his purchase at the hardware store, he hadn’t betrayed a hint of guilt.
    If he was the one who passed the bum bill, Lucetta or her nephew had most likely stuck him with it. Tom had confirmed her story about her poor relatives, which was all the more motive for making extra money by any means she could, including laundering counterfeit cash.
    Since she occasionally picked up Verna’s groceries, she could’ve easily slipped Verna counterfeit bills as change and kept the real change for herself. Then Verna could have inadvertently turned around and given those bills to the ladies’ missionary circle or to Kate. Mrs. C had been reluctant to tell him who might have donated the counterfeit bills she’d found in the donation bucket, but she confirmed that Verna, along with a dozen other ladies, made regular contributions.
    Since Lucetta got edgy when he mentioned her nephew, Tom suspected one or both of them were behind the scam. Either that or she was terrified of being deported.
    Her nephew wasn’t at the address she’d given him. Probably out with friends, she’d said. Didn’t matter. He knew where to find the kid Monday morning. If the kid didn’t show up for work, chances were his aunt had warned him to lie low.
    And Tom could make short work of wrapping up this case.
    Lyrics appeared on the screen behind the platform, and a couple of guitars, a keyboard, and a bass guitar joined the piano. Tom edged past the latecomers and checked the foyer for Kate, then the parking lot. He hadn’t managed to trackdown Peter, even with the grainy image he’d lifted from the hardware store’s surveillance video. What if he’d found Kate?
    The possibility sent Tom striding toward his car, his heart in his throat.
    Ten minutes later he swerved into her driveway. The curtains were drawn, the neighborhood quiet. Her yellow VW Bug didn’t appear to have been moved since yesterday. But it wasn’t like Kate to skip church. Unless . . .
    Had she been worried that everyone would be whispering about the incident at the grocery store? She had to know that her church family wouldn’t believe she’d knowingly try to pass off counterfeit cash.
    He knocked on the door. After a minute, he pounded harder. The sun blazed through the trees, painting the street in mottled shadows.
    â€œShe could be in the shower,” he said aloud, telling himself not to overreact like he’d done Friday. Or she could be in the basement throwing in a load of laundry or listening to music through her earbuds. He walked around to the kitchen door and knocked.
    No response.
    He cupped his eyes with his hands and peered through the glass. Was that a foot poking past the island that separated