Gone To Glory. Ron/Janet Benrey

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      That was the chief downside of getting close to Christine. The dossier explained that Christine Eloise Stanton held a magna cum laude degree in political science from Smith College and had graduated with honors from University of Virginia Law School. These days, she might be toting guests’ luggage into the Scottish Captain, but that didn’t take away her savvy or her smarts. If anyone could figure out why Lori had come to Glory, it would be her. The risk of making friends with her was too high.

      Lori turned Christine’s name red then touched Page Down to reach the one remaining candidate: Reverend Doctor Daniel Hartman, minister of word and sacrament, the pastor who had to deal with a nearly impossible mess. Daniel sat at the hub of Glory Community Church. He knew everyone involved with church finances and attended every meeting. He’d be more fun to be around than George and more forthcoming than Christine.

      And the winner is, Daniel Hartman.

      Lori studied his picture. Kevin had managed to find a lovely photograph of the pastor, although he really was so much better-looking in the flesh…

      Knock it off, lady, you’re on duty.

      Lori chuckled. There was certainly a lot to like about Daniel Hartman. Besides being unusually handsome, his various degrees from Dartmouth College, Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and Erskine Seminary proved his intelligence. Equally important, he was charmingly polite and had an authentic knack for making people feel comfortable. Daniel had taken her put-down of Christianity in stride and seemed genuinely embarrassed by George Ingles’s clumsy come-on. It was a shame that she’d decided not to acknowledge his annoyance back then. Keeping George happy had been more important to her than impressing the pastor.

      Lori centered Daniel’s picture on the screen. His eyes seemed filled with determination. She’d have to work extra hard to persuade him to share the information he had. Pastors tend to be close-mouthed, used to keeping secrets. Daniel looked even more resolute.

      Lori wondered if she could also consider Emma Neilson—a B and B owner, recently married to the town’s deputy police chief, and Christine Stanton’s new boss. Lori quickly decided that she’d have to work too hard to become Emma’s fast friend. And once I did, she wouldn’t have much information about the case. Emma sang in the church choir, but that wouldn’t automatically give her access to what Chicago Financial Insurance needed to know.

      “Nope. My best candidate is Daniel Hartman,” she murmured. “I can bypass some of his resolve with electronic surveillance gear.”

      Lori felt herself smile at the thought. She would supplement her one-on-one contacts with Daniel by installing a bug at the church. A combination of investigatory techniques would make sure she got everything she needed. Better safe than sorry.

      Her satellite phone began to ring. She retrieved it from her handbag and moved close to the window to give the antenna a better view of the sky.

      “How we doing this afternoon, Mizz Dorsett,” Kevin asked, without any preamble.

      “We’re doing peachy-keen. Why do you ask?”

      “This is usually the time in every undercover assignment when you have a mild attack of scruples. I thought I’d nip it in the bud.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m not having any second thoughts today. In fact, I’m making good process. I’ve just selected my Trojan Horse.”

      “Let me guess—George Ingles.”

      “Nope. Daniel Hartman, even though he’s not a sure thing.”

      Kevin whistled softly. “The pastor! I’m impressed. And I’m also surprised. Isn’t hoodwinking a pastor considered a heavy-duty sin?”

      “Very funny.”

      “Okay. I’ll get serious. You tend to get close to the people you investigate. That’s what makes you a true undercover artist. But you also tend to take the sides of people you get to know. And that’s when you can become a pain to manage.”

      Kevin’s voice became softer. “You like the town of Glory. You respect the people you’ve met. I could hear it in your voice earlier.” He seemed to hesitate. “You okay with all of this?”

      “All of what?”

      “If your investigation succeeds, the church won’t get its money back.”

      “If I succeed, as you put it, it will mean that I’ve uncovered evidence that George Ingles made a rotten investment with his eyes wide open. That would mean that the church doesn’t deserve to get its money back.” She added. “And you’re right—I do respect the people I’ve met. They’re cheerful, direct and nice. I haven’t met any phonies yet.” Lori recalled George’s sleazy sweet talk. “Well, maybe I did meet one phony.” She added, “Anyway, I never take anyone’s side.”

      Kevin snorted. “Speaking of rotten investments…we received another package of relevant documents from McKinley Investments. This stack of goodies includes the last monthly brokerage report that Quentin Fisher filed before he was killed. He claims that he urged the church not to buy junk bonds, but that the church’s financial secretary wanted to maximize return and was willing to accept a higher risk.”

      “When did Fisher submit his last report?”

      “The middle of April.”

      “That seems rather late in the day. The church invested the money in February. Quentin Fisher counseled George Ingles in January.”

      “I suppose he was finishing up his required paperwork—you know, dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s.”

      “More likely, Quentin Fisher was covering his tail. He wanted to document that he lived up to his responsibility to give the church sound financial advice—even though he probably didn’t.”

      “Hmm. Didn’t someone just tell me that Lori Dorsett never takes sides.”

      “I don’t and I haven’t,” Lori said. “One needn’t play favorites to recognize that something’s wrong with Quentin Fisher’s story. It doesn’t ring true. We don’t have all the facts on him. We don’t know everything he did.”

      “Maybe so, but Quentin Fisher’s not our problem. Our primary target is George Ingles.” Kevin grunted, a signal that the debate was over. “To change the subject, I hope you’re eating well. I’m concerned for two reasons. I need you to stay healthy and don’t want you to return to Chicago with a craving for chitlins and cornpone.”

      “I’m eating very well, thank you. Since Chicago Financial Insurance is paying my expenses I intend to sample all of the best restaurants in Glory—the kind that have lobster and filet on the menu. In fact, it’s approaching my usual dinnertime and I’m feeling a bit hungry.”

      “Bon appetit!” Kevin said with a laugh. “Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

      “Whatever!” She pressed the disconnect button.

      Lori turned off her computer and grabbed a lightweight jacket. Spring evenings could be cool in Glory. She ignored the stab of concern she felt as she left her room. There was a simple spring lock on her door, but every container in her room was unlocked: her suitcase, her camera case, her attaché case that held her computer and СКАЧАТЬ