Hard news won. The story ran below the fold on Page One. What a headline:
TONGUE LASHING
Buddy Wing, protege split over strange church practice
“But Tim Bandicoot is such an obvious suspect, isn’t he?” said Aubrey, sliding down in her chair and propping her knees on Gates’ desk, the way she did at her own desk.
Gates’ eyes locked on Aubrey’s knees and pretty much stayed there the rest of the interview. “What’s obvious is that Tim really hated Pastor Wing,” he said.
Up to now I’d just sat there like a bump on a log, but I remembered that whole story so well. “Enough to kill him and frame his own girlfriend?” I squeaked.
Gates’ face started to twitch like a boiling sauce pan of Cream of Wheat. “Tim is an immoral man. Wife, two young sons, and a girlfriend on the side. He stole a big chunk of our congregation.”
“He didn’t exactly steal them,” I pointed out. “They merely agreed that your church could draw a bigger audience if Wing stopped speaking in tongues. And when Bandicoot was given the boot, they followed him. And as far as him having a girlfriend on the side-”
I was way out of line and Aubrey’s eyebrows were telling me to shut up. But Gates answered me politely, as if I was a real reporter, and not just a librarian out on a Saturday snoop. “The very fact that Tim thought speaking in tongues was something Pastor Wing could stop, tells you right up front that he didn’t belong in this ministry. Tongues isn’t some cheap theatrical device to get people excited. It’s a gift God gives to the truly saved.” Gates grabbed his eyes and squeezed them together. He started reciting scripture: “And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.” He blinked and grinned. “Acts 2:4. Praise God.”
“Do you speak in tongues?” Aubrey asked him.
“Am I truly saved? Yes, I am. How about the two of you?”
Aubrey squirmed. I suppose I squirmed a little myself. “Right now,” Aubrey said, “we’re only interested in saving Sissy James from spending the rest of her life in prison. Assuming she doesn’t belong there.”
“We love her whether she does or doesn’t,” Gates said. “I hope you understand that.”
“And I hope you understand that we’re not trying to do either God’s work or the police department’s work,” Aubrey answered. “If Sissy James is innocent, that’s a great story.”
It was the pastor’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I hope you’re not going to make a lot of good people look silly.”
Aubrey closed her notebook and slowly slid it in her coat pocket. It’s another old reporter’s trick, making people think an interview is over when it isn’t. “Any story we write about this is way down the line,” she answered. “And only if there’s absolute proof that Sissy is innocent. At this point we’re just fishing. But her court appearances-her arraignment and the sentencing-she just seemed too calm.”
Gates hissed a single word: “Svengali.”
Aubrey nodded. “Given her sad personal life-the miserable childhood and prostitution stuff-you’re probably right. She could easily come under the control of some manipulative bastard-sorry.”
Gates shook both his head and his hands. “No need. Tim Bandicoot is a manipulative bastard. He hoodwinked Pastor Wing for years. All of us.”
“What about the confession?” Aubrey asked. “Do you think Sissy could come up with that on her own? It’s just a scenario, of course, but say the police suspected Tim Bandicoot from the beginning-which they obviously did-and started looking for evidence. They find out he’s got a girlfriend on the side. Check out her house. They find the poison-making stuff in her garbage. Now, she didn’t know it was there. But she quickly realizes her wonderful Timmy boy has done one of two things: either he’s stupidly tried to get rid of the stuff in her trash can, or he’s intentionally set her up. She loves him. Believes his rap that Buddy Wing is embarrassing the Lord with his old-fashioned practices. She also hates herself. Knows she’s not worth much in the bigger scheme of things. She figures it’s her godly duty to save her man and his important ministry, even if he betrayed her. Not a word would have to be exchanged, would it? She realizes what she has to do and does it. She confesses to the murder of Buddy Wing.”
Gates leaned back in his swivel chair, raking back his TV preacher’s bangs. “I can believe any or all of that.”
Aubrey lowered her knees, stood up and zipped her coat with the fluid grace of a ballerina. She smiled and extended her hand across his desk. “I would like to get a church directory for our files, if that’s possible.”
From the Heaven Bound Cathedral we drove to the mall in Brinkley. Aubrey had an Old Navy gift certificate that her sister gave her for Christmas. She bought a hooded fleece jacket from the sixty-percent-off rack. Then we had lunch in the food court. I had a slice of pizza and small lemonade. She had a soft pretzel an enormous diet Coke.
For the longest time we made cracks about the crazy things different people were wearing. Then out of the blue Aubrey asked me if I thought Guthrie Gates could be the real murderer.
“Heavens no,” I said. “He worships Buddy Wing like he was God.”
“Like he was God or like Buddy Wing was God?”
I finished my noisy sip. “I see what you’re saying.”
And I did see what she was saying: When Tim Bandicoot was tossed out over that speaking in tongues business, Guthrie Gates became heir apparent. When Buddy Wing was killed, Guthrie Gates became the new Buddy Wing. “Maybe he stirred up that speaking in tongues business to get Bandicoot out of the way,” I said. “Then, feeling his Wheaties-”
Aubrey squinted at me like I was the one speaking in tongues. “Feeling his Wheaties?”
“You know, feeling strong and confident? Don’t tell me Wheaties doesn’t use that in their ads anymore?” I could see Aubrey didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. I dropped it and continued: “So, after Guthrie successfully secured his position as heir, he figured, why wait for Buddy to die on his own?”
I thought she was going to choke on her pretzel. “You sound like what’s-her-name on Murder She Wrote -the one who played the teapot. Anyway, Guthrie Gates is a puppy dog. No way in the world he killed Buddy Wing.”
“You just said he did.”
“No no, Maddy. I only asked if you thought it was possible-assuming that Sissy didn’t do it.”
Now I was the one without a clue. “You don’t think she’s innocent?”
Aubrey nibbled and nodded and shrugged at the same time. “I think she’s innocent. But even if I can prove it-and get her to admit it-I’m not sure I want to investigate any further than that.”
“You wheedled Gates into giving you a church directory. That’s not for our files. That’s to run background checks on the membership.”
“Maybe it’s for that.” She filled her cheeks with pretzel. “God, Maddy, I’ve so much to do. I’ve got to learn the police beat. That’s a big department. Rush City had eleven goofy cops. And Chief Polceznec is gearing up for this major internal reorganization. And as soon as spring gets here people will start killing each other left and right. The paper took a big risk on me. I’ve got to do well. And I’ve got so much personal shit to do. I don’t own anything except a futon and an old Radio Shack computer. I’m an adult now. I need a sofa. Table and chairs. A hutch full of fancy plates I never use. A real bed. Somebody to put in it.”