Murder in the Pulpit

By Bert Brun

Church pandemonium, as congregants begin to drop like flies, after drinking arsenic-laced coffee just after the liberal Unitarian church Sunday morning service. Four later die, including Alicia Holmes, a visiting minister. Riverton, Alabama’s new Police Chief and church member, Donald Ginsburg, has just witnessed the whole ugly scene. He's already deemed suspicious to many in the Bible belt town, as the bi-racial grandson of Riverton's black activist Eulah Jefferson, and the son of a New York City Jewish university philosophy professor. Ginsberg has barely beaten out police Lieutenant Rudy Woolard, the acting white Chief (whose loyalty may be questionable) for the job. A sarcastic local newspaperman doesn’t make Ginsberg’s job easier.

Widower Ginsberg is being hotly pursued by local amorous gospel singer Amanda Jackson, while secretly harboring a yen for an exotic Eurasian nurse who attends the church. Fourteen-year old son Alonso is the victim of a school bully, further complicating the cop’s life.

Searching for a motive, and after wading through various church longtime grudge holders, Ginsberg winds up with a prime suspect, a disgruntled Lesbian who’s fearful that her minister partner might find a new love in this new church setting; money may play a motivating role, too

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bert Brun
• Release date: Nov 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465952158

Bert Brun

Retired oceanographer. Also worked as a high school teacher, rubber plantation inspector in Sumatra, and fisheries administrator in New Zealand. Bachelor and master degrees in science from New York state universities. First got the writing bug while in college and have published eight books in last 10 years plus three plays produced. Lived in eight states, most recently in Alabama, with wife Ann, four dogs and seven cats.

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MURDER IN THE PULPIT

By Bert Brun

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Bert Brun

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MURDER IN THE PULPIT

By Bert Brun

Chapter 1

Donald Ginsberg’s cocoa-colored skin was the only one of its kind in the church’s crowded social room but he felt entirely comfortable in it. In fact, he thought that sometimes being an outsider gave him an edge, especially in his new job as Riverton, Alabama’s Police Chief.

Not that these liberal religionist Unitarians should’ve felt any prejudice anyway –didn’t they always pride themselves on their tolerance?

He stood to one side, refraining for the moment from the usual post-service small talk, as he indulged two of his small vices, munching on a sweet pecan cookie while washing it down with little jolts of decaf coffee.

The just-concluded service had been unusual, pitting two ministers vying with one another for the suddenly vacated job in the Riverton Unitarian congregation. Each of the recent seminary graduates had preached a mini-sermon on the topic Liberal Religion in the South?

Ginsberg scanned the buzzing, coffee-swilling crowd and his eyes lighted on slim Reverend Alicia Holmes. A distressed look suddenly came over her face and she slipped noiselessly to the floor, coffee cascading over her pale blue summer dress as she fell.

The cop’s instincts immediately impelled him through the crowd toward the fallen woman. Doctor John Ashby, one of the congregation’s two physicians, barely beat him to her. Ashby knelt by the inert body and felt for a pulse. He carefully exposed one unseeing blue eye. Ginsberg knelt beside the doctor.

What is it, Doc? he said.

Without answering, Ashby leaned forward to sniff at Holmes’s mouth and nose. He looked at Ginsberg. Faint garlic odor.

Both men rose.

Meaning what? Ginsberg said. She had spicy sausage for breakfast?

Doubt it. It’s sometimes associated with poison.

‘What? What kind of poison?"

Might be arsenic. I need to check it.

My gosh. How could that--

Off to the cop’s right he peripherally noticed old timer Tom Barnett look down at his coffee mug with a frown. In a blink Barnett hit the floor with a loud thud. A woman screamed, as the crowded room became suddenly silent.

Holy shit, the cop thought. What the hell’s going on here?

Then yet another parishioner, burly Peter Nesbitt, keeled over with a loud crash, just after his coffee mug hit the floor. Everyone began to yell at once. The coffee, it dawned on Ginsberg – CLOSE IT DOWN! He pushed his way through the crowd to the table upon which the two gleaming urns stood, and announced, Right now, no one’s to obtain or keep drinking any more of the coffee. Both urns. Repeat, stop with the coffee right now! As he moved back towards Ashby, Ginsberg realized that he himself had been drinking the decaf. Must be the regular, he thought. He noticed several of the parishioners’ faces around him looking glassy-eyed and ashen.

Ashby and the cop stared at each other for a moment, both men wide-eyed. Then each pulled out his cell phone. The doctor, almost having to shout over the noisy crowd, got through to 911. Doctor John Ashby here. Get two ambulances over to the Unitarian church on Maple Street right away. Medical emergency.

Ginsberg dialed his deputy chief, Lieutenant Rudy Woolard. Where are you Rudy, he struggled to make himself heard. To Woolard’s reply that he was just leaving his Baptist church service, Ginsberg went on, Come over to my church right away, Rudy. Possible multiple crime scene in progress. Better get a patrol car here, too. It’s the old AME church building on Maple.

The bedlam in the room lessened a little. Ginsberg put away his phone and listened as Ashby made a second call, this one to his partner, Doctor Bruce Hanson. Bruce, can you get over to the Unitarian church, stat? At the evident affirmative, Ashby added, That’s right, on Maple Street. Bring some dimercapral, even if you have to swing by the office first.

To the police chief’s questioning gaze, Ashby said, Dimercapral, helps with some symptoms of arsenic poisoning.

Now that Ashby had mentioned once again the word arsenic, Ginsberg suddenly felt a shock wave grab at his gut. Three down, another four or five woozy and ill, how many more to go? How many might die? He could see it coming – little Riverton would find itself front page news headlines everywhere. He loosened the tie on his crisply starched white shirt. He, Donald Socrates Ginsberg, was going to be the man on the hot seat, trying to get to the bottom of a god-awful mess.

Chapter 2

Ashby quickly checked the three unconscious, but breathing, victims on the floor, then the physician hurried out to tend to the five very ill church members who had stretched themselves out on the padded pew seats.

Ginsberg took charge of the sixty other people in the church. In all his twenty two years on the New York City Police department he’d never faced a situation like this one, where a police officer himself was in the middle of an apparent mass murder attempt -- even the chief himself technically a suspect as a possible perpetrator.

To those confused parishioners still in the social room, he said, Let’s clear this room right now so the stricken folks can have more quiet and some air. You people fanning them with your orders of service, though, why don’t you just stay and keep doing that, it can’t hurt and might help. When you others move out into the church sanctuary, please try to stay out of the way of Doctor Ashby. His partner’s coming over right away, by the way.

The dying wail of a Riverton Police Department patrol car cut him short. Uniformed cops Keller and McCoy rushed into the church. Spotting their chief just entering the sanctuary, they made straight for him, ignoring the eyes of the watching parishioners.

Glad you men got here so fast, Ginsberg said. I want you to split the crowd in here into two groups and each of you start taking down statements, while everything’s fresh in the witnesses’ minds. If you don’t have the statement pads with you, one of you get out to your patrol car and get them. One sheet at least for everyone, hear, everyone! Name etc. on each form and make sure they sign at the bottom. Have everyone pay particular attention to describing the coffee they were drinking. If the sick people can’t manage this, let them be, we’ll try to get something later. The coffee information is important. Also, find out who might have been talking to the three folks who are out like lights in the social room, the woman minister Holmes and the two local church members, Barnett and Nesbitt. Get them to repeat, word for word, if possible, those conversations. Got all that men? Any questions?

Keller, a five-year veteran of the department, asked, What about evidence, Chief? Should we be looking for anything in particular yet? Maybe we should call Forensics right away, for something this big.

You’re right, Larry, but for now I want you to talk to these people. Soothe ‘em down a little if possible. I’ll call Forensics myself.

Ginsberg pulled out again his cell phone from his suit jacket – his best lightweight gray suit he usually wore to summer Sunday services – and rang for Betty Lou Kincheloe, the senior of the two-person RPD forensics crew. After the first ring he heard her light ‘Bama drawl.

Kincheloe here. That you, Chief Ginsberg?

Yes, Betty Lou. Sorry to intrude on your Sunday, but I’ve got a huge mess going on at my church. It’s the Unitarian one on Maple.

Yes Chief, I know where it is…the old AME place.

Good. Can you get hold of Billy Snyder and both get over here pronto?

I know I can make it, Chief. Shall I bring the usual gear?

Yes. Print dusting stuff and all. And be thinking of some effective way to handle two large urns, or at least samples from them, as well as a bunch of coffee mugs.

The other end of the call went silent for a moment. Then, It does sound big, Chief. I’ll manage it. Should be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. With or without Billy.

Ginsberg heard the siren of the first arriving ambulance, followed a minute later by the appearance of two white-suited EMTs, as they maneuvered a gurney through the broad two-door church entrance, then looked about for someone in charge.

Ginsberg hurried to them and identified himself. In the social room, to your left behind me. Three unconscious people on the floor. Get the woman and the older man, Barnett, out first. Before you do that, check with Doctor John Ashby, he’s down there -- he turned and gestured toward the pews to his right – to find out what you can be doing for the victims on the way to county hospital.

The technicians nodded and got to work. To the rear of the sanctuary, Ginsberg could see that his two uniforms had split up the parishioners as he had requested. He noticed that Reverend Paul Crockett, who’d been Reverend Holmes’ debating opponent, was waiting in the group with Officer McCoy. Catching Crockett’s eye, Ginsberg motioned for him to come over to talk with the cop.

Crockett quickly complied. He was in his late twenties, Ginsberg judged, blonde and handsome, close to being a young Billy Graham lookalike. The cop led the minister to a quiet area of the pews. Crockett appeared tense. Understandable enough, Ginsberg thought. He took out a small notepad and uncapped an antique looking fountain pen.

Reverend, take a couple deep breaths. After the Tennesseean had done so, Ginsberg went on. We’re all shocked, Reverend. You and Reverend Holmes were our honored guests and now this has happened. All I want to do is find out a little bit from you about the things leading up to this event.

Crockett, still looking tense, focused his blue eyes on the cop. I’ll do my best, sir.

You drove down from your home near Nashville yesterday, is that correct?

Yes, sir. The Frenches, from the church, were kind enough to put me up last night.

"And it was your understanding that, after you and Alicia Holmes traded short sermons on liberal religion, a vote would be taken by the congregation as to whom we’d pick for our next minister?

Yes, sir. After the coffee time – we were to be taken out for a brief lunch while you all voted. Earlier this morning I didn’t meet up with Reverend Holmes until just before the service started. We were both excited about it, both looking for our first congregation. His voice trailed off. And now this…

Had you ever met up with Ms. Holmes before?

‘Yes, as a matter of fact we did meet, very briefly, about a year ago, when our two seminaries got together. The two schools even had a debate, much longer than this one. Neither Alicia nor I participated, though."

Did you form any kind of opinion about her in that short meeting?

I know I liked her, right off. She was very warm and friendly.

Were you aware that she was an avowed lesbian? Ginsberg meant to catch Crockett by surprise, and he did.

The young man colored slightly. I did get that impression, sir. She had her partner with her.

Yes, a woman named Rita Cummings.

I didn’t see Ms. Cummings in the church today.

No, neither did I. I was told that she’s in town, though.

I believe they were staying at a bed and breakfast.

I know this is a delicate question, Reverend, but I’m going to need every scrap of information I can scare up in this case. Has anyone at all in the church said anything negative to you about Reverend Holmes, that they’d never vote for a lesbian, anything at all like that?

No sir. I’d be very surprised if that had happened. Even though my own opinions might be a little more traditional than some, Unitarians are famous for being open minded about almost everything. Myself I couldn’t ever favor marriage between two gay people, but I’d certainly support a civil union.

It would seem that you weren’t drinking coffee, at least the decaf coffee.

No, Chief Ginsberg, I prefer tea… is that what’s caused this calamity?

It appears so, but we’ll do some tests first.

The cop noticed congregation member Andy Peterson frantically trying to get his attention. He sighed inwardly. He liked Andy, who, with his wife Meg, ran ‘The Parsonage’, Riverdale’s only bed and breakfast. The trouble with the federal retiree was that he seemed to have a complex about police work, doubtless having seen too many films or television series.

Excuse me, Reverend Crockett. I need to talk to someone else. Thank you for this conversation. If need be could you possibly stay in Riverton till tomorrow?

Of course, sir. I suppose, in a way, everyone in this room, the ones not sick, I mean, is a suspect in this. He mustered a weak smile.

That’s just the problem, Reverend, Ginsberg said, his own face grim.

The cop motioned for Peterson to come over to him. What’s on your mind, Andy? Things are pretty busy here, you can see that.

I know, Chief, but this pertains to the case.

‘The case’, Ginsberg inwardly sighed again. Already Andy’s on the case.

Reverend Holmes’ friend Rita Cummings is down at our place, did you know that?

I figured as much. Do you know why she didn’t show up here at the church?

When Alicia rode over with us she said that her partner had a headache, and was too nervous anyway to be able to sit through the service.

‘All right Andy, thanks for that information. I’ll be needing to talk with Cummings later anyway."

Peterson lingered. Bet you never had a case like this one, even in the big apple.

You’re right about that.

So many victims. Cruel, isn’t it that someone probably wanting to nail just one person, spreads the assault on so many others at the same time.

Andy, we can discuss this situation later on, maybe. I’ve got a lot to do, including getting my son Lon out of the youth group and over to his grandmother’s place.

Someone told me that their leader has been keeping the kids holed up in the back till things settle down.

That’s good.

By the way, Chief, what shall Meg and I say to Ms. Cummings when we get back to the Parsonage?

Don’t say anything about what’s happened. You can say maybe that everything’s just taking longer to wrap up. Tell her that I’ll be by later with an update.

Peterson’s face lit up. Will Meg and I be able to participate, when you interview her? We could probably fill in on some things.

This time, the cop groaned inwardly. We’ll see. I’ll call you later.

Great, Chief Ginsberg!

Betty Lou Kincheloe and Billy Snyder walked into the church, each carrying a bag of gear. They made straight for their chief. Snyder was wearing a polo shirt and shorts. Billy was just finishing up a round of golf, Chief, the dark haired Kincheloe said. I swung by the club there to pick him up.

Glad you’re both here. First order of business is to secure the coffee samples. Then swoop around and collect every coffee mug you see. Find out if you can who the kitchen crew was this morning and get a statement from them about the coffee preparation. Get some prints off the big coffee urns, then from the kitchen crew.

The forensics duo looked at each other, then back at their chief. It’s going to take a while to get all the prints, Chief, young Snyder said.

I know it, Billy. And I’m going to have to start releasing these people at some point too. Just do all you can.

Kincheloe and Snyder set off for the coffee table. Ginsberg looked at his watch, an old automatic Seiko, which, like his fountain pen, he’d inherited from his father, Moses Ginsberg, when the retired New York University philosophy professor died in 1995. It was twelve forty. Just a little more than half an hour had passed since he observed Alicia Holmes collapse. It seemed longer.

Doctor Bruce Hanson arrived and began