The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(51)
“Part-time?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How much does that pay?”
“Six dollars an hour, plus tips. I’ve got the lunch hour so tips are pretty good.”
“Good enough to afford a new Thunderbird?”
“No. I traded in Miss Abigail’s Buick and bought the Thunderbird.”
“They were the same price?” Detective Nichols made the question sound like some generalized point of information, but I could tell he was driving Destiny to say something she’d come to regret.
“Of course not,” she replied laughingly, “The Thunderbird was a whole lot more.”
“The money for the new car, where’d that come from?”
“I took it out of Miss Abigail’s savings account.”
“According to the bank, you’ve been running up quite a tally of charge accounts and paying for them with funds from Missus Lannigan’s account.”
“Yes. But the money is mine now. Miss Abigail gave it to me.”
“Gave it to you?”
“Yes. She wrote a will stating that her intention was for me to have all her worldly possessions. That’s the exact way she put it, all my worldly possessions.”
“What about her family?”
“She didn’t have anyone but her brother and he died over five years ago.”
“Doesn’t she have a nephew?”
“Elliott Emerson? Miss Abigail didn’t like him one little bit. Said he was a bad-mannered money-grubbing leach.”
“But she did give him money on numerous occasions, didn’t she?”
“Because she thought her brother, Will, would have wanted her to.”
“Why would he have wanted his sister to give Elliott Emerson any money if they weren’t really related?”
“It’s very complicated. Will believed that Elliott was a twice removed cousin, but Miss Abigail found out he was a Baptist and she knew that never in the history of the world had there been a Baptist in the Lannigan family.” Destiny shrugged apologetically, “See, the Lannigan’s were staunch Methodists.”
“Still, Missus Lannigan did on some occasions ask you to write checks for money she was indeed giving to Mister Emerson, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but it was not something she wanted to do.”
“But, you knew Mister Emerson was in some way related, right?”
“Yes, but –”
“Yet, you chose not to inform him of his aunt’s passing?”
“I didn’t have his telephone number.”
“Um-hmm.” Detective Nichols nodded his head in the most doubting manner.
Morgan Broadhurst, who had been watching this procedure through a mirrored window, was looking happier than he had been all day. Now, I was never a person to wish ill on others, but at that moment I was quite sorry it hadn’t been a tractor trailer that smashed into Mister Broadhurst’s Lincoln Continental.
After almost four hours, Detective Nichols told Destiny she could go home, but he said she shouldn’t leave town as they might have more questions.
That night Destiny was sitting on the blue velvet sofa drinking her third glass of wine when the doorbell rang.
It was an narrow stick of a man with skin so black he would have disappeared into the darkness were it not for his teeth and a crop of snow white hair. “Evening ma’am,” he said and smiled real wide. “Name’s Elijah Blessing. I’d like to offer the word of the Lord to you in this authentic King James Bible.” He held out a red leather book.
“You’re selling Bibles?” Destiny asked.
“Yes ma’am, I surely am. And if I might say so, you look like a person who could take comfort in the Good Lord’s word. The word of God can ease a person’s load, bring peace to a troubled mind, shed light on the darkest path . . .”
“Well, I don’t think –”
“When you got troubles, you bring ‘em to the Lord, he’ll show the way. If you got a sorrowful heart, he’ll fill it with gladness. Ain’t nothing the Almighty Lord can’t do when a person abides by the Good Book.”
It could have been the wine or a chunk of fear settling inside Destiny’s heart, maybe even the loneliness she’d been feeling ever since I died, but right there in the doorway she started bawling like a baby. Elijah Blessing dropped the red book back into the satchel he had slung over his right shoulder, then reached out and took Destiny’s hand into his. He didn’t look any more substantial than a winter-worn scarecrow, but I could tell Elijah Blessing was a mountain of strength.
“You got troubles, don’t you Missy?” he said to Destiny.
She nodded her head and kept right on sobbing.
“I got the Good Book right here and I got two perfectly fine ears; you want a messenger of the Lord to listen for a spell?”
Destiny wiped her nose on the tail end of her shirt and nodded again.
It was a funny thing with those two, something passed between them, something that didn’t require any words whatsoever. He draped his arm across her shoulder in a real tender way, like a daddy or grandpa would, and together they moved back inside the house and sat down on the sofa. Praise the Lord I thought, for I was pretty certain it was His doing – Elijah Blessing showing up on Destiny’s doorstep this way. At first they just sat there, Mister Blessing with one arm still wrapped around Destiny’s shoulder and the other hand holding onto hers. She kept right on sobbing, shaking all over and sobbing like her poor little heart was going to break. Mister Blessing told her to go right ahead and cry, get it out of her system; he said he had nowhere to go and nothing to do but share the word of God with folks who needed it. The world sure could use more men like that Mister Blessing.