The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(75)

“If she has a good role model, she won’t think about this part of her life and the pain in it. If you have any suggestions of single women in the ward who might appreciate a good man’s attention, I’m sure Jared would be interested in a phone number or two.”

“I don’t think I know anyone who would fit that description,” I said as calmly as I could manage. My heart felt swollen and tender in my chest. “But I would like to see Kelly, if you don’t mind.”

He glanced upstairs and his expression seemed genuinely loving. “Poor little girl. She hasn’t had a nap all day. We sent her to her room early to sleep for the night, but I can hear she hasn’t drifted off yet. Maybe if you went up to tell her she needs to sleep?”

“I will do that,” I said. I was glad I’d had the idea to bring the photo with me.

Upstairs, I found Kelly Helm kicking at her wall. I could see the smudge marks. Poor Kelly. What would Alex Helm do if he saw?

I gently brought Kelly’s legs down and then rubbed at the wall with spit and my finger. Mother’s spit cleans everything, haven’t you heard?

“How are you doing?” I asked Kelly.

“Fine,” she said, not looking me in the eye.

“Sweetie, no one is fine on the day of her mother’s funeral. When my father died, I cried all day,” I said. “And I was thirty-three. You’re only five.”

“I don’t feel like crying,” said Kelly, her tone defiant. “She’s been gone for a long time. I don’t miss her anymore.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed this or not. If it was true, it was something to be worried about even more than her mother’s loss. “Kelly, you can tell me the truth. Your mother loved you and you must be sad that she is gone.”

“Grandpa says that she isn’t worth being sad about.”

I realized I was chewing at my lower lip and had almost broken through the skin. “Kelly, I brought you a special picture,” I said and tried not to look around suspiciously to see if anyone was watching.

“Is it a picture of Jesus?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s a picture of your mother.” I held it out and smoothed it so she could see it. “This is the photo your grandmother showed at the funeral, when your mom graduated from high school. I noticed that you didn’t have any photos of her up anywhere in the house and thought you might like to keep this.” I was preparing myself to talk to her about putting it away whenever her father or grandfather came in, realizing that I was going to ask a five-year-old to lie.

But she shook her head. “I don’t want it. She’s not my mother anymore.”

“Of course she is, Kelly. She will always be your mother.” What in the world had Alex Helm said to her?

“No, she’s not. Daddy’s going to find me a better mother.”

I was outraged. “Kelly, I hope your dad does marry again and finds some kind of happiness.” If, as it seemed now, he was not a murderer, then he had the right to marry again—in due time and maybe after some therapy. “I hope that you have someone in your life who can be your mother, but you can’t just erase who your mother is.”

“Grandpa says that God won’t make me stay with Mommy. She left us, so she doesn’t deserve to have us. She won’t have anyone. She’ll be all alone in heaven, and I’ll be with him and daddy and his new wife.”

“Kelly, please don’t say that.” I slowly folded the photo and put it back in my jacket pocket. Maybe she would want it later. Maybe when she was old enough to understand …

“Grandpa says that God killed Mommy,” said Kelly. “Because she wasn’t good enough for us. He says that God makes sure people die who don’t deserve to live and who only make other people sad.”

I wanted to slap Alex Helm again. And then I wanted to cut out his lying, blasphemous tongue. And then Jared Helm could get in line for doing nothing to counter his poisonous father.

It all sounded so much like the letter the Westons had read from at the first press conference. It made me shiver now, thinking how clearly Carrie had foretold what would happen after her own death.

I read Kelly some “new” stories her grandfather had brought—all of them moral homilies with no fun at all. And then I made my way back downstairs.

Alex Helm was in the kitchen and simply waved to me. Lucky for him he didn’t come close enough for me to touch.

I walked home and put the photograph of Carrie Helm in a safe place in my bedroom.

The day after the funeral, the Westons called me to update me on custody proceedings. It seemed that the laws in Utah were not favorable to grandparents in terms of custody, and their lawyer had advised them to drop the case. Aaron Weston was still fasting and praying about it, determined that he would not give up on his granddaughter, but they didn’t leave me with much hope for getting Kelly away from the Helms.





CHAPTER 26




In late March, the renters of Anna and Tobias Torstensen’s house had a pipe burst. As usual in Utah, it wasn’t spring so much as alternating summer and winter. A dangerous time of year for pipes.

A crew came out to fix the pipes and they ended up having to dig up a considerable section of Tobias’s garden. And that was when they found the body of Tobias’s first wife. At least, they found a human skeleton deep under the dirt and called the police. They weren’t sure yet who it was.