CHAPTER SIX

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Gabe. “Are you Shirley?”

“Yes. Are you the police?” she asked, trying to sit up a little. She immediately turned green, and Gabe raced for the bedpan, almost certain that the woman would vomit everywhere. Shirley waved him off, shaking her head.

“It’s okay. I’ll learn my lesson one day. I can’t move that fast or I get sick. I’m sorry, did you answer me? Are you the police?”

“No, ma’am. We are not the police, but we are trying to find who killed Imelda. We’re friends of Barry’s.”

“Oh, Barry. He’s such a sweet young man. We’re all so proud of how far he’s come. He’s a great success story.”

“Yes, ma’am, he is. We’ve known him almost his entire life. My name is Gabe, and this is my brother, Pierre.”

“Nice to meet you both,” she said. “I’d get up, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. My mother was here with me, but she took a taxi home to get me a few more things I needed. I guess I’m going to be here a few more days. She’s old as the hills, but right now, she’s in better shape than I am.”

“Yes, ma’am. We understand that. Shirley, the Reverend said that you and Imelda were arguing that morning, the morning before her death. What was it about?” asked Pierre. She dabbed her eyes, slowly shaking her head.

“It was so stupid. We were both tired from having to cover for Matilda, our bookkeeper slash office manager slash girl Friday,” she grinned. “She up and disappeared a few weeks back. Anyway, Imelda is, was, the church secretary, and I run the choir. I just wanted some help getting the hymnals put out. We’d been racing around the church, trying to get things just perfect for the service. She wanted to get home to her family for Christmas morning because she has a daughter. I should have been more understanding. She has a daughter, a young woman who won’t have her mother now.”

“You can’t dwell on that, ma’am. It’s not your fault,” said Pierre, trying to heed Barry’s advice.

“We were friends. Good friends,” she said, wiping her tears. “She was one of the most good-hearted women I’d ever known. We argued now and then like all friends do, but we loved one another like sisters.”

“Sisters arguing is something we both understand. Did she ever have any issues with Matilda?” asked Gabe.

“Matilda? Heavens no. She was lost as a lamb and scared of her own shadow. Matilda never gave anyone any trouble. I don’t know what that poor girl went through, but it must have been awful. She never wanted to leave the church. Never.”

“Yet she did,” said Pierre. Shirley looked at him with a little shock and then realized he was telling the truth.

“Yes. I suppose she did,” she said quietly. “But she wouldn’t have hurt Imelda. Not for anything. I don’t think she was capable of hurting anyone. She was a tiny little thing. Not very big at all, except her chest. She had a large chest.”

The two men smiled, nodding at the woman.

“Come to think of it, Imelda was tiny as well, other than her chest.”

Gabe filed that detail away and asked Shirley a few more questions before he realized that she was getting tired.

“I just have one more question. How was the church doing? Financially, I mean,” he said.

“Oh, we’re a tiny little church. Nothing like St. Louis Cathedral or the mega-churches on the outskirts of the city. We’re non-denominational. Most of our flock are from the Quarter. Lots of strippers, bartenders, drag queens, dancers, gays, and lesbians,” she laughed. “We always say we have the most colorful, well-dressed, best dancers in the city in our choir. They’re all wonderful and so much fun to be around.”

“Yes, ma’am, I bet they’re something else. I’ll have to come by and hear them some time,” smiled Pierre. “What’s it like working for the Reverend?”

“Oh, technically, I’m a volunteer, but I know what you mean. He’s wonderful. Kind, generous, always there for you. He’s counseled me so many times about my mother I can’t even imagine what I would have done without him.”

“Thank you,” nodded Pierre. “We hope you feel better.”

“I hope you find whoever did this,” she said, tearing up again. “Imelda’s husband and daughter deserve some answers. She was a great woman.”

By the time they got down to the truck, the brothers were even more confused than before.

“What do you think?” asked Gabe.

“I have no fucking clue, and that bothers me more than anything.”

Mac and Luc wandered the streets around the church, charting out a six-block square that was a good start to their inquiry.

“Cute little shotgun houses,” nodded Mac toward the pink one on their left. It had white shutters and a teal-green door that spoke of old New Orleans.

“Yeah,” nodded Luc. “Mama and Pops used to bring us down here for some of the music festivals. We all loved it. These people aren’t wealthy, and they sure as hell don’t have anything that someone would want to steal, yet here we are.”

Mac tapped his arm, nodding toward a house where an older man was sitting. He had a small space heater on the porch, trying to stay warm, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Afternoon, sir,” said Mac.

“Afternoon,” he nodded. “You with the heat folks?”

“The heat folks, sir?”

“My heater broke three days ago. They sent some boy yesterday who couldn’t find his own asshole with a roadmap. It’s worse today than it was yesterday, and they already charged me three hundred dollars. I can’t afford to keep payin’ you folks, and I need some heat, or I’m gonna freeze to death.”

“We’re not with the heat folks,” said Mac, “but I’d be happy to take a look at it for you. It’s not safe to have the space heater out here on the porch.”

“Ain’t safe to die of the cold either,” frowned the old man. Luc laughed at him, nodding toward the door. The old man let them inside, pointing him toward the heating unit.

“Mac will look at the heat while we talk if you don’t mind,” said Luc.

“As long as it’s free, we can talk all day long.”

“I promise, it’s free. My name is Luc. That’s Mac. We’re trying to find any information we can on who might have killed Imelda Coliya, the church secretary, that was murdered. Did you hear about that?”

“Terrible shame,” said the old man, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. “I go to church. Now and then. Well, when I feel up to it. She was always nice to me. Made sure I had a cushion to sit on. Them pews are awful uncomfortable for an old man who ain’t got no ass anymore.”

“Yes, sir, they definitely can be. Did you ever see her arguing with anyone? Maybe her and her husband had problems?”

“Garcia? No way. That man loved her somethin’ fierce. They’ve lived around here for almost twenty-five years. Rented that little place right across the street for years. They saved every damn penny they made, wore hand-me-down clothes, ate boxed macaroni and cheese and bologna. Saved enough to buy that little house they’re in now. They were both so proud,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Had a big party so everyone could see that they’d finally achieved their dream. They’re a good couple. Were. Were a good couple.”

“Buying a home of your own is no joke,” smiled Luc.

“She wanted to keep workin’ even though he said she didn’t have to, so she took the job at the church. Woman was suited for God’s work.”

“Do you think this is random, Mr., sorry I didn’t get your name,” said Luc.

“Elvin, Elvin Portier, like the famous actor.”

“Elvin,” nodded Luc. “Do you think it was random?” The old man was quiet for a few moments, just staring at him, then finally spoke.

“I think it was tragic and senseless is what I think. Random? I don’t know. Tragic, definitely.”

They both heard the thump of the heater kicking on and smelled the heat pouring from the vents. Mac walked out, wiping his hands on a paper towel.

“All set, sir.”

“You fixed it?” he laughed.

“It wasn’t broken. Someone turned off the pilot light of your gas furnace and jerked a wire loose. It’s all connected now and safe to use. Whoever you had come out, I’d cancel them and tell them not to come here again. If you’d like, we could contact them and get your money back.”

“I’ll damn sure do that,” he nodded. “I don’t want no trouble with them, and they might come back around. An old man like me can’t take any chances. I can’t thank you boys enough for doin’ that. I can already feel the heat comin’ out.”

“Elvin, is there anyone else we could speak with? Maybe someone who might have seen anything?”

“Most of the folks around here are old like me, or they’re young folks who work the Quarter ‘til two, maybe three in the morning. They would have been asleep that morning, most likely. But the folks around here are friendly. I’ll send a text in our group chat and let ‘em know to cooperate.”

“Group chat?” smirked Mac.

“I’m old, son, but I ain’t stupid. A man my age needs friends and a cell phone. I got both. Besides, there’s some funny shit on that Instagram.”

Mac and Luc walked the neighborhood for three hours, stopping to speak with dozens of people who had gotten Elvin’s text message. They all knew Imelda, they knew Shirley, and no one could fathom who would want to kill the woman.

The one outlier was Matilda. No one knew who she was or where she’d gone.

“I think we have to find this Matilda,” said Luc.

“Let’s see what the tech boys have come up with. We need a lead.”