THE LAW AND DAUGHTER SERIES

“You’re wrong,” Frances said. “Pokey would never steal anything.” She and Janet Bailey—the church secretary—were standing together in the dappled shade just outside St. Mary’s. “I know he wouldn’t.”
 
“I saw him, Fran,” Janet said. “I couldn’t believe it either. He was sneaking out of Father Tom’s office.”

“And you phoned the sheriff?”

“Of course I did. After I discovered the money was missing.”

“She should’ve called me,” Fran murmured.

“What?”

“I have to go, Janet.”

Five minutes later Fran stormed into her daughter’s office at the county jail.

“You should’ve called me,” Fran said to her.

Sheriff Lucy Valentine looked up from the paperwork on her desk. “You’re right, Mother. The police manual clearly states: ‘Immediately inform Frances Valentine of any criminal activity.’ How stupid of me.”

“You know what I mean. He’s innocent.”

“Not according to Janet Bailey.”

Fuming, Fran eyed the cellblock door. “Is he locked up?”

“Gonzales? Of course he’s locked up.”

Fran swallowed. “Is he okay?”

Sheriff Valentine felt her irritation seep away. She put down her pen and rubbed her eyes with both thumbs. “He will be,” she said. “He’s a little disoriented right now.”

“You can’t hold him here, Lucy. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean, I can’t hold him?”

“He can’t stand it. He was injured once, in a mine in Mexico. He’s claustrophobic.”

“Who says?”

“His son told me. Ramon.”

“Well, Ramon’s in trouble too. Janet saw the old man—”

“Pokey,” Fran said. “We call him Pokey.”

The sheriff frowned. “Pokey Gonzales?”

“It’s a nickname. Like the cartoon, except he’s not speedy, so—”

“I get it. Anyhow, Janet says she saw him handing something to his son today, in the church parking lot.”

“Handing something to him?”

“That’s what she said. It must’ve been the stolen money.”

“When?”

“Just after Gonzales left the priest’s office, and just before I got there to question him.”

“The office was unlocked?” Fran asked.

“They leave it unlocked, Janet told me.”

“Didn’t you question Ramon too?”

“He’d already driven away. We’re looking for him now.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The Highway Patrol,” Lucy said. “I never considered Janet a quick thinker, but this time she was—she wrote down his tag number as he took off.”

Fran, who had been pacing the floor, seemed to run out of steam. She sank into a chair beside her daughter’s desk.

“Did you talk to the church treasurer?” Fran asked. “Cecil Fox?”

“He’s off on a fishing trip, Janet said.”

Fran turned and looked out the window, as if she might see Cecil Fox out there somewhere baiting his hook.

The sheriff studied her a moment and sighed.

“I’ve done everything I can, Mother. Gonzales can’t speak English, and nobody around here except his son and Father Tom can translate. And Father Tom’s away too, at some kind of wilderness retreat.”

“What a mess,” Fran grumbled. “Sure as something happens around here, half the town goes off to the woods.”

“I wish I had.”

“Well, like it or not, you’re here, and you better start figuring out what happened.”

Lucy felt her face heat up. “I think it’s pretty clear what happened.”

“Not to me. We’re missing something, here.”

“What we’re missing is twelve thousand dollars, from Father Tom’s safe. The office is never locked, Janet says, but the safe is.”

“Twelve thousand?”

“At least that much. She told me they were saving to buy another church van.”

Fran frowned, set her jaw, and crossed her arms. It was a sight her daughter knew only too well. “Pokey Gonzales didn’t take that money,” Fran said. “He wouldn’t.”

Sheriff Valentine leaned back and shook her head. “You’re too trusting, Mother. Meek people can be . . .”

“Monsters in disguise?”

“Exactly.”

Fran shook her head. “Not Pokey. I realize he doesn’t speak our language, and we don’t communicate well, but I know him anyway. I can tell good people from bad.” She stared out the window again. The sun was almost down now, and the streetlamps were winking on. For just a moment, in the fading light, Lucy thought her mother looked old.

As if reading the sheriff’s thoughts, Fran turned to glare at her. “Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t break into a safe. The man has trouble cranking the church’s lawnmower.”

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe he had the combination.”

“How? Not even Janet has it. In fact, how’d she know the money’s not still in there?”

“Because the safe door was open an inch or two—I saw it myself. Afterward, what Janet saw must’ve been Gonzales passing the money to his son, outside. All I found in his pockets were chocolate-chip cookies.”

Fran blinked. “Cookies?”

The sheriff nodded. “When I arrived, Gonzales was sitting on the church steps, munching away.”

Fran seemed to think that over.

“Can I try to talk to him?” she asked.

The sheriff sighed again. “Be my guest. Can you say ‘Where’s the loot?’ in Spanish?”

When Fran came back from the cellblock her face told the story; she had no new information. Sheriff Valentine, however, did.

“I just got a call,” Lucy said, holding up a notepad. “Ramon Gonzales’s truck was found parked outside a car dealership in Memphis.”

“How?”

“A Tennessee patrolman spotted it, from my description.”

Fran’s brows knitted together. “So you think Ramon switched cars there?”

“They’re trying to locate the dealership’s owner, somebody named Hollister, to find out. The lot closed half an hour ago.”

Fran nodded as if in deep thought. “Any luck on contacting Father Tom?”

“No. There’s no phone where he is, and he’s not due back till tomorrow.”

“That’s too late. I’m telling you, Gonzales can’t spend the night here, Lucy—he’s too distraught.”

“This is a felony, Mother. Pokey stays in the pokey.”

“Then I’m staying too,” Fran said, raising her chin.

Lucy knew there was no use arguing. “In that case, since we’ll both miss supper, go next door and get us some milkshakes.” She dug a five from the pocket of her uniform and handed it to her mother. “Better hurry on the way back, though—they’ll melt fast in this heat.”

Fifteen minutes later Fran came back in, grinning from ear to ear.

“Where’s my shake?” the sheriff said.

“I didn’t go. I’ve been on the phone in your outer office.” Fran dropped into a chair. “I know who took the money.”

“What?!”

“I thought about what you said, about the heat. Remember those cookies you found on him?”

“Yeah?”

“It was ninety-seven degrees today,” Fran said. “How long would chocolate last in a workman’s pocket?”

“Maybe they weren’t there long. Maybe Ramon brought them to him.”

Fran shook her head. “I called Janet Bailey just now. She verified that Pokey handed something to Ramon—not the other way around.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I think he offered his son a cookie.”

“But I thought you just said—”

“Consider this: I asked Janet to check the mini-fridge in Father Tom’s office. It was plugged in and running, but nothing was inside. Why would Father Tom leave it on if it was empty?”

The sheriff waited, absorbed now.

“And when I asked Janet about the cookies, she told me Father Tom bakes them to give to Pokey Gonzales every Friday, when he comes to do the yardwork. Chocolate-chip cookies. Except for blackberry pie, they’re his favorite food.”

“So? Father Tom was gone today.”

“But today’s Friday,” Fran said. “I think Tom left them in his little refrigerator, and told Pokey to come in and get them.”

The sheriff gave that some thought.  “That doesn’t sound right. He’d let a groundskeeper wander around in his office?”

“They trust him, Lucy. Besides, I also called Sue Cox, Cecil’s wife. She told me the money wouldn’t have been in the safe anyhow. It was removed yesterday—remember the open door? Janet didn’t know that.”

“Removed?” Lucy asked. “Who removed it?”

“Father Tom.”

“What?”

“He had decided they’d saved long enough. Sue told me Tom added some of his own money to what was in the safe, and he and Cecil made arrangements to buy the new van.” Fran paused, smiling. “And guess what dealership they use, for church vehicles?”

Sheriff Valentine’s jaw dropped. “The place in Memphis?”

“None other. Hollister Motors. Big discount on vans. That must’ve been where Ramon was headed when he stopped by the church today, to see Pokey. Sue said Father Tom and Cecil had already wired the money to Hollister, and had hired Ramon to go pick up the van for them, so they’d have it for Sunday. Somebody’ll drive back with him for his truck later. That’s why it was left in Memphis.”

The sheriff was still stunned. “So there was no robbery?”

“The only dough missing was the tasty kind.” Fran gave her daughter a smug look. “Are you convinced?”

Lucy exhaled. “If Cecil will come sign a statement—”

“Sue’s gone to fetch him.”

“Then I guess I’m convinced.”

“And Gonzales . . . ?”

“He’ll be released.”

“Excellent.” Fran rose from the chair. “Then I better be going.”

“To get our milkshakes?” Lucy asked.

Fran grinned. “To make a blackberry pie.”