Smiling Madonna - Chapter Fifteen

Did you see
the make
and model
of the car

“Hello, Officer Chang?” asked George.
“Hello, Reverend,” the officer responded, “What can I do for you?”
“I am calling to make sure we have talked about everything that seems to be happening about the case of Henry Isaacson’s murder.”
“Oh? Is there more that you can tell me about?” said Chang.
“I wanted to make sure you got the message about the tires up in the foothills this weekend-“
“You mean the tires being flat? Yeah, I got that message the other day,” Officer Chang cut in.
“Yes, and this week on Tuesday, I was driving and realized I had to back home for something and saw a car behind me, which, after I had turned around, was behind me again in a couple minutes. It followed me to within three blocks of our house,” said George.
“Really. Did you get a license number?”
“No, I didn’t think of that, and they were pretty far back after I had turned around. I did get a pretty good look at the person in the car as he made the last turn we made together.”
“Okay, we’ll get to that. Did you see the make and model of the car?” said Chang.
“I only saw that it was a blue Toyota and it looked like it was a pretty recent model, maybe two or three years old,” said George.
“Okay, now tell me about the person driving.”
“I am pretty sure I recall seeing somewhere,” said George.
“Maybe from church? Is he a… what do you call it, a ‘lazy’ member? Or did you meet him at another church function?”
“I… hmmm. You know that sounds like it might be right, but I cannot place it. Maybe he was part of a baptismal party, or the child of an older member… I just can’t remember.”
“Can you give a description to an artist? We can try to get a picture of him for other people to look at as well.”
“I can describe him pretty well. I recall his face from that last turn,” said George. “Does the fact that you are going to ask an artist to help mean that you think I may have seen Henry’s murderer?”
“Father, all I can tell you is that we are working very hard to find out how and why Mr. Isaacson was killed. And one line of investigation we are pursuing is that you, or maybe your community, might have been the intended target for the perpetrator. We don’t know why, yet.”

Iliana Morrison’s niece, Barbara got up from her desk, and took out her purse from the filing cabinet. She locked her desk drawers with a key from her purse, and went out to her car. Vincent’s car was still parked at the end of the lot. She hadn’t seen him inside though.
“Probably out with Tony down at the ‘Tenner Pub’ watching rugby again,” she thought. “He’d better be careful or his mother is likely to shorten the leash she kept him on.” And a moment later, “Did I? …Oh damn, I forgot to pick up the security deposit check to bring back to Pr. George.”
Barbara got out of the car and went back up to the office and retrieved the check, got in the car and drove home, shaking her head one last time as she drove past the blue Corolla near the street.

Tim had much to tell about the meeting with the religious community event planners, but had to wait until the following Tuesday unless he could get George for a few minutes on Saturday afternoon. Saturday morning he knew George would be back at his haunt, the Green Café, doing some sermon writing for the next day. Tim caught George after the morning meeting just as George was putting together the ingredients for their soup dinner.
Leaning against the door frame in the passage by the Dali Last Supper, Tim poked his head in and asked, “Hey George, do you have some time later today? I’d like to touch base with you about what went on at the meeting on Tuesday with the ‘event planning group.’”
“Sure,” George said, looking up from the knife with which he was slicing vegetables. “I think I will be around this afternoon, probably between two and four. I’ll need to be back in here to work on the bread for tonight after four.”
“Great,” said Tim.

“What’s new, George?” asked Rosie. Rosie gave George a very nice smile and wink.
“Not much, Rosie. How are you?” George asked this to remind himself that he was a representative, in a certain role. He had chosen a lifestyle that precluded ‘special’ relationships for himself.
Rosie nodded, “It’s going pretty well. This place is booming and I’m happy about that. I am still working out how to live without you though.”
George almost choked, but Rosie laughed, “Got you! But good!”
George laughed hard, once he got past the idea that seemed good to him as well, “Oh man! Rosie, you’re killing me!”
“What would you like to drink, George? The usual, and two in a row?”
“Yes, please,” George tried to give Rosie his biggest smile and it wasn’t difficult.

Several hours later, with a ‘good idea on paper’, but less than finished in his mind, George packed his things away and made his way out past an early afternoon rush and down to his car.
The way home was marred by the blue Toyota again….