“I told her that her behavior was sinful and that she needed to end the relationship. I told her that she was jeopardizing George’s marriage, his position, the respect of the entire community. I told her that if she had any decency, she would leave the island and give George the opportunity to repair his life and his relationship with God.”
“And what did she say?” Dash asked.
Crenshaw’s jaw tightened. “She laughed at me. Said I was a hypocrite and a fool. Said that I had no idea what George was really like, what any of them were really like. She told me to mind my own business unless I wanted everyone to know what she knew.”
The air in the solarium suddenly felt thicker, harder to breathe. “What did she know?”
“I assumed she was bluffing,” Crenshaw said, but his voice had gone careful, measured. “Ruby was clever—cleverer than most people gave her credit for. She cleaned houses, which meant she was in people’s homes when they thought they were alone. She heard things, saw things. And she wasn’t above using that information when it suited her purposes.”
“Was she blackmailing you?” I asked.
“No.” The word came quick and sharp. “She never asked me for money, never made any specific threats. It was all innuendo and suggestion. Letting me know she had ammunition without ever quite loading the gun.”
“But you were afraid of what she might know,” Dash said.
Crenshaw was quiet for a long moment, his fingers resuming their rhythmic tapping. “I was concerned. There were…irregularities in the church finances that year. Nothing illegal, you understand. Just complicated. The building fund, the community center project—there were cost overruns, unexpected expenses. George and I were working to resolve the accounting, but it looked messy on paper. If Ruby had told people that money was missing, it could have caused problems.”
“How much money?” I asked.
“I don’t recall the exact figures.”
“Try,” Dash suggested, his voice pleasant but with steel underneath.
“Nearly two hundred thousand dollars.” Crenshaw’s expression had gone carefully blank. “The community center was supposed to cost one hundred and fifty thousand. We’d raised two hundred thousand in donations. But the contractor—he’d estimated incorrectly, and the actual costs were significantly higher. We had to cancel the project and reallocate the funds to other church expenses.”
“That’s a very tidy explanation,” I observed.
“It’s the truth.”
“Is it?” Dash leaned forward slightly. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like exactly the kind of story someone tells when a significant amount of money has gone missing and they need to account for it. Two hundred thousand dollars raised for a specific project that never gets built, and the money just…redistributes itself into vague church expenses?”
“The church board reviewed and approved all expenditures,” Crenshaw said stiffly.
“A church board that you controlled,” I said. “That you and George Pickering controlled together.”
“There were six of us,” he said, though his face had gone red, the color rising from his collar like a thermometer measuring anger. “George, myself, Roger Hammond, Gene Forsythe, Douglas Sutton, and Craig Baker. All honorable men.”
“Except for George, who was cheating on his wife,” I said. “Surely you wouldn’t consider him honorable.”
His lips pinched in a thin line and his breathing grew shallow. “You know nothing,” he spat.
“It just seems to me,” I said as if I were making casual conversation. “That if George wasn’t so honorable, then maybe you could overlook other dishonorable behavior from the members of the board.”
“You’re making accusations based on speculation and the word of a woman who’s been dead for forty years.” His voice elevated so that several heads turned our direction. “Ruby Bailey was a liar and a manipulator. She had an affair with a married pastor, disrupted an entire congregation, and got herself killed because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut about things that were none of her business.”
The words hung in the air like smoke, revealing more than Crenshaw probably intended.
“Got herself killed,” Dash repeated softly. “Interesting choice of words.”
Crenshaw seemed to realize his mistake. “A figure of speech. Obviously someone killed her—killed both of them.”
“And did you tell George to stop his sinful ways and end the affair, or did you place the blame solely on Ruby’s shoulders?”
“I told him to stop,” he said. “But Ruby knew she was a temptress and reveled in it. Unfortunately, men are easily swayed by certain types of women and she could have put an end to things. Ruby’s behavior invited danger. She was reckless, provocative. She pushed people.”
“People like you?”
“I never touched her.” The denial came fast. “I had nothing to do with what happened at Turtle Point. I was home with my wife that evening. We had dinner, watched television, went to bed. My wife gave a statement to the police—you can check the records.”
