Funny Money Read online

  “Ready?” Paul asked, coming up behind her.

  Kate gathered the sheets from the printer and tucked them into a folder. She turned to meet her husband’s gaze.

  “Who would do this?” she said.

  Paul shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Someone who’s desperate for an easy buck, I guess.”

  IT WAS ONE O’CLOCK by the time Kate and Paul made it to the Country Diner for lunch, after stopping by the deputy’s office. It was often their habit to head to the local eatery, where folks gathered for a grilled cheese on rye, a strong cup of coffee and neighborly chatter.

  They’d made plans to meet Livvy and Danny Jenner there since their teenage sons were away at summer camp for the week. Danny waved them over.

  In his late forties, Danny was tall and slender with curly dark hair. As head of the church board, he spent a lot of time with Paul discussing church business. Livvy was also in her late forties, though with her short auburn hair, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes, the town librarian looked much younger.

  Paul slid into the blue vinyl booth next to Danny, while Kate took the seat next to Livvy.

  “You look troubled,” Livvy said.

  Kate blew out a breath. “It’s been quite a morning.” She laughed, releasing some of the tension that had built up in her body.

  “Everything okay?” Danny turned to Paul.

  Paul began, “Kate was doing the deposit this morning at church, and”—he shook his head—“there were counterfeit bills in the offering for the Lourdes.”

  “Counterfeits?” Danny and Livvy said together, puzzled expressions on both their faces.

  “Did you call the sheriff?” Danny said.

  Kate nodded and explained everything that Sheriff Roberts had said. She finished by saying, “The sheriff suspects that someone from Faith Briar is a counterfeiter.”

  Kate felt betrayed, hurt by the very idea. Paul reached across the table to take her hand.

  “I can’t picture anyone from our church doing this.” Livvy’s words echoed Kate’s thoughts. “You have no idea who it could be?”

  Paul shook his head.

  LuAnne Matthews came by the table. The heavyset waitress was in her early fifties. Freckles danced across her ruddy face and her green eyes still sparked with mischief. She was a fixture at the Country Diner, always ready with a smile and friendly conversation. She looked through horn-rimmed glasses at them.

  “Hey, y’all,” she said. Her polyester dress and a no-nonsense white apron made her look like she had stepped right out of the 1950s. “We’ve got a delicious special today—grilled pear-and-ham sandwich with cilantro and homemade fries.”

  “Grilled pears?” Danny said with a shiver.

  “Might not sound good, but it tastes amazing,” LuAnne said.

  “I’ll try that,” Kate said.

  The rest of the group ordered, then Livvy returned to their conversation.

  “So what are they going to do about this counterfeiter?”

  “The sheriff is calling the Secret Service, I guess. Counterfeiting is a federal crime,” Paul said.

  Livvy’s expression was troubled. “It’s just...wrong,” the librarian said. “I understand buying stuff with counterfeit money—at least that makes sense in a twisted kind of way. But to put it in an offering? I don’t get it. That poor family.” She sighed.

  Kate reached into her handbag and pulled out the digital camera she’d brought along to the service the day before. She’d taken a photo of the Lourdes family for the bulletin board in the foyer of the church to remind congregants to pray. She found the shot and showed it to Livvy.

  “That’s a great picture of the family,” Livvy said.

  Jake grinned between his parents, so proud and energetic.

  Kate nodded and tucked the camera back into her handbag. “Paul and I had a long talk with Tim and Amy,” she said. “They’ve really been through a lot with Jake. He’s had several lung infections that they thought might be terminal.”

  “Yet they keep moving forward.” Livvy shook her head. “It breaks my heart.”

  It was no wonder Livvy had become her dear friend since she and Paul moved to Copper Mill. The woman cared deeply for others.

  “So on a lighter note, are you going to join me in my torture?” Danny turned the attention to Paul.

  “Huh?” Paul looked over at Livvy, who had a grin on her face.

  “I just talked Danny into taking ballroom dance lessons with me.” She raised an eyebrow and nodded from Kate to Paul.

  “I don’t know if Paul loves me that much,” Kate teased. She gave his hand a squeeze.

  “Oh brother.” Paul reached for the glass of water LuAnne had placed in front of him and took a sip.

  “He’s dodging,” Kate whispered. “Fear of dancing.”

  “Come on, Paul,” Livvy said. “Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

  Kate had heard about the new studio in town called Classical Ballroom that had opened up on Sweetwater Street, but other than a few wedding dances in their younger days, she and Paul hadn’t done a whole lot in the world of the waltz or the cha-cha. Paul was too humble to admit that he was as good as he actually was. Kate pictured Paul gliding across a polished floor.

  “The woman who teaches at Classical Ballroom stopped in at the library a few days ago,” Livvy went on, “and dropped off a few brochures. They’re offering six-week sessions with two classes per week. It isn’t a long-term commitment. If it really isn’t your thing, you don’t have to sign up for another session...”

  “Hal and Audrey Harper are the owners, right?” Paul said. “Weren’t they at church a few weeks ago?”

  “I met them,” Kate said. “They moved to town a couple months ago. He’s retired, and she runs the studio.”

  “Oh, to be in my fifties and retired,” Danny said with a smile. “I obviously chose the wrong career.”

  “I’d hardly call running your own dance studio retired,” Livvy said. “He’s as active in it as she is. They compete too. Audrey said they were going to be out of town at competitions all weekend.”

  Kate turned to Paul. “It wouldn’t be a long-term commitment.” She repeated what Livvy had said, not wanting to sound as if she was begging, though she knew she did.

  “All right,” Paul grimaced. “But let it be noted that I officially do love you enough to look ridiculous in public.”

  Chapter Four

  Paul returned to the office after dropping Kate at home. The house was quiet, save for the hum of the ancient refrigerator in the kitchen. Kate kept replaying the morning’s events in her mind. A counterfeiter? At Faith Briar Church?

  Who would betray them like that? Kate pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter, took a seat, then lowered her face into her hands. A prayer rose from her lips, unbidden. “Father, please help us understand what’s going on here. What’s really going on. Why would someone make counterfeit money and put Faith Briar Church right in the middle of their treachery?”

  A verse came to her, from Proverbs. She got up and found the passage in her Bible. “Some who are poor,” she read into the quiet, “pretend to be rich; others who are rich pretend to be poor.” Wasn’t that exactly what this person was trying to do? Pretend? She bowed her head again and added, “Lord, we all pretend in one way or another, but you shine your truth on our pretenses and show us who we really are in you. Please do that here.”

  Calm filled her. Prayer had a way of changing her as she talked to God.

  She reached for the papers she’d printed at the church office. She’d made extra copies for herself and promised Sheriff Roberts that she’d let him know if she found anything unusual.

  Kate cross-checked the attendance list and the donations list. If the person’s name was on the offering list, she placed a mark in front of each name on the attendance sheet. This way she could tell who had attended, who didn’t give or who gave anonymously. The problem was, with a special offering, it wasn’t uncommon for someone who had wr
itten a check for the general offering to pull out cash for the second offering. But at least it was something to start with.

  There were two names without marks. Kate studied them closely. The first was Abby Pippins, a friend and local ceramics artist. Kate couldn’t imagine the sweet woman being a counterfeiter. The second name on the list was J. B. Packer, the part-time fry cook at the Country Diner.

  It wasn’t much to go on—the fact that the two hadn’t written their names on their offering envelopes or perhaps they hadn’t added anything to the offering that morning—but at least she could ask them questions, see if there was anything to her assumption that a counterfeiter wouldn’t announce his—or her—crime by writing his or her name down. If there was nothing to it, she could at least ask them if they’d seen anything suspicious during the service.

  Kate sighed, yet the calm she felt from her prayer remained. She tucked the handwritten list in her handbag. She didn’t have any idea who was behind this, but it was a starting point.

  KATE VISITED ABBY FIRST. She wanted more than anything to clear Abby’s and J.B.’s names as soon as possible. These were people she cared about, not swindlers. Or were they? Kate shook her head.

  Abby lived in a tiny one-story on Sweetwater. Flowerpots on the front porch were bursting with early summer blooms, and two old rockers swayed slightly with the breeze as she drove up. Kate knocked on Abby’s screen door. The inner door was wide open, and the smell of something burning from out back bit Kate’s nose.

  “Abby?” she called out.

  “Hi, Kate.” The woman bustled down the hall. “I was out back and didn’t hear you.” Her smile lit up her round face like a jack-o’-lantern.

  She opened the screen door to let Kate in. “I’m firing some pots,” she explained as she pinched her nose. “This glaze I’m using is particularly stinky.”

  She led the way to the kitchen at the back of the house and turned on the water in the sink. “Sorry, my hands are all dirty.” She scrubbed them clean, then flicked the water off and reached for a towel from the handle of the stove. “One of the hazards of the job. So”—Abby looked Kate in the eye—“can I interest you in some iced tea?”

  “Oh,” Kate said, “I don’t want to impose.”

  Abby waved a hand as if she were batting a fly. “It’s no imposition.” She opened a small refrigerator and pulled out a frosty pitcher of iced tea with lemon slices floating on top. She poured two cups, handing one to Kate, then she led the way to a patio out the back door.

  “It’s such a glorious day,” Abby said over her shoulder. “It’s a shame to waste it inside.”

  The back patio was a cottage garden with flowers planted here and there, amid paths of stone and moss, statues and fountains. Abby pulled out a black wrought-iron chair for Kate at a round table with a lantern at its center, then tugged out another for herself.

  “So”—she smiled at Kate—“what’s on your mind?”

  Kate inhaled the scent of sage, not sure how to begin.

  “We had a bit of a disturbance this morning,” she said slowly. She wanted to choose her words carefully. “There were counterfeit bills in yesterday’s offering.”

  “Oh my! That’s awful!” Abby covered her mouth with her hand. “Who would have done that?”

  Kate shook her head. “Well...I was hoping you might help me figure that out.”

  “Me?” Abby pointed to herself, incredulous.

  “Did you by any chance see anything unusual? Maybe there was someone new in church?”

  Abby shook her head. “Nothing that comes to mind...Wait. There was a man in the foyer, now that I think about it. It was right before church started. I thought he’d take a seat, but then he left. Seemed odd to me that he’d come but then not attend.”

  “What did he look like?” Kate leaned forward.

  “I didn’t get a good look at him, but I noticed him because he wore penny loafers without socks.” She chuckled. “I never understood how people could do that.”

  “Was he alone?” Kate took a sip of her tea and watched Abby over the rim of her glass.

  “Far as I could tell, but he probably wouldn’t have been there when the offering was taken.”

  “Thanks, Abby.” Kate set down her glass and nodded. “That helps.”

  As Kate looked at Abby, she knew the woman was no counterfeiter. Counterfeiters were false, filled with pretense. Abby Pippins was nothing if not genuine.

  J. B. PACKER had mostly kept to himself since the deaths of his wife and daughter, though Kate did see him working from time to time at the Country Diner. He came to church now and then, and J.B. had signed the friendship pad at Faith Briar the day before. He must’ve snuck out of church, though, because she hadn’t seen him after the service.

  Kate found him in the parking lot out in the back of the Country Diner. A tall hedge gave the lot privacy, and she knew J.B. often came here on his breaks to get some fresh air. A large Dumpster sat along its perimeter. It smelled of refuse and old food.

  Middle-aged, J.B. had thin, grayish brown, collar-length hair. Dark circles ringed his eyes when he lifted them to Kate. He stepped back, obviously surprised by her presence.

  “Oh, Mrs. Hanlon,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “How are you, J.B.?” Kate asked.

  The man shrugged. “Fair to middlin’,” he said. “I get by.”

  Kate smiled. “Say, I noticed from the friendship pad that you were at church yesterday.”

  “I get a personal visit for that?” He laughed.

  Kate chuckled with him, and she saw his crow’s-feet crinkle. He was a smart man. He’d even been valedictorian of his graduating high school class, but as happened to so many, a few poor choices and more than a few losses in life had beaten him back. But still, looking at his wide eyes, Kate was convinced that like Abby, he couldn’t be the counterfeiter. He’d been through a lot, but that didn’t make him a criminal.

  “Did you enjoy the service?” Kate asked.

  He shrugged. “Wasn’t bad.” His eyes clouded, and he shook his head. “Needed some time away from my place,” he admitted.

  Kate touched his arm, concerned about him. “Troubles?” she asked simply.

  “No more than anyone else’s troubles, Mrs. Hanlon.”

  “That doesn’t make them any easier to bear though.” Kate wanted to help him but wasn’t sure how.

  “Bein’ there yesterday helped some,” he admitted. He looked away. “I appreciate your concern, though.”

  “We’re here for you. You know that, right?”

  His lips pursed together. “Well, I need to get back or Loretta will come lookin’ for me.” He gave a two-finger salute. “Thanks.”

  Then he disappeared inside the back door, and Kate watched it closely. She hadn’t asked him any questions about the counterfeit money, but then she hadn’t needed to.

  Chapter Five

  The phone rang at the Hanlon house after Kate had returned from running her errands onTuesday. She knew the gossip circle was already in full swing.

  “What happened at church Sunday?” Renee Lambert demanded when Kate answered.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A couple of suits are running around town asking people about counterfeit money passed at the church.”

  Kate could hear Renee’s dog, Kisses, barking in the background.

  “Suits?”

  “Yes, the Secret Service. So what happened?”

  Kate hesitated, then finally told Renee about the bills she’d found in the special offering. She knew the woman well enough to know that no juicy tidbit went unexplored on her watch.

  “So who could it be?” Renee said in a conspiratorial tone.

  “I don’t know. That’s for the Secret Service to discover,” Kate said. She wouldn’t admit it to Renee, but the thought that the counterfeiter was someone from their own midst meant they wouldn’t be the only ones looking into it.


  THE TWO AGENTS accompanied Sheriff Roberts to the parsonage at two o’clock that afternoon. Kate heard their insistent knock on the front door before she saw their dark-colored vehicle parked in the driveway just behind the sheriff’s SUV.

  Kate had been in her stained-glass studio working on a set of windows for an antique china cupboard, a special Internet order for a woman from Pine Ridge. Taking off her apron and stopping to wash her hands in the bathroom, she walked quickly to the door as the pounding continued.

  She opened the door with a smile. “Sorry about the delay. You caught me working.”

  Sheriff Roberts nodded, then tilted his head to the two men who stood on each side of him.

  “These two gentlemen are with the Secret Service,” he began. “They’re in town about the counterfeiting scam.”

  Kate shook hands with each and motioned for them to come inside.

  “I’m glad to help however I can,” she said as they took seats in the tan slip-covered sofa in Kate’s spacious living room. Kate opted for the rocking chair.

  The one on the right reminded Kate of a taller Tom Cruise, with blond hair, blue eyes and a slight crook to his nose as if he’d been punched one too many times. The other was a portly, round-faced man who looked to be in his mid- to late fifties, with glasses perched on the end of his nose and a bald head. Not a speck of hair remained on its shiny surface.

  “This is Agent Norris,” the sheriff pointed first to the Tom Cruise look-alike, then to the bald man, “and Agent Wimper.”

  Agent Wimper pulled out a pad of paper and a pen while Agent Norris leaned toward Kate in an interrogative pose.

  “Mrs. Hanlon, can you tell us everything that happened, everything you saw?” he said. “And start at the beginning.”

  “The beginning?” Kate said with a glance at Sheriff Roberts.