Gideon - 03 - Religious Conviction by Grif Stockley Page B

drop from my drawer and begin to unwrap it. The little pleasures are as addictive as the large ones. From the frown on Norman’s face, I have no doubt that he believes in a literal Devil and an all consuming hell.
    “But she says she was at Christian Life at the time of the murder.”
    Norman shakes his head.
    “Nobody yet can back up her story.”
    I watch Norman’s face as he fights for control of his emotions. I wish Leigh had showed herself capable of having them. I say what I’m thinking.
    “You’re convinced Leigh shot him, aren’t you?”
    Norman stands up from his chair and goes over to the window.
    “I know she’s lying because I called her at her house that morning about ten. Art answered the phone and said she was at the church, but I heard her voice in the background.”
    I suck on the lemon drop in my mouth while Norman gazes out the window. I wonder if he, like Dan, is mentally undressing the women in the Adcock Building.
    Surely not. Chet hadn’t told me Norman called Leigh. I wonder if he even knew. “Tell me what you know about Wallace,” I encourage him.
    “He sounds like he got his hooks pretty good into Leigh.”
    Norman turns from the window and comes back to his seat.
    “If you had known my daughter before she met Art, you would understand how different she is.”
    For the next fifteen minutes he paints a picture of Leigh that is very sympathetic to somebody who thinks his own daughter is wonderful. From almost the moment Leigh was born, she was a “daddy’s girl.” After two girls (Alicia and Mary Patricia, now married and living out of state). Pearl was hoping for a boy, and, in truth, so was he; but when Leigh was born, he somehow bonded with her in a way he hadn’t with his two older daughters. Maybe it was because Pearl paid her less attention, or that Leigh was more an extrovert like him, but whatever the reason, his youngest daughter took to Christian Life like nobody else.
    “Preachers’ kids can be a pain in the ass….” (the word “ass” sounds queer coming from Norman), and Alicia and Mary Patricia rebelled in many little ways, but Leigh never did. As far as he knew, Alicia doesn’t attend any church, and Mary Patricia, he says, his face clouded with disapproval, has become a Unitarian or something absurd like that. Until she married Wallace, Leigh was a delight. Every spare minute was spent at Christian Life. She had been to Thailand, Mexico, Haiti, Taiwan, and El Salvador with him and loved every minute of it.
    “I tried to make her feel guilty about how she separated herself from us,” he says without apology, “but nothing worked. She was obsessed with him.”
    It occurs to me that Norman’s parenting techniques are more sophisticated than my own. The difference is that he thinks he is entirely correct. Sarah accuses me of manipulating her if I even look at her hard.
    “How did she meet Wallace?” I ask, watching the time. Knowing how much I like to talk about Sarah, I try to move him along. We could be here all morning and never get her out of college. It is easy for me to identify with Norman.
    He worries as much as I do. I probably bore people talking about Sarah. Strip away the religious gloss, and he and I have a lot in common.
    At the mention of his dead son-in-law’s name, Norman frowns.
    “I sent Leigh to Harding to keep her away from men like Art, and he found her anyway.”
    I nod, resisting my desire for a third lemon drop.
    “How?” I ask, curious. Located in a small town north of Blackwell County, Harding is a strict Church of Christ school with as many rules as the game of bridge.
    Norman sighs and crosses his legs.
    “Art was originally from Crossett. He had been invited by a friend who taught in the business school to deliver a couple of lectures on opportunities in international business and saw Leigh in the student center. He didn’t stop pursuing her until they were married a year after she graduated, and, believe me, that took some