You Can't Get Blood Out of Shag Carpet: A Study Club Cozy Murder Mystery (The Study Club Mysteries Book 1) by Juliette Harper Page B
Authors: Juliette Harper
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having too much trouble processing the image of Mr. and Mrs. Brother Bob doing the two step, and mercy, surely they didn’t do the Cotton Eyed Joe, too! Taking out a Kleenex, she coughed quietly into the tissue, feeling a little sick at her stomach.
Seeing her distress, the minister went on kindly, "I'm sorry I’ve disappointed you, Mae Ella. You see, the thing is, I love my wife very much and, well, she loves dancing very much. I can only hope the Lord understands that."
"I wouldn't know what the Almighty does and doesn't understand," Mae Ella said curtly, "but you're still the preacher and it just doesn't seem right. That’s all I’m saying."
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, with no hint of accusation in his voice, "You don't really believe in God, do you, Mae Ella?"
A look of instant guilt rushed over her features as words of ardent protest rose to her lips. "Why, you know perfectly well that I'm in church with Cletus every Sunday morning!"
"You are in church every Sunday morning with Cletus because you love him and he does believe in God," Brother Bob replied. "But you haven't really trusted God since Alice Browning was killed, have you?"
To Mae Ella’s surprise, and considerable consternation, tears filled her eyes and her lower lip began to tremble. The idea that she might cry in front of the preacher seemed to make her instantly furious, because she gave a vigorous shake of her head, and said stoutly, "Well! God didn't do Alice very much good that night at the bridge, now did He? Alice was my best friend. If God wouldn't save her life, then no, I don't have much use for Him, but for Cletus’ sake, I do try."
"Alice was on her way to a dance that night, wasn't she?" Brother Bob asked.
Mae Ella regarded him with flashing eyes. "Now that you mention it, yes, she was," Mae Ella snapped. "So you can see why I might find that particular activity a little suspect."
"Mae Ella, God wasn't punishing Alice Browning because she was going to a dance,” he said. “And I don't think he's going to punish me and my wife, but I do think you’re punishing yourself, Mae Ella, because you’re alive and she isn’t."
At that, Mae Ella stood up abruptly. "Horsefeathers," she barked. "I think we’ve talked long enough, Brother Bob. I just wanted to know about the dancing. I didn’t ask you to go digging eleven years in the past." She stormed toward the door, only to pause at the threshold. Without turning to look at the preacher, she said, "I won't tell anyone. About the dancing."
"It’s okay if you do, Mae Ella," Brother Bob said. “I wouldn’t lie if somebody asked me about it.”
Still not looking at him, Mae Ella said shortly, "You're a good man. You're good to your wife. You do good things for this town. That's more than can be said for most. I imagine God will overlook this other nonsense."
"Would you like to come talk to me sometime about Alice?" Brother Bob asked kindly.
Turning towards him she snapped, "Why in the world would I want to do that?"
"Well, for one thing, I didn't know her," he said. "I'd like you to tell me about your friend. I understand she was a very fine young woman."
"Better than either one of those sorry boys in the car with her the night she was killed," Mae Ella said, and without another word, she walked swiftly down the hall and out of sight.
By the time she reached the sanctuary, Mae Ella’s feature had settled into her normal half scowl. Before she joined Wilma, Mae Ella sat directly behind Clara and Sugar and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s true about the dancing. The man doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of himself. But anyway, you can take Brother Bob off the list of suspects.”
Clara turned in the pew and took in her sister’s poorly contained agitation. “That’s all the two of you talked about?” she asked. “The dancing?”
“Yes,” Mae Ella snapped. “And I only did it to help Wanda Jean. I’m going to go sit
Seeing her distress, the minister went on kindly, "I'm sorry I’ve disappointed you, Mae Ella. You see, the thing is, I love my wife very much and, well, she loves dancing very much. I can only hope the Lord understands that."
"I wouldn't know what the Almighty does and doesn't understand," Mae Ella said curtly, "but you're still the preacher and it just doesn't seem right. That’s all I’m saying."
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, with no hint of accusation in his voice, "You don't really believe in God, do you, Mae Ella?"
A look of instant guilt rushed over her features as words of ardent protest rose to her lips. "Why, you know perfectly well that I'm in church with Cletus every Sunday morning!"
"You are in church every Sunday morning with Cletus because you love him and he does believe in God," Brother Bob replied. "But you haven't really trusted God since Alice Browning was killed, have you?"
To Mae Ella’s surprise, and considerable consternation, tears filled her eyes and her lower lip began to tremble. The idea that she might cry in front of the preacher seemed to make her instantly furious, because she gave a vigorous shake of her head, and said stoutly, "Well! God didn't do Alice very much good that night at the bridge, now did He? Alice was my best friend. If God wouldn't save her life, then no, I don't have much use for Him, but for Cletus’ sake, I do try."
"Alice was on her way to a dance that night, wasn't she?" Brother Bob asked.
Mae Ella regarded him with flashing eyes. "Now that you mention it, yes, she was," Mae Ella snapped. "So you can see why I might find that particular activity a little suspect."
"Mae Ella, God wasn't punishing Alice Browning because she was going to a dance,” he said. “And I don't think he's going to punish me and my wife, but I do think you’re punishing yourself, Mae Ella, because you’re alive and she isn’t."
At that, Mae Ella stood up abruptly. "Horsefeathers," she barked. "I think we’ve talked long enough, Brother Bob. I just wanted to know about the dancing. I didn’t ask you to go digging eleven years in the past." She stormed toward the door, only to pause at the threshold. Without turning to look at the preacher, she said, "I won't tell anyone. About the dancing."
"It’s okay if you do, Mae Ella," Brother Bob said. “I wouldn’t lie if somebody asked me about it.”
Still not looking at him, Mae Ella said shortly, "You're a good man. You're good to your wife. You do good things for this town. That's more than can be said for most. I imagine God will overlook this other nonsense."
"Would you like to come talk to me sometime about Alice?" Brother Bob asked kindly.
Turning towards him she snapped, "Why in the world would I want to do that?"
"Well, for one thing, I didn't know her," he said. "I'd like you to tell me about your friend. I understand she was a very fine young woman."
"Better than either one of those sorry boys in the car with her the night she was killed," Mae Ella said, and without another word, she walked swiftly down the hall and out of sight.
By the time she reached the sanctuary, Mae Ella’s feature had settled into her normal half scowl. Before she joined Wilma, Mae Ella sat directly behind Clara and Sugar and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s true about the dancing. The man doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of himself. But anyway, you can take Brother Bob off the list of suspects.”
Clara turned in the pew and took in her sister’s poorly contained agitation. “That’s all the two of you talked about?” she asked. “The dancing?”
“Yes,” Mae Ella snapped. “And I only did it to help Wanda Jean. I’m going to go sit
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