“I followed up on the list of medications you gave me,” she said, flipping open her notebook. “I contacted every pharmacy in the two counties. I’ll spare you the raw numbers, but most of the prescriptions came from Stuart’s Pharmacy in Baytown and Walters’ Pharmacy near the hospital. Shop Mart was close but still fell behind the other two.”
Jeremy straightened, his interest piqued. “So Stuart’s and Walters’ are the heavy hitters?”
She glanced at the information on the board, looked around, and then grabbed a red highlighter and underlined the name of the pharmacy for each of the four patients whose prescriptions had been filled.
“While we don’t know exactly whose pills were in the bag, we can at least surmise that whoever is getting them is local,” Pete said.
Cybil nodded. “I know I’m new at this, but I would have to say that makes sense, Detective Bolton.”
“In here, we’re just Jeremy and Pete,” Jeremy said.
She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.” She looked back at the board and asked, “What would you like me to check on next?”
“Pete and I are about to head out to talk to the minister of one of the churches two belonged to,” Jeremy said. “If you were working this case, Cybil, what other connections come to mind?”
Cybil stared at the board, then snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”
Pete’s brow furrowed, his head whipping toward the board. “Did you see something?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and exhaustion.
Cybil turned back toward them, a wry grin spreading across her face. “Not on the board. I mean actualbingo. The game.”
Pete blinked, confused. “You lost me.”
She leaned against the desk. “Several fire stations and churches around here host bingo nights. My grandmother used to go all the time before she passed. She loved it. I remember asking her why she bothered with a boring game like bingo, and you know what she told me? She said it wasn’t about the game. It was about friendship and fellowship—getting together with other people, especially for older folks. She said it was a cheap, easy way to socialize.”
Jeremy, halfway through sliding his holster into place, froze mid-motion. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as the pieces clicked together. “That’s interesting. If bingo draws a lot of older residents, it could be another connection we haven’t looked at yet.”
Cybil nodded, her smile turning serious as she caught onto his train of thought. “Exactly. If they all played—or even just a couple of them—it might give us another tie.”
“Can you follow up on that?” Jeremy asked with an edge of urgency in his tone. “Start calling around, determine which churches and fire stations host bingo nights, and see if any of our four were regulars. Especially if more than one of them was—it could be the link we’ve been missing.”
“You got it,” Cybil replied, already pulling out her phone and flipping to her notes.
Pete smirked, the faintest hint of energy returning to his tired features. “Bingo. Who would’ve thought?”
Jeremy allowed himself a slight grin as well. “Let’s just hope it leads to more than a lucky card.” For the first time in hours, the static tension of the case seemed to shift as if a fresh breeze had swept through the room.
“Let’s get to that church,” Jeremy said, grabbing his keys. Pete followed, a renewed sense of determination fueling their steps. The two men headed out to the SUV. Their first stop was the Praise House of God.
Half an hour later, they were ushered into the room that the pastor used as an office by his wife, Donna. The smile she’d had on her face when she’d answered the door dropped immediately when her eyes widened, taking in their uniforms. While body armor and the full gear they normally wore might seem like overkill at a church, it was what he and Pete wore.
“Um… Buford… my husband… um… he’s the pastor. He’ll be right back. Um… he just ran over to meet with the family of a recently deceased member.” She jumped slightly and pulled an older-model cell phone from her pocket. “Let me send him a text to let him know you’re here.” She then gasped and looked up at them. “Is that all right to do?”
They assured her it was fine, and she sent the text. Jeremy was surprised she was able, considering how her fingers shook.
Donna looked up and offered a wobbly smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear as her gaze darted nervously around the room. “Um… would you like something to drink? Buford likes us to keep water here for our members. We also have coffee?—”
“Thank you, but we’re fine, ma’am.” Jeremy smiled.
She blushed and ducked her head, her hands now clasped in front of her.
Jeremy hoped charming a pastor’s wife to get what they needed was worth it. He caught Pete’s slight eye roll but continued, “You must know all the parishioners. I’d assume that in your capacity as a pastor’s wife, they would come to you for advice or assistance.”
“Well, yes, many of them do. I do like to help.” She smiled, then unease crossed her face as she rushed, “But I don’t take over my husband’s position, you understand. My job is to assist my husband. To… um… be a benefit to our members and to help take the heavy load off his shoulders when I can.”
“Absolutely,” Jeremy agreed, nodding emphatically.
“So,” Pete butted in, “have any of the older members come to you for advice when they’re lonely or don’t have family around?”