Popped Off by Jeffrey Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

police?” I asked.
    He hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I can’t afford the attention,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “If anything about this gets out, the church and the community will suffer.”
    “I understand that. But that’s a lot of money.”
    He stared at me for a moment. “Yes. It is. So we are working on it . . . independently.”
    “Independently?”
    “Much like whoever your client is, I suppose. We are attempting to locate him without involving the authorities yet.”
    “We?”
    Haygood stood. “Mr. Winters, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
    I stood as well. He wasn’t going to answer my questions, and he was done with me. He hadn’t gotten anything from me, and he was frustrated.
    Maybe I didn’t like him, after all.
    We walked toward the door.
    “I do hope that if you locate him, you’ll let me know,” he said.
    “I’ll do what I can,” I answered because I wasn’t going to promise him anything.
    Haygood nodded and we shook hands.
    “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he said. “I’m sure He will help us locate Mr. Huber.” His eyes narrowed. “And will administer to him him any punishment he deserves.”

13
    I made my way out of Haygood’s office and the outer building and headed back toward the church, seeking both a bit of air-conditioning and a few minutes to process my conversation.
    I didn’t think Haygood knew where Huber was, but I definitely got the impression that he knew more than he was letting on. And the way he’d talked about looking for Huber creeped me out. I wasn’t sure if he had some sort of Jesus posse out there looking for him, but I felt certain that he had something cooking. And Huber would be the main course if they found him.
    The cool air-conditioning cascaded down on me as I reentered the church. The check-in tables had been pushed aside, and the masses of children were gone, herded off to classrooms and play areas. It looked like a church vestibule again—quiet and orderly.
    The walls were lined with glass-framed photos, and I walked closer to them, partly out of curiosity and partly because I wasn’t quite ready to venture back out into the heat. The photos were of church-sponsored events—picnics, baptisms, fund-raisers, holiday services.
    The next-to-last photo caught my attention, because Moises Huber was in the middle of it.
    “Can I help you, sir?” a voice asked from behind me.
    I turned around. An older woman with gray hair and a pleasant smile stood there with her hands behind her back.
    “Oh, I just dropped off my daughter at the VBS,” I said.
    “Excellent,” she said. “She’ll be well taken care of.”
    “I’m sure.” I gestured to the photos. “These pictures are terrific.”
    She stepped closer and adjusted the glasses on her face. “Oh, yes. We usually have a photographer at every New Spirit event. We like to document the memories.”
    I pointed at the photo of Huber. “This looks great. What was it?”
    She leaned closer. “Oh, that’s our annual Casino Night.” She grinned at me. “Of course, it’s all with play money, and the donations collected are spread throughout the families in need here at New Spirit.”
    “Wow, that’s great,” I said. “This guy in the picture, he looks like he’s having a good time.”
    “Ah, yes,” she said, nodding. “Mr. Huber. He’s been here awhile.”
    “Has he?”
    “Well, I think so. I’m just a volunteer. But I see him quite often.”
    “That right?”
    She nodded, certain. “Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, if I’m not mistaken, he was in charge.”
    “In charge?”
    “Yes, sir. Of Casino Night. He’s organized it the last few years.”
    I glanced at the photo. He had his arms around two people, a man and a woman, big fuzzy dice in one hand and a red plastic cup in the other. A crooked smile slithered across his face, his dark hair slightly askew.
    “He’s the reason Casino Night is such a