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  Copyright © 2006 – 2020 Body in the Baptistery – J.W. Wilcox, Jr.

  All cover art copyright © J.W Wilcox, Jr.

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

  Scripture quotations marked “NIV” are taken from the New International Version, 1973, 1978,1984, by the International Bible Society.

  The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Paperback Press.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Publishing Coordinator – Sharon Kizziah-Holmes

  Cover Design – Jacee DeLorenzo

  Paperback-Press

  an imprint of A & S Publishing

  A & S Holmes, Inc.

  Dedication

  To:

  DEL

  My wife, the delight of my life.

  Jim Wilcox captures your imagination in Body in the Baptistery. This story takes you through the journey of Gideon Grant to find peace and purpose in his turbulent life as he learns to deal with personal struggles and in turn share peace and forgiveness with others. Wilcox’s writing and character development go beyond the ordinary as he draws you into the story. I thoroughly enjoy the writing of Jim Wilcox and am certain you will as well.

  Dr. Bill E. Green, Associate Executive Director, Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma

  This book is filled with action and mystery, and portrays them from a Christian worldview. It pictures human life as a gift from God, and being of great value; it portrays the ‘lostness’ of that life without God, and the power of redemption when one turns away from one’s life direction. It has the features of an authentic morality play with those who do evil losing, and those who do good winning. I commend it to anyone who is looking for a good adventure that ends in justice. This work is a genuine joy to recommend.

  Dr. A. W. (Bill) Merrell, Senior Executive Advisor to the Executive Committee, Southern Baptist Convention

  Body in the Baptistery has more twists and turns than an Ozarks river. The moment that you think you have out-guessed the author and know where he is going it takes a surprising turn. It is a riveting presentation of crime and compassion with descriptions so clear you feel part of the scene. When you must lay the book down the story line remains in your thoughts and you can hardly wait to pick it up again.

  Dr. Bruce McNeely, Field Representative for U.S. Congressman Roy Blunt

  With a mixture of local color, sordid crime, and Christian conviction, Body in the Baptistery should be a compelling read for mystery fans. For Wilcox’s characters, redemption is always possible, but never guaranteed.

  Neil Adams, Professor of English and Writing, Southwest Baptist University and Ozarks Technical Community College

  Acknowledgements

  First, I acknowledge my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ, and prayerfully trust this novel will honor His holy and worthy Name. (Proverbs 3:5-6) Second, is my darling wife, Del, who for almost half a century has been my faithful loving companion, and my honest critic. Then there is Helen Henley, Del’s aunt and my dear friend, who years ago at old Senior High taught me to type, and since that time has been a continuing encourager.

  To all our children and grandchildren: Sherri, Gordon and Matthew; Kelly, Mike, Joshua and Ashley; Adam, Terry, Adam II, Jessica and April, I simply say that I love you one and all, and pray daily that your lives will be pleasing to our Lord.

  Thank you, Bruce McNeely, my treasured friend, for taking time to read this manuscript first, and for your gentle suggestions.

  To my editor, Shanna Kalicki of Tate Publishing, a million thanks for all your guidance and assistance in making this book a reality. Last and least, since she weighs only about ten pounds, there’s Sugar (Sugar Baby Candy Marzipan is her registered name), our funny and loving Maltese, who sat on my shoulder during much of this writing.

  Prologue

  THE COWARDLY MOON hid behind the dark clouds. The assassin slipped through the outside door of the church office. That was easier than I thought it would be. The steps were a little difficult...probably have some sore muscles.

  The cool Ozarks mid-night air chilled the perspiring killer. A quick look around revealed no one on the streets. The car waited a block away, and by keeping to the shadows of the overhanging trees it was reached without attracting the attention of anyone in the dark houses on either side of the street.

  As the car eased away from the curb a surprising thought entered the murderer’s mind, I thought I’d developed a conscience over the years, but I didn’t feel a thing...just another job.

  Chapter One

  T HERE WERE ONLY stifled gasps at first. Gideon Grant sat in the center section of the sanctuary of Highland Baptist Church, about five pews from the front. The ninety-five year old building, designed in the old Colonial style, was as pristine as the day it was dedicated. The white furniture and royal blue carpet were well cared for by the Trustees and staff. Grant looked from side to side wondering what was causing the disturbance. Then his bald, shiny scalp wrinkled as off to his left a high soprano voice pierced the air screaming bloody murder. And murder it was. Grant’s attention had been focused on Mark Slade, the Music Minister, as he told the congregation he did not know why Pastor Joel Cates was not yet in his usual place on the platform.

  Behind Slade, a screen used to project the song lyrics he had been leading was rolling up. The screen’s motor made an irritating noise. In its lowered position the screen covered a large opening in the wall above and behind the choir loft. In the opening was the baptistery, a pool of water about three feet deep. About six inches of water could be seen through a heavy piece of glass that was about a foot high and reached across the front of the baptistery. Grant’s view of the baptistery was blocked by Slade and the pulpit.

  To his left, a woman fainted. Men herded their families out the rear doors. The ushers, against impossible odds, tried to keep order. The head usher used his cell phone to call 911. Taking all this in, Grant could stand the suspense no longer.

  He stood, and stepping over people’s feet and legs, moved to his right so he could see beyond the pulpit. To his utter amazement, he saw the body of a man floating face down in the baptistery. Three hundred people were talking and whispering all at once—that is, once the screaming stopped. The choir moved to the main floor and stared at the bizarre scene in the baptistery with varying expressions of disbelief and horror. Deacon Richard ‘Dick’ Jenkins, seated to the left and across the aisle from Grant, leaped to his feet and ran up the steps and across the platform to a door which opened onto a hall leading to the baptistery area. A narrow staircase led up to the rooms where baptismal candidates changed into the robes worn for the ceremony. In his haste, Jenkins slipped on the steps and tore his trousers, skinning his shin.

  By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Grant was mounting the bottom step, running to catch up. Opening the door to the pool, Jenkins studied the body for a full minute, looking for anything unusual, other than a dead man floating in the baptistery. By then Gideon had arrived and was looking over his shoulder.

  Bewildered, he asked, “Dick, how could this be happening...in church?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s see if we can find out who this is.” Jenkins removed his shoes and moved two steps down into the water in order to reach the body, soaking his trousers to the knees. As he turned the body so they could see the
face, Grant groaned aloud and said, “Oh, my God, it’s Joel!” Before he could think clearly, he looked out at the choir and shouted, “It’s the preacher!”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  RICHARD ‘DICK’ JENKINS was Major Jenkins, head of the Homicide Unit of the Springfield Police Department. Springfield is a city of about 155,000 people in Southwest Missouri, the Queen City of the Ozarks, and the third largest city in the Show-Me State. He and Grant served as detective partners for about two years before Grant’s alcoholism forced the department to let him go. A deacon of Highland Baptist, Jenkins was responsible, humanly speaking, for the radical change in Grant’s life. They had been friends for years, but since Dick led Gideon to receive Christ into his life, the bond between them was more like ‘father and son.’

  It was six years since they met on the day of Grant’s promotion to detective. They’d seen each other around the department, but were never formally introduced during Grant’s five years of serving on patrol. He enjoyed his work on the street and was good at it, but his dream since before entering the academy was to be a detective.

  Jenkins was a veteran cop with two decades of experience in homicide. His exploits, and the lengths to which he would go to solve a crime, were subjects of conversation wherever SPD cops gathered. Jenkins was a brand new lieutenant then, and Grant hoped it hadn’t gone to his head. He soon learned false pride was not part of the lieutenant’s make-up.

  Grant didn’t lay claim to many virtues, but punctuality was one he possessed in abundance. On that day, which seemed so long ago, he had been told to report to Jenkins’ office at 9:00 a.m. sharp. On the hour he raised his hand to knock, but before he could rap on the frame of the half open door Jenkins barked, “Come on in, you must be Grant.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The lieutenant’s office was on the second floor of the police headquarters located on Chestnut Expressway about a block east of the century old historic City Hall. The room was just large enough for a desk and chair, two chairs in front of the desk, and a couple of file cabinets. A window opened east toward Drury University’s new science building. A bookcase held pictures of his wife, Ellen, their grown daughter, Angel, and departmental manuals and other professional books.

  “I’m Lieutenant Jenkins. Appreciate you being on time.”

  “I hate to be late anywhere,” Grant replied.

  “Have a seat,” Jenkins said as he pointed at a chair in front of his desk, “and let’s get acquainted.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you and your work, Lieutenant. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “Well, don’t believe everything you hear. I’m glad you’re looking forward to working, ‘cause work is what it’s all about. Mostly it’s a lot of drudgery, leg work and mountains of paperwork.” Jenkins picked up an inch-thick file from his uncluttered desk—just two trays marked in and out, a telephone and a large brass eagle. “I’ve been going over your jacket. Major Bartlett gives you glowing reports. Several outstanding commendations.”

  “I’ve had my ups and downs,” Grant said. “Major Bartlett’s been a good boss.”

  “I’m sure you’re aware that it’s unusual to make detective grade this quick.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Grant said with a smile, “but that’s been my goal from day one.”

  “This unit puts in a lot of extra hours. Case load is always heavy...sometimes we go weeks without a day off.”

  “Fine by me. I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m ready to give it my best shot.”

  “I’ve been doing this for twenty-two years, and I’m still learning.” Jenkins turned a few pages in the file and said, “It says here that you’re divorced. That right?”

  “Yes, Sir, unfortunately it is.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  THE PAIN OF his divorce from Diann was still fresh in Grant’s mind. They met during their junior year at Missouri State University. He majored in Crime and Society in preparation for fulfilling his dream of becoming a police officer. She focused on elementary education, planning to teach second grade. He was studying in the Plaster Student Union on that cold, gray, rainy day in November, so cold that a few snowflakes were mixed in with the rain drops.

  She was sitting a couple tables to his right. He had been admiring her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to be in an intense conversation with a guy with long hair and ear rings. The hair and jewelry were big negatives to the conservative Grant. “Loser,” he thought.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said loud enough for everyone in the large room to hear.

  “I’ll leave you alone when I’m good and ready,” the guy shouted. He grabbed her by the wrist and tried to drag her to her feet.

  “Let go! Let go—you’re hurting me,” she cried.

  Grant wasn’t sure how he got to her table so quickly, but suddenly he was there and jerking the guy off his feet by his belt and collar. He threw him over a table into a bunch of empty chairs. The fellow came up with fire in his eyes, ready to fight. But a good look at Grant’s six feet three inch muscular frame, and the memory of his flight over the table changed his mind. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he stalked out of the building. “Where I come from, that’s no way to treat a lady,” Grant said. He thought, “I can’t believe I said something so corny.”

  “Thanks, but I could have handled that jerk.”

  “What was that all about, if I may be so bold to ask?”

  With a grim look on her face she said, “We dated a couple of times, but I soon had enough of him. Now he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.” Grant grinned, “Maybe he’s got the message now.” “I certainly hope so,” she said with a shy smile.

  She was tall for a girl, about five-ten. Her body was slim like a long distance runner. Short brown hair curled tightly around an oval, angelic face. Her mouth was generous with naturally full lips. She wore little make up—she didn’t need it. “I’ve seen you around campus,” she said, “and I’ve been to every one of your games.” He was a fairly good tight end on MSU’s mediocre football team. It was not a major part of his life—becoming a cop was.

  “Would you like to go for a Coke or something after class?” he asked. She answered with a smile that started in her eyes and spread to her entire face, crinkling her nose and making dimples in her cheeks. It stole Grant’s heart. From that moment he never looked at another girl with any interest. They dated regularly for the next year and a half. During Spring break of their senior year he proposed marriage, and she gladly accepted. Following graduation, they were married in the little Lutheran church she and her family attended. Both their parents were at the wedding, his flying in from Arizona where they had retired; along with Diann’s two younger sisters and his older brother, Greg. Diann’s sisters were bride’s maids and Greg was best man. Both their families received them with open arms.

  After a five day honeymoon in Branson, he began his career with the Springfield Police Department and she began teaching second grade at Ed V. Williams Elementary School on West Kearney Street.

  • · · · ·

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Life was great for the Grants until his occasional drinking turned into an unacceptable habit. He began staying out after work, drinking with other officers, and coming home later and later, each time more drunk than before. Diann’s social life suffered severely, and her parents withdrew from him. Greg tried to reason with him, but to no avail.

  Their arguments about his drinking became bitter. Unhappy at home and humiliated in public too many times, after three years of what had promised to be an ideal marriage, Diann filed for divorce. Grant was bewildered and crushed.

  He didn’t have a clue as to the pain and humiliation she had suffered.

  A year and a half later she married George Porzinski and started having children. There were finally four in all. Grant saw her once in a while and she seemed very happy. He resented her happiness and bitterly blamed her for the breakup of their marriage, and for his own misery.

  His drinking inc
reased. He sincerely believed it didn’t affect his work. Everyone he worked with, including Jenkins, saw how much it affected his work, and theirs. His eventual dismissal from the department crushed him even more than the divorce from Diann. His life’s dream had been ripped to shreds, and he blamed everyone except himself.

  He worked as a security guard for a trucking firm for a year. The job was boring and gave him no satisfaction. The company had some problems with some of their drivers padding their log books. The extra mileage they were claiming was costing the company a fortune. They hired a private investigator, Roland Rounds, to look into the matter. During the course of the investigation, he and Gideon Grant became acquainted. When he learned that Grant was an ex-cop, Rounds enlisted his assistance, and as it turned out, it was Grant who actually found the necessary information to break the case. When Rounds offered Grant a partnership in his detective agency, he jumped at the opportunity to become a detective again, even if it was ‘private.’

  A month later he met Bonnie Wilks, a cocktail waitress, at his favorite watering hole near Park Central Square. Two weeks later she moved in with him.

  Chapter Two

  D ICK JENKINS WAS a patient teacher and a loyal partner, and Grant an eager pupil, but his drinking was an ever increasing problem. “Gideon, your drinking ruined your marriage, and now it’s about to wreck your career.”

  “Just bear with me a little longer, Boss. I’m going to get a handle on it,” Grant promised time and again.

  “I’ve made an appointment for you to see my pastor, Joel Cates. He’s had some experience dealing with alcoholism, and now I’m ordering you to see him.”