I took a bite of my taco, surprised at how good it was. “I’ve never eaten at this restaurant. I didn’t even know they were here until a week ago.”

“Yeah, it’s new. It opened a few weeks before your nursery, but they’re Mexicans and they’re pretty small, so they didn’t get the same attention as you and Violet did with your business.”

My hand stopped mid-air.

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m begrudging you the publicity. But I understand how it works; citizens with deep roots are the pillars in a community like this one. The transplants live on the fringe.”

“You don’t seem to be doing too badly.”

He shrugged. “True. But I’ll never fit in here. I think that’s part of the reason I’m drawn to the outcasts and strays of society. I want to give them a place where they feel welcome and at home.”

If Jonah Pruitt was giving me a propaganda speech, he was doing a mighty fine job. Sitting under the shade trees, he seemed different. The TV personality had faded away, leaving a man who looked a little beaten down.

“What was Thomas doing at the church on Friday?”

He took a bite, then swallowed. “I started an outreach program for teens on the edge. Kids who are getting into trouble, but not past saving.” He turned to me. “Not that anyone is past saving; it’s just easier to turn some back into productive members of society than it is with others.”

“Oh.” I was starting to rethink my assumptions about Reverend Jonah Pruitt.

He hung his head over for several seconds, looking very much like a defeated man, and then he sat up with a sigh. “It’s been a rough week.”

“You had two members of your church die in one week.”

“Three in two weeks.” He put down his food, suddenly looking nervous. “I know you helped Bruce Wayne, and that you were instrumental in putting Daniel Crocker in prison.”

Leery, I rested my hands in my lap, wondering what he was getting at.

He focused on something on the other side of the pond. “This has happened before.”

“What’s happened before?” And then I realized what he was saying. “People dying? Is that why you left Homer?”

He nodded. “There were two deaths, but they were spaced months apart. No one noticed the connection to me, but it was why I left. I needed to make sure no one else got hurt.”

I sank back into the seat, my voice hardening. “Did they leave their money to you too?”

His eyes grew wild. “I didn’t know Dorothy Thorntonbury did that, Rose. You have to believe me. I was as shocked as Christy was when I found out.”

“Did the others leave their money or houses to you?”

“I have no idea. No one has come to me about it yet.”

“So other than coming to your church, what’s the tie to you?”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I spent time with them.”

“What does that mean?”

He squirmed. “Older women tend to get lonely…”

I scrunched my eyes closed. “Eww. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“No!” Jonah shouted. “Not like that! I just spent time with them is all. They like the company, and I like the cooking. Sometimes we play cards or watch TV.”

“So why would you eating Sunday dinner with them get them killed?”

“I have no idea.”

“Were the women in Homer both older?”

He shook his head, looking down. “No, the first one was an older woman whom I’d visited many times. I was quite fond of her.” He paused. “But the second was younger. She was my age.” He cleared his throat. “We’d begun spending time together.”

“You two were dating?”

He nodded.

“And so you left? Just like that? You saw a pattern between two dead women that the police didn’t, and you just left? Didn’t you want justice for your girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend. We had only gone out a few times.” He hunched over, wringing his hands. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

He kept his gaze lowered. “There’s a reason I help troubled youth on the fringes of society. I was there once, and I have a criminal record to show for it. Jail time included. When I got out, I vowed to go the straight and narrow. If the police found out… let’s just say I’d be their top suspect.”

“Aren’t you already their top suspect?”

He cringed. “If they find out, I suspect I’d get a trial like Bruce Wayne’s. That’s why I was checking into you and how you helped him.”

What he was not saying hit me like a two-by-four. “You want me to help you.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m not a private investigator, Jonah.”

“You helped Bruce Wayne.”

I stood, facing the water. “That was different.”

“Not really.”

“It is. I knew he was innocent.”

“I’m innocent. I swear it.”

Something in his desperation made me believe him, but I still didn’t quite trust him. “If I agree to help you, you have to tell me everything. The truth.”

“Deal.”

This was crazy. I helped put two murderers behind bars and now people expected me to solve crimes. What on earth were we paying the Henryetta police for?