by Liliana Hart
I gave Jack a quick glance, but he was absorbed in the surroundings. I’d learned the thing about being involved with a cop was that he was always a cop. Those instincts didn’t take a vacation. His focus was on the crowd, cataloguing anyone who might look suspicious or who didn’t fit. Just because the country was different didn’t mean a killer’s mentality would be. They liked to watch for the most part. To see the reactions of police and witnesses alike.
I let Jack do his thing and hopped out of the Jeep, grateful to have my feet on solid ground. People immediately swarmed Joe, rapidly firing questions. The death of Leon Stein was obviously catastrophic to the community. He was loved and had built his legacy here. Had a wife and children here. But what made someone kill a man like Leon Stein just shy of his hundredth birthday? That’s what we had to find out.
I felt underdressed in the navy shorts and white linen top I’d put on, but I hadn’t exactly packed with a crime scene in mind. I figured I could bleach the shirt if I got blood on it and the shorts were dark enough to hide any stains. I’d learned to be practical when it came to dressing in my line of work. I hardly ever wore makeup and I’d been living in sunscreen and moisturizer for the past several days. My toes still had polish on them from the wedding and my hair had been trimmed and given some kind of rinse so the tropical humidity didn’t make it frizz. My hair had never frizzed. It was straight and black and swung just at my chin. But they assured me at the salon it was better to be safe than sorry. I’d pulled it back in a stubby ponytail at the back of my neck so it wasn’t hanging in my face.
I was a pretty low-maintenance kind of woman. I’d spent too long in the medical field, where being a woman was still considered inferior. We’d had to work harder and be smarter to make it through residency. So I’d learned to ignore the things that made a woman feel more feminine. It was a shame really. I’d always thought a third year female student should be able to do rounds without being told she was sleeping her way to the top because she was wearing mascara or lipstick.
Jack was dressed in a pair of loose khaki cargo shorts and a black Tommy Bahama shirt. The relaxed clothing didn’t take away from his physical appearance. He was a true Alpha male in every sense of the word. When he went somewhere people paid attention. They watched and listened and stayed back. Because despite the vacation clothes, Jack looked dangerous.
“Please, please,” Joe said, holding up his hands and quieting the crowd. “I know you are upset, and we will have answers soon. These are my police friends from America, so they are very experienced with violent death and horrible crimes.”
I raised my eyebrows and looked at Jack. It was kind of sad to say we were experienced with horrible crimes and violence, but we were probably the best chance this community had of finding out what had happened to Leon Stein.
Joe broke away from the crowd and came to the back of the Jeep where we waited. He dug out latex gloves from a cardboard box and handed them over.
“What should we do now?” he asked.
Jack blew into his glove and pulled it on easily. And then he did the same with the other. “You know everyone here?”
“Yes, everyone,” Joe answered.
“That’s good. Start talking to them one-on-one. See if anyone saw or heard anything. Construct a timeline of events. Who saw him enter and exit the church. Where he sat. Who he talked to. Things like that.”
“I see,” he nodded. “Like TV. That’s a good idea.”
“Yep, just like TV,” Jack said deadpan. “See if anyone noticed what cars were parked nearby. And watch their body language. If anyone seems nervous or their behavior is off make a note of it and we’ll follow up. Doctor Graves will be able to determine if Leon was killed here at the church or his body was moved there. Whatever the case, someone had to have seen something. And someone killed him.”
“All of these people are good people,” Joe said, shaking his head. “They would never do anything like this. We are very peaceful, and Leon was one of our own. He was a good man. It had to be a tourist.” A ferocity came into Joe’s dark eyes, and I could tell he was offended at Jack’s suggestion. He was loyal to his community, and that kind of loyalty would never find a killer.
The unfortunate truth about our line of work was that everyone was a liar until proven they were telling the truth.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t a tourist,” Jack said, speaking softly. Jack had a way about him. He was one of those men who never had to raise his voice. When he spoke people listened. He had a natural authority and ability to lead. “And it’s probably a good idea to suspend boat and ferry services off the island for the time being. You can think of an excuse to shut them down. All I’m asking is that you collect information and listen and observe. You’re a cop. You might not be an experienced one, but your gut will tell you when you’re on the right track. Sometimes people don’t realize they know something until you ask the right question. They know you and trust you. The biggest majority of police work is documenting the facts. That’s all you need to do.”
Some of the starch went out of Joe’s posture and he nodded in agreement. “I can do that. Do you want me to show you the body?”
I dug through the box and shoved some plastic baggies in the back pocket of my shorts, along with a little black leather pouch that had tweezers and other small motor skill tools in it to collect evidence. I could take photos from my phone. That was pretty much the extent of our equipment. I didn’t even want to think about how we were going to transport the body.
“Nah, we’re comfortable finding our way around,” Jack said. “But let me know how involved you want us to be once we start. We don’t want to step on any toes. You’re welcome to take over at any time.”
“No, this is best,” Joe said. “Leon deserves someone with experience. And I don’t have that. Thank God.”
Jack nodded and put his hand on the small of my back, and we walked around the side of the church and away from the crowd.
Chapter Four
The church was deeper and more sprawling than it looked from the front, and it rose up in elevation, so by the time we made it to the courtyard that connected the church and the clergy house my shirt was sticking to my back and I was breathing heavy.
The courtyard was protected by a black wrought iron fence overflowing with bright purple bougainvillea. It should’ve been a peaceful area. Shaded and serene. A place for reflection. The gate stood open and we passed under the arch. Wild vines scraped the top of my head and caught in my hair as we walked beneath it. The courtyard was small and private with benches placed in the shaded areas. It was sandwiched between the church and a small plain house in matching stucco.
A statue of a saint stood rigid and fierce in the center of the courtyard. I would’ve been scared to face my sins too if I’d had to stare at him for very long. He held a sword and a shield as if ready for battle. Maybe he was. There were a lot of demons in this world to fight.
I hadn’t grown up Catholic, and it had been a while since I’d stepped foot in a church of any denomination. I’d spent a lot of years angry at God, and questioning why I’d been dealt such a shitty hand. Getting word that my parents had driven over a cliff in a double suicide, finding out they’d been under investigation by the FBI for using the soldiers returning home in caskets to smuggle illegal goods, and then discovering my dad was still alive and into some very shady shit had been about all the reality I’d been able to stand over the past couple of years.
I did thank God for Jack. I’d have been lost without him through all of that.
“That’s definitely a dead body,” Jack said, coming to a stop beside me. “And an interesting one at that. Don’t ever tell anyone I don’t know how to show a woman a good time.”
I ducked my head so no one would see me smile. I had a feeling the priests wouldn’t see anything amusing. In truth, we didn’t see anything amusing either, but gallows humor was pretty typical at crime scenes. And we’d seen enough atrocities over the years i
n this business that we had to laugh. It was a hell of a lot better than breaking down in tears.
The frail body was precisely laid out just below the statue of the saint in a funereal pose. His ankles were crossed, one on top of the other, and his arms were crossed over his ribs. A knife with an ornate hilt stuck from the center of his chest, and a black cloth lay over his face.
“Jesus.” My eyes widened at the sight of the knife. It took a lot of strength to stab someone in the heart. It was pretty much the last place you should try to stab someone unless you were trying to make a statement. I was guessing that the killer had wanted to make a statement with Leon.
The courtyard was clear of everyone except three priests in black robes. They stood like sentries, their backs turned toward the body, as they kept watch.
“Damn, those priests are creeping me out. They haven’t moved an inch since we walked into the courtyard. They haven’t even made eye contact.”
“Geez, Jaye. We’re at church. Don’t swear.”
“Relax, it’s not like we’re inside the church. Besides, damn is in the Bible. It’s not like I said shit.”
Jack shook his head. “You are headed straight to hell.”
“If we’re not headed there already after what we did in that bathroom last night then the Devil needs to reevaluate some things.”
“You shouldn’t talk about sex in church either.”
“You’ve got a lot of rules all of a sudden now that we’re married.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him. “Why can’t I talk about sex? We’re married. Churches love married sex.”
“Jesus,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his growth of beard.
“I’m pretty sure that was blasphemy. For shame, Jack Lawson.”
He arched a brow and nudged me with his elbow. “I wouldn’t want you to spend eternity in hell by yourself. I take my wedding vows seriously.”
Jack approached the priest standing closest to the body. He was probably somewhere between forty and fifty, but it looked like his life had been a hard one so he could’ve been as much as ten or fifteen years younger.
His walnut-colored skin was deeply creviced and his eyelids bagged so much that I wondered how he kept his eyes open. He was dressed simply in black vestments and a white collar. His hands were clasped in front of him, and the only sign of agitation or discomfort he showed was the index finger that tapped in a steady rhythm against his other hand.
“Are you Father Fernando?” Jack asked, extending a hand.
The Father shook hands briefly and pulled back. “No, I’m Father DeCosta. Joe said that Americans would come take care of Leon.”
“We’re going to do our very best.”
“I’m Father Fernando,” another priest said, stepping forward. “And this is Father Xavier. He’s visiting from the mainland for a little while before he’s sent to his own church.”
Fathers Fernando and Xavier were dressed identically to Father DeCosta. Father Fernando was quite old, his hair white and his body frail. He was a small man, but carried himself in a way that made his seem bigger than he was, and he wore a heavy gold cross around his neck.
Father Xavier was the youngest of the three, probably late twenties, and his sandy hair was thinning on top. He wore round wire-framed glasses and looked like he was scared of his own shadow. Or maybe he was just afraid of Father Fernando.
“I disagree with Joe on this,” Father Fernando said. “This is clearly an attack against the church. Leon was simple the vessel the message was delivered in. This is not the work of one of our people. I can guarantee whomever did this has already left the island. You won’t find what you’re looking for here. Leon was a holy man. And we should honor him as such and put this all behind us. He needs to be mourned and buried properly within the rules of our faith.”
“We’ll make sure the body is well taken care of,” I said.
“Who found Mr. Stein’s body?” Jack asked.
“Father DeCosta and I found him together.” Father Fernando was apparently going to be the spokesperson for the trio. “We hear confession half an hour before each Mass and we stumbled upon him on our way. Of course, we were quite surprised and must have made some noise because Father Xavier heard us and came rushing outside. And the parishioners arriving at the church must have heard us too, because they came around the side of the church to see what was happening.”
Most people we interviewed offered more information than what we asked for. It was a way to deal with the nerves by filling the silence. I’d learned from watching Jack that if you were quiet long enough you learned all kinds of things about people.
“Is the body just like you found it?”
“I believe Alexandra and her son Dominic might have moved him. That’s Leon’s granddaughter and great-grandson. They knelt down beside him and shook him a bit to see if he was really gone. And of course, I placed the cloth over his face as a sign of respect. But he’s generally how we found him.”
“I appreciate the time,” Jack said. “We’ll work as quickly as possible so as not to interrupt your schedules.”
“We’ve cancelled the evening Mass considering the circumstances. We’re heading to console Maria during her time of need. She’s been quite ill and might suffer a relapse.”
I watched them go and then looked at Jack. “Priests can’t lie, right?”
“I wouldn’t say can’t lie. Everyone has the ability built in. But no, they’re not supposed to lie. Much less three priests lying for each other.”
“That’s what I figured. I think I’m impatient to get this over and done with.”
“Babe, we can always tell them no.” Jack laid a hand on my shoulder and I sighed. I really didn’t want to do this. I needed a break. “We can leave it in Joe’s hands and go back to our cabana and not resurface for the next two weeks.”
It was a tempting offer, but I knew what we had to do. “No, I’ve already seen the body. We’ll follow it through as far as we can.”
He squeezed my shoulder and we got to work. I snapped pictures with my phone of the scene while Jack combed the area for evidence. But with as many people who’d been in the area it was going to be hard to figure out what was what.
“I’ve got blood on the edge of the gate,” he said. There was a fence and gate that mirrored the one we entered through on the opposite side of the courtyard. He took a picture and then swabbed the area, putting the sample in one of the plastic baggies.
“Where does that exit lead to?”
“There’s a path that winds down to the cemetery. And then back to the front of the church. No prints that I can see, but it’s a crushed shell path. We’ll take that way down and see if there’s any more blood.
I knelt down beside Leon and looked him over, taking more close up pictures of the way his hands and feet were crossed. Rigor mortis hadn’t started to set in, so he was still pliable. I bagged his hands in case Leon had had the opportunity to fight back and we were able to collect DNA.
“A guy is a week shy of his hundredth birthday and someone decides he’s worth killing,” I said. “Why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Makes you wonder why they didn’t let nature take its course.”
“Do you think it’s like Father Fernando said? A tourist already back on the mainland?”
“Not one bit. This is the community church. How many people come to Mass while they’re on vacation? Of those people who do come, how many would know about this courtyard? The killer is someone familiar with the area and familiar with the victim.”
I removed the black cloth from over Leon’s face. Then I patted him down gently, checking all his pockets, and withdrew a worn leather wallet. I handed it over to Jack.
He flipped open the wallet and riffled through it. “An ID belonging to Leon Stein,” he said. “A small amount of cash, a couple of credit cards, and a torn piece of paper with the name Juno Jackson and a phone number.” Jack dropped the wallet in one of the plastic baggies.
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br /> “Not a robbery then. He’s not dressed like he has money.” I fingered the worn fabric of his cotton dress shirt. “The wallet is intact and his wedding ring is still on his finger.”
I looked up around the neck and noticed the gold chain, a small round medallion of a patron saint hanging from it. I used my index finger to carefully lift it so we could get a better look.
“Who’s that?”
“Saint Joseph,” Jack said. “Looks like Leon wanted the extra protection.”
“Looks like he needed it.” I checked to see if there was any bruising around the neck while I was in the area and then opened the eyelids to see if there were any broken capillaries or signs of asphyxiation. The dagger through the heart was most likely the cause of death, but it was always good to see if anything had led up to that moment. The human body was capable of telling a really great story if you looked close enough.
“There are no outward signs of a struggle or physical abuse, but he’s got a couple of scrapes along the side of his face, probably from where he fell. And believe me, we’d be able to see every mark of struggle like a road map if there’d been one. A guy with skin as papery and fine as this guy’s can’t even withstand a small bump without bruising or tearing the epidermis. You can see what I’m talking about on the back of his hands.”
I removed one of the plastic baggies and ran a gloved finger along Leon’s hand, still crossed over his ribs. The skin was spotted with age, but dark blue bruising was evident where he’d obviously bumped it on something.
“All it would take to make a mark like that is a knock against a doorframe or a countertop. I’ve seen a lot of elderly injuries where they don’t even know they’re hurt, and then they look down and they’re covered in blood.”
“Getting old sucks.”
“This guy was almost a hundred. Think how many years it’s been since he’s had sex. To me, that’s the most depressing thing about getting old.”
