Though it was still in the early evening, about five o’clock, Father Daniels crawled into bed, informing his appointments that he would not be attending. Sleep came easy, partly from the lingering concussion, and Father Daniels was soon lost to his dreams. During the night, he thought of the actions of Mr. Howard and the Monsignor. Each of them had betrayed their oaths in favor of personal beliefs of right and wrong. In his dream, they each came to accuse him.
First, the Monsignor came to him. “Daniels, your time will come. I was once steeped in the Faith, but life changes you. You can’t bury your feeling forever.”
Father Daniels rose to meet him. “I do not bury my feelings. I let them flow, however, I know my duty. I am an officer of the Church. It is not my place to judge, only to serve.”
The image faded, and Ben Howard materialized. “Father Daniels, you amaze me. I was certain that you would fall. Even faced with tragedy and conflict, you maintained your conviction. I applaud you. Unfortunately, your friend was not so fortunate. He is mine now, and will be forever. Keep guard, young priest, I will come again for you as well.”
Father Daniels sat up in bed, his nightshirt clinging to his sweaty body. He scrambled out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants before hurrying to the Monsignor’s door. He banged on the door several times. “Monsignor, open the door. It’s urgent.” He banged on the door several more times. No answer. He turned the knob, but it did not move. “Monsignor! Wake up, it’s urgent.” No answer.
He drove his shoulder into the door, but could it would not open. Soon, several members of the staff came down the hall, asking what was the matter. Father Daniels explained that he thought the heard something in the halls and wanted to make sure that the Monsignor was all right. Since he would not answer, Father Daniels was worried.
One of the staff produced a key to the room, and unlocked the door. Father Daniels entered alone, in case the Monsignor was sleeping. “Monsignor Phillips, are you here? Is everything okay?” He continued into the room, and turned the corner around the closet.
There he was. Still. Cold. Pale. Dead.
Father Daniels fell to the floor weeping. He wept not only for the loss of his superior, not only for the loss that the parish would feel, but the loss of a soul. He was certain that the Monsignor had not repented his action, and that he had died alone. He made himself accept the possibility that he had repented, but he knew he had not. The Monsignor, he was certain, would have to at least spend some time in Purgatory.
He walked over to the Monsignor’s body and placed his hand on the cold forehead. Father Daniels offered a prayer for the elder priest and then asked someone in the staff to make the arrangements for his funeral. He then arranged for the cancellation of both his and the Monsignor’s appointments for the day.
Upon returning to his room, he found an invitation. He was startled at the contents. “Ben Howard’s funeral?” He was not sure what he wanted to do, but felt that he should go to the funeral. He had wanted to absolve the man of his sins at death, but he did not. Despite the injury he obtained attempting to carry out his duty, he still felt the guilt of the man’s eternal punishment.
He dressed in his black coat and collar and drove to the funeral. It was a crowded ceremony, full of people Father Daniels recognized, and many he did not. Each of them regarded the priest warmly as they saw him make his way to the casket, and several indicated that they would see him Sunday. The Lord does work in mysterious ways, he thought as he spoke with people who seemed ready to return to the Church with the loss of their heretic leader.
When Father Daniels arrived at he body, he was struck by the look on the man’s face. Though he knew coroners shaped the face of the dead, Ben Howard looked both pleased and disappointed.
“Strange look, isn’t it?”
Father Daniels turned and saw a man he did not recognize, though the clear blue eyes seemed familiar. “Yes, it seems to be full of emotion.”
“That’s how he would have wanted it.”
“Did you know Mr. Howard well?” Father Daniels stepped away from the body, and the stranger walked with him.
“Yes, quite well, and for many years.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Father. That means a lot coming from you.”
“From me? Why?”
“Ben respected you. He thought you were on the wrong side, but he respected you. He didn’t feel that way about many priests.”
“Yes.” Thoughts of the Monsignor’s behavior flashed through his mind again. “Well, we are all human, and capable of making mistakes.”
“That’s the truth.”
They walked further away from the body, passing even more mourners who said they would be seeing Father Daniels soon.
“You seem to be attracting a good number of people back to your church.”
“Yes, well, I am glad that some are willing to try to see the way. It’s never too late to return to the Lord. Were you a member of the church here, with Mr. Howard?”
“You could say that. Though, no church has ever felt very comfortable to me.”
“I am sorry to hear that. You’re welcome at St. Catherine any time.”
The stranger laughed. “I’m not sure you would say that if you knew what I knew, but thank you.”
“Well, if you change your mind, the Church will be here for you. Well, I should be getting back, I have another funeral to attend to.”
“Ah, yes, Monsignor Phillips.”
Father Daniels stared into the clear blue eyes, confused. “How do you know about the Monsignor?” Even mentioning his name brought the sting of his failure of pride to Father Daniels mind again.
“Juicy news travels quickly in a small town, Father. I know what happened. Like you said, all men are weak at times.”
Father Daniels stood silent. He stared at the man.
“Be careful, Father. You are a good man, but pride is the downfall of many good men. Someday, you too will be tested again. Remember your faith, or someone will mourn your weakness.”
The comment seemed both threatening and admonishing to Father Daniels. “Who are you? How do you…” Father Daniels stopped as thick smoke from an old car blew before his eyes. When the smoke cleared, the stranger was gone. Father Daniels looked around, but could not see where he had gone. He asked several people, but they could not recall having seen the strange man at all. After asking a dozen people, Father Daniels returned to his car.
Enemies and Neighbors
Jack Wait pressed his hands against his eyes and envisioned the events that brought him to his current place in life. After five years as a New York City police officer, he was tired of the city and the people that occupied his time. His desire to protect the innocent was drowned in a flood of vagrants, flashers, crack dealers and pimps.
When a cousin of his who had moved to Florida told him of an opportunity as sheriff of a small coastal town whose mayor he knew, Jack inquired about the position and left the city faster than any of the kids he had busted for drug possession. He sank into the slow life of Jasmine Hill with ease and was soon enjoying the time for fishing that the small town provided.
However, as the months droned on, Jack began to wish for something more interesting than bait thievery. Tourist season was over, not that they provided much additional traffic for the town, and there was little to occupy his time. When his deputy, Tommy, walked into the station that morning, Jack hoped for some excitement. That hope was dashed when he saw Tommy direct Jason Gunner into the chair and then left to answer the phone.
Removing his hands from his eyes and forcing a long breath from his lungs, he prepared himself for another tedious Monday and the standard questions. “Jason, when are you going to stop? I’m getting pretty sick of seeing you in here.”
“Sorry, Sheriff. I just can’t help myself.” Jason’s voice was the perfect squeaky match to his slight frame and active pimple collection. “Open windows just draw me to them like a moth to a flame. I was ou
t there, a little after one in the morning, wondering around, and I saw it open. I stayed there for a while, just looking. The it got late, so I left.”
“Yeah, well, moths die when they get to the flame, Jason.” Jack stood up from his desk, glanced down at the gut that had formed since he arrived, and shook his head. “This is the third time this month we’ve had to pick you up. Now, people here don’t want to press charges, and we never see you doing anything, so we let you go. But, that won’t last.” He sat on the edge of his desk and pointed his finger in Jason’s face. “Now, if I see you in here again, I’m going to tail you myself. When I see you do it, your going to jail. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sheriff. I’m terrible sorry, Sheriff.” Jason stood up, swallowed, and turned to leave the office.
“Jason.”
“Yes, Sheriff?”
“Pick up your muddy shoes on the way out, and leave the Polaroids.”
Jason reached his hands into his pockets and pulled out several black rectangles. “Sorry again, Sheriff.” He turned and shuffled out, stepping out of Tommy’s way as he exited.
“I tell you, Tommy, this town has something to be thankful for when the worst crime around is peeping Jason and his instant camera.” Jack nodded at the scurrying man before laughing.
“Well, boss, I wouldn’t be too sure about us being lucky then.”
“What are you talking about, Tommy?”
Tommy stopped and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “There’s been a murder. It’s William Dietz. He’s been shot.”
“Shot? Let’s go.” Jack grabbed his hat from the rack, made sure his pistol was loaded and holstered, and followed Tommy out. After locking the door and flipping the “out to lunch” sign, he hopped in the passenger seat of the town’s lone cruiser. He could feel his heart pounding and the tingle of adrenaline at his fingertips. It had been years since he had to investigate a murder. He leaned back into the seat and enjoyed the guilty pleasure of anticipation.
When they arrived at William Dietz’s house, a sprawling Spanish style house that occupied two aces of canal-front property, several neighbors were in the front lawn, and the gate to the pier was open. Jack stepped out, popped his neck, and headed toward the scene. “Tommy, take care of these people and pick out those that have something to say. I’ll be with the body.”
It was a short walk to the pier, and a long one to the body that Jack could see slumped over the rail at the end. As he approached, he could see the pool of blood that formed a half-circle at the edge of the wooden platform and the series of three-toed prints from the birds that came to inspect the area and enjoy the bait that William could no longer protect.
A quick inspection of the area told Jack what he would be able to gather from the scene. William was dead. The large hole in his back indicated that the gunshot had been the most likely culprit, and given the area, meant that the bullet had most likely left the body and landed in the water that surrounded the fishing-end of the pier. Jack could see no sign of a struggle, but of course he expected the killer to be an acquaintance, as nearly all the three thousand people in The Hill knew each other.
As he exited the back yard, he passed the county coroner, Herbert Townsend. “Well, Herbert, he’s all yours.”
“Gee, thanks, Jack.” Herbert rolled his eyes.
“I don’t see how you can keep picking up bodies for a career.” Jack said, patted the short man in the back and headed back out to speak to the crowd.
“Each day I pick up another body, is another day it’s not me on the other end.”
Jack grinned at the comment from the whimsical coroner and passed through the gate. Tommy waited for him there with only one remaining neighbor, Gary Juniper.
“Jack, Gary here says he saw something.” Tommy motioned for Jack to join them.
“So, what did you see, Gary?”
“Well, Sheriff, I was asleep, like most people are at two in the morning, when I heard the shot. I like to sleep with my window open and it faces Dietz’s house, so the sound woke me up in a rush. I ran to the door and looked out and saw a white car zipping away.”
Jack did not like talking to Gary. He was always nervous, and he smelled like you would imagine an ever-sweaty man. Relying on his word as evidence was also less than ideal as he had been a heavy drinker every since Jack had been in town. He was told that he picked up the bottle ten years ago after his wife died in a boating accident and had never put it down. “Did you see who was driving?
“Not at first, but the car stalled for a minute and I had a chance to really look in there. That’s when I saw her. Abby Holtzman.”
“Abby Holtzman?” Jack shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding, Gary. Abby is a sweet old lady that spends more time in church that the rest of the town combined.”
“Maybe, Sheriff, but that’s who I saw. Besides, she’s been over here a lot lately fighting with Dietz. Ask around, she can get pretty loud.”
“What do they fight about?”
“I don’t know. Me and Abby, we don’t get along very well, you know.”
Jack furrowed his brow and glanced at Tommy.
“Ever since Abby canceled the contract with Gary’s uniform company. He had been supplying Mr. Holtzman for years and that contract kept him in business,” Tommy said.
Jack raised his head to illustrate his understanding. “So, you’re telling me that this woman who ruined your life is the killer.”
“I know it sounds weird, Sheriff, but I’m sure other people saw the car. I don’t know much about them myself, just that it was white. Others might know what kind of car it was.”
“Tommy, did anyone else see the car?”
“Yeah, a few of people said they saw a white sedan after they got up. One,” Tommy flipped through the pages of his pad, “oh yeah, Donnie Bradford said he thought it was a Jaguar. One of the new kind.”
Jack puckered his lips and smacked the together. “Well, then. We’ll go check it out.” He turned to Gary. “We’ll be back around soon to ask some more questions, so don’t be surprised, okay?”
“Sure thing, Sheriff. Glad I could help.” Gary stood in the yard while Jack and Tommy got in the car and drove away.
“I guess we’d better get over to Abby’s place.” Jack rubbed his eyes, and then opened them and watched Gary in the rearview mirror as they drove away.
“Something bothering you, chief?”
Jack looked at Tommy who kept his eyes on the road. “You mean besides the first murder I’ve seen in years?” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe Mrs. Holtzman would do this. Old lady’s probably too frail to get the jump on him and too scared to pull the trigger.”
“We did have others who saw the car.”
“Yeah, I know. Just let me think for a bit.” Jack liked Tommy, and had hired him mainly because he was a nice kid. Sometimes, thought, Tommy failed to respect the need to think.
Jack thought all the way through the small town, through the gates to The Cliffs, and right up into Abby Holtzman’s driveway. None of it helped. He still did not accept that Abby could have killed William Dietz. “Well, let’s see if we can find anything here.”
“You don’t sound too hopeful, Sheriff.”
“I’ll be hopeful when I find something that tells me what might be going on.” They walked up the long brick drive and cobblestone walkway to the oversized door at the front of the home. After pressing the doorbell button and listening to the anger of the neighborhood dogs, Jack took off his hat as Abby Holtzman opened the door. “Good afternoon, ma’am”
“Sheriff.” She nodded to him and to Tommy. “What brings you by?”
“May we come in, ma’am?”
“Of course.” She stepped aside and shut the door behind them. “Please, have a seat. Would either of you care for something to drink? Water, soda, coffee?”
“I’d love a coffee.” Jack sat on an overstuffed, white couch and motioned for Tommy to sit as well. After Abby returned, he took
his cup and held it in his lap. “Mrs. Holtzman, have you heard about William Dietz?”
“You mean his death? Yes I’ve heard about it?”
“What do you know about it?” Jack took a sip of the coffee and winced at the heat.
“Just that he was shot, and that I’m not sorry it happened.” Abby sat down in a large wingback chair and crossed her legs.
“Ma’am?” Jack glanced down at her calves and for a moment forgot that he was investigating a murder and that she was thirty years his senior.
“William was an awful man who caused this family nothing but grief. He constantly harassed Arthur when he was alive about business propositions.” Abby started to speak again but stopped.
“You’re not sorry the man’s dead because he was an aggressive salesman?” Tommy regretted the comment as soon as he finished the sentence, and a glance from Jack confirmed that it was a mistake.
“Not just that deputy. Now, why are you here discussing this with me?”
Jack sat up and adopted a professional posture and tone. “Ma’am, we have some witnesses that say they saw a white Jaguar in the neighborhood at the time of the shooting and that you had been seen and heard arguing with Mr. Dietz recently.”
Abby blinked several times and glanced around the room. “You can’t honestly believe that I killed him.” She looked up and stared into Jack’s eyes, which had been conditioned to show little emotion. “You do, don’t you? And here I am talking about how I don’t care. You have to understand, we argued for a reason, but I would never kill anyone.”
“First, why don’t you tell me what you were arguing about?” Jack sat forward and tried to look compassionate.
“Well, you see.” Abby took a sip from her hot tea. “This is quite difficult, Sheriff.”
Jack could see that she was having trouble and thought that she might be more at ease with fewer people knowing. “Tommy, why don’t you go look around the house and see if anything looks out of place?”
Abby watched Tommy leave and then offered Jack a half smile of appreciation. “Mr. Dietz, well I guess I’ll just say it, he got my daughter pregnant.” She sat erect in her chair as if her posture and manner would wash the stigma from the situation.
Mayhem: A Collection of Stories Page 9
