“Why didn’t you tell us the tale?” Phillis asked.
“I saw no reason. No one believes it.”
“But someone--anyone--may be using the legend for his or her own nefarious ends.”
“I doubt that. I doubt there are many souls--no more than a handful--who have ever heard the story. Even my own nephew, Leslie, hadn’t heard the story until.…”
“When was it he heard it?” Pat interrupted.
Father Sieger hesitated. “Well… it really isn’t important when he heard it. I was just pointing out that--”
“Maybe a year ago? Around the time all your problems started?” Pat prompted. “I won’t pursue it. We have to see Worton,” he added and walked towards the study door. He stopped and spoke to the rector again. “As for Sherrill Rothe, are you sure when he called you last evening that he gave you no indication at all that he would want to talk to you today? He said nothing that would indicate there was something pressing on his mind?”
Father Sieger shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “But there is one thing I should tell you,” he added and got up and walked towards Pat. “Detective Worton was down here before you returned. He told me Sherrill Rothe had a piece of paper in his pocket with some kind of scribbling on it and asked me if I knew what it meant. He showed it to me. I lied to him. I said I didn’t know what it meant.”
“What was it?” Pat asked a bit excitedly.
“It was a limerick, written in that usual style, and unintelligible to anyone who did not know who it referred to.”
“But you know who Sherrill was writing about?”
The rector nodded. “Yes, and I’m guilty of the sin of lying. I just could not bring myself to tell him what it meant, and involve someone else. Now… now, I feel I must tell the truth regardless of who.… Maybe you can do that for me when you see him. I would appreciate it.”
“Do you remember what it said?” Phillis pleaded.
“Of course,” Father Sieger answered her. “It’s been spinning around in my head ever since I read it. It’s the curse of limericks. Once you read or hear one, you sometimes can’t get it out of your head for hours or even days, like a song that won’t go away. It ran:
A lady from Big B, MD
Sliced up her hus, you see.
The fuzz said, “That’s naughty!”
With her smile so haughty,
Said, “‘Twas too good for that s.o.b.
“You’re going to tell us what it means?” Pat asked.
Father Sieger nodded slowly. “Yes, you’ll have to be told. It’s a sad story. I sometimes think we’re running a halfway house here for former convicts. You see, Grace Everett served time in prison for the brutal murder of her husband.” He braced himself with one hand against the side of the desk near the door. The pain he was experiencing was almost as painful to Pat and Phillis as they watched. “It was many years ago in the city of Baltimore. She was quite young when she married Walter Everett. He was six years her senior, and from what I gather, not well educated. Grace was completing a two-year college when she married him. The usual story. She became pregnant. It was soon apparent after the marriage that Walter was a heavy drinker and he often beat her when he was drunk. On one occasion, after they were married for several years, he struck their child and Grace threatened to leave him if he ever raised his hand to the child again. He did and she left him, but he would not leave her alone. Late one night, he forced his way into the small apartment she had taken. He became abusive, towards both her and the child. Grace took a knife and killed him. She plunged it repeatedly, into his chest, face, stomach. By rights, she should have gotten off with self-defense and protecting her child, but the public defender was just out of law school and the D.A. made mincemeat out of him, pointing out that Grace struck so many times, she did it out of hatred, and not in self-defense. She went to jail and was there four years. During all that time, she was never once allowed to see her child.
“A young woman, a journalism student, heard about Grace, interviewed her, and submitted an article to the Baltimore Sun. It was printed, and, because it was an election year, the case was reopened. You must keep in mind that back in the days when Grace killed her husband we did not have the progressive view we have today towards battered wives. Back then, it was almost implied that a wife who was beaten probably deserved it. If she were the right kind of wife, submissive and obedient to her husband, he would never have a reason to strike her. Anyway, she was released, but she wasn’t out of jail long before she had a complete breakdown. Small wonder. To her credit, she pulled herself together, pretty much on her own, and eventually regained custody of her child. That was many years ago, as I said, but to this day Grace still has dreams of knives and blood.
“Everyone knows Grace has a daughter who now lives in Phoenix, Arizona. She has visited Grace here in Philadelphia and Grace has been out there to see her and Grace’s grandson. But I doubt if anyone here in this city knows of Grace’s past.”
“She told you all this?” Pat asked.
“Oh, no, no,” Father Sieger protested. “She has no idea I know anything about it. A few years ago, I attended the national convention of our church. It was held in Baltimore. I met a lay delegate there, a native of that city, a man by the name of Whitesall. We started talking. We found we had a number of things in common. He told me his father who is blind lived in this neighborhood. I said my secretary was also from Baltimore and then later in the conversation I happened to mention her name. He asked me if I knew her story. It was he who gave me the details. I have never once let Grace guess that I know about her being in prison or why. She has suffered so very much, she doesn’t need to be told that anyone here knows her deep, dark secret. I’m convinced that’s why she moved to Philadelphia, a place where no one knew her.”
“But Sherrill Rothe must have known it,” Pat insisted. “How else could he have written that limerick?”
“Yes. I wonder….” Father Sieger said.
“…who told him?” Pat finished the question for him. “If you didn’t, then I suppose it must have been Father Mowbray, don’t you?”
“I had no idea Paul knew.” Father Sieger looked puzzled as he stroked his chin. “Paul did not attend the convention in Baltimore and it would be too much of a coincidence for him to have met that Mr. Whitesall here in Philadelphia, wouldn’t it? It does change things somewhat, doesn’t it?”
“Beatrice blames Father Paul for her losing her home. I bet Mr. Whitesall came her, spoke to Father Paul about his blind parent, and got Father Paul to agree with him that his father should be taken away.”
“I think you’re right,” Father Sieger agreed. “Paul said he thought someone had used him, that he had unwittingly been instrumental in someone taking his parent away from this city.”
“We must go,” Pat said. “We must attend to some things upstairs, then speak to Detective Worton. You will be here later, won’t you?”
“I’m not going anyplace,” Father Sieger assured them, then added, “But you are sure… quite sure… you know who killed…?”
“We’re positive,” Pat told the priest.
CHAPTER XXIV
Pat closed his bedroom door behind them. “I don’t think we should spend too much time on this,” he said to Phillis. “I think we should find Detective Worton just as soon as we’re ready to give him what we’ve got.”
“Right. But we’ve got to get it in some kind of order. We have to have our heads clear and be ready for any unanticipated snags. Okay, what do we have?” she asked as she pulled a steno pad from Pat’s suitcase. “Who had a motive?”
Pat nodded. “List everyone. We must be prepared. Nothing--absolutely nothing--must go wrong this evening. Ready?”
She had her pen poised over the pad.
He began. “Who’d think a young priest like Father Paul Mowbray would have a number of people who might want him dead? There’s:
“One: Nelson Paquette. Could his homophobia be a good enough reason
to murder a gay priest? Possible.
“Two: Jeremy Knollys. From the conversation Grace Everett overheard, Father Paul may have discovered Jeremy killed his wife and Jeremy decided to eliminate the priest who posed a threat to him. And, remember, Jeremy admitted Diane had put the blame for that hit-and-run on him. She was becoming dangerous. If he killed her, and Father Paul found out, Jeremy may have thought it safer to eliminate him.
“Three: Leslie Victoire. Seems to me the only motive Leslie might have would be to get his uncle, Father Sieger, out of the way, not Father Paul. Still, there could be some hidden connection there we don’t know about.
“Four: Beatrice. We don’t have the particulars, but she swears Father Paul was responsible for her losing her home. To a simple mind like hers, that could be one helluva motive for murdering someone. Of course, there’s the problem of how she got a gun.
“Five: Grace Everett. We’re pretty sure she’s in love with Father Sieger.”
Phillis spoke up. “We knew of one person here who did time in prison, Tom Benson. A few minutes ago, we found out Grace Everett did, too. Doesn’t that strike you a bit strange?”
“Not really,” he answered. “Father Sieger is somewhat like yourself. He takes in strays, as in the case of Tom Benson, or he has strays find him, as in the case of Grace Everett. If the unfortunate ones in this life can’t find help with the church, where can they find it? It’s a good point, just the same. Now, let’s go on….
“Six: Kelsey Quentin. Strange fellow. Snoops around a bit too much to suit me. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a lot more to his involvement with this rectory than we’ve been able to find out.
“Seven: Thomas Benson, our sexton who isn’t a sexton, who has a violent temper. Here, too, we don’t know much about him and his relationship to either of the murdered men, other than what he told us.
“Eight: Father Sieger.”
She stopped writing and looked up.
Pat sat down on the bed next to her. “Sister Dear, I know how you feel about Father Sieger. Still, we have to include everyone. Everyone. You know that. The story Father Sieger told us about the things happening here in this rectory in the dead of night, was it completely true? He seems to have forgotten to tell us a few things when it was convenient for him. And don’t forget his gun, probably the most important thing involving the Rector of Saint Alban’s. We both know that even if that gun wasn’t the weapon that killed Father Mowbray, it could very well have been a dummy, something to throw us off the track. Let’s continue.”
He jumped up and began pacing. “Don’t forget Sherrill Rothe insisted some strange woman met him at the rectory door and told him Father Mowbray was out. I don’t think he made up that story. He had met Grace Everett on a couple of occasions, so he should have recognized her. Must have been someone else. A woman must have met him at the rectory door and admitted him. And, was there more to the fight those two priests had before Paul’s death, more than Father Sieger admitted? Is Leslie Victoire really afraid of the dark? And what was said in that conversation Grace Everett overheard between Jeremy and Father Paul? Did she accidentally overhear it or is she in the practice of listening in on telephone conversations?”
“Hold on!” Phillis shouted. “We could go on all evening about the things we’re not sure of. I think it’s imperative we keep our motives straight. We can’t afford to let motives get mixed up. It could ruin everything. We can’t be sure why anyone would want Father Mowbray dead. None of the obvious motives, like money or sex. The only practical reason I’ve been able to come up with is that Father Mowbray must have been a threat to someone, must have known something that got him killed.”
“Sherrill Rothe told his friend Frank Zahn that something Father Paul knew got him killed.”
“And Sherrill was killed because he knew what Father Mowbray knew,” she added. “Think Worton will buy it?”
He shrugged. “Could be. A bit too flimsy though without some hard evidence.”
“More important, would a jury buy it?”
“That’s precisely what frightens me.” He stopped pacing. “The very ideas we just discussed are the ones which could let the guilty party go scot-free this evening, and maybe even be the cause of an innocent person being accused.” He sat down again on the edge of the bed and stared intently at her. “We absolutely must get a confession, one that will hold up, one we can back up with proof.”
“And we don’t have that proof,” she said wistfully. “If only….”
“If only is right,” he agreed. “If only I could remember something that was said to us, something which is the key which will open up all the evidence we need. Know what I’m talking about?”
“I think I do. Something’s been nagging the hell out of me, too. I know someone during the past few days said something that caused a red flag to pop up in my poor weak brain, but damned if I can remember what that was. Maybe if we went over every conversation we’ve had with everyone since we got here, we might be able to….”
There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door. Phillis opened the door. Jeremy Knollys was standing in the hallway. She introduced him to Pat.
“I was told you were both up here,” he said. “May I talk to you?”
She invited Jeremy to come in and take a seat.
“I have something I think you two should see.” Jeremy was clutching a small black ledger in his hand. He opened it. “When I found it this afternoon, I called here and Father Sieger told me what had happened. He said a Detective Worton was here. I came to show this to him, but he was too busy to see me. I thought you might be interested in looking at it.
“As soon as Phillis left my house today, I went upstairs to my wife’s rooms. They’re just the way she left them. Until now, I wasn’t able to bring myself to go through her belongings. She had a desk, although she never to my knowledge used it. I found this book hidden behind one of the drawers. I think it answers the question of where Diane got the money for her drinking. Here, read it.” He held out the notebook.
Pat took it. Phillis and he looked at the open pages, two of them filled with lines and four vertical columns. Running down the left column were the abbreviations for calendar months. Each of the next three columns was headed by a set of three letters. Opposite each month and under each set of letters was a set of numbers. The months went on for well over a year.
“Have you any explanation for this?” Pat asked Jeremy.
Jeremy took a small brown book from his shirt pocket. “I also found this. It’s a bank savings account passbook. The first week of every month, she made a deposit, always in an amount which equaled the sum of those three figures for the given month. There are also a lot of withdrawals, of course. It’s my belief my wife was blackmailing the people whose initials appear in this ledger. The first one, ‘VIC’ could stand for VICtoire. Leslie Victoire.”
“Or Father Sieger,” Pat offered. “His first name is Victor. And, remember, Sieger is German for victor. He has a fairly decent income from the family trust, which we’re told he gives away. Maybe he was giving some of it to your wife.”
“To hide what, I wonder,” Phillis said.
“We all have something to hide. Even priests.”
“And I’ll wager the ‘NAP’ stands for Nelson Arthur Paquette,” Jeremy said. “There were rumors a while back that his insurance agency got to be as big as it is today through the illegal practice of kick-backs.”
“That leaves ‘AG,‘” Phillis said. “Who’s that?”
“I’m almost positive that’s a bit of Diane’s humor,” Jeremy said. “I heard her use those initials on many an occasion. They stand for Amazing Grace. Diane sarcastically used to call Grace Everett that, Amazing Grace, or sometimes just A.G. Now if only the police can prove that this was, indeed, blackmail.”
“The police shouldn’t have any trouble checking those deposits,” Pat announced. “Once they know who the murderer of Father Paul and Sherrill Rothe is, they should be able to get bank
records. If we’re right, the killer will have a sum of money withdrawn or unaccounted for each month. Blackmail is always a popular motive for murder.” To Jeremy, he added, “Thank you, Jeremy, for showing this to us. It may be the final piece we needed to put this whole mess behind us by this evening. But we still need more. Are you willing to help? It may get a bit nasty. Embarrassing, I suspect. But we could use your help this evening. Game?”
Jeremy Knollys looked from Pat to Phillis, bewildered, then said, “I… I suppose so. What is it you want?”
“First of all,” Pat began….
*****
Pat and Phillis found Detective Worton in the rear of the church, shouting at one of his men. He saw them approach, turned away and went towards a side aisle. A moment later, he came back, ignored them, and stood directly behind the last pew, his hands in his pockets.
“There are some things we think we ought to tell you,” Pat said as he walked up behind Detective Worton. “Things that can solve this case; solve it almost immediately.”
The detective spun around and stared at them. “If you have evidence pertinent to this investigation, I’ll arrange to have your depositions taken at headquarters.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it evidence,” Pat said. “With what we have to tell you, you’ll be able to get all the evidence you need yourself. All it would take would be….”
CHAPTER XXV
The four were seated around the dining room table in the rectory: Father Sieger at the head, Detective Worton at the opposite end, and Pat and Phillis facing one another on the sides. Kelsey Quentin had offered to stay and fix them something to eat. After serving, Kelsey was asked to leave them alone.
They were finishing eating when Worton spoke up. “I don’t want this to end up like the last scene in a bad ‘B’ movie out of the forties,” he announced. “I frankly think all this went out with Ellery Queen, if in fact, it ever happened at all in real life, all this nonsense about assembling the suspects in one room while someone puts on a dramatic display of deductive reasoning. I hope you two know what you’re doing. If it ever gets back to the station that I let you talk me into something like this, I’ll….”
Aisle of the Dead Page 20
