Pat looked once more at Leslie. “No one mentioned the trust. You did. You are right, it wasn’t for the money in the trust. It was for a far more evil reason.” He deliberately paused. Every eye in the room was glued on him. “Probably the worst motive in the world, the motive of undiluted hatred--hatred for your uncle. With all your pretense of concern for him, you’ve had an intense hatred of the man for many years. You don’t realize how it comes out in your words and your voice every time you speak of him.
“Your hatred is because of that trust. Your uncle stands between you and what you consider your rightful inheritance. Once you get that money, you think, you’ll be able to buy your way back into Philadelphia’s society.”
“That’s pure poppycock,” Leslie spit at him. “I have friends. I am already a part of Philadelphia’s society, not that it’s really as important to me as you make it sound.”
“It’s important to you. This afternoon, Jeremy Knollys told us the story about you and Mrs. McElwayne’s missing jewelry and how it ruined your social acceptability in this city. When it gets around that you’re also a would-be murderer, I doubt if you’ll get many invitations this coming season.”
“You can’t prove any of this. You don’t have a shred of evidence.”
Pat nodded. “You’re quite right. I can’t prove any of it. We have no witness who will testify to seeing you do these things.”
Grace Everett let out a gasp, then blushed.
“No one can prove it,” Pat continued. “But it is now out in the open. It will be up to Father Sieger to do something, if he decides to. I leave that to him. I know Phillis has some things she wants to say.”
Phillis walked over and stood next to the sofa and next to Jeremy Knollys. “We had lunch today, Jeremy and I,” she began. “There are a few things I think should be aired. Jeremy, you told me that for some time, especially since your wife’s death, you were rather close to Father Mowbray.”
“I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past weeks without him,” Jeremy agreed.
“You saw him frequently, spoke to him on the telephone almost daily, and visited him here at the rectory, isn’t that right?”
“See here, if visiting him here at the rectory is supposed to somehow implicate me in his murder, then….”
“Not at all.” Phillis moved and stood behind the sofa. “All I’m trying to get at is the fact that you were here frequently. Were you here on Wednesday, the day Father Mowbray was murdered?”
“I was out of town that day,” Jeremy responded calmly. “And that is something I can prove quite easily, if I have to.”
“Beatrice, you’ve been staring at Mr. Knollys for some time,” Phillis said to her. “Is there a reason?”
Beatrice quickly transferred her glance once more to her lap and shook her head.
“You’re thinking of something, though, aren’t you? Reminds you of something--something you can’t quite get straight in your mind, could that be it, Beatrice? Does Mr. Knollys remind you of something you saw, someone you saw and couldn’t understand it at the time, could that be it, Beatrice?” She paused, waiting for Beatrice to respond.
“See here, how long are we to put up with this?” Nelson Paquette directed his question to Detective Worton.
“As long as it takes for Beatrice to remember, that’s how long, Mr. Paquette.”
Beatrice lifted her head when she realized everyone in the room was looking at her. She was on stage again, just like that day so many years ago when she was a model for one glorious moment with that luxurious mink coat trailing behind her. She turned her head and looked at Jeremy Knollys. She knew this was her moment. This time, she would not ruin her big chance. This time, she would not trip herself. “I seen someone go into the church Wednesday afternoon,” she began slowly, weighing each word. “Somebody I ain’t never seen go in before. I get to know mosta them that goes in when the church is open. Don’t a’ways know their names, but I know the faces. But that one was differen’. Somethin’ differen’, yet I know I seen her before.”
“Her?” Phillis said.
“Yes, it was a woman I seen,” Beatrice said, her enjoyment of all this attention growing rapidly. “A woman I know I seen before that afternoon.” She never took her gaze off Jeremy Knollys.
CHAPTER XXVI
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jeremy asked and half rose from his seat. “Is that witch trying to say…?”
“What are you trying to say, Beatrice?” Phillis asked her.
“I ain’t sure. Somethin’ ain’t right, but I don’t know what it is.” Beatrice went back to staring at her lap.
“Then maybe I can help you.” Phillis carefully placed her hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “On Wednesday afternoon, while the church was open, just as the bells were ringing two o’clock, a woman got out of a taxi and entered the church. You saw her, Beatrice. You told us you did. Something registered in your head, but you weren’t sure what it was. Just now, you had the same feeling, and still you don’t know what it is that is bothering you. An association? That woman? Someone in this room? Could it be Jeremy Knollys? Is there something, Beatrice, about Mr. Knollys that makes you associate him with that woman? Could that woman you saw have been Mr. Knollys in woman’s clothing?”
Beatrice sneaked another look out of the corner of her eye at Jeremy Knollys without moving her head.
Phillis turned now and stared at Jeremy. So did everyone else.
“Hey, what is this?” Jeremy shouted and began to shake with anger.
“You went into the church dressed as a woman,” Phillis began. “Before you left home, you called Father Mowbray, and disguising your voice you asked him to hear your confession.
“Earlier that day, Grace heard you and Father Mowbray on the phone having a heated discussion. He knew what you had done, that you had murdered your wife. He wanted you to confess. Not necessarily to him, but to the police. All he was trying to do was to help you, but you looked upon him as a threat, a threat that could send you to prison. So, you felt you had to silence him. After he opened the confessional and went inside and sat down, you waited a moment. Silently, you opened the door, knelt down, waited until he slid back the screen which separated you, and in the coldest of blood aimed the gun at his chest and pulled the trigger. It was over in a few seconds. The danger to you was now eliminated. Even as he was dragging himself from that spot in search of a telephone, you slipped down to the office. You’re familiar with the layout of the buildings here and it was so easy for you to wait until Grace locked the front doors of the church. You know that she doesn’t go through the cloister to do that, but does it from the outside, at least when the weather is beautiful as it was Wednesday. She enjoys a slow stroll through the garden and even sometimes takes a break and sits there for a while. And while Grace was locking up, you slipped through the office, went up to the rectory and waited there. Why? Two reasons. First of all, you didn’t want to run the danger of being seen leaving the premises until much later, after the office was closed and it was dark enough no one would recognize you. And second, you knew Sherrill Rothe was due to see Father Paul. You didn’t want that young man hanging around, asking questions which might have sent someone in search of Father Paul. When he showed up at the rectory door, you simply told him Father Paul had been called away, couldn’t meet with him, and that he would call you later. Sometime after that, when you felt it was safe, you carefully slipped out of the rectory and returned home.”
“Just as with your brother’s accusations against Leslie, everything you’ve said is nothing more than slanderous attacks upon our characters,” Jeremy protested. “And full of flaws. If I killed him in the confessional, there would be a bullet hole in the screen partition. Did you find such a hole?” he asked Detective Worton. The latter shook his head. “And, if I came here to the rectory, how did I know I wouldn’t run into Father Sieger, or someone else? They’re always people coming and going here. I’m sure such stories as you two told today are sland
erous and even if no one else will take action, I intend to follow through with my lawyer.”
“You will need a lawyer,” Phillis said to him. “This is no story. Oh, I admit I might be a bit off on a couple of points, but everything can be proven. First, it will be quite easy for the police to trace your steps from home to the church. Someone on the streets, the taxi driver, someone in the church, will remember seeing you. I’m sure Beatrice will remember enough about what you were wearing to get a fairly good description.”
“And I suppose you have a witness who saw me take that imaginary trip to the lower level and then up into the rectory and then admit Sherrill Rothe when he arrived? Really, now!”
Phillis sat down. “You’ve got us there.”
Grace gasped.
Phillis looked at Pat. “I guess there’s just nothing we can do, is there, to prove any of this?” There was the merest hint of a smile on her face.
Pat played along. He shook his head. “It’s a shame. We now know who killed Father Mowbray and we’ll never be able to prove it. Think we should give up.”
Detective Worton stood up. “So, that’s all you two have accomplished? You just sit there and tell us what happened, and then say that you’re going to walk away and let the murderer go free? I’ll be damned if I’ll stand idly by and let that hap--”
Pat interrupted this tirade by turning and speaking to his sister. “Of course, we could always start digging deeper. First, we would need a court order.”
“What are you two talking about?” Detective Worton demanded.
Phillis sat forward. “We’re talking about getting a court order to have the body of Diane Knollys exhumed and examined.”
Jeremy laughed. “That’s even more ridiculous. She died in a car accident. Everyone knows that. The autopsy showed she had been drinking.”
“Father Mowbray knew it wasn’t an accident,” Phillis spoke up. “I wonder how he found out? Surely you didn’t tell him. Or was it just a suspicion on his part? Sherrill Rothe told someone that Father Mowbray said there had already been a murder committed here in this parish, and Sherrill also said that because of what Father Mowbray knew, he got himself killed. The same thing happened to Sherrill. Tell us, Jeremy, how did you know Sherrill also knew what you had done?”
“I know.” The two words were spoken so softly they would have been barely audible except for the fact they came during the heightened silence between two claps of thunder. They came when no one expected them. They came from Grace Everett.
“Tell us about it, Grace,” Pat said. “And don’t be afraid. It’s vital we know and are able to prove who it was who killed Jeremy Knollys’ wife.”
Grace’s face flushed. She cleared her throat. “Diane Knollys told me.”
“Please, Grace, speak up a bit,” Pat encouraged her.
“Diane Knollys told me her husband was trying to kill her. The first time she told me, I thought it wasn’t true, that in her drunken state she imagined these things. She insisted she was right, that her husband was slowly poisoning her. It didn’t surprise me. I told her to go to one of the priests, but she felt funny, she said, since she didn’t know either of the priests here very well. She said she didn’t mind telling me, that it was easier to tell another woman. I asked her if it would be all right if I told one of the priests and she said she wasn’t sure. Since she didn’t tell me not to, I planned to speak to Father Sieger about it, but I thought better of it. Father Paul was friendlier with Mr. Knollys, so I told him instead and he said he would speak to Diane about it.”
“Grace, when was all this?” Father Sieger asked her.
She hesitated briefly, then told him. “About two months ago. Mr. Knollys was away for a couple of days and Diane called me and asked me to have lunch with her. It was two days later that I told Father Paul. If only I had not told him, he’d be alive today.”
“Why do you say that?” Phillis asked her. “How do you know that what you told Father Mowbray brought about his death? You evidently think it was Jeremy Knollys who killed Father Mowbray.”
Grace was shaking visibly. Finally, she nodded. “He killed his wife, then Father Paul, and finally Sherrill Rothe. I’ve known all along. I knew, too, that someone was coming into the rectory during the night. It bothered me and I wanted to tell Father, but I feared he’d never believe me. I wanted someone--anyone--to put a stop to it, but I was afraid of what would happen to me if I spoke up. It was only a little while ago that I found out; the same week Diane Knollys told me about her husband. Since then, everything has happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. All I knew was that someone had killed Diane, then a priest we all loved, and finally that nice young man, Mr. Rothe.”
“And you kept it all to yourself!” Detective Worton fairly screamed at her. “That’s withholding evidence. I’ve a good mind to….”
Pat signaled the policeman to stop. “Please, let Mrs. Everett go on,” he begged. “Go ahead, Grace, tell us how you know all this, what you saw and heard.”
Grace seemed to be gaining better control of herself. “Father Sieger hinted that something was going on here in the rectory. I put two and two together and understood that whatever it was, it was happening at night; that someone was getting into the rectory and trying to frighten Father Sieger. I decided to hide here one evening. I stayed downstairs in my office after hours and waited until it got very late. It was after midnight when I let myself in through the downstairs door on the lower level. I came up the back stairs and hid in the kitchen for hours. It seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard a sound outside in the garden. I dared not breathe. I heard the front door open slowly. I pushed open the swinging door that connects the kitchen and dining room. I was able to make out a figure come in through the foyer and start up the stairs to the second floor, while another figure stayed below and came in here, into the parlour. I turned off the night light in the kitchen and slipped into the dining room and stood just inside the doorway which leads out to the hall next to the staircase. I wasn’t sure who it was I saw go upstairs, except that I was positive it was a man. He was dressed entirely in dark clothes. I saw him as he went up the stairs, a bit heavy-footed, and stop just before he got to the top. He listened. Then, he must have heard Father Sieger getting out of bed, for he leaped over to the window on the second floor landing, the floor-to-ceiling window, and hid behind the damask drapes with the heavy cord sashes, the same kind that’s on the third floor. Anyway, just then Father Sieger came out of his room. I was terrified he would see me and think I was the one who had been on the staircase. I hurried back through the kitchen and down to the office. I stayed there for a very long time until I thought it was safe to leave.”
“But you didn’t see who it was who went up the staircase?” Phillis asked her.
“Just as he hid behind the drape, he had to turn and face the light,” Grace explained. “For a split second, I saw his face. It was Mr. Victoire, there’s no mistake about that. I’ll remember that face as it looked that night till the day I die.”
“What did you do then, after you found out what was being done to Father Sieger?” Pat asked.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she continued. “I wasn’t even sure at first what it was Mr. Victoire was trying to accomplish. It truly had me puzzled. Why would he sneak in in the middle of the night? What could he want that he couldn’t come for in broad daylight, as he so often did anyway? It was tearing me apart inside, this… this confusion and fear. If I told Father Sieger that I had seen Mr. Victoire come into the rectory in the middle of the night, he would wonder what I was doing there at that time. Even if I could explain, and it was something wrong that Mr. Victoire was doing, I knew it would hurt Father Sieger terribly. He is so fond of his nephew and never would have thought him capable of hurting him. If I didn’t tell Father, I was so afraid things would get worse. Then, it began to dawn on me that Mr. Victoire was trying to frighten his uncle to death. You see, I saw Mr. Victoire one more time. It was this pas
t week, several nights before Father Paul was killed. That time, I saw Mr. Victoire go into Father Sieger’s room and he was in there for several minutes and I was beside myself. All I could think was that he was killing Father Sieger. Finally, he came out. It was then I decided I had to do something before it was too late. The next couple of days, I tried to talk to Father Sieger, but he was always too busy or there were people around. Maybe I didn’t really have the nerve.” She leaned back in her chair.
“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Detective Worton spoke up. “There’s enough evidence to charge you, Mr. Victoire, with the attempted murder of your uncle.”
Leslie opened his mouth to speak when Detective Worton cautioned him not to say anything more until he had his lawyer present. He added that he wanted to hear more and that Leslie might be charged with an even more serious crime.
“I want to know, Mrs. Everett, what else you know about the goings on around here,” Detective Worton said to Grace. “Seems you’ve kept quite a bit of information from us, so if you don’t want to be charged with withholding evidence, I suggest you tell us now whatever else you know.”
His words visibly frightened Grace.
“May I?” Phillis asked the detective, then turned towards Grace. “Tell us, what happened here the day Father Mowbray was murdered.”
“As I told you, I overheard the conversation between Father Paul and Jeremy Knollys,” she answered.
For the sake of those who had not heard her account of that telephone conversation, Phillis capsulized it for them. “Grace, what happened after that?”
“Things went along as usual in the office. I didn’t take lunch at my regular time. I wasn’t very hungry. Around two-thirty or so, I decided I’d eat the sandwich I had brought to the office from home and I was standing at the window next to my desk, looking out at the garden. The windows in the office are at ground level and you have to look up to see much of what’s going on outside. It seemed so pleasant, I thought I’d go outside and get a bit of fresh air. I went upstairs and walked briefly in the garden.” She sighed. “It’s always so beautiful and peaceful and the air is always so fresh there. I was about to return to the office when I noticed a taxi stop in front of the church. A strikingly handsome woman got out. She was exceptionally well dressed and….”
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