by C T Mitchell
“No, no, I’m completely following you, Pere Samuel. Go on.”
“The medicines are so much more than what the mission’s coffers contained, so I applied for a loan from the Vatican. I was really hoping that I’d gotten my application in on time, but sir they are VERY slow in granting those. I’m not sure some of them even get read in a timely fashion. So I……I could only see one way out of this nightmare because everyone in Thailand at the mission was counting on me and I didn’t want to let them down.” He spoke quickly and his hands were unsteady, but he did manage to get the words out. It wasn’t so hard once he began speaking, it all just sort of rolled off his tongue, and he dearly hoped that the Father would forgive him. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, and certainly not killed. I’m so sorry.”
Father Douglas looked around at the two detectives, who seemed to understand. “I’m not sure I quite follow.”
“I got hold of a friend of mine in Rio de Janeiro, sir.” Samuel stopped, as if he meant this statement as a giant explanation in itself, but still Father Douglas was confused.
“Well, I wasn’t aware that you have acquaintances in Rio de Janeiro, but that’s neither here nor there. What did this friend offer to do for you, help you raise money, I assume?”
“Not exactly. But it certainly wasn’t illegal, I’ll tell you that. When I explained the situation to him, he agree to become a sort of benefactor for our mission…he wanted to help us.”
“Did he give you money?...Ohhhhh, he gave you the jewels!”
“Yes, that was his gift to us. It was purely a gift and nothing else, I didn’t steal them. While I did not know how people transported things like precious jewels, I simply trusted that God would bring them to me safely. Apparently I should have gotten more clarification.”
“I would say so. How about the murders? Were the jewels cursed or something?” Father Douglas asked.
“Now, Father, I didn’t think you would be the type of man to believe in curses?” Detective Jackson exclaimed haughtily.
“I’m not, but a lot of people do, and they act on those beliefs.”
Samuel continued, the words flowing easily now that he saw Father Douglas was not openly reprimanding him for his ignorance. “I was told to meet a woman. He didn’t really describe her other than her hair color, and that she would find me and I needn’t worry about the rest. I did trust him…but I should have asked more questions, that much is clear now.”
“So this woman came to find you, and as soon as you realized who she was, she fell down dead at your feet. Is that right? So you weren’t technically lying to me when you said you didn’t know her, but you could have shared all of this with me at the beginning, stating simply that you did at least know why she was there.”
“I know, Father, and I deeply apologize. I was scared and didn’t know what to do, honestly I kind of just hoped you would handle it and it would all work out.”
“Well I can’t blame you for that.” Father Douglas patted him on the shoulder.
“When Ashley was about to speak, when we went to see her, I hoped she would reveal where the stones were located, I could retrieve them and leave the rest to be a mystery. But instead, she was killed.”
“So basically,” Tom interrupted. “Pere Samuel’s crime was similar to yours, Father. He withheld information that he knew would have been helpful, because he did know about the stones’ existence.” He motioned to himself and then to Detective Jackson. “We are pretty sure that someone found out about the emeralds and decided to try and get the stones themselves, likely to sell them and make a huge fortune. Unluckily for them, stealing things is a very dangerous hobby to get involved in, because now he’s guilty of two murders…whoever he is.”
“And while he may think that he disappeared into the night, he will be found.” Detective Jackson was confident in his men’s ability to track down the fugitive. “Poor guy left empty handed, so he probably didn’t get far without any jewels to sell. I’ll bet he was relying on the cash from those suckers to fund his trip back to wherever he came from.”
“I’m just so sad that two women died in bringing those stones here to aid in missions work,” Samuel said. “It’s so sad. We are supposed to be saving lives, I never dreamt anyone would be killed!”
“Now THIS….makes sense,” Detective Jackson concluded once Samuel finished his explanation. “I knew there had to be a strange way this was all connected. “And rest assured the criminal will be caught, I’ll put all my officers into the field until he is found. No one is going to kill two women in that short a time span and get away with it. Plus, without the sale of the jewels, he’ll probably go back to whatever garbage hole he crawled out of with that stupid dart gun. Jail will likely be an improvement to his life.”
“Start with trying to track the sale of those dart guns within Australia and if that turns anything up, then it’ll be quick work for you.” Tom Sullivan gave Pere Samuel a friendly punch on the shoulder. “That was Samuel’s idea, looking online. Since the stones were not intended to be sold here in Australia, and they truly belong to the Thailand Mission now, they’ll be returned to you when you check out today, Pere Samuel…with customs and excise blessings.”
Pere Samuel thanked the men profusely for the hard word, and apologized just as earnestly for his initial deceit and general lack of helpfulness.
“We can’t all be Father Douglas, you know,” Tom Sullivan said. “This man can take just about anything with a grain of salt. I truly believe nothing can rattle him.”
“It’s all in God’s plan,” Father Douglas said with a chuckle. “Even when that plan takes some crazy twists and turns! All in His plan.”
MURDER
AND THE
OLD FLAME
CHAPTER 1
Father Douglas looked out over the hilltop through the window of the parish. In the little kitchen area, one of his favorite spots due to its utility and necessity, he sat and waited for Cecilia Robinson to finish her story.
A most delightful routine, the pair of them would sit nearly every morning and begin their day with tea and biscuits, and whatever else had been whipped up that morning. Father Douglas loved this room the most because he loved things that were necessary. Everyone must eat, everyone must have a refrigerator, everyone must run to the market for goods, everyone must sleep. He cherished the small things in life that meant all people were connected, that everyone was somehow intertwined by their simple human needs for things like sleep and food every day. The mere idea was simple and glorious.
Cecilia wrapped up her pleasant story from the fish market the day before with a giggle, and Father Douglas offered one in return. He noticed she was visibly excited this morning. The village fete was only four days away, she kept repeating things like “There is SO much to do!” Sometimes, Cecilia wouldn’t even follow up the statement with anything, she would just say it and leave it hanging in the air as if it was all-inclusive, but Father Douglas could still see the wheels turning in her mind after she trailed off her sentence.
His secretary-turned-housekeeper was usually this way before any event, and he saw it as a charming quirk in her personality. Any and all church events were reason to both celebrate and be excited, as well as get in a tizzy over every minor thing that needed to be accomplished in order to bring an event together.
A crowd, he thought. She loves a crowd, the woman loves to please and serve a crowd, and that is an admirable quality. He smiled to himself as she wound herself up over the table decorations that had yet to be confirmed. It shouldn’t have really been anything to worry over, Charlotte from the bakery on Main always provided a fantastic centerpiece to every table, and it always matched the themes that were chosen. Nevertheless, Cecilia was in a fuss about whether or not she thought Charlotte could deliver in time.
His housekeeper and friend rose from her seat to fetch more tea and answer the ringing phone in the office down the hall. Father Douglas looked out over the dewy grass on the lawn. It was ab
solutely beautiful this time of morning, when the fog was still resting over the gentle hills leading towards town. This was his own personal slice of heaven, but he was having trouble keeping the butterflies from his stomach this morning, even though he knew that God would not wish him to worry about trivial things so early in the morning.
Even though Cecilia’s nervous tendency to be a control freak about church events was amusing to him, a lot was riding on the success of this particular event. In fact, the church’s three hundred year old altar was crumbling with rot, the invasion of wood worms not helping of course, and he desperately wanted to have it repaired. The local town carpenter had tried to repair the beautiful…and extremely ornate…altar table many times, but to no avail. The cost of replacing the piece reached far beyond what the church could afford on its own, from within the regular budget.
To ensure the success of the fete, Father Douglas had called upon the elder of the Aboriginal band residing on the northern coast of the district. Upon accepting the invitation, the elder agreed to hold a dance that would call on the good will of the Spirits to grant Father Douglas’s wish during the fete.
Again, he smiled at the thought of an elder holding a dance to grant favor for a wish. It was these traditions that brought people of all kinds together, and the father loved it. In addition to the dance, he had also called upon several of his favorite vendors from the fair he visited every year.
The fair was set to open in a couple of weeks, and he thought this would be an opportunity to allow the vendors a place to sell their goods, and benefit his cause as well. The fair was always held in Lismore, and was a favorite event of Father Douglas, as he got to visit one of his favorite neighboring towns and see his friends while he was there. He loved the smell of the food and the delight of the children and their families.
In addition to the attractions and booths at the fair, he had requested the presence of a magician. It may seem an odd choice for a rectory worker to request the presence of magic at a church event, but Father Douglas always saw no harm in things that were not meant to be harmful. It was the people behind such things that made matters worse, but this magician was a friend of his who; after his last tour of duty in Afghanistan, decided to put a smile on children’s faces rather than tears in their eyes. He’d seen enough tears and anguish, and only wished to make people happy as long as he had the pleasure of doing so.
Cecilia entered the room, sloshing her tea. It really wasn’t proper to be sloshing your tea about, especially so early in the morning, but she looked like she was already in a hurry after one phone call. She quickly took a sip and made some kind of motion with her hand that Father Douglas couldn’t quite figure out. She did it again, with a bit of a frown, and he finally worked out that she wanted him to follow her to the office.
“It’s Detective Sullivan, Father! He just called for you and when I told him I would run to get you, he had to go. Sometimes it’s so exciting how busy his schedule is, don’t you think? Anyway, he wants you to call him right back, and I promised you would.” She quickly lumbered around the large wooden desk and picked up the phone, waving it at him impatiently. Father Douglas nodded, and walked around the desk to return the call.
“Hello, Father. I hope you’re well? Thanks for calling me back so quickly, Cecilia sounded like she would rush to get you, and apparently she did, so thank her for me…”
“Yes sir, I sure will. I assume you got my email yesterday evening? I wanted to talk to you about the fete and see if you would be able to help me out by having yourself and a couple of officers there while it’s going on?”
“You know I’d do just about anything you ask, friend. I absolutely will be there…as long as there’s pie.”
Father Douglas laughed. “There will no doubt be pie! I’ll have Charlotte make you an entire one to thank you for your kindness.”
“Oh my word, don’t do that! I’ll be up all night eating it before the wife sees it.”
“Consider it done, then. I won’t keep you, detective, just wanted to ask you in person because sometimes the Lord calls on people to sign up for things faster that way.”
Both men chuckled and said their goodbyes, thankful for each other. There wasn’t a man that Detective Inspector Tom Sullivan of the Lismore police respected more than Father Douglas, and he never missed a chance to tell his friend just that. Directly after that phone call, the father rang the mayor and invited him and his wife to the fete, as well.
“I don’t know why you’re inviting them,” Cecilia snapped when she scurried back into the room, startling the father. “They’re kind of snobbish if you ask me…” Her eyebrows raised up and down in quick succession to signal that her disgust with the mayor and his wife was well-founded. “It’s none of my business who you put in charge of things, I’m just saying.”
“They’re not in charge of anything, Cecilia, so don’t worry too much about them. Do you really think God would want you to be worrying about someone else’s business instead of your own?” Father Douglas teased her occasionally when she donned her sassy tone, because more important than anything to Cecilia was the need to appear to be a good Christian.
For all intents and purposes she was a good Christian, but Father Douglas had always appreciated the fact that when he called attention to her gossiping and her judgement of other people, she usually took heed and silenced herself, at least for a little while. The pair of them waited quietly in his office for a few minutes, Cecilia having taken a seat across the desk from him. She sipped her tea happily, and stared off into space. Father Douglas wondered what she was thinking about, and concluded that she was most likely thinking about the mayor and his wife, still…that would be judgement on his part which wasn’t much better. He smiled at her, appreciating the idiosyncrasies of her personality, which was so different from his.
“You’re not wrong, by the way,” he offered after a few moments of silence. She looked across the desk at him, puzzled. “About the mayor and his wife being snobbish.”
Cecilia opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “But the money they donate for the altar to be repaired will be just as good as anyone else’s.” He nodded his head and closed his eyes as if to signal that there would be no further talking about it. Cecilia straightened her back in the chair and uncrossed her legs, righting her posture proudly, and giving a quick nod in agreement.
The pair of friends finished their tea together without saying another word, and Cecilia rose to leave when she was done. It didn’t take her but two steps toward the door to develop her trademark hustle, a pace which she picked decidedly on her way down the hall. Her busy footsteps were his constant companion during any fete timeline, and he relaxed back into his chair, listening to her footsteps trail off into the kitchen.
Over the course of the next week, she became more and more anxious. Every day, she would drive from the church to her home after work, and park in the parking lot where the fete would be held. She spent much of every day calling all of the vendors, repeatedly, and ensuring that they didn’t forget their responsibilities.
“Don’t forget, now! You promised me twelve pies for the table! And one specifically for Detective Inspector Sullivan so that is actually thirteen pies, don’t forget the thirteenth pie, now. Do you understand? Did you order enough flour? Do you need me to find you a volunteer assistant to complete it all on time? You will be on time, correct?”
These were the ever-flowing strings of questions that could be heard any time Father Douglas walked by her office. Or his office. Or the kitchen phone, for that matter.
There is no way, he would think to himself, smiling. There is no way she wasn’t put on this earth to harass people into perfection. I’m so lucky that she uses her powers for the church.
When the day finally arrived, Father Douglas couldn’t be more pleased. Both because he had grown tired of the incessant flow of micro-managing conversations, streaming from every part of the house.…it had grown wearisome only the day befo
re, when Cecilia had an extraordinary bout of anxiety over the medic’s tent rental…but also because he was ready to enjoy the festivities!
When he pulled up to the park, it looked as though everything were already in place and could begin at any moment. The entire park was adorned with streamers and balloons, hanging from every tree branch and gazebo in sight. There were people employed to scurry around and pick up bits of string and pieces of ripped streamer paper from the ground, and they must have just had a good talking to from Cecilia, because a couple of them near the main gazebo looked downright over-caffeinated. They were bending down and scurrying through bushes, trying to get every last piece of rubbish out of the grass.
Heaven forbid anything be out of place, Cecilia. Lord bless her for her attention to detail. Father Douglas nodded at one of the young women picking up trash. She smiled cheerfully, almost forcefully, and got right back to work.
There were flower garlands made of fresh flowers and greenery wrapped around the entrance to park, and wisteria twisted into an arbor that stretched over the sidewalk. Colorful stands and booths lined invisible paths, made only by the lack of something there. You could clearly tell where Cecilia intended for you to walk…and where not to walk.
There was even a carousel in the center of the area to entertain the children. To Father Douglas’s surprise, his magician friend was already there, sitting behind his table with a smile. The men caught each other’s eye and waved at each other, but someone broke the line of sight not long after as they had stepped in front of the Magic Table to speak with the magician.
Father Douglas took this as a sign that he should follow his nose to the café area. Every year, the café was ready to serve the best coffee and cake in town, before the fair was even opened. The Baker’s Table was already covered in stuffed pastries, foreign breads, and an array of fruit and cream pies. Father Douglas was immediately thankful that he’d had a full breakfast before arriving, or he would have eaten one of everything there, before the fair was opened. As it were, he would be content to have only a small slice of pie…or perhaps a large slice.
