by Parnell Hall
“Is she dead?” Sherry whispered.
“I’d bet my poker stake on it.”
“We gotta call the cops.”
“Good. Go call ’em. I’m gonna look around.”
“Aunt Cora—”
“Go, go. Take the car if you need it.”
There came a sound from the shadows off to the right.
Cora wheeled around. Her hand was in her drawstring purse.
A shadow loomed up in the darkness, a menacing figure silhouetted in the unearthly light pouring through the stained-glass windows, a rainbow halo around his head.
Cora whipped a gun from her purse. “All right!” she cried. “Hold it right there!”
The shadow raised his hands. They were empty.
“Cora? Sherry?” he said.
It was Aaron Grant.
41
CHIEF HARPER WAS TRYING TO BE CALM. IT WAS DIFFICULT under the circumstances, what with a murder in the church, and so many witnesses on hand. As a result, the chief was cutting corners on proper police procedure, and interviewing them all at once, instead of taking individual statements. Since it was Sherry, Aaron, and Cora, Chief Harper didn’t see how that could hurt. After all, it wasn’t the first of his crime scenes these three had showed up at. Also, he was eager to get back to the church, where he had left Sam Brogan in charge. It would not be great for public relations to have cranky Sam making statements when the TV crews arrived.
To keep the witnesses out of the way of the media, Chief Harper was conducting his interviews across the village green in the county courthouse. As court was not in session, they had pulled up chairs around the defense table while Chief Harper listened to their stories.
“It’s very simple,” Cora said impatiently. “Daffy called, claimed she had something urgent to tell me, and asked me to meet her at the church. She said if she wasn’t out front, to look inside. She wasn’t, so we did, and found her lying there behind the pulpit right where you saw her.”
“You and Sherry came together?” Chief Harper asked.
“That’s right.”
“What about Aaron?”
“He came by himself.”
“You came in response to the phone call from the woman?”
“Yes.”
Chief Harper turned to Aaron. “Why did you come?”
“Same thing. I got a phone call from the woman.”
“Where?”
“My desk at the paper. She called up, said she had something important to tell me, and to meet her at the church.”
“She give you any idea what it was she wanted to tell you?”
“No. Just that it was important and it was about the murder.”
“She tell you anything else?”
“She told me not to drive.”
“What?”
“She said she didn’t want my car parked outside the church so people might think we were in there together.”
“Why did she want to meet in the church?”
“I have no idea.”
“How about you?” Chief Harper asked Cora.
“She was going to meet us outside the church. Unless there were people around.”
“She tell you that?” the chief asked Aaron.
“She said she’d be behind the pulpit.”
“Uh-huh. So you walked in the church expecting to meet Daffodil Dirkson behind the pulpit, and found Miss Carter and Miss Felton there?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Chief Harper frowned. “Huh?”
“When I got to the church, no one was there. I looked behind the pulpit. Daffodil was lying there dead. The next thing I remember, Sherry and Cora were standing there.”
“Next thing you remember?”
“Right.”
“Your mind’s a blank?”
Aaron grimaced. “That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”
The door to the back of the courtroom banged open, and Becky Baldwin barged in. “All right, what’s going on?” she demanded fiercely.
Chief Harper frowned. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear it.” Becky strode toward them, hands on her hips. “You can give me your assurance my client Dennis Pride has nothing to do with the second murder?”
“I thought he was in jail,” Harper said.
“No. Mr. Wallenstein bailed him out again. So I’d just like to be sure you’re not trying to connect him to this second crime.”
“You’re the first one to suggest such a thing,” Sherry said icily.
“Sweet,” Becky said. “But this is not such a novel idea the police could not have come to it on their own. They’ve accused him of one crime. It would seriously undermine their case to admit he had nothing to do with the second.”
“So he’s out, eh?” Harper said. “Since when?”
“I wasn’t there at the time. Mr. Wallenstein charged in on his white horse, waved some money at the judge.”
“May I quote you on that?” Aaron Grant said.
“Heavens, no. We’re off the record here, aren’t we? I mean, no one’s taking anything down. No one’s advised anyone of their rights. None of these three are suspects, are they, Chief?”
“Why do you care?” Harper asked. “You’re not their lawyer, too, are you?”
“Of course not. That would be a conflict of interest.” She smiled. “Unless you’d like to drop the charges against Dennis. In light of the fact he had nothing to do with this. Then I’d be free to accept other employment.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Sherry said irritably. “Could you all stop sparring? A woman is dead. Dennis didn’t kill her. Aaron didn’t kill her. Let’s stop playing games, pool our information, and find out who did.”
“Good idea,” Chief Harper said. “I haven’t heard your story, Sherry. Is everything Cora told me true and accurate?”
“Absolutely.”
“She leave anything out?”
Sherry hesitated.
“I knew it,” Chief Harper said. “Instead of answering the question, you’re evaluating the effect of your answer. Do I understand in your terminology this does not fall under the definition of playing games?”
“I wasn’t evaluating the effect of my answer,” Sherry said. “I was trying to remember if there was anything at all.”
“And was there?”
“I can’t think of a thing. Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“Aaron did seem somewhat stunned. In light of his statement that he can’t remember what happened, you should look into the possibility he was hit on the head.”
“Aaron can’t remember?” Becky said it incredulously.
Chief Harper leveled his finger at her. “If you blow that up for your own use . . .”
“The fact one of the other suspects’ mind’s a blank for the time a homicide took place? Chief, any attorney who failed to mention such a thing could probably be sued for malpractice. If not disbarred.” Becky smiled. “But, seeing as how Dennis was with Brenda and her father the entire time this second murder might have occurred, I see no reason to raise the inference.”
The door flew open again. This time, Brenda Wallenstein burst in.
“Where’s Dennis?” she cried. “He went out and never came back. He’s been gone for hours!”
42
THE CRIME-SCENE RIBBON STRETCHED FROM ONE SIDE OF the church to the other, right across the front steps. A noisy crowd had gathered, although there was nothing to see. The townspeople stood in the street and on the village green, talking amongst themselves. None of them really knew what had happened, so a lot of the details were wrong. The victim, for instance, was speculated to be anyone from a passing stranger to the Reverend Kimble. The cause of death ranged from gunshots to drowning. The latter seemed somewhat unlikely in a church, yet there was a rather complicated theory circulating involving holy water.
The Reverend Kimble, who showed up very much alive, was shocked at the proceedings. “What the
devil is going on?” he demanded, immediately ascribing any such turmoil to the Prince of Darkness.
Sam Brogan shrugged and popped his gum. “It appears someone’s been using your church as a crime scene, Reverend. You happen to know anything about that?”
The Reverend could not have looked more nonplussed had Sam smacked him with his nightstick. “I beg your pardon?”
Luckily, Chief Harper arrived just then, and was able to put a more tactful spin on the inquiry. Cora, Sherry, Aaron, Becky, and Brenda, who had followed the chief across the green, all listened while he filled the Reverend in.
“Oh, how awful,” Reverend Kimble lamented. “And in the church. I find that hard to believe.”
“I do too,” Chief Harper said. “I’m amazed such a thing could be done. The killer getting in and out of the church, I mean. Without you seeing him.”
“I wasn’t there,” the Reverend said.
“But how could the killer know that?” Cora pointed out.
“Maybe the killer got lucky,” Chief Harper hypothesized.
Cora shook her head. “You have to go on the assumption the killer intended to get away with the crime. You don’t walk into a church, murder somebody, and walk out again, and not expect to be seen.”
“I don’t want to debate it right now,” Chief Harper said. “I want to get the Reverend Kimble’s statement.”
“Right,” Cora agreed. “Look, Rev—”
“If you don’t mind,” Chief Harper interrupted, “ I’d like to ask the questions here.”
“Yes, of course,” Cora said, sweetly. “Ask him who knew he’d be out.”
Chief Harper shot her a dirty look, then turned to the Reverend.
“No one knew I’d be out,” the Reverend Kimble protested unhappily. Once again, the wretched man seemed to take the remark as an accusation of complicity in the crime. “Someone might have seen me leave, but I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”
“Where exactly were you?”
The Reverend’s eyes widened. “Where was I? I was at the old folks’ home. I’m sorry, you have me flustered. I mean the retirement community. I help out there twice a week, bringing comfort to those who aren’t able to make it to church.”
Cora, who hadn’t been able to make it to church for decades, said, “Is that a regularly scheduled thing?”
“Oh, yes. Every Tuesday and Thursday from two to three.”
“Who knew that?”
“Heavens, I have no idea. The retirement community, of course. And anyone who wanted to schedule an appointment with me would see those times were taken.”
“See where?”
“On the bulletin board outside my office. It has my schedule on it. Everyone knows it’s there. That is, everyone in the parish.”
Chief Harper did little to hide his disgust.
“And anyone at the wedding rehearsal,” Cora appended.
“Or anyone who wasn’t,” Becky Baldwin amended dryly. “The church is open. Anyone could walk in and look at that bulletin board at any time.”
Dr. Barney Nathan came walking up. The little coroner looked smug as usual. “Chief. Could I have a word with you?”
Chief Harper shot a glance at the jostling throng around them. “Yeah. Over here.” He led the doctor off to one side. “What you got, Doc?”
“Cause of death’s a single knife wound to the back. There appear to be no contributing factors.”
“You came all the way over here to tell me that?”
“No. I just thought you’d like to know I pinned down the time of death.”
“Oh?”
“I wanted to let you know, because you always make such a big deal over the wide latitude we doctors leave in our estimates. As if we didn’t want to be more exact, when the medical facts simply don’t support it. And a two-hour window is actually a pretty good estimate.”
“Are you saying you can do better this time?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You can give me the time of death within an hour?”
“I can give you the time of death within a minute.” Chief Harper’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“In the ambulance the decedent exhibited a faint but unmistakable pulse. This was maintained by the EMS workers until the patient was presented to me in the hospital. Despite heroic measures to save her life, the patient succumbed to her wound at three forty-seven, in the operating room.”
Chief Harper digested that information. “Well, that doesn’t tell me when she was stabbed.”
Barney Nathan smiled. “I never said it would.”
On the far side of the crowd a car pulled up. Dennis climbed out.
Cora Felton, inching closer to try to eavesdrop on the doctor and the police chief, spotted Dennis, glanced around, saw that no one else had noticed him.
Cora moved to intercept Dennis. Unfortunately, Chief Harper and Barney Nathan were right in her way. Instead of trying to avoid them, she barged right up. “Chief, while you’ve got the doc here, we should check out Aaron for a head wound, see if he’s been coshed, like Sherry thinks.”
Harper frowned. “Not now. I’m talking to the doctor. Go on, get out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” Cora said meekly.
She twisted away from the two men, disappeared into the crowd, and made a beeline for Dennis. She grabbed him by the arm, dragged him back behind his car.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“You don’t know?”
“I just got here.”
“Where have you been?”
“None of your business.”
“Actually, it is.”
“Is Sherry over there?”
“Yes, she is. And Brenda. And your attorney.”
“Oh.” Dennis didn’t sound entirely pleased.
Cora smiled. “Lotta women all at once, isn’t it? Even for a charmer like you.”
Dennis scowled. “You got something to say to me, say it.”
“Sure. The dead woman in the church. Did you know her?”
“Dead woman in the church?”
“What did you think this was, a potluck supper? There’s been another murder. Someone else has croaked. Which would have been real convenient for you if you’d been behind bars doing time. Too bad Daddy Warbucks bailed you out.”
“Who’s the dead woman?”
“Good question. It’s not only relevant, but asking it implies you don’t know the answer.”
“So who is it?”
“You have no idea?”
“Someone said the neighbor.”
“Oh? Who might that someone be?”
“Lady in the crowd. Just now. Was she right?”
“Yes, she was.”
“So who’s the neighbor?”
“You know the hippie couple next door?”
Dennis snorted. “Those stoned geezers? It’s one of them?”
“Yeah,” Cora said. “It’s one of the stoned geezers.”
“Which one?”
Cora grimaced. “No. Bad move. Pretending you didn’t know who the victim was was a good touch. Pretending you didn’t know which stoned geezer—what a delicate characterization—is just dumb. We’ve already discussed the dead woman. Which stoned geezer do you think that might be?”
Dennis thought it over.
“You’re gonna need to talk to the police, Dennis. When you do, you better have your story straight. A little rehearsal wouldn’t hurt.”
“What do you mean, story? I don’t have a story.”
“Then your ass is grass,” Cora said with relish. “Refusing to talk and demanding to see your lawyer may be your constitutional right, but it’s not gonna make you real popular with the cops. Or get you on the tube. If you’re not gettin’ ’em publicity, even your bandmates may begin to think this is a pretty bad habit.”
Dennis frowned, irritably. “Cool it. I’m trying to think.”
“Better think fast. Here comes the fuzz.”
Chief Harper pushed his way t
hrough the crowd. He did not look happy. “Damn it, Miss Felton. I thought I told you to stay put.”
“Actually, you told me to leave. I ran into Dennis here, figured you might wanna chat with him.”
“I sure do. Where’d you go when you got out of jail, Pride?”
“Don’t answer that,” Becky Baldwin advised. She thrust herself between Chief Harper and Dennis.
Brenda rushed to her fiancé’s side, threw her arms around him.
Sherry, watching her, frowned.
Watching Sherry, so did Aaron.
So did Chief Harper. “Miss Baldwin, that’s not a particularly wise tack to take. If your client has an alibi for the present crime, it will go a long way toward clearing him of the first.”
“Nice try, Chief. But my client’s not saying one word until he talks to me. Unless the charges against him are dismissed, in light of this second crime.”
Chief Harper didn’t dignify that suggestion with a response.
“Well,” Aaron said, “if no one’s talking, I’m gonna go write this one up.”
“You’re not charging him?” Becky asked the chief.
Dennis frowned. “Charging who?”
“Aaron Grant here,” Becky said. “He was found under almost the same circumstances as you were. And by the same person. Cora Felton came to meet the woman, found her dead and Aaron right there on the spot. You know, Chief, it really seems like favoritism, you charging Dennis and not Aaron.”
“Was Aaron holding the knife?” Chief Harper asked.
“Not at the time. But then again, only someone trying to help would be holding the knife.”
“You don’t have to try your theories out on me, Miss Baldwin. But I feel it only fair to point out the dead woman happens to be one of the witnesses who saw your client enter the first murder scene.”
Becky looked at Chief Harper as if he had just revealed himself to be an utter moron. “Gee, Chief, as my client was found at the first murder scene, a witness who saw him go in hardly seems particularly damning. I can’t see what he gains by shutting her up.”
“We don’t know what she intended to say. Did she give you any hint, Miss Felton?”
Cora shook her head ruefully. “Not one damn thing.”
43
CORA FELTON TRACKED JACK DIRKSON TO THE WAITING room of Bakerhaven Memorial Hospital. The man was distraught. His eyes were red, his face was wet with tears. He was dressed in a tie-dyed shirt, a buckskin vest, bell-bottom jeans, and a string of love beads. He looked totally lost.
