Chief Among Sinners

by Lois K. Gibson

  As Terry took her coat, Louise said she saw Scott's car and Frank Stevenson and a glimpse of Kate outside and she wondered if the meeting was over. She asked sarcastically if they had come to any deci­sions about her charming husband.

  "Louise, there is no meeting. I'm afraid events started without us."

  Terry didn't bother with his comforting priest tone this time. "Pre­pare yourself, Louise. Sitting in his black and white in the alley next to the church, I think your charming husband committed suicide."

  Louise plunked into a chair. Terry, Herb, and the doctor gathered around to comfort her and were taken aback when she said, "Good for him. That's the first decent thing he's done in twenty-four years."

  Terry heard a muffled growl of pain and turned to see Dan slump to the floor. Dr. Gold went to him, asking Mrs. Murphy for a cold, wet towel. He propped Dan up, got his head between his knees, and ap­plied the wet towel to the back of his neck. Dan slowly raised his head, and looked up at Terry. "It's just one thing after another, isn't it. Well? What happened?"

  Terry knelt down next to Dan. "I'm sorry you heard it that way, Dan. I blurted it out without thinking, but there's no good way to tell a son his father is dead. Come into the church with me. We can pray together for the soul of your father and the people who loved him, and for forgiveness from the people he hurt."

  Dan opened his coat and pulled a .45 out of its holster. Terry scrambled to stand up and backed away when he waved it around, yell­ing, "Get your slimy hands off me, you stupid asshole. You started this whole freakin' business with your holy church shit, your weird dead animals. No wonder me and Dad don't believe in God. It's because of you hypocrites, priests, and rabbis. What the fuck do you know about life and love? God damn you, Terry O'Reilly, and the rest of you sanc­timonious bastards."

  "You're upset. Put the gun away—"

  "Yeah, upset. That's a good word for it," Dan sneered at him. "What about my mother, you lousy bastard? Standing there, calmly telling her that her husband offed himself."

  A rush of cold air blew through the kitchen as the sheriff came in, stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. The hood of his fur lined anorak fell back, revealing large ears red from the cold.

  Terry had been holding his breath, and now he slowly let it out when Ken Davis walked straight to Dan. "What the hell! Is that you, Dan? Were you going to shoot me when I came through the door? That's no way to greet an old friend of your father's."

  Terry watched Ken help Dan to his feet and deftly take the gun out of his hand. Dan stopped ranting, asking Ken quietly, "Where is my father? I want to see him."

  Terry had never met the sheriff and was surprised that the man was short, about five foot seven, but he noted that he was powerfully built. He had large hands, and his shaved head and thick neck pro­jected an aura of power.

  The sheriff nodded to Rabbi Gordon and Dr. Gold, said hello to Louise, and complained to the priest that Frank should have been there to handle this situation instead of outside prowling around the chief's car with Kate.

  He told them he made a preliminary examination of the car and the body, and emphasized that it was up to the coroner to determine if it was suicide or murder.

  Knowing the sheriff's high regard for Chief Addams, Terry wasn't surprised to hear him say, "I ask you, who in hell would want to kill Scott Addams? That man's a saint. I never knew a finer police officer. Kind. Considerate. So why, in all that's holy, would Scott Addams ever kill himself? None of it makes any sense."

  Terry said, "Herb, take Louise, Dan, and Kate home, please. There's no need for them to wait around. We'll come to the house when the sheriff is through here."

  Dan sneered, "You're not getting rid of me, you shit head. I'm staying with Sheriff Davis. I'm going to see this body you're talking about, and don't try to stop me."

  Terry watched Louise approach Dan, her arm out to embrace him, and was pained to see Dan bat her arm away, yelling that she was no mother of his, ranting that his father would never commit suicide.

  His voice dropped to a menacing tone, and everyone stopped when Dan announced that somebody in this room killed his father, and if it took the rest of his life, he would make the killer confess. When he tried to rush past the sheriff, Ken Davis grabbed his arm. "Whoa, kid. Here're my rules. That's a crime scene, so you've got ex­actly four minutes to go out there, let Frank show you around and get back in here with Frank and Kate." Dan left.

  Mrs. Murphy introduced herself to the sheriff, took his arm, and steered him to the stove where she poured him coffee and handed him a small plate with a sweet roll.

  Terry, acknowledging that Ken Davis would be hard pressed to accept suicide as the cause of death, edged Herb to the far end of the room so they could talk without the sheriff overhearing.

  Herb said he worried that if Davis decided it was murder, because Addams was not only a policeman but a chief, he would start a man hunt to dwarf any previous Minnesotan man-hunts.

  Terry said what really scared him was potential publicity. He re­minded Herb that because Davis and Addams admired each other, all the DNA evidence in the world might not convince the sheriff that Scott is guilty of what he did to the Clark family.

  Herb told Terry that Louise said the whole town was scared of the chief, that he bribed people, had money from pay-offs for special protection, and lots of other secrets, but she wouldn't tell him any specifics.

  After hearing what he did to the Clark family, Terry said nothing would surprise him about the depths of evil to which the chief would go, but who was going to convince Ken Davis? Again, he mentioned the publicity problem.

  Terry and Herb stopped talking when Frank, Kate, and Dan came back in. He was surprised when the sheriff hung up his coat, turned to face them, and said, "Sorry, Father O'Reilly, but nobody's leaving. I've got lots of questions, and this may take awhile."

  The priest said, "Of course, sheriff, but this is a church kitchen and hardly the place for any privacy. Besides, I don't want police business going on in St. Timothy's. I think, if we went to the Addams house we'd still have privacy, and we'd be a little more comfortable and still all be in the same place. What do you say?"

  The sheriff stopped, thought for a minute, and then reached for his coat. "Good idea, Father O'Reilly." He turned to the group. "All right, we're going to the Addams house, now. No stragglers, do you hear me? Let's go."

  Eighteen

  Louise Addams opened the door to let the sheriff in. He dropped his coat on the floor in the hall, pulled a wrinkled kerchief from his back pocket, wiped his sweaty bald head, and walked into the living room. Easing himself into the dead chief's club chair, he slowly looked around the room. "It looks like everybody's here but."

  The door opened and Frank Stevenson walked in, slightly dishev­eled, his tie askew, the top button of his shirt undone, his hair un­combed, and breathing heavily.

  Scowling, the sheriff said, "You sure are a mess. Where the hell were you? I said I wanted everybody here and together."

  While Frank straightened his tie and tried to neaten up, the sheriff went on, "You think you're one smart cop. You think you don't have to follow rules. From the guilty look on your face, I wonder if you might have found some evidence and stashed it to keep me from solving this case. Did you dispose of the murder weapon, too?"

  Frank took a deep breath and looked at the sheriff. "Cut the crap, Ken. Why would I do that? What kind of cop do you think I am? I'm a little late because I had to stop at the station and talk to my people."

  The sheriff smirked. "I can just see you walking in there, chest puffed out, announcing to one and all that Scott Addams was dead and you were their new boss. That's the kind of arrogant cop I think you are. Just because your father used to be chief doesn't make you quali­fied. You're a light weight, Frank, and don't you forget it."

  "You've got it all wrong, Ken. I didn't tell them about the chief."

  The sheriff inhaled, sharply. "You didn't tell them? Weren't they curious abo
ut him being out of touch so long?"

  Frank looked like himself again. His tie was tied. His shirt was buttoned and tucked in. He looked down at the sheriff and, speaking with a voice of authority, he said, "You don't understand, sheriff. We're all used to him being out of touch. I now know where the bastard was when he was unavailable, but the others still don't know he was a sick pedophile, and I didn't tell them."

  Ken Davis slowly raised himself out of the chair, looked up at Frank, and almost choking on his words said, "Don't shovel that pe­dophile crap at me. I knew Scott Addams. He wasn't that kind of man. He was honest, straight as an arrow."

  He pointed at Father O'Reilly and raised his voice. "I wouldn't be surprised if the real pedophile was the priest standing over there, guilt all over his face."

  Herb Gordon started to answer the sheriff, but Terry held him back with Louise's help and shook his head, whispering that nothing the rabbi said would make any difference.

  The sheriff turned his back on Frank, walked to the fireplace, pushed the priest aside, and struck a rigid pose in front of the burning logs, crackling behind him. He faced the assembled group, hands be­hind his back, shoulders square, legs apart, and in a loud 'I'm in control voice,' he said, "Now that you're all together, I'll tell you..." he paused for a full ten seconds to look them each in the face when he said, "It was murder, no doubt about it. And I suspect that the killer is here right now, in this room!"

  No one looked around. No one spoke. Finally, Louise said, "Are you kidding, Ken? I know you don't believe us when we tell you he did ter­rible, vile things, but he did. I'm his wife, and I never told you because I knew you would react just the way you have, never believing a word against that monster. Let me say, loud and clear, he was a monster, a pedophile, but nobody in this room is a murderer."

  Louise let go the rabbi's arm, walked over, stood right in front of Ken, and said, "The Scott Addams you knew was a fake, a false front that fooled you, but not the people who knew him best."

  Terry said, "Look around you, sheriff. You've got a rabbi, a priest, three family members, an Irish housekeeper, a doctor, and a cop."

  Sheriff Davis interrupted, "If it isn't one of you, I'll need some other suspects. They don't seem to be dropping from trees, or coming out of the woodwork, so it has to be someone in this room. I'd stake my reputation on it."

  Terry ignored the sheriff's accusations and continued, "If you ask me, you should be questioning the Clark family, and I'm pretty sure there are others around town who hated the chief enough to want him dead."

  The sheriff looked at the priest and asked, "Who in the hell is the Clark family, and what do they have to do with Scott Addams?"

  Louise put her hand on the sheriff's arm and said, "Listen, Ken, c'mon in the kitchen. I'll fix coffee and fill you in on the Clark family. I know more about them than anybody else here. I don't guarantee that's where you'll find your killer, but it is a possibility."

  When Louise and the sheriff were out of earshot, Terry got ev­eryone to huddle around, asking if any of them knew anything or had any ideas about the chief. "Who might have pulled the trigger? I heard one of the detectives say the chief was killed with a .45..." Terry shook his head. "I still can't believe it wasn't suicide. I saw the gun right on the seat next to him. Wasn't that his suicide weapon?"

  Ignoring Terry, Herb said, "Dan, Kate, I know you both have .45s. Dan, you were going to bring yours to the meeting. No, I'm not accus­ing you of anything. I've seen you, Frank, carry a .45 as your service gun. And the doctor and Dan know I have a .45 at home. A few days ago, Louise told me she used to carry a .38 for protection, but a few months ago, the chief handed her a .45, because it was a better weapon for her."

  Mrs. Murphy nodded along. "I also have one at my house, but I only have it for protection."

  Terry said, "Wow! You, too?" Although he wasn't really surprised that Mrs. Murphy had a .45, and he was sure she knew how to use it.

  Herb went on, "If we've all got .45s, Ken Davis will never believe it wasn't one of us, except for you, Terry. Oh, and you, Doc. The piece you keep in your drawer isn't a .45."

  Terry said, "But Herb, you're a rabbi. You could never kill any­body, and do you really think Dan and Kate would commit patricide?"

  Herb ignored Terry. "We're lucky he doesn't know we were plan­ning a meeting to talk about the chief. He could accuse all of us of conspiracy to commit murder."

  The rabbi plopped into the chair vacated by the sheriff. Kate got up off the couch and stood in front of the fireplace. "He was my fa­ther. I didn't know what a cruel person he was. I thought he was one of the good guys, but even knowing what I know, I never thought murder was the answer. But now he's dead, and the sheriff thinks one of us is guilty. I don't believe that, but Herb's right."

  An explosive voice from the kitchen interrupted Kate. "You lousy, fucking, lying bitch!" Davis stormed into the living room, red in the face. He pointed toward the kitchen, but he seemed to be yelling at everyone and no one in particular. "Do you know what that Jew bitch said about the chief? Everybody knows Scott Addams was a noble, righteous man, and that woman accused him of being a filthy pervert. She should be locked up. She's pathological! Frank, put the cuffs on her and take her away. She shouldn't be allowed near decent people."

  Terry stepped in front of him. "Calm down, sheriff. There are many things you don't know about your good friend and colleague. Rabbi Gordon and I are clergy. Perhaps you will believe what we tell you."

  Kate ran past them to the kitchen, Dr. Gold right behind her. They saw Louise leaning over the sink, face red, hair disheveled, calmly washing out dirty cups. "What happened, Mom? The sheriff is a wild man. He called you a Jew bitch. What was that all about?"

  Dr. Gold asked, "Did he hurt you, Louise? If he laid a hand on you."

  Louise smiled. "I guess you could tell he didn't believe what I told him about the chief. My God, that man is a bully, almost as bad as your father. He actually grabbed me and shook me, but I'm not hurt, doctor. Tell me, what's happening in the other room. Did anybody confess?"

  Kate plugged in the coffee maker, looked at Louise, and laughed. "Nobody confessed, Mom, so now he can take a serious look at Mag­gie and Sally." She asked, "Mom, do you think either of them did it?"

  "Hard to say," Louise said thoughtfully. "On one hand, the dam­age was already done, and with him alive they had free rent and a meal ticket. They could squeeze him for lots more money, now with Lucy talking, a dying baby and Maggie's suspicion that he killed Agnes."

  She turned away from the sink. "I wouldn't put anything past Maggie, even murder. That is one tough lady."

  Herb walked into the kitchen straight to Louise. "Is she all right, Joe?"

  The doctor nodded, said she was fine, and walked out.

  Herb asked Louise, "Are you really okay? That Davis is an idiot, a real dumbass. He even called you a Jew bitch. No wonder he and your husband were good friends."

  Dan came in and told her that when the sheriff came back into the living room, Terry cornered him and started to fill him in on the beginning of the story about the dead animals, right up to Lucy and the baby.

  Saying he watched the sheriff's face as the story unfolded, he wasn't sure Ken Davis believed a word the priest was telling him. The sheriff interrupted a few times, asked Terry to clarify, then announced that it was all so far-fetched, nobody but an idiot would believe that story, and he sure as hell wasn't buying it.

  As she put cups, sugar, milk, and the carafe on a tray, Kate said, "Let's go rescue Terry with coffee all around."

  Herb carried the tray and followed Kate and Louise into the liv­ing room. The sheriff was still standing in front of the fireplace, but instead of the rigid body and stoic face, tears were brimming over. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose, pushed past the priest, and dropped himself down into the big leather chair.

  "I thought I knew the man. I thought we were friends." He blew his nose again and shook his head. "I believed his stories about easy p
ickings in Oakton, but I didn't dream he was talking about little girls. Give me some coffee. I'm not ready to call Father O'Reilly a liar, but I need time to think."

  Kate, Dan, and Mrs. Murphy sat on the sofa. Terry and Frank took up a position in front of the fireplace, and Herb stood in the doorway with Louise and Joe Gold, all of them watching the sheriff try to cope with the shattered image of his friend.

  He wiped his eyes again and again. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them and looked around the room at them, his face looked gray and wrinkled, not the firm ruddy color it was when he confronted them earlier.

  After a few minutes, when he pulled himself together, his normal color returned. He looked from one to the other and spoke, this time, in a more civilized tone. "I want to see this kid, what's her name, Lucy. I want to see DNA tests. As sheriff of this county, I've got to see for myself. Hearsay don't cut the damn mustard."

  The doctor said, "That's easily arranged sheriff. She's at my clin­ic and I'll be happy to escort you..." He paused. "I'm sure Father O'Reilly told you that this little girl went through a difficult delivery Sunday night. It's Tuesday, but she is not fully recovered. Kate is clos­est to her. She may be able to help you with the little girl."

  Kate said, "I should probably tell you, sheriff, that this kid doesn't open up to strangers."

  The sheriff asked, "What the hell does that mean? You'll tell her who I am. I'll ask a few questions, the doc will get me her DNA. What's so hard about that?"

  Terry said, "But, sheriff, she doesn't have answers. Her mother, Sally, and grandmother, Maggie, they have the answers you're looking for."

  "Hey, I still need some answers, from you people. in private, this time."

  The sheriff put his face up to each of them, one by one, and said he would be asking where they were between ten and two. He would want details, while they were still fresh; where they went, who they met, who they talked to, would anybody substantiate their story.