Chief Among Sinners

by Lois K. Gibson

  He slowly looked from one to the other. "I have my own idea about who did this murder. It would be a lot easier if you confess now...or we can do this the hard way. I can take the whole bunch of you to county headquarters. The officers there are more skilled than I am at extracting the truth. They are very good at what they do, I promise you."

  Terry interrupted, "Come off it, sheriff. You know you aren't going to take these people anywhere. Why don't you get on with it?"

  The sheriff smiled and wiped his hand across his shaved head. "Father O'Reilly is right. I did have a slim hope that together again like this, the murderer would confess, but no luck. Even so, I've got a good idea who pulled the trigger."

  Terry said, "C'mon, sheriff. Do it, already."

  "All right, all right," the sheriff went on. "I told Father O'Reilly that I am willing to call it a suicide."

  He was interrupted by applause and laughter. Herb was the first to walk over and pat him on the back, shake his hand, and assure him that he was doing the right thing for the family and the whole town. Then it was Frank's turn, then Kate, Mrs. Murphy, and finally Louise Addams.

  They surrounded him, and Louise said, "Sheriff Davis, you are a very wise man. I know this must go against everything you've been trained to do, against everything you as a law enforcement person believe, but in this instance, this is absolutely the right decision. You can count on our full, unqualified support."

  The door opened, letting in a rush of cold air pierced by a voice yelling, "Get out of my way, priest!" Dan was holding the same gun he had when Sheriff Davis opened the door the day before.

  When Terry intercepted him, Dan tried to shove him out of the way, but the man was unsteady on his feet, and Terry suspected he had been drinking. Terry stood close to Dan, poked a finger in his chest, and said, "Come off it, Dan. We're just getting over one murder. Your father is dead and now. Are you going to kill your mother?"

  "No way, priest. Get out of my way. I'm going to kill the Jew."

  As he leveled his gun at the rabbi, Louise screamed. Herb pushed her down, they dropped to the floor, and so did Dan. While Dan was distracted in his hunt for Herb, the sheriff had sneaked behind him and knocked him out.

  The sheriff said, "And he's a cop. That boy should know better than to upholster his gun. That's the second time. I'll have to give some serious thought to disciplinary action, decide if he's ever going to wear a badge again."

  Terry wasn't surprised when Kate said, "Oh no, sheriff. Please, don't make any hasty decisions about Dan. He's wanted to be a police officer his whole life. After we get past this family crisis, I'm sure you can talk reason to him. Please. I don't think he knows what he's doing."

  Terry and Louise bent over Dan. He was out cold. The priest thought it was probably the liquor as much as the blow to the head. He said, "Sheriff, I think Dan needs a lot of help right now. First the death of his father and then the unsettling news from his mother. He has a lot to deal with."

  "Yeah," the sheriff said, "but he has a gun. That's a dangerous combination: stress and a gun. I'm taking it away from him right now."

  Terry looked up at Kate. "Kate, I trust you and Frank will take over, here. I don't think the sheriff is going to arrest him...is that right, sheriff?"

  Davis nodded, and the priest went on, "I think you two could talk to Dan and help him get some perspective. You already said that you don't object to your mother's relationship with Herb. Do you think you could convince Dan, if he can't accept it, at least not get in the way?"

  He was surprised when Kate didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Frank and asked how he felt about her mother marrying a rabbi.

  Frank said, "First things first. I'm glad the sheriff came to his senses about the chief and his suicide, but I still have some unanswered questions. I know we want to keep this under wraps, but being a police officer, I'm still curious about who did it, even if we never punish anybody for it."

  Terry said, "Don't ask me. Ask the sheriff. He says he knows who did it. Get him to tell you. Frankly, once the sheriff decided to say it was suicide, I didn't care who did it." He looked around the room. "Anybody else have a burning need to know who pulled the trigger?"

  Terry was glad to hear Louise tell Frank that the only ones who might need to know were the priest or Rabbi Gordon. She said the priest could give absolution. She didn't know what rabbis do with confessions—that was up to Rabbi Gordon—but that was good enough for her.

  Frank said, "But don't you all want to know, even to thank whoever did it?"

  Terry looked around, pleased to see everyone shake their heads no.

  Kate said, "Well, that's settled. So, Sheriff Davis, who killed the chief?"

  The sheriff hemmed and hawed, shifted from one foot to the other, and admitted he didn't know and that he'd been bluffing the whole time, hoping to get the killer to come forward. He said that for a while he was sure it was Frank, but changed his mind. He said he wasn't convinced it wasn't Frank, but he didn't know who else it might be.

  "In a way," he said, "every one of you is guilty. You all knew about the chief, you met, and talked to each other, and each of you owns a gun. I call that conspiracy to commit murder, and that makes you all guilty."

  Frank threw his head back and laughed. "Except we all agree it's suicide, and that's what you'll put in the report you release it to the public, right?"

  Terry said, "Frank, we can talk later. Right now, I want to know how the sheriff is going to make his announcement, if Louise made arrangements for the cremation, and if there will be even a brief service. These things have to be settled so we can put the suicide behind us and get on with our lives."

  Twenty-Three

  Terry spent most of Thursday catching up on neglected duties; visiting parishioners at the nursing home, picking up a few personal things at the local drug store. Back at the church, he sat at the large, kitchen table making notes for his Friday New Year's Eve sermon tomorrow, and jotting down a few ideas for the Sunday sermon.

  That evening when he finally had a chance to look at the Oakton newspaper, he was happily surprised. Aware that the sheriff had spent the day in press conferences, Terry wasn't sure how they would report the chief's death and the news that Chief Frank Stevenson was well qualified to fill the vacancy.

  The banner headline read "OAKTON POLICE CHIEF COMMITS SUICIDE." He read further:

  Oakton Police Chief Scott Daniel Addams was found dead in his squad car Tuesday morning, in the alley behind St. Timothy's Catholic Church.

  County Sheriff Kenneth Davis and his CSI team investigated the scene, interrogated witnesses, and concluded that the chief's untimely death was a suicide.

  Reading the obituary page, Terry saw that a full obituary about Chief Addams would appear in Friday's newspaper.

  He left the newspaper spread out on the kitchen table, went to the sink, and took a cup from a tidy stack of dirty dishes. He rinsed it out and spooned in some instant coffee, powdered milk, and two teaspoons of sugar. Taking the kettle off the stove, he poured boiling water into the cup, stirred it, took it back to the table, and sat down.

  It felt strange to be alone in the big empty kitchen at St. Timothy's on this raw winter night. He sipped the bitter concoction. After hearing what Mrs. Murphy had said about her past, he had thought her illegal status could cause him trouble with the police and the government, and he'd had enough of police scandals for the time being. He also knew how if the archbishop found out Mrs. Murphy was illegal, he'd call ISA in a minute. He had only suggested she might want to take a break, get her life in order before she come back to work for the church.

  Mrs. Murphy had glared at him, said she liked her life and wasn't ashamed of her actions, and she shared a few choice words about how he was more than willing to forgive a monster like Scott Addams and see him in Heaven before he trusted the woman who had stood by him this whole time. She'd stormed out, and an hour later Terry got a call from Louise that Mrs. Murphy wouldn't be back to the church, that
she would be staying at the Addams house until he came to his senses.

  After the day he had managing the church, the kitchen, and his priestly duties, Terry realized it was about that time. He took out his phone and dialed the Addams house. When Kate answered, he asked her if, by any chance, Mrs. Murphy was there.

  He heard the anger in her voice when Kate answered that since he kicked the poor woman out of his church, Mrs. Murphy was more than welcome to stay at their house as long as she liked. When Terry didn't respond, Kate said she would ask Mrs. Murphy if she wanted to talk to him. While he waited, he walked to the sink, poured out the evil tasting brew, and carefully balanced the cup on top of the stack of dirty dishes.

  In a curt, sharp voice, Mrs. Murphy asked him what the hell he could possibly say that she would want to hear. Trying to sound calm and reasonable, Terry told Mrs. Murphy that she had every right to be angry, but could she please come to St. Timothy's for a little talk. He had so many questions, even going back to Halloween and the dead, mutilated animals, and he knew she had some answers.

  After a long silence, "Mrs. Murphy? Bridget, are you still there?"

  "Yes, I'm still here and yes, I will come over for a bit. I need to pick up a few things."

  She paused., "I have one request, no, a demand. I will meet you in the first confessional. Whatever I say to you, I want it protected. Is that clear?"

  Terry answered, "It is clear, Mrs. Murphy. However you want it. I'll be waiting for you in Confessional 1 for as long as it takes."

  Closing his cell phone, he sat back, wondering what other guilty confessions she might want to discuss. He picked up the chief's file on Bridget Murphy and reread it. He didn't give a fig for what she did or didn't do in Ireland, Boston, or California. His main concern was her illegal status. He really wanted to help her and himself. The priest desperately needed her back at St. Timothy's. She was only gone one whole day, and nothing worked the way it should.

  In the sacristy, he took out a freshly ironed collar, one having been washed and ironed by the hands of Mrs. Murphy. He wasn't sure how to prepare himself for this meeting. Would she break down and cry? He recalled that in the seven years he had known her, the only time he ever saw her shed a tear was yesterday with all that talk about Lucy and her deformed baby.

  He thought, 'She's one tough lady. I'm not sure she knows I had to make her leave St. Timothy's for her sake, not for me and St. Timothy's.'

  Closing the door behind him, shutting out the bright lights from the kitchen, he let his eyes adjust to the dark, empty sanctuary. It was eerily quiet, and he got a sense of foreboding from the silence that enveloped him. He walked around, bending to look behind each empty pew. He didn't know what he was looking for, but it comforted him when there was nothing to find. He stood up straight and admonished himself that he was being unnecessarily cautious. Who would sneak into St. Timothy's, especially at night?

  After checking to make sure that Confessional 2 was empty, he slid into Confessional 1, closed the door, and slid the screen aside. He said, "You're here."

  Father O'Reilly thought he saw her wink at him through the grate. "Right where I said I'd be, Father. And I don't have my .45 with me. No weapon a'tall. So yer safe with me, laddie."

  "I see you haven't totally forgotten your accent, Mrs. Murphy..."

  "Oh, please, call me Bridget, Father, fer that's truly me name."

  Terry said, "You're not kidding. Your name really is Bridget. Well, it's good to know that, at least one thing you told me was the truth."

  "Come off it, Father. You know people lie to you all the time, even in the confessional. I'm not going to lie to you, but I may not tell you the whole truth."

  "Ho, wait a minute, Bridget. What does that mean?"

  "It means that I will tell you some things, but I may not tell you everything."

  The priest cleared his throat, admitted that he didn't understand but she should go ahead, and maybe he'd figure it out, after he heard her story.

  He reminded her that even after they leave the confessional, everything she told him, about herself or anyone or anything else, was still bound by the inviolability of the confessional.

  Bridget started speaking softly, but her voice got clearer as she went on. "I was thirty-five or so when I came here twenty years ago to housekeep at St. Timothy's. Father Higgins was getting on in years so, he did his thing and didn't concern himself with me.

  "At that time, Scott Addams was a handsome young police officer in his twenties. He had a little girl and a new baby boy. We ran into each other at Millie's a few times, sat and talked. From a few remarks he'd drop here and there, and squirmy in his seat, I could tell he was horny as hell. Oops, forgive me, Father, but I'm talking plain now."

  Terry said, "I get it Mrs. Murphy. Just get on with your story."

  "He would drive in behind the church a couple times a week, and we'd do it right there, in the back seat of his patrol car. I knew he bragged to the guys back at the station that he had an older woman on the hook, but I told him if he mentioned my name I'd cut his heart out, and he believed me.

  "Sometimes, I would hear his car drive around. I'd fix my hair, my lipstick, hurry down, and he would tell me he had other plans. I learned about the Clark girls when I went back up to my kitchen. From the window in the back of the kitchen, even through the trees, I can see everything that goes on behind the church, including the porch of the Clark's house. As I watched that miserable wretch, I realized why he didn't need me. Little girls were more to his liking.

  "When I accused him of being a sick pedophile, he brought out the file you have already seen. He had done his research, and I had no secrets from him. Not only did I keep quiet about his sickness, but he made me pay for his silence. You know what I earn as housekeeper, Father, but I had to pony up two hundred dollars a month if I wanted to stay in Oakton."

  The priest didn't interrupt, but he remembered wondering where she got her money. She always seemed to have enough, and he knew it couldn't be from the meager stipend she got from the Church.

  He turned back in to what Bridget Murphy was saying. "When Sally got pregnant, every once in a while, he'd come for me. I feel so guilty because of the way he brutalized those children. I think he tried out what he did to those girls on me, but I'm a grown woman. I knew what I was getting into."

  Through the screen, and even in the dim light, he watched her wipe her face and saw the strain she was under, revealing herself so completely.

  Terry felt himself blushing at her revelations and decided it was time for a break. He said he needed a drink of water, and if she waited a minute, he would bring her one, and would put it outside the confessional for her. He saw her, nod, then let her coat drop to the floor. Of course the small booth was always too warm, even in the dead of winter. He didn't feel it as much since he wasn't wearing his heavy cossack.

  When he returned, Terry saw her open the door a crack and reach a hand around to get the glass of water. Standing just outside the door to her booth, he said, "Wait a minute, Mrs. Murphy. Just now, when you opened your door, did you hear something? I thought I heard the front door open and close. Wait where you are, while I check."

  He opened the door of Confessional 2 but, no one was there. Slowly, he walked through the dark sanctuary, listening carefully, but all he heard were his own footstep, his own breathing. He decided that his ears and mind were playing tricks on him, imagining sinister figures lurking in every dark corner of St. Timothy's.

  Reassured that no one was lurking in any part of the church, he went back into the booth, looked through the screen, and for a moment, he thought Mrs. Murphy had gone, but looking closer, his nose up to the screen, through the dim light he saw her in the back of the booth, almost curled into a ball.

  The priest told her there was nobody out there and she should continue.

  She recited everything he'd already read in the files, adding details, he couldn't know except through her own words. She swore she never before pulled a
gun on any living soul, even when she drove for Sinn Fein back in the old country. Bridget insisted that her real sin was silence, because of that deviant, that sadist, Scott Addams.

  Terry had been silent through her whole recitation, but now he interrupted, "I understand everything, so far, Mrs. Murphy, but what did you mean that you never pulled a gun on anyone before? Does that mean you shot somebody recently, or pulled a gun and threatened somebody? What does that mean?"

  Mrs. Murphy cleared her throat. She didn't answer right away, but then said, "You've heard my whole story, or, as much of it as you are ever going to hear. Whatever you do or don't understand is not my concern, Father."

  He said, "If we're done here in the confessional, Mrs. Murphy, there are a few things I would like to tell you, and straighten out a few other things. Okay?"

  She opened the door, reached back, and picked up her coat. He smiled at her and reached for her coat.

  Mrs. Murphy managed a thin smile, quickly replaced by a loud scream as Dan Addams leapt over the back of a pew and went for the priest's throat. Terry saw Mrs. Murphy grab Dan's collar, throw herself on his back, put one arm around his throat, and grab a handful of hair.

  He wriggled, but couldn't dislodge her legs around his thin body. All the time he was yelling, "Let go of me you Irish bitch. Let go!"

  The priest realized Mrs. Murphy was yelling, too. "Father, Father, grab his gun. Quick!"

  Terry grabbed Dan's hand, hit it hard against the corner of a pew, and when the gun fell to the floor, he picked it up and clicked on the safety. Dan was still trying to get Mrs. Murphy off his back.

  Terry said, "Calm down, Dan. If you tell me what this is all about, Mrs. Murphy will let you up. Otherwise, we can just stay here, the way we are. What's it going to be?"