When Dan didn't speak, Terry saw Mrs. Murphy pull his hair again. As he tried to smooth his hair back in place, Dan growled that he was calmed down but that bitch should watch her step.
Terry held out his hand, to help Mrs. Murphy off Dan's back. Dan struggled to his feet, and the priest almost fell, backing away, as Dan lunged at him, again shouting, "You lousy fucking bastard. You made my mother a Jew lover. I'll never forgive..." Before he could say anything else, Terry saw them fall to the floor together, again, Mrs. Murphy straddling Dan's back and pulling his head up by his hair. Pinned under Mrs. Murphy, Dan yelled, "Get off me, you stinkin' murderer. The two of you should be flogged then burned at the stake." He yelled at the top of his lungs, "Isn't that what you lousy Catholics do?"
Terry held his hand out to Mrs. Murphy, pulled her off Dan, and when he reached a hand to help Dan off the floor, Dan spit at him. "Don't touch me, you lousy priest bastard."
Terry took out his cell phone and began to dial. "Okay, Dan. Should I call Frank Stevenson or your mother? It's up to you. The sheriff said you should never be waving your gun around like that, and that's why he took your gun away from you. Where did you get this one?"
Dan said, "You think I'm some punk kid. You call my mother and she'll stand me in a corner. I'm still a cop, you fucking idiot." He yelled, "I've got the chief's gun, and I should have shot both of you the minute I came into the church, but I waited. I wanted to see your faces, when I confronted you with what I know."
The priest walked away, and Dan yelled after him, asking where the hell he thought he was going with that gun. Terry answered that he was going to lock it up in the sacristy, and unless Dan calmed down, he'd swallow the key.
When Terry came back, he saw Dan, sitting next to Mrs. Murphy in one of the pews, very calm, his head back, eyes closed.
Mrs. Murphy told him that Dan had it out of his system but he needed to talk to the priest, just not to confess anything in the safety of the confessional. She said the lad had learned a lot tonight back at the Addams house, and he no longer cared who killed the chief. He finally believed all the obscene stories, but he was worried about Louise.
Terry said that he would be happy to talk with him, but if it was about his mother and Rabbi Gordon there wasn't anything he could tell him. He admitted that he only recently found out about their relationship. He suggested Dan talk to his mother, and maybe even Rabbi Gordon, to help sort out his feelings.
He was disheartened when Dan responded that nothing anyone could say or do would ever get him to let that Jew into his family.
Dan said that he learned about lousy, stinking Jews from his father, and that Mrs. Murphy and the priest were both blind. He couldn't talk to them until they wised up about what was going on right under their noses. Rabbi Gordon was a money grubbing Jew bastard, trying to get his hands on his mother's money, now that she was a rich widow.
Without warning, Dan turned and ran. They heard the front door slam as he went out the way he had sneaked in.
Terry looked at Mrs. Murphy who was chuckling to herself. "Well," she said, "the cat's out of the bag. Tell me, Father, do you think he believes I confessed to killing the chief? I didn't, and never said I did, but regardless, given his state of mind, I don't think anybody is going to believe anything that boy says. Do you agree?"
Terry didn't answer. He stared at Mrs. Murphy. "Where did that come from Mrs. Murphy? In all the years I've known you, I never saw you move that fast before. It sure knocked the wind out of Dan in a hurry."
She said that when she was a young woman, with Sinn Fein, they all had to learn how to protect themselves. Looking him in the eye, she said, "I didn't know it was still there, Father. I surprised me as much as you, but it worked. Thank the good Lord."
"Well," he said, "I must remember never to make you angry. Now, let's get back to Dan Addams." He said he agreed with her that she never admitted to murdering anybody, and all that talk about her past didn't matter because nobody would believe anything Dan says in his present state. He took out his cell phone. "I'm calling Herb Gordon to tell him what happened, and warn him that Dan is on a rampage tonight."
Mrs. Murphy said she hoped the priest was done with questions, because she had to get to her new job at the senior center. They need her and she needed the work.
"Hold on, Mrs. Murphy. Do they know you're an illegal? They'd turn you in for sure. You know some of those old people stick to the law like jam on toast."
They heard banging on the back door and went into the kitchen. Kate walked in, calling to them, "Wait, wait, don't do anything!"
She closed the door behind her and when she saw them she sat down at the table. Terry told her to catch her breath, asking if she ran all the way from Sycamore Street. She breathed in and out, slowing down so she could talk. Terry walked to the sink, picked up a dirty cup, asked if they wanted coffee. Mrs. Murphy rushed to take the dirty cup from his hand, pushed up her sleeves, and started water running into the sink.
Kate got up, went to the sink, turned off the water, and told Mrs. Murphy that what she had to tell them was more important than coffee or dirty dishes. If they would both sit down, she had important information.
Terry watched Mrs. Murphy reluctantly turn away from the sink, roll down her sleeves, and sit down at the table. He sat down next to her.
Kate faced them, but addressing Mrs. Murphy, saying she had her immigration status under control. She explained that new immigration guidelines in Washington allowed for certain cases of leniency. She could start to work things out with one of her professors so Mrs. Murphy wouldn't have to worry. She didn't think Mrs. Murphy was at serious risk of deportation, anyway, especially if she kept her low profile.
Terry argued with Kate that the only way to assess Bridget's true status was through the ISA. Nothing else mattered.
While Kate digested what he said, Mrs. Murphy held up her hand to quiet both of them. "Hold on a minute, Kate. As of now, the only people in Oakton who know about me are you, Louise and Father O'Reilly, and..." She stopped and put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God. Dan knows."
Terry wasn't surprised when Mrs. Murphy asked what he thought Dan heard and what he thought Dan might do. Then she surprised him by forbidding either Kate or himself from taking this any further. If they didn't stop, she would be back in Ulster, behind bars before they brushed their teeth tomorrow.
Terry told Mrs. Murphy that their conversation in the confessional was very quiet, and as far as he could tell, Dan was crouched behind a pew several feet away. He didn't think Dan heard anything he could substantiate, anything that couldn't be denied.
Mrs. Murphy said that other than the police file, which could easily be disposed of, she knew Kate and Louise wouldn't tell. Terry felt Mrs. Murphy's eyes on him. "What about you, Father? You already kicked me out of St. Timothy's. Are you going to tell the archbishop?"
Terry watched Kate fold up the newspaper and move to stand next to Bridget, her hand on the woman's shoulder. He felt like a naughty boy being disciplined by nuns. Of course, Kate wasn't a nun. He felt his face get hot, looked down and shook his head to clear away those images.
He raised his head, looked at them straight on and assured them that whatever Bridget said in the confessional was not available to the archbishop or anybody else. He told Mrs. Murphy to get her purse. She didn't question him, and when she returned, clutching her pocketbook, he instructed her to give Kate ten dollars.
"Now," he announced, "Kate Addams is your attorney and bound by client-attorney privilege. She cannot reveal anything you tell her, or anything we say here. Is that true, Kate?" Kate nodded, adding that she still had questions.
The priest said he did too, and since this was his turf, he would start. He began by asking if Bridget Murphy was her real, true baptized name.
She shook her head, no, saying that when she was seventeen she married Sean Murphy, a lovely young man who was killed during the 'troubles.' Her maiden name was the one on her high school diploma, Bridget Regan.
<
br /> They watched Terry write down the name and check it off. His next question was, "While in the United States, did you ever rob, steal, or murder?"
Bridget Murphy looked from Kate to the priest and back again. Terry noticed a crooked smile when she finally said, "Well, bless you both. I swear on St. Patrick's own red beard, I never did rob or steal."
Twenty-Four
Terry remembered that Louise promised the sheriff photos of the chief for the official parade, so he wasn't surprised to see the corpse in full dress blues: medals covering the left side of the chest, navy blue cap, with a gold braid clasped in his hands at the waist.
Staying nearby, he watched Dan walk slowly around the coffin, seeming to be studying the man who, only a few days ago, was his father, his idol, role model, and a living hero. He wondered what thoughts were going through Dan's head, seeing his father the chief lying there, looking merely asleep, not dead as the result of a town's conspiracy. Terry saw Dan's raw emotions in his taut face taut, teeth biting his lower lip, his jaw stuck out. His fists were clenched, itching to start a fight with anybody, everybody.
When Kate took out her camera to take pictures, he saw Dan shove her away and heard him swear at her under his breath. Knowing Scott Addams was a vain man, Terry was sure there were lots of pictures, that would suffice to rouse the troops for the sheriff's parade.
So far, the priest was satisfied that Friday morning went off without a hitch. The Nelson and Boyd Funeral parlor was quiet, except for canned music drifting through the viewing room. He knew that Louise insisted it be a private viewing, so the only people in attendance were himself, the Addams family, Frank Stevenson, Mrs. Murphy, and Rabbi Gordon.
After everyone else made their way around the casket and took their seats, Terry nodded at Rabbi Gordon, and each held an arm, helping Louise up from her chair. They walked to the coffin together. The priest prayed over the chief, ending with the traditional 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' hoping to bring comfort to Louise and Kate, and possibly even to Dan.
These people, gathered together at Nelson and Boyd for the funeral, knew the chief was murdered, even though the rest of the world believed it was a suicide. The priest said prayers over the body, knowing that he would be buried in sanctified ground in the cemetery at St. Timothy's. If eyebrows were raised, questions asked, Terry was sure he could come up with the right answers.
He was glad Dan persuaded Louise against cremation. He heard the young man plead with his mother several times, that it was selfish and unfair because, Dan told her, he wanted time to grieve and be able to visit his father's grave.
Louise turned to Terry, asking if he would please tell Mr. Nelson that they were through, and he should close the coffin. But the words were no sooner said than a figure burst through the door, rushed to the coffin, and before anyone could stop it, a hand flashed out from under a dark, hooded cape and pounded the corpse on the chest.
Terry saw Frank grab the person by the arms, and when the hood fell back, everybody gasped. Sally Clark struggled against her captor, laughing and crying at the same time.
Frank turned her to face her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you know it's a crime to mutilate a corpse?"
"Harm him? Harm him?!" She suddenly got very quiet. "Every one of you stinking hypocrites knows what harm he did to me, my whole family. How can I harm him? He's dead."
"What are you doing here, Sally?" Terry asked. "We thought all of you were long gone."
She sneered at him. "We were on our way to Phoenix when we heard on the radio that the bastard committed suicide. What a laugh. You know it was murder, and so do we. You cops snatched him out of that car before I ever had a chance to see him, so I had to look for myself, make sure the fucker is really dead." She tugged her arms free from Frank's grip. "You assholes aren't going to arrest me. You don't want me to tell the whole town about the chief."
Sally stopped and looked around at the people gathered. "But don't kid yourselves. Everybody in town knows about him, who he was, and what he did. Go ahead, arrest me if you dare."
Terry and Louise moved in front of Frank and walked Sally to a chair, then they sat down on either side of her. He said, "Nobody's going to arrest you Sally, but tell me, how is Lucy?"
Until that moment, Sally's face had been flushed with anger, now they saw her suddenly go pale. She started to whimper, "She's not doing so great. I think she needs to be back in the clinic. She needs Dr. Gold."
Before the priest could reach his cell phone, Frank was already alerting the clinic that he would be arriving with a sick patient and they should get Dr. Gold.
"Where is Lucy," Terry asked.
"She and Maggie are at the house. It was freezing cold. We left the windows and doors open and turned off the furnace when we ran away. Maggie turned on the heat but, you know, that takes a while."
When he helped her to her feet, she pulled up her hood, wrapped her coat around her, and followed Frank outside to his squad car.
The funeral party stood quietly and watched them go.
Mr. Nelson had come into the room and stood beside the coffin, unsure what to do. The priest told him it was time to close it up, and they would follow the hearse to the cemetery.
Terry made sure everyone had their coats, boots, heavy gloves, and scarves. He helped Louise, Kate, and Dan into the funeral limousine, and he got in the rabbi's car behind the hearse to follow for the short drive to the cemetery.
He couldn't help thinking, that even though it was announced that the chief committed suicide, they knew the man was murdered, and he would be buried in hallowed ground with sacred prayers and what amounted to absolution for his sins.
It was cold outside, December 31, the morning of New Year's Eve. On his way to the funeral home earlier in the day, Terry saw men working the backhoe to break up the frozen ground to make a hole for the casket. Now the hole was ready, and the mound of dirt alongside was covered with green baize cloth. He thought it should have been white to match the snow-covered surroundings.
It was a short ride, so there was little time to talk, but Herb said, "Terry, the sheriff said everybody had an alibi excep, Frank, Mrs. Murphy and Louise, so I'm guessing one of them must have pulled the trigger. Do you know which one?"
Terry shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, no.
The burial didn't take long. Everyone was shivering, but Louise managed to announce that if they wanted to, she had food for lunch at the house, and maybe later, they could all spend New Year's Eve together. There was a jumble of conversation and general agreement that they would see each other at the Addams house sometime later.
Terry declined a ride, since it was a short walk back down the path to the church. He pulled his scarf tighter, shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, and walked to the old part of the cemetery. He opened the small gate and did his customary check of the worn headstones. He brushed a little snow aside with his gloved hands, then closed the gate and turned back toward the church.
His head was high, his thoughts focused on celebrating New Year's Eve with his friends at the Addams house. Scenes from the past few weeks crowded together in his mind. He tried to dismiss the sight of the dead rabbit and little Lucy crying for help, trying to focus instead on the sight of Kate walking into the kitchen a few days ago. Her face clean of makeup, her hair shining just as he remembered it. Was he sad or glad that she and Frank were together?
Terry shivered and flung his arms around to keep the circulation going. He was glad Mrs. Murphy went home with Louise. He wanted the church to himself. With the new year upon him, he had a lot of questions that needed answering before another year opened to him, and many things to pray for.
He started with the questions...was Louise a good Catholic, as he had thought all these years? What made her say she was Jewish? Who would perform the marriage ceremony for her and Herb? What would become of little Lucy Clark, and her pitiful mother and grandmother. Would Oakton ever accept them? Could Dan ever come to ter
ms with the father he never knew, and the mother he had to get to know all over again?
Walking slowly back to St. Timothy's, a shadow of fear rose in his heart. Would some new horror be waiting for him on the back steps? He reminded himself it was broad daylight, Friday, early afternoon, not six o' clock on a Sunday evening.
There was no light shining from the kitchen window. He took a quick look at the back steps. Then, taking the steps two at a time, he opened the door, reached in, and flicked the switch. Light from the kitchen shone on the steps outside.
He noticed a small mound on the corner of the bottom step. Father Terrence O'Reilly crossed himself and slowly went back down, one step at a time. Bending close, he looked carefully. 'Thank God,' he thought. 'It's just a lump of snow.' He moved it with his foot, and when the snow fell away he saw the dead mouse.
"Not again. Not now. Who is it this time?" He picked it up, held it by its skinny pink tail, and examined it closely. There was no gaping mouth, no hat pin through the brain. It was just a dead mouse, frozen stiff. It was December 31, and it was freezing cold.
Acknowledgements
The end of the story: If at first you don't succeed, try try a gun.
A word of thanks to my husband, Larry, who encouraged me every day, urging me on, never questioning what I was writing, or why, and paying all the bills. Thanks to my five kids and their spouses for letting me neglect them, serve fewer big family dinners, and not over indulging my grandchildren. I want to be sure to thank William Kent Kreuger and Shawn Otto for their patience, their advice, and encouragement in the early days of writing this book. I am deeply grateful for their interest and help. And a special thanks to my mentor and coach, Ian Leask, whose belief that I could do it carried me through many dark days.
About the Author
Lois Gibson has been a writer, musician, and politician. Chief Among Sinners is her first novel and was written as an emotional response to a dark and dangerous period in her life. Born in Hudson, New York, she has lived in Minnesota for more than forty years with her husband, Larry, and too many kids and grandkids to count.
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