I smiled. “You may leave now, Walter.” He left the room whistling.
I heard some teens talking in the hall. They walked by. It appeared as though the meeting had broken up. Bart Small joined me.
“Well, were your little talks fruitful?”
“I uncovered a few more facts that may be useful. How did your meeting go?”
“It went pretty well. The group decided they’d like to attend a weekend retreat at San Sebastian. Have you ever been to one?”
“Oh, yes. Quite a few.”
“Aren’t they a wonderful experience?”
“Yes. By the way, Bart, I need to discuss something with you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I received word that you were involved in an altercation prior to coming to the US. I’d like to hear about it.”
“Oh, that. It was nothing really. After Mass one morning, a parishioner was upset with a sermon I had given regarding sin. He didn’t agree with my opinion. The discussion became volatile and he attacked me. I was cleared of any wrong doing, but the powers at be decided it would be best if I left for a while until things calmed down. You see, the media caught wind of the incident. Bad press and all. ”
“I see. Is there anything more about that incident you’d like to tell me?”
“No, that about sums it up. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to meet with a couple for a Pre-marriage Counseling session.”
“Sure. I understand.”
“Take care then. Good luck in your investigation. And, God bless you.”
“You too, Bart.”
He left the room. I wondered if there was any more to the story. I read over my notes. At that point, it sure looked like Flowers could be the perpetrator. But, he wasn’t charged. In fact, he walked after getting a lawyer. Jake and company didn’t find any evidence to tie him to the crime. After searching his residence, they didn’t find the murder weapon, or any bloody clothes. He refused to take a polygraph test.
I got a call from Detective Sands. She said she and Horowitz were at Cassie’s waiting for me. I told her I’d be there in about thirty minutes. We disconnected. I headed for Cassie’s.
12
Cassie saw me as I entered her place. She handed something to a waitress, and then ran over to me. The sounds of knives and forks on plates, dishes rattling and servers calling out orders made an emphatic presence.
"You’re here twice in one day, Johnny? That is a record for you. What’s up?"
"I’m looking for Horowitz and Sands. Oh, there they are."
She frowned. "Hmmm …I thought you came here to see me."
I put my hands on her shoulders. "How about this, Cassie? If possible, I’ll spend some time with you after I talk to the Dynamic Duo. How’s that?"
"Sounds like a plan." She hugged me and then walked back to the kitchen stopping to pick up some dirty dishes.
I said hello to some former co-workers as I made my way to the back of the place. Amanda noticed me. She turned and said something to Horowitz. They both stood up when I arrived at their table. It looked like they had just finished eating.
"Hail to the Chief," Fred said. He laughed. His face turned crimson.
Amanda rose from the table. She gave me her best forced smile. I could tell it wasn’t genuine, but it didn’t matter. "Well, Johnny, long time no see. What are you doing around here?" She chuckled and slapped me on the shoulder. I sat down.
"You two know why I’m here. You should know. Everyone else does. Elaine, the cleaning lady asked me how the case was going."
"Bad news spreads fast," Horowitz said. He gave me a sly smile.
"No rest for the wicked," Amanda said. "Why didn’t you just tell us at lunch that you were taking over the case?"
"Honestly, Amanda, I didn’t know about it myself until I met with my client after lunch."
"That’s a likely story." She offered a strained giggle. "So, I guess you’ll be inspecting all the details under a microscope. And, most likely, you’ll be raking us over the coals again."
"Come on, Amanda. I never raked you guys over any coals. Some fire occasionally, but not coals." I smiled.
Suzi came to the table with two coffee pots, one regular and one decaf. She filled both Amanda’s cup, and Fred’s with regular. I told her I didn’t need anything. Suzie smiled, and then walked over to another table.
"Okay, okay, lets have it," Fred said. "What do you want to know at this late date? Do you expect us to pull something out of our butts and solve the Watson case for you?"
"Whoa, calm down, Fred. Like you two, I’m just trying to do my job. You know how it works."
His face turned a deep shade of scarlet. "Sorry, Johnny. I was out of line. There’s so much pressure coming down on us over this case, we don’t even have time to take a leak. It’s starting to get to us."
"A painful bladder is never a pleasant experience," I said.
"Very funny, " Fred said.
"Fred's right, Johnny. We’ve been feeling the pain ever since the heat started coming down from Tallahassee. Rumor has it you’re working for the Gov. himself. What’s his interest in the case?"
"It’s a long story. It’s confidential, but I’m not here to add to your pain. I just have a few questions for you, that’s all."
"Okay, shoot." Horowitz said.
I sat down. They followed my lead. "I visited the church earlier today. I noticed a lock on the back door to the room where the murder took place. Do you know it had a keypad on the outside? There was nothing in any of the reports, or even a note about that."
Horowitz rubbed his chin. "Keypad?" He looked at Amanda. "Did you notice a keypad?"
She frowned. "Sorry. I don’t recall that detail at all." She drank some coffee, and then wiped her thin lips with a napkin.
"We must have missed that," Horowitz said. "I think I was the one who opened that door. I never checked the outside of it. It looked like a regular doorknob on the inside. I must have figured the outside was the same. I guess the crime scene guys missed that too. Sorry."
"So, no one checked the outside knob or keypad for prints, or blood evidence?"
"I guess not," Sands said. Her face was ruby red. It was too late to make a big issue of it.
"All right, lets move on. I looked at the crime scene photos and checked the evidence. I didn’t see a priest’s stole in any of the photos or the evidence. According to Father Barton Small there was always a stole hanging from the privacy screen in the room. Priests must wear a stole while hearing confessions. Did you see a stole on the victim or anywhere in the room?"
Sands and Horowitz looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces. They both shook their heads.
"I’m not a Catholic," Sands said.
"Neither am I," Horowitz said. "I’m a Jew."
"Well, the stole wasn’t there. There has to be a reason why it was missing. I’ll try to figure that out. Either it wasn’t in the room when the victim went in, or someone took it after the murder, maybe as a trophy."
"The trophy angle sounds solid to me," Sands said.
"Okay. One other thing, the hallway leading from the Reconciliation Room goes right and left. To the left, it continues around the building. It has a couple of closets, and exit doors along the way. Did anyone do a thorough check of that hall and the closets?"
Horowitz took in a deep breath and blew it out. "Look, Johnny. After we arrived, I ordered a few uniforms to searched the entire premises, hallways and all. They didn’t find anything. No blood trail. No perp. No evidence of any kind. Were they thorough? Who knows? We can only hope they were. It’s all in the case file. If they found anything, there might have been a different outcome. If they missed something, there’s nothing we can do about it now. It was over two years ago." He took a sip of coffee.
I nodded my head. "I know."
Amanda looked at me with tearful eyes. "We did the best we could. It was total chaos. There were so many people milling around. We spent the rest of the day intervie
wing them. A lot of folks were angry for having to hang around so long. Most of the interviews weren’t worth our time or energy. We didn’t identify any suspects. The main witness, if you want to call her a witness, was old lady Perez. She was totally out of it. We didn’t get anything worthwhile from her then, or later at headquarters. You weren’t there, Johnny. There’s a lot of, ‘what ifs’ to the whole thing. If you’d been at the church, if we saw the keypad, if the patrolmen did a more thorough job searching the building, if we got there sooner, if we identified a suspect. If, if, if. I could go on and on. What’s done is done. I don’t know what else to say. It’s all in our reports."
"Ditto," Horowitz said.
"So, you didn’t pick up any evidence which could lead to any suspects."
"I’ll say it again, Johnny," Amanda said. Her eyes bore holes in me. "It’s all in the case file."
"Okay," I said. "I read where Mrs. Perez told you she knew Watson was going to die. She said she heard it from Mary, the Mother of Jesus. What can you tell me about that?"
"Do you really think we could have believed that cockamamie story?" Horowitz said. "We leaned on her little, but she insisted that’s how she found out Watson was going to die. We wrote her story off as the ramblings of a senile old woman. Right Amanda?"
"It sounded too far-fetched to me," Amanda said. "Why would the Virgin Mary tell some old lady something like that? It was totally ridiculous and unbelievable."
"But, it happened just as Mrs. Perez predicted," I said. "What do you think about it now?"
"Pure coincidence," Horowitz said. "Besides, it's easy to say she anticipated something, after the fact."
"It’s got to be a coincidence," Sands said. "It sounded to me like something you’d hear on one of those paranormal shows on the radio or on TV. You know what I think of those. They’re phony. They’re staged. They’re all a bunch of crap. The only other plausible explanation would be the old woman killed the priest herself."
"Do you really believe she could have killed him?" I said. "According to the autopsy report, it couldn’t have been her. She doesn't fit the profile. Besides, it’s been verified that she was standing outside the room prior to the murder."
"You're right," Sands said.
I didn’t want to sit there and argue with them. It wouldn't get us anywhere. "Well, it was good talking with you again. I appreciate all your efforts in working the case. Thanks for your help. If necessary I may have to speak with you again. You know the drill. It's nothing personal. Be careful out there."
"Thanks," Amanda said. "I’m afraid we weren’t much help to you. Sorry if I sounded rude. No one likes his or her work to be nitpicked. I’m sure you understand."
"Yes. I fully understand. I’ll be in touch if I learn anything new." I stood up. They stood up. We all shook hands. "Oh, one more thing," I said. "Apparently there was a set of bloody footprints in the room that were never identified. What a shame. They could be the murderers."
"Maybe, maybe not," Sands said. "We checked the shoes of all the interviewees, our people, EMS people, and all likely suspects. We came up with nothing, zero, nada."
I nodded my head. I left the table. I walked toward the front of the restaurant. Cassie was in the kitchen having a heated discussion with a short order cook. I didn’t think she needed to be interrupted. I broke my promise to her. I left the place.
I kind of felt bad for Amanda and Fred. I was sure they did the best they could during the investigation. I hated to be the one to look over their shoulders. But, I had a job to do. Unfortunately, they weren’t much help in that regard.
It was 5:10. I expected the traffic on the way home to be typically horrible. I took a deep breath and joined the crowded roadways. I found the only way to get around the depressive situation was to turn on some smooth Jazz. The music was soothing.
I got home at 5:55. I relaxed on the couch and turned on the tube to watch the local news. The nightly talking head duo reported two shootings, one court case wherein the convicted party begged the judge for leniency, in spite of the fact that he murdered three people (including an infant) in cold blood. There was talk of upcoming construction closures on I-4, and the embezzlement of state funds by a Department of Motor Vehicles employee. I fell asleep before the sports report began. I was awakened by a call from Cassie.
"Hi there, Johnny." Her voice was soft. "You promised you were going to talk to me before you left. What happened?"
"I was going to do that, Cassie. But, you were having a rousing discussion with one of your cooks. I didn’t want to get into the middle of that, so I left. I just got home a little while ago. Anyway, what can I do for you?"
"I just thought we could chat for a while. You know, for old times sake."
She must have been home. I could hear her three boys playing in the background and a dog barking. "Okay, what would you like to chat about?"
"You make it sound like we’re strangers waiting for a bus or something. I thought we'd have a lot to talk about. You know, like the old days."
"What about the old days? I’m kind of over that."
"We were pretty close friends for a while. I thought we’d end up together permanently. But, I guess it wasn’t in the cards. Looking back at it, maybe I should have played another hand."
"So, you want to talk about cards? I get the impression you're sorry about the cards you were dealt in life. We all make choices, Cassie. Our lives revolve around choices. You decided Dan was the better person. He was a great guy. You didn’t go wrong by choosing him. I’m sorry for you and your kids that he’s gone. You need to pick up the pieces and go on with your life. I know that’s an easy thing to say, but it’s something that has to be done. My grandfather used to tell me we cannot grieve forever. We can't relive the past."
I said it to her like I was capable of doing that myself. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do it. I often dwelt on the past. What I could have done. What I should have done. Why did I do what I did? What could I have done better? Regrets hung on my shoulders like the chains on the shoulders of Jacob Marley in, "A Christmas Carol".
"I am trying to pick up the pieces, Johnny. One of those pieces is you. You were always my first choice in men. I guess I got sidetracked somehow."
"I get the impression you are trying to get back on track now. Am I the train you are now trying to catch?"
"You make it sound so impersonal."
"Sorry if it sounds that way, Cassie. But, I’m not ready for any kind of commitment right now."
"I understand. But, you can’t blame a girl for trying. We’re still friends aren’t we?"
"Yes."
"I’ve got to go. Danny Junior has a cub scout meeting. I hope to see you soon. Maybe things will change between us. Perhaps if we spent some time alone together, we could work things out."
"I can’t predict the future, Cassie. Tell the boys I said hello."
"I will. Take care. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Cassie. You take care as well. You deserve the best in life."
"You are the best, Johnny."
I didn’t say anything. We disconnected. It looked like Alex was right. Cassie did have her eye on me. She had her eye on me once before, but at one point she looked the other way. She eyed Dan Martin and wound up with him. We were still friends. But that was as far as I wanted it to go. Besides, I had another friend. Her name was Sarah Scott.
Sarah and I worked together at FBI headquarters while I was in Washington. We were very close. In fact, at one time we were engaged. But, the demands of my job pulled us apart.
13
The next morning I headed for the Fashion Square Mall. Traffic was light. Except for a strong North wind, the weather was great. I got to the mall shortly after it opened. There were only a few shoppers scattered about. I checked the directory. Sidwell’s Fish House was located in one of the outer corridors near one of the side entrances. It was situated next to a hair salon called, Judy’s Beauty and across the hallway from a Panera Bread store. A tall, th
in girl with purple hair greeted me at the door. She was wearing black slacks and a red T-shirt with the establishment’s logo on it. She had several piercings about her head and face. Her name tag read, "Hi, I’m Joanne". She told me the place wouldn’t open until 11 o’clock. When she spoke, I noticed her tongue was also pierced. I showed her my identification and asked to see Peter Sidwell. She directed me to an area where he was talking to a staff member. I waited for him to finish and then walked toward him.
It was well-lit place with nicely appointed booths and tables. There was a large mural of a harbor scene on one of the walls. It appeared to be a depiction of the famous, "Motif Number One" located in Rockport, Massachusetts. The other walls displayed nautical items such as boat oars, brass porthole windows, and two lobster traps. In the center of the dining room was a large aquarium holding a few dozen, dark colored, New England Lobsters with orange-banded claws. They lazily crawled around the bottom of their watery prison awaiting their death sentences.
As I approached Sidwell, he looked at me with a knitted brow. I guessed he thought I was some kind of salesman who wanted him to buy something he didn’t need or want. I introduced myself and showed him my identification. His attitude became more pleasant. He put the clipboard he was holding on a nearby table.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Sundance?" He was a tall, robust man who appeared to be in his late forties. I estimated him to be well over two hundred and fifty pounds. His short, blond hair was neatly trimmed. He had blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt with black trousers and cordovan loafers.
"Well, Deacon Sidwell, I’m here to talk about the murder of Father Watson. You were at the church when it happened. The case has been reopened. I’m interviewing those who were present at the time. Is there somewhere private where we can talk?"
"Come with me." His voice was pleasant but business like. He checked his cell phone as he showed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. "My office is being renovated otherwise we would go there. Actually, there’s not much I can tell you about that day, other than it was gruesome and sad. We all loved Father Watson. It was a stupid and reckless act upon a holy and helpless man in a sacred place. By the way, aren’t the Eden Palms police looking into the murder? Isn’t it their jurisdiction? I already gave them my statement. There’s nothing more I can add to that." He tapped his fingers on the table. His behavior was telling me he wasn’t very eager to discuss the matter. His cell phone vibrated. He picked it up, looked at it, and then put it down.
MURDER RITES: THE JOHNNY SUNDANCE MYSTERY SERIES (JOHNNY SUNDANCE MYSTERIES Book 1) Page 8
