by Brenda Novak
Jack approached the priest standing closest to the body. He was probably somewhere between forty and fifty, but it looked like his life had been a hard one so he could’ve been as much as ten or fifteen years younger.
His walnut-colored skin was deeply creviced and his eyelids bagged so much that I wondered how he kept his eyes open. He was dressed simply in black vestments and a white collar. His hands were clasped in front of him, and the only sign of agitation or discomfort he showed was the index finger that tapped in a steady rhythm against his other hand.
“Are you Father Fernando?” Jack asked, extending a hand.
The Father shook hands briefly and pulled back. “No, I’m Father DeCosta. Joe said that Americans would come take care of Leon.”
“We’re going to do our very best.”
“I’m Father Fernando,” another priest said, stepping forward. “And this is Father Xavier. He’s visiting from the mainland for a little while before he’s sent to his own church.”
Fathers Fernando and Xavier were dressed identically to Father DeCosta. Father Fernando was quite old, his hair white and his body frail. He was a small man, but carried himself in a way that made his seem bigger than he was, and he wore a heavy gold cross around his neck.
Father Xavier was the youngest of the three, probably late twenties, and his sandy hair was thinning on top. He wore round wire-framed glasses and looked like he was scared of his own shadow. Or maybe he was just afraid of Father Fernando.
“I disagree with Joe on this,” Father Fernando said. “This is clearly an attack against the church. Leon was simple the vessel the message was delivered in. This is not the work of one of our people. I can guarantee whomever did this has already left the island. You won’t find what you’re looking for here. Leon was a holy man. And we should honor him as such and put this all behind us. He needs to be mourned and buried properly within the rules of our faith.”
“We’ll make sure the body is well taken care of,” I said.
“Who found Mr. Stein’s body?” Jack asked.
“Father DeCosta and I found him together.” Father Fernando was apparently going to be the spokesperson for the trio. “We hear confession half an hour before each Mass and we stumbled upon him on our way. Of course, we were quite surprised and must have made some noise because Father Xavier heard us and came rushing outside. And the parishioners arriving at the church must have heard us too, because they came around the side of the church to see what was happening.”
Most people we interviewed offered more information than what we asked for. It was a way to deal with the nerves by filling the silence. I’d learned from watching Jack that if you were quiet long enough you learned all kinds of things about people.
“Is the body just like you found it?”
“I believe Alexandra and her son Dominic might have moved him. That’s Leon’s granddaughter and great-grandson. They knelt down beside him and shook him a bit to see if he was really gone. And of course, I placed the cloth over his face as a sign of respect. But he’s generally how we found him.”
“I appreciate the time,” Jack said. “We’ll work as quickly as possible so as not to interrupt your schedules.”
“We’ve cancelled the evening Mass considering the circumstances. We’re heading to console Maria during her time of need. She’s been quite ill and might suffer a relapse.”
I watched them go and then looked at Jack. “Priests can’t lie, right?”
“I wouldn’t say can’t lie. Everyone has the ability built in. But no, they’re not supposed to lie. Much less three priests lying for each other.”
“That’s what I figured. I think I’m impatient to get this over and done with.”
“Babe, we can always tell them no.” Jack laid a hand on my shoulder and I sighed. I really didn’t want to do this. I needed a break. “We can leave it in Joe’s hands and go back to our cabana and not resurface for the next two weeks.”
It was a tempting offer, but I knew what we had to do. “No, I’ve already seen the body. We’ll follow it through as far as we can.”
He squeezed my shoulder and we got to work. I snapped pictures with my phone of the scene while Jack combed the area for evidence. But with as many people who’d been in the area it was going to be hard to figure out what was what.
“I’ve got blood on the edge of the gate,” he said. There was a fence and gate that mirrored the one we entered through on the opposite side of the courtyard. He took a picture and then swabbed the area, putting the sample in one of the plastic baggies.
“Where does that exit lead to?”
“There’s a path that winds down to the cemetery. And then back to the front of the church. No prints that I can see, but it’s a crushed shell path. We’ll take that way down and see if there’s any more blood.
I knelt down beside Leon and looked him over, taking more close up pictures of the way his hands and feet were crossed. Rigor mortis hadn’t started to set in, so he was still pliable. I bagged his hands in case Leon had had the opportunity to fight back and we were able to collect DNA.
“A guy is a week shy of his hundredth birthday and someone decides he’s worth killing,” I said. “Why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Makes you wonder why they didn’t let nature take its course.”
“Do you think it’s like Father Fernando said? A tourist already back on the mainland?”
“Not one bit. This is the community church. How many people come to Mass while they’re on vacation? Of those people who do come, how many would know about this courtyard? The killer is someone familiar with the area and familiar with the victim.”
I removed the black cloth from over Leon’s face. Then I patted him down gently, checking all his pockets, and withdrew a worn leather wallet. I handed it over to Jack.
He flipped open the wallet and riffled through it. “An ID belonging to Leon Stein,” he said. “A small amount of cash, a couple of credit cards, and a torn piece of paper with the name Juno Jackson and a phone number.” Jack dropped the wallet in one of the plastic baggies.
“Not a robbery then. He’s not dressed like he has money.” I fingered the worn fabric of his cotton dress shirt. “The wallet is intact and his wedding ring is still on his finger.”
I looked up around the neck and noticed the gold chain, a small round medallion of a patron saint hanging from it. I used my index finger to carefully lift it so we could get a better look.
“Who’s that?”
“Saint Joseph,” Jack said. “Looks like Leon wanted the extra protection.”
“Looks like he needed it.” I checked to see if there was any bruising around the neck while I was in the area and then opened the eyelids to see if there were any broken capillaries or signs of asphyxiation. The dagger through the heart was most likely the cause of death, but it was always good to see if anything had led up to that moment. The human body was capable of telling a really great story if you looked close enough.
“There are no outward signs of a struggle or physical abuse, but he’s got a couple of scrapes along the side of his face, probably from where he fell. And believe me, we’d be able to see every mark of struggle like a road map if there’d been one. A guy with skin as papery and fine as this guy’s can’t even withstand a small bump without bruising or tearing the epidermis. You can see what I’m talking about on the back of his hands.”
I removed one of the plastic baggies and ran a gloved finger along Leon’s hand, still crossed over his ribs. The skin was spotted with age, but dark blue bruising was evident where he’d obviously bumped it on something.
“All it would take to make a mark like that is a knock against a doorframe or a countertop. I’ve seen a lot of elderly injuries where they don’t even know they’re hurt, and then they look down and they’re covered in blood.”
“Getting old sucks.”
“This guy was almost a hundred. Think how many years it’s been since he’s had sex. To me, tha
t’s the most depressing thing about getting old.”
“That’s why it’s best to use it as often as possible before you lose it.”
“What about this guy?” I asked, pointing to the statue the body was positioned under. “Do you think that has any significance?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Or it could be just window dressing to complete the scene.”
“What saint is that anyway? He’s terrifying.”
“Saint Miguel. Or Saint Michael. He fights off Satan’s army. And a bunch of other stuff I don’t remember.”
“How come you know so much about the saints?”
Jack grinned, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “I dated a lot of Catholic girls. I learned a lot. ”
I arched a brow and then rolled my eyes. Jack had pretty much “dated” most of the available women in a tri-state area. As long as I was the last in the line, I didn’t care about his history. I was mostly grateful he’d had all that practice. He knew things.
“I appreciate all the research you did on my behalf.”
“Hey, I knew you’d look my way at some point. I wanted to be ready when the time came.”
“Do you think other couples flirt with each other over dead bodies?”
“Maybe. If they spend most of their time around dead bodies like we do. But I wouldn’t bring it up to a therapist. It could be cause for concern.”
“Good call.” I removed the necklace and bagged it and then I focused on the dagger. “Interesting hilt,” I said. “Looks old. Some of the engraving is worn away so it’s a smooth, but it looks like an eagle.”
The eagle was carved at the end of the hilt, but the hilt itself looked like it was made from a polished ivory or bone. I didn’t have a ruler to measure the hilt, but it stuck out of his chest a good four or five inches.
“Hold him steady,” I told Jack. I got a good grasp on the hilt and removed the knife.
“Whoever did this has some strength behind them. Stabbing someone in the heart isn’t as easy as it looks on TV. It’s always better to go for the soft tissue areas.”
“Is that writing on the blade?” Jack asked.
I took a closer look and sure enough something was inscribed on the blade. “I can’t make out what it says. We’ll need to look at it under better light, but it doesn’t look like English. That blade is probably close to ten inches. Very unusual.”
“We don’t have a lab, and I doubt Joe’s going to authorize the expense of sending it off to a bigger city for examination. We can do some Internet searching and send a photo to any of the known collectors. If it’s as old as it looks it might not be too hard to identify.”
“He’s still in primary flaccidity, but rigor is starting to set in because of the heat. It can speed up the process. But I’d say his death is less than two hours old. That works with Father Fernando’s statement of when he found the body. It’s just after six o’ clock.”
I looked at the area around the body and then lifted Leon’s shirt and looked at his back. “He was definitely killed here. There’s no sign that the body was moved and blood has started to settle in the lower parts of the body.”
Jack shook his head. “Man, that’s a killer with balls of steel. There was basically a thirty-minute window of time to make the kill, position the body, and escape. And during that time anyone could’ve come upon them. How much would you estimate Leon weighs?”
I shrugged and looked him over. He was thin and bony, but he had height on his side which would add to his weight. “Maybe somewhere between a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five.”
“Lets say for the sake of argument and time that Leon agreed to meet the killer here. The killer knows time is short so he doesn’t bother with conversation. He walks right up and stabs him in the heart with the dagger. By looking at the worn patches of his trousers, I’d say Leon fell to his knees before falling to his side on the ground where he scraped the side of his face. The killer has blood on him after a deathblow like that. No way to avoid it. He then straightens out Leon’s body and positions it the way he wants him to be found. Then he escapes out the side gate, not realizing he brushed up against the iron bars and leaving blood behind. That is efficiency at its best.”
“Damn,” I said for lack of anything better. “Lets get Joe and figure out how to transport the body without making it a circus.”
“I’ll tell you again. We don’t have to do this, Jaye. It’s our honeymoon. We can say no.”
“I know, but Leon Stein deserves better than what this island’s resources can give.”
“That’s only one of the reasons I love you. I’ll go find Joe and see about getting the body back to the jail. Maybe he found out something interesting from one of the parishioners.”
I didn’t ask, but I was curious to know some of the other reasons Jack loved me too.
Chapter Five
“Heat and dead bodies are never a good combination,” I said to Jack and Joe a little while later. “Can you at least bring me in extra fans? Otherwise this is going to be very unpleasant for all of us in a very short amount of time.”
“Sure, I’ll call my nephew and have him bring some by. Hopefully the added power doesn’t blow the circuits. Though it should cool off considerably when the storm rolls in tomorrow.”
“We’ll take our chances with the power. Decomposition isn’t an easy smell to remove. You’ll thank me later.”
“When can I tell the family the body can be prepared for burial?”
“I’d say you can take it in the morning. I didn’t see a funeral home on the island.”
“No, Father Fernando is of the old church. There is no embalming or cremation. Nothing to interfere with the natural process of the body returning to dust. I’ll tell the family they can retrieve him in the morning to be cleaned and prepared for the wake. They’ll want to have an open casket.”
I pressed my lips together at that. “Generally victims that have had their brains removed and put back in don’t get an open casket funeral.”
“Is it necessary to remove the brain? It seems to me there would be no reason since there was a knife in his heart.”
“I can do however little or much you want me to. It’s about documentation and making sure the victim gets the justice he deserves. But I’d agree with you in this case. There’s no reason to remove the brain and study it.”
“Thank you,” Joe said sincerely. “Leon’s funeral would be the talk of the island for years to come. Joe took a bandana out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. “Everyone knows everyone’s business and they have an opinion about it. And a lot of times they know your business before you do. It takes some getting used to.”
“Believe me,” I said. “We understand. Our town is pretty much the same way. Jack’s mother always told me when we were growing up that if we did anything bad she’d know about it before we got home.”
“Jack’s mother?” Joe asked. “She raised you?”
I pressed my lips together and smiled, not willing to talk about my parents, especially on my honeymoon.
The police station was made from stacked cinder blocks and painted a bright turquoise. There were two square windows at the front, one of which couldn’t be opened because some thoughtful soul had painted it shut. There were no windows on the backside of the square box, so there was no cross breeze. The ceiling consisted of three heavy beams across and sheets of tin laid flat on top of it for the roof. Two ceiling fans were attached and wired precariously from the center beam and they ran on the highest speed—meaning just fast enough to move the air around a little. It was like being trapped in a concrete oven.
Joe had a metal desk that held an ancient computer and a filing cabinet stood against the wall. There was one cell in the back corner of the room and rusted iron bars made up two sides of the square. There was bed attached to the cement block wall, a metal toilet and sink on the other wall, and there was a giant drain in the floor meant for things I had no desire to think
about.
It was a far cry from the sterility of my lab at home, and I still wasn’t convinced this was the best decision that could’ve been made. Joe could’ve called the main island and had investigators from there come take over, and he could’ve sent the body to an actual morgue. But he said he’d do the investigation himself before he sent Leon to the mainland.
According to Joe, the mainland investigators would file Leon away as an unsolved homicide, most likely committed by a tourist with no hope of tracking them down. There was enough crime on the mainland that they stayed busy on their own and didn’t have time to deal with the smaller islands. And they didn’t want to either. It hadn’t sounded like there was any love lost between Joe and the mainland cops.
“Were you able to get the supplies I asked for?”
“Yes, they should be here any moment. Doctor Hizumi is sending his son with them.”
“What about the electronics?” Jack asked, helping me move the body to the table.
A strange look came over Joe’s face and he cleared his throat. “The rest is being gathered by a—friend. It’s the best equipment on the island.”
I removed Leon’s clothes and pulled a white sheet over the lower half of his body. There were no table drains, and I was extremely thankful for the drain in the floor.
A knock sounded at the door and it opened before Joe could reach it to stop whoever was entering. Jack and I immediately moved to the front of Leon’s body, shielding the poor person who was coming in from the surprise of a lifetime. Not everyone dealt well with the dead.
My clothes were soaking wet and clung to my skin, and my face was flushed from the heat. I would’ve given anything for closed toe shoes and the big leather butcher’s apron I wore during autopsies. I’d had to make due with industrial size trash bags with head and armholes cut out.
“Hey, Joe,” the man at the door said. “I’ve got that stuff you asked for.”
The closer I looked, the more I realized he was still more boy than man. His size was deceptive. He was brawny and broad through the chest and shoulders, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time outdoors by the brown tint of his skin. But he still had the softness in his face of someone in their late teens or early twenties. His hair was dark and he had it pulled back in a stub of a ponytail.
