by J A Whiting
The priest didn’t say anything.
“I understand that you were assigned to St. Catherine’s Church in Howland many years ago.”
“I was. I spent just a few years there.”
“You were there when my cousins were murdered. Mary Monahan and her daughter, Kimmy. They attended St. Catherine’s.”
Father Anthony’s face lost its smile. “Yes. I was there then.”
“I’m talking to people who lived in town at the time. Just gathering information. Trying to understand what happened.”
“I see. What can I tell you?”
“You knew Mary?”
“Yes. She was active at the church.”
“What was she like?”
“She was a wonderful person, kind, caring, a loving mother. She was devoted to her kids. She always had time to lend a hand at church. She had good friends.”
“Did you consider yourselves friends?”
“Yes. We were friends. We had great conversations. She was well read. We talked about everything. She had a curious mind.” He paused. Olivia could see tears in his eyes. “The murders hit me hard.” He blinked and cleared his throat. “It still does.”
“Was anyone at the church that day? Did you see anyone around in the afternoon?” Olivia asked.
“Just a girl from the youth group. She was out jogging, passed by the church. She didn’t stay but a few minutes.”
Olivia said, “Reports put Mary at the church between 2pm and 3pm on the day of the murders. Did you see her? Did you notice her car?”
“I was painting the recreation room of the church hall that day. Mary was supposed to come by with some gallons of paint. We miscalculated the amount we needed and she offered to pick some up at the hardware store. She was planning to stay for an hour or so and help me paint.”
“So you did see her?”
“No. I had been painting for a couple of hours. It was a huge space and one coat didn’t cover properly. It was a hot day. Humid. Maybe the space wasn’t ventilated enough because I started to feel sick, light-headed from the fumes. I went back to the rectory to get a glass of water and then I went up to my room to change my shirt. It was drenched with sweat. I sat in my chair to finish my water. I just wanted to sit for a minute hoping I would feel better.” He hesitated. “I fell asleep.”
“So Mary stopped at the church hall to drop off the paint,” Olivia said, thinking out loud. “She must have seen that you were in the process of painting. You must have left the paint and rollers and everything in place since you only intended to be in the rectory for a few minutes?”
The priest nodded.
“Mary probably waited a bit for you to come back?” Olivia leaned forward in her chair. “I’m just thinking out loud. Mary probably went to the rectory house and rang the bell to let you know she was there. Did the housekeeper see her?”
“The housekeeper was gone. She left at noon that day. Her husband wasn’t feeling well.”
“What about Father Mike? And the other priest that was there at the time, what was his name?”
“Father Paul Carlson,” the priest said.
“Right,” Olivia said. “Wouldn’t one of them have answered the door?”
“Father Mike and Father Paul had gone to the hospital to visit with a parishioner who was in for surgery. Father Paul was new, so he went along to pay the visit, to get experience doing things like that. Father Mike was his mentor.”
“So you were alone in the rectory?”
“Yes. I didn’t hear the door bell. I don’t know if it rang or not.”
Olivia sat back. “Why wouldn’t Mary have stayed and painted?”
“I don’t know.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Maybe she did stay. Maybe someone interrupted her.”
“I don’t know. Possibly,” Father Anthony said.
“How long did you sleep?” Olivia asked.
“I woke up when Mike and Paul returned to the house.”
“Did you go back to the church hall after you woke up? Were the gallons of paint there that Mary was supposed to bring? Had she painted? Did you notice that more painting had been done?”
The priest looked at the floor. “I did go back. The paint was there, so Mary dropped it off. I don’t recall if more of the walls were painted, so maybe not. She probably didn’t do any painting.”
“Okay,” Olivia said. “So she dropped off the paint, probably waited for you to come back to the rec hall. When you didn’t, Mary probably went to the rectory and rang the bell. No one answered. She decided to leave…maybe figuring you had been called away.”
“I guess that sounds right,” Father Anthony said.
“She must have run into the killer right after that,” Olivia said. “According to the timeline.”
The priest’s face was creased with worry or sadness. Olivia couldn’t read the expression. She remembered that the police often will remain quiet so that the person they are speaking with will start talking to fill the silence. Olivia sat quietly and waited. Father Anthony didn’t speak. Olivia was afraid he would end their meeting and she was about to ask something else when he spoke.
“I’ve carried guilt about this since it happened.” His voice was practically a whisper. “If I had just stayed in the church hall, Mary would have stayed too. She wouldn’t have run into the killer. If I hadn’t fallen asleep…” His voice choked on the words.
Olivia knew feelings of guilt and pain. If only I had done this…if only I knew that…I should have been able to prevent what happened. I should have been there for her. If I had just been there at the right moment I could have changed the course of what happened. Regrets. If onlys. They were heavy and hard and pulled you down, down.
“It’s not your fault,” Olivia told him softly.
“I know that,” Father Anthony said. “People remind me of that. But somehow, sometimes, it just doesn’t help all that much.”
“I know that feeling.” Olivia nodded. “Did you transfer to the church in California because of the murders?”
“No. The transfer was in the works for some time. We just hadn’t shared it with the congregation. Father Mike felt that the people should have a chance to get to know Father Paul better…have a chance to connect with him before we told them that I was being transferred.”
“So was the transfer assigned to you or did you request it?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t request it. I would have been happy staying in Howland my entire life. But we go where we’re needed.”
“I hate to bring this up, but I need to know,” Olivia said. She met Father Anthony’s eyes. “Please be honest with me.”
“I know what you’re going to ask. I know the gossip.”
“Did you have a relationship with Mary?”
“No. And it was hurtful for people to talk like that. Mary was a good woman who loved her family. She never would have engaged in anything like that.”
Olivia glanced away for a second. “What I’ve heard matches what you say. Mary would never have done that. Forgive me for bringing this up, but the talk I heard was that you wanted a relationship. That you were pressuring her to have a relationship with you.”
Father Anthony’s face reddened. He didn’t answer right away. “I was attracted to her, Olivia. I’ll admit that to you. I’ve never told anyone that before.” He sighed. “I was young. She was a lovely woman in every way. Smart, kind, fun, pretty. I enjoyed being around her. Sometimes I imagined what life would be like if I had chosen a different path, a career outside of the priesthood, with a wife and children. Who doesn’t think about other roads that might have been taken?” He leaned forward. “But I swear to you, I was careful to remain within the bounds of friendship with Mary.”
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Olivia said. “Thank you for answering my questions. I know it was a painful time.” They stood up. “I do appreciate it.”
Father Anthony walked Olivia to her Jeep.
“Mary’s murder…her daughter…it shook
the very foundation of my being,” he said as they stepped outside. “My faith suffered. When something like that happens, your vision of the world is altered. One can become cynical, distrustful, hopeless. Ideas of safety, security, justice are destroyed. You ask yourself how horror can befall good people. My transfer to California turned into a blessing in disguise. It helped me to heal. I was assigned to a parish where the senior priest had served in World War II. The things he saw…” Father Anthony shook his head. “We had long, long talks. It took time, but I healed.”
Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat. “So what’s the secret? How did you restore your faith, your feelings about the world?”
“We can’t know why things like this happen. Perhaps there is no reason. Or the reason is hidden from us. As hard as it is to imagine, maybe there is something good that can come from things like this, things far-reaching and long-lasting that we aren’t privy to. There is good in the world, Olivia. I looked for it…and when I found it, I held onto it.”
Olivia nodded. She looked off across the front lawn of the church grounds. It sounded so simple. And, so impossible.
Chapter 27
Olivia was chopping vegetables for a vegetarian shepherd’s pie and Lily was pressing against Olivia’s leg hopefully watching for any food item that might slip off the chopping board and into her mouth. Drool was dripping from the corner of her lip. Jackie was staying for dinner after she finished working on the sunroom for the day.
The doorbell rang. Lily barked and checked Olivia’s face to see if she should keep barking or not. “Let’s see who it is, Lily.” Olivia picked up a dish towel and wiped her hands on it as they walked down the hallway to the front door. The heavy oak door was open to let the breeze in through the locked screened door. Olivia could see Father Mike standing on the front porch leaning on his cane. He looked up when he heard their footsteps.
“Olivia!” Father Mike called. “I’m sorry to barge in on you.” His voice had an edge to it.
Olivia unlocked the screen door and opened it wide. “Come in, Father Mike. Is everything okay?”
The priest stepped in. He had a death grip on the cane. His eyes were wide and red. He couldn’t hold back and a torrent of tears cascaded down the valleys of his wrinkled face.
Olivia touched his arm. “What is it? Come sit.” Her voice was thin with worry.
The priest tried to collect himself as he tottered into the living room, Olivia holding tight to his arm. Father Mike half fell onto the sofa. Lily sat down in front of him, her dark eyes searching the old man’s face. He took out his handkerchief and wiped at his tears.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked. “What’s happened?”
Father Mike waved his hand and shook his head. “I’m practically sick.” He pressed the back of his head against the sofa.
“Do you want something to drink? Some water?” Olivia asked.
“Olivia, did you know that Kenny, through his lawyer, contacted the police and offered to go in for a DNA test?”
Olivia’s eyes went wide. “No, I didn’t know. He did?”
“The lawyer just called me. The police have taken Kenny into custody for the murders of Mary and Kimmy.” The words caught in a sob. “The preliminary testing showed that his DNA matched the DNA in the semen collected at the crime scene.” He wheezed and clutched the top of his cane with both of his hands. “The complete test results won’t be back for a few weeks but the police have probable cause to arrest.”
“But.” Olivia’s head was spinning. “There has to be a mistake.”
Father Mike’s eyes held Olivia’s.
“How can it be? It has to be a mistake,” she said again. She stared at Father Mike.
“Why did he take the test?” Father Mike asked. “Why?”
“He told you we talked?” she asked. “He must have decided to clear his name once and for all.” Olivia rubbed her forehead. “Oh, God.”
“How could it be a match?” Father Mike’s words traveled on just a wisp of voice. His hands shook.
“It can’t be a match. It can’t be.” Olivia looked at the priest’s white face and trembling hands. His lips were parted slightly and his breathing seemed uneven. “Father Mike, let me get you something to drink. What if I make some tea? My boyfriend’s mom says tea makes everything better.” She smiled weakly. She watched his face. She wasn’t sure if she might have to call an ambulance.
“He shouldn’t have offered to take the test,” Father Mike whispered. Tears streamed over his cheeks.
“Kenny is innocent,” Olivia said.
“Is he? How can he be? If the DNA matches?” The priest’s face crumpled.
Olivia took his hands. “Kenny is innocent. You’ve known that for forty years. Kenny needs you now. He needs help. We’ll try to figure this out.”
Father Mike swallowed hard. Lily rested her chin on the priest’s knee.
“I’m going to make some tea,” Olivia said. “Lily will stay here with you. I’ll only be a minute. We’ll take the tea out on the porch. We’ll sit and talk. It’s going to be alright.”
Father Mike nodded.
Olivia walked down the hall to the kitchen to make the tea. She choked back her own tears. She couldn’t show her worry and fear to Father Mike. Oh, God. I shouldn’t have talked to Kenny. I should have left it alone. I’ve ruined his life.
Jackie came through the backdoor just as Olivia was filling the teapot with shaking hands. “Hey, I was thinking of …” she stopped short. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Olivia stood still with the teapot in one hand. She was afraid of saying anything for fear of bursting into tears.
“Olivia?” Jackie said. “What’s wrong?”
“Father Mike is in the living room,” she whispered. She told Jackie what was going on. She couldn’t keep tears from falling.
“Jesus…” Jackie said. She took the teapot from Olivia and put it on the burner. “This can’t be. Maybe the evidence got contaminated. Maybe they made some kind of mistake handling the specimen. Maybe someone is trying to frame him.”
Olivia wiped her eyes on the dishtowel. “I have to pull myself together. I thought Father Mike was going to have a heart attack. I have to be strong in front of him.” She locked eyes with Jackie. “God, Jackie. What a mess.”
“You’ll figure it out, Olivia. You’re smart.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m stupid. I should have stayed out of it.”
The kettle whistled and Jackie poured the water into the two mugs standing on the counter.
“You want me to sit and talk with you two?” Jackie asked. “Put our heads together?”
“I better talk to Father Mike alone first. He is still trying to process this. Will you come out to the porch in a few minutes? Help us think this through?” Olivia picked up the mugs and noticed the vegetables she had been chopping were still on the cutting board. “Oh, the shepherd’s pie. Our dinner.”
“Go,” Jackie said. “I’ll clean up. I’ll put the veggies in the fridge. We can get takeout tonight. We’ll have the shepherd’s pie another time. I’ll work on the sunroom for a bit. Then I’ll come and join you on the porch. Call me if you need me sooner.”
***
Olivia, Father Mike, and Jackie sat together and talked and they determined that there wasn’t a whole lot they could do. They assumed the lawyer would have Kenny out on bail. Father Mike would gather news as a contact person with Kenny’s lawyer and would share anything of importance with Olivia. Olivia would keep digging into the case with the hopes of finding something, anything, that the lawyer might be able to use to fight the accusation.
A question hung in the air between them but no one said it out loud. A wrinkle of doubt had edged into their minds. Was it Kenny? Was he the killer?
Chapter 28
Olivia pulled her Jeep into a space in the lot next to Emily Bradford’s accounting office. The business was on the first floor of a five story brick building situated on a tree lined s
treet in Brookline.
Something Father Anthony Foley said to Olivia had been floating around in her head. He had mentioned that a jogger stopped by the church on the afternoon of the murders. Olivia had a question that she wanted to pose to Emily and she thought she might get a more truthful answer if she appeared at the office unannounced. She opened the heavy glass door that led to the lobby and saw the finely polished door that fronted the Bradford Accounting Firm. When she approached the reception desk, a thirty something dark haired woman glanced up and smiled at Olivia.
“May I help you?”
Olivia returned the smile. “I don’t have an appointment. Would Emily have a few minutes to speak with me?”
“Ms. Bradford is out of the office at the moment. I’m not sure when she’ll be returning. Can I make an appointment for you?”
“Oh, I see, no. It isn’t business-related,” Olivia told her. “I took a chance of catching her. I’ll have to give her a call.”
The receptionist looked over Olivia’s shoulder. “You’re in luck. Here she is now, actually.”
Emily Bradford whooshed into the room dressed in a fitted tan business suit and beige heels carrying a caramel colored leather briefcase, tapping away at the phone in her hand. She briefly looked up as she headed to her office and when she saw Olivia she stopped in her tracks.
“Olivia,” Emily said without emotion.
“Hi. I know you’re busy. I stopped by to see if we could talk for a minute.”
Olivia could see a negative response start to form on Emily’s face. “I’d only take a few minutes of your time,” Olivia said. “I just have a couple of questions that I hoped you could answer.” She took a hopeful step toward Emily.
Emily sighed. “Come into my office.” She turned and headed down a hallway that had office doors lining both sides of the corridor. Emily called over her shoulder to the receptionist. “If Mr. Martin comes in, just have him sit for a minute. I won’t be long.”
Olivia trailed after her.
Emily flung open the corridor’s last door and dropped her briefcase on a cream colored leather sofa. She waved Olivia to one of the chairs in front of the massive walnut desk.
