“What’s the other development?”
“Amanda McCutcheon spotted our surveillance team. She freaked out and has something to report to us. She’s here now,” Kate said, recognizing the brunette walking into the precinct’s lobby.
“Here, where? Are you at the precinct?”
There was no point lying to him now. “Yes.”
A groan echoed on the line.
“I’m heading out to meet you now.” Kate hung up.
“Detective, I need to speak with you,” Amanda said as Kate dialed the shift supervisor’s number once more.
“One minute!” Kate raised her index finger in the air before leaving a message for the supervisor. “We got a new development, Sergeant. Detective Lieutenant Fuller and I need Smitty to report to us urgently. Could you get someone to replace him ASAP?”
Kate hung up the phone and turned to Amanda before speaking. “What did you need to tell us?”
“Hmm. Here?” she asked, looking around at the handful of police officers and civilians hanging around.
“Can you identify the killer?” Kate asked Amanda.
“Right now, no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s complicated.”
Officer Lofland nodded next to her. “I’d say so.”
“Okay, I’m sorry but I can’t stay to get your statement right this minute. It’s not that I don’t care. Something major just happened.” She turned to Officer Lofland. “Please call Detective Wang. She’ll come in and grab her statement. I’ve really gotta go!”
Kate arrived at the scene just as Smitty did. She recognized his tall, good looks from a distance, but she didn’t know how to feel about him right this minute. What kind of a rookie error was that? He knew better. His only task had been to keep eyes on one person.
How had he lost Father Matthews?
Well, she would soon find out.
“He’s with me,” she said to the officer manning the perimeter, holding two sterile suits in one hand and flashing her badge with the other. She tossed one suit over to Smitty while she filled out the crime scene log. “Dress up, Smitty.”
Bodies covered in their paper suits, they headed into the multi-tenant residence.
“What’s her name?” Kate asked as she found Fuller. Another young woman, a brunette this time, lay on the bed, a bright red rosary wrapped around her praying hands. She wore an oversized Christmas themed nightgown.
“Mariana Gomez Alvarez. Talk to me, Murphy,” Fuller said.
“Sir, this is Smitty, he had eyes on Matthews.”
“What is it I heard? You lost him?”
Smitty brought his gloved hand to his mask-covered face, as though he was going to scratch his cheek but obviously couldn’t. “I’m sorry, sir. I lost him for about thirty minutes.”
“Didn’t you stalk our suspect with a partner? Where he is?”
“He got called off. It was just me.”
“We’ll deal with that and the why later. But when did you lose him exactly?”
“Between about one thirty and two o’clock this afternoon.”
Kate and Fuller turned to look at the medical examiner who was hunched over their latest victim. “What do you say, Doc?” Kate asked. “Could the murder have occurred between one thirty and two?”
“Body temperature is 94F, so yes. Most plausible.”
“And where was Matthews when you lost sight of him?” Fuller asked.
“At the community fundraiser, a block away.”
“And where is he now?” Kate asked Smitty.
“The event was winding down. Tough to say, but Benz took over from me. He’s watching him now.”
“Sure hope he’s gonna do a better job at it,” Fuller said, a deep line clearly visible between his brows.
“We’ve got his proximity and unknown whereabouts during the murder. We’ve got the easy access to the rosaries, donated clothes at church, no alibis for the first two murders, easy access to the holy oils. Do we have an oily substance on the forehead?” she asked.
“That’s affirmative,” Dr. Cooper said.
“Anything oily on the hands?” Kate asked.
“Negative.”
“Profiler’s description could match,” Kate said.
Fuller cleared his throat. “We’ve got probable cause. Go get him, Murphy, and if he doesn’t want to come voluntarily, arrest him.”
“And me?” Smitty asked.
“You fucked up. Expect consequences,” Fuller snapped.
“Now?”
“Get out of here!”
Rosebud matched Kate’s broad strides as they marched down the aisle of the cathedral, ignoring the parishioners peppered on various seats, some kneeling, some seated.
Although Kate’s mind was on the impending arrest, she couldn’t help but be amazed at the grandeur of the place. The roof arched so high up above them, intricate carvings and pillars surrounded them, colorful stained-glass windows let in daylight several stories above.
They found their suspect in the sacristy, donning his robe for what had to be an upcoming ceremony. One he’d most definitely miss now.
“Father Matthews,” Kate said, making him turn toward her, Rosebud, and the two uniformed officers who accompanied them in.
“Detectives, I don’t have much time to talk right now. I’ve got a mass to get ready for.”
“I’m afraid that’s no longer the case. You are a suspect in a homicide investigation, so we need you to come down to the station to provide a statement. Now.”
He lifted his chin and scoffed at Kate. “You can’t make me.”
Kate beamed at the cocky priest. “I’m afraid I can. Father Gabriel Matthews, you’re under arrest for the murder of Mariana Gomez Alvarez.”
The uniformed officers proceeded to handcuff and search him.
“But—”
“Officers, could you please convey the father to the district. We will meet you there.”
“I’ve got mass!”
“Your parishioners will have to miss it. Justice can’t wait.”
His icy blue stare met her glance. “I want to call a lawyer. I won’t say a word until then.”
“Fine by me!” Kate said as she and her coworkers followed their suspect out of the sacristy.
Chapter Sixty
Since Father Matthews’ legal representation hadn’t arrived yet—and had an ETA of about five hours—Kate and Rosebud agreed to part ways and get more ammunition for the upcoming interview. The clock had begun ticking and they had to finish building their case. They had to collect more evidence.
Kate had never typed so fast. She filled out line after line of the affidavit describing her training and experience and listing the case’s facts and how they related to her basis for probable cause to get a search warrant for Father Matthews.
Two hours later, she ran out of her meeting with the judge and DA, a signed warrant in hand. The judge had agreed with Kate’s recommendation. Perhaps he, too, was getting desperate for some relief in a case that had kept Bostonians scared for weeks.
Rosebud took that warrant and headed to search the father’s apartment with a few uniformed officers while Kate tracked down Detective Wang who was still interviewing Amanda McCutcheon.
Instead of interrupting them—Kate knew too well how unsettling those interruptions were—she walked into the small room that overlooked theirs.
Wang sat next to Amanda instead of across the table from her. Both wore stern expressions. Amanda’s swollen eyes and pale face hinted at some recent tears.
Kate pressed the button to overhear their conversation.
“So, you don’t remember who, but you think someone came into your apartment to drug you and then possibly kill you?”
“Yeah.”
Wang looked at her notepad. “And that Danny guy from downstairs saw the man in question.”
“Yes, he found me passed out in my apartment. He said he saw a man leave. Someone he’d never seen before.�
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“And you don’t remember passing out or having a visitor over?”
“No.”
Kate’s hopes escalated faster than a geyser sprouting his powerful burst. She was drugged, like the other victims. Kate eyed Amanda up and down again. While she wasn’t blonde, their latest victim hadn’t been either. She was a young, practicing Catholic. Her virginity (and that of the third victim) were unknowns, though.
“Forgive me for asking such a blunt question, but…”
Kate leaned forward, hoping her fellow detective would ask what she herself was thinking.
“What?” Amanda asked, her upper lip quivering, her eyes overflowing with fear.
“Are you still a virgin?”
“What?” Amanda’s back straightened.
“I’m sorry, Amanda. I’m only asking because we believe the killer targets women who are sexually active, let’s say.”
“No! Never!”
Kate shook her head and decided to walk into the interview room. There was no harm interrupting them now.
She knocked and immediately let herself in.
“Wang?” Kate traded a nod with her partner and sat on the vacant chair across from them both.
“All yours,” Wang said, getting up from her chair.
“Your neighbor saw him?”
“Yes, that’s what he told me.”
“Let’s get him in here, then. Show him photos.”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Why’s that?” Kate asked.
“He’s out of town.”
“Where?”
“Vegas, I think.”
“Thanks, Amanda.” Kate turned to Wang. “We need to find that Danny guy ASAP. Our clock is ticking with the main suspect. Your number one priority is tracking him down. Talk to the Vegas police. Time is of the essence! Do we have his full name?”
Wang shook her head, so Kate faced Amanda once more.
“Big Danny is what I call him. I don’t actually know his last name. Isn’t that weird? I’ve lived in the same building for over two years. I’ve known him since day one. He offered to help me move my furniture in. Something Irish sounding. O’Neill maybe? Or O’Leary? I don’t know. He lives in the same building as me. He’s a paramedic. All around good guy.”
“Do you have his phone number?” Kate asked, hopefully they could track him down that way.
“No. I’ve never called him.”
“Email?” Wang asked.
Amanda shook her head. “He lives just below me. We just knock on each other’s door if we need to speak. He heard me yelling and then a loud crashing sound, that’s why he came up, and that’s when he saw that man who claimed to be a friend from church.”
“A friend from church?” Kate repeated, getting to her feet. She was more and more convinced that they had something real on Father Matthews.
“Wang, we’ll get the landlord to give us Danny’s full name.” Turning to Amanda, she continued. “Please repeat the exact details of what you remember, either directly or from what your friend Big Danny said, and start with the date.”
“Okay,” she finished swallowing, all the while nodding. “It happened last Wednesday. He spent the night with me—not in that way!” she said, as though anticipating another question by the detectives. “He was keeping an eye on me because I was throwing up when he found me.”
“Okay. Do you remember eating or drinking something specific that would have caused you to throw up? Either quantity or specific things?”
She shook her head. “I honestly do not recall eating or drinking, but when I got up the following morning, I looked into my garbage can… to … fill in some of the blanks, I guess.”
“And?” Wang asked.
“A bag of salt and vinegar chips and an empty bottle of wine.”
Kate opened up her pad. “Just that?”
“I’d recently emptied my garbage.”
“Just the one bottle?”
“Yes, and it wasn’t a full bottle because it had been open for a few days. I think only half the bottle remained last time I drank—or remember drinking from it.”
“Okay, it’s not the best combination of flavors, but that’s not a reason for anyone to pass out drunk and throw up. Forgive me for what I’m about to say, but any chance some of your vomit hasn’t been cleaned up?”
“Gross!”
“I mean, did you wipe it down with a towel that’s now sitting in a washing machine or something? We could try to analyze it. To identify the substance you ingested.”
“No. I… Big Danny cleaned up after me. I don’t know what he did.” Amanda reached toward the crucifix that hung around her neck.
Fidgeting. Kate had seen her do that before.
“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” Kate said.
Amanda swallowed hard, the movement of her throat betraying her. What is she hiding?
Putting two and two together, Kate voiced her theory. “Amanda, did you by any chance smoke, inject, eat, or drink anything not approved by our legal system?”
Her eyes widened.
Bullseye.
“What if I did?” Amanda said, sheepishly looking at the table instead of meeting Kate’s glance.
“Listen. I don’t want to pin you for possession if you still have any. But we need to know what you took so we could determine whether or not it would have made you pass out on your own. Maybe that friend from church was just a friend. Our job is to find the real killer. It’s also to ensure we don’t pin that crime on the wrong person and have him rot in jail while the real killer is on the loose. Do you understand?”
Amanda nodded in silence.
“Do you have more of whatever you took?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“What was it?”
“Edibles. My friend told me they’d make me forget about Lori for a while. I’m not sure if they also made me forget my entire evening.”
“Does this friend have a name?”
Chapter Sixty-One
Detective Rosebud returned to the precinct just as Father Matthew’s church-assigned legal representation arrived, a man who appeared to be in his seventies. His gray hair matched his suit. He walked into the interview room where the father sat.
“Give me some good news,” Murphy said as Rosebud joined her just outside the interview room.
“I’m afraid his home was a dud,” Rosebud said. “Austerity has officially been redefined for me. Absolutely nothing in there. A bed, a few canned goods, a crucifix, and a wobbly kitchen set for two. No signs of drugs. No handmade rosaries.”
“Could be stashing those elsewhere. We still have a handful of rosaries and a small container of oil from his pants pockets when we picked him up,” Murphy said, holding photos of the evidence they’d collected, bagged, and already dropped off at the lab.
Rosebud lifted his glasses up on his nose. “Did you make any progress?”
“Wang’s following another tip. Amanda may have been targeted. Her neighbor found her passed out with a ‘man from church,’” Murphy said with air quotes. “She’s trying to track that neighbor down. If we can get his statement. If we can show him photos and get him to point to Father Matthews being at her house—”
“Security camera? Was that before we had surveillance on her?”
“The evening before. Wang should have already tracked down the landlord by now. She’ll also look for security footage around the area.”
Through the small window in the interview room door, they watched the defense attorney approach the door. “We’re up,” Murphy said.
Fuller arrived just as they were about to enter the interview room.
“I’ll be listening in with the prosecutor,” Fuller said, holding open the door to the overseeing room. “He’s going to be here any minute. Any leads they give, I’ll dispatch to follow up on. You guys nail him now.”
“Can you tell us where you were between one thirty and two
o’clock this afternoon?” Murphy asked.
The attorney and the father exchanged a nod before the father spoke. “I went to see a parishioner in the privacy of his apartment.”
“Which parishioner. What’s the address of the apartment?”
The father once again looked at his lawyer who nodded.
“Mr. Patterson. I don’t know the exact address, but the apartment was in the tall building right next to where the fundraiser was held this afternoon.”
“What’s the apartment number?”
“I believe it was 6A, or maybe it was 6B. His name is probably on a lease somewhere.”
“Why did you go see him? How did you get to his apartment if you aren’t certain which it was?” Murphy prompted.
“I accompanied his wife. She wanted me to anoint him. Not that it’s any of your business, but he hasn’t been able to attend mass for several weeks now. And his wife feared for the worst. He’d been told he had three weeks to live. That was six months ago.”
Rosebud stayed silent, admiring the father’s demeanor. He seemed poised. Perhaps too poised. Was he just overly cocky?
“It’s easy enough for us to send officers to check on that.”
“Please do. I have nothing to hide.”
“Well, you wanted to hide and not speak until your legal representation got here—”
“Detectives,” the gray-haired lawyer said. “My client was well within his rights to remain silent. He told me you Mirandized him already.”
“Can you explain why you had these items on your person this afternoon?” Murphy asked, putting two photos on the table between them: the rosaries and the small vial of oil.
The lawyer once again exchanged a nod with his client.
“I bought those at the fundraiser this afternoon. I wanted to hand them to a few homeless people I see in our neighborhood sometimes.”
“We’ll see if the DNA on them tells a different story. What about the oil?”
“Don’t you people recall any of the conversations you have with innocent people who help you? This is the holy oil of the sick.”
The Last Amen Page 21
