Third Chances

by Dan Petrosini

  “Vargas, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go ask his secretary about Parker, save us some time.”

  Approaching the church secretary, I asked, “Miriam, could you do us a favor while we’re waiting for Minister Booth?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “Can you check and see if a Shaun Parker was a member here.”

  “Oh yes. It was terrible what happened to him. It’s so frightening.”

  “He was a member?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to say.”

  “Okay. What about Joseph Chapman? Was he a member?”

  “Chapman? Hmm. Let me check.” She tapped on her keyboard. “Oh yes, here he is, Joseph Chapman. Lives on 104th Street, not too far from here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Whispering, I said, “Parker was a member and guess who else? Chapman.”

  “Chapman? I thought the minister’s wife said he wasn’t.”

  “She did, and the question is, why would she say that? What’s she hiding?”

  The minister’s office door swung open. Two women and a man said their goodbyes, leaving a smiling Gabriel Booth in the doorframe.

  “Hello, Detective, sorry things ran later than expected.”

  “No problem. This is my partner, Detective Vargas.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Vargas, though I wished the circumstances were different. Come on in. Can I get you anything?”

  We declined and took seats. The candle burning this time was cinnamon scented.

  “I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news, Minister.”

  Booth’s smile disappeared as he fell into his chair.

  “There was another body found off of Santa Barbara, and the victim, one Shaun Parker, was also a member of your congregation.”

  The minister’s face paled. “Oh my God. That’s terrible news. I knew Shaun. Poor boy, he was so full of life. He had some difficulties but was on the right track.”

  Difficulties? Is that what church people call being a criminal?

  “You may be aware, Mr. Parker had a long criminal record, like the other victims.”

  “As we discussed the last time, our ministry serves many who have strayed from God’s plan, people who haven’t followed his word but who have come here in a genuine attempt to get right with the Lord.”

  Vargas said, “That’s admirable work, Minister Booth, and it’s along those lines that we’d like to explore.”

  “I, I don’t understand.”

  “Given the victims’ backgrounds and their association with your church, we’re going to have to take an in-depth look at the relationships—”

  “You’re not suggesting that the killer is connected to The Spirit of Fellowship, are you?”

  Vargas said, “It’s something we have to take a close look at. There is no way to ignore the connection.”

  “But how is this going to look? I realize you have to investigate, but I’m concerned about how this will appear.”

  I said, “I understand your concerns, Minister. We’ll do this as discreetly as possible. I promise, if there are leaks, it will not come from our side. However, people, well, they like to talk. Bottom line is, we must examine the connection to the church and either clear the church or . . .” I let my voice trail off.

  “Okay, okay, I understand. How can we help you?”

  Vargas said, “We need to know how the church operates—what functions and services you deliver, how you recruit members, the organizational chart, that sort of thing.”

  I said, “We’ll need to speak privately with your managers, the council, your wife—”

  “Hannah? Why?”

  Why was he questioning her participation? “She’s an important part of The Spirit of Fellowship, isn’t she?”

  “Why, yes. But . . . let me speak with her first, okay?”

  “That’s fine, but time is of the essence—there’s a killer on the loose.”

  Booth’s face turned corpse gray.

  Vargas said, “How about we start with you telling us about the activities the church is involved in?”

  “We call our activities and outreach programs ministries. As the church has grown, so has the depth and number of ministries we operate. But behind it all is faith. The core of The Spirit of Fellowship is faith.”

  Booth was moving his hands like he was conducting an orchestra. “Spreading the Good News is central to what we do here and is the largest function of the church. We break the faith ministry into two broad categories, internal, how we educate our congregation, and our outreach program, where we reach out to the community at large and spread the Gospel.”

  Vargas asked, “Where do you go, physically, in the community?”

  “Anywhere they’ll have us.” Booth laughed. “Seriously, we put a lot of effort into youth programs, elder outreach, addiction, prisons, the migrant workers, the Latino community.”

  “Who manages the various community efforts?”

  Booth told us the names of the lieutenants involved and we moved on. It was long list, including bereavement, a food bank, employment help, clothing drives, and an effort to help pay utility bills for those who fell on hard times.

  It took us an hour to go through it all, and when we left I was convinced we should focus on the people involved in their outreach efforts, as well as his wife, Hannah.

  Chapter 20

  Vargas and I waited at one of twenty round tables that filled the church’s all-purpose room. I was speculating what the raised platform was for when a man with a crew cut entered. His tight shirt highlighted his muscles, making me suck my gut in. He flashed the slimmest of smiles and said, “I’m Jeremy Stokes. Minister Booth said you wanted to talk with me?”

  Vargas said, “Thanks for taking the time. We’ll try to be brief.”

  We shook hands, and he sat two seats away from Vargas. Putting an elbow on the table, his grapefruit-sized bicep expanded. Was he trying to impress her?

  “So, what’s up?”

  I said, “What’s up is we have four bodies in the morgue, and every one of them attended this church.”

  “It’s a coincidence. We have almost four thousand members, you know.”

  “Coincidence? In my business there aren’t coincidences. we call it evidence.”

  “Evidence? How so?”

  Vargas said, “What Detective Luca and I are interested in exploring is any connection the killer may have with the church.”

  Stokes leaned in. “You really think this Aquatic Assassin character is a member of our church?”

  Vargas said, “He or she may be a member or could be connected through one of your ministries.”

  I said, “Let’s not forget, you appear to attract a lot of members who seem to have trouble staying out of trouble.”

  Stokes narrowed his eyes. “In case you didn’t know it, Detective, we’re all sinners. The Spirit of Fellowship is here to pick up those who have fallen and strengthen them with the word of God.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “You know, people deserve second chances.”

  This guy had his eyes closed. I had no problem with second chances, but the corpses were all habitual offenders. Some with ten or eleven chances.

  I said, “Minister Booth called you his right-hand man. What are your duties at the church?”

  “Basically, everything, though I try to focus on making sure the members who need support get what they need.”

  Vargas said, “Can you explain that?”

  Stokes sighed. “People get in trouble, whether it be with the law, their personal life, alcohol, drugs, you name it. We’re here as a support system for them. Basically, they stumble, we’re there to pick them up.”

  Vargas said, “Say someone is on the road to recovery but relapses—you’re there to help?”

  Stokes nodded. “Recovery is never a straight line.”

  I said, “Considering the victims were all seasoned, uh, lawbreakers, if someon
e like them was arrested again, what would you do, bail them out?”

  A vein on Stokes's temple began pulsing. “We’d make sure they had a roof over their head, something to eat, and try to find them a job.”

  “Very nice. I’m wondering why someone like you would do this type of work. Were you ever in prison?”

  Stokes hesitated. “No, I do what I do for God. In Matthew 25:40, Jesus tells us that ‘what you do for the least of these my brothers, you do to me.’”

  How could they recite these passages without hesitation? They were like the people who worked at the Ritz. Maybe the Ritz recruited from the evangelical community. Was I impressed because my memory was chemo weakened?

  I heard Vargas ask, “In your position you must have known all the victims.”

  “Yeah, I knew them. Uh, well, three of them anyway.”

  “Which ones?”

  Another nanosecond of hesitation. “Chapman, Tinder, and Parker.”

  “When was the last time you saw Joseph Chapman?”

  “I don’t know, day or so before he went missing.”

  “What about Brett Tinder?”

  “Probably the same.”

  “What about Dick Cornwall?”

  Vargas was good, sneaking the name in, but then again, she did learn from the best.

  “Same.”

  “I thought you said you only knew three of them.”

  “So? I saw him around here.”

  “You knew who Dick Cornwall was?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you said you didn’t know him.”

  “I knew who he was but didn’t know him.”

  Bill Clinton would be proud of Stoker.

  For a church person, he sure was smug. We danced around with him until a pepper-haired man with a goatee came in.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was my turn. I’ll wait outside.”

  I said, “That’s fine. We’re done with Mr. Stokes.”

  Stokes’s face relaxed and he left the room without saying goodbye. I didn’t like Stokes; he needed a follow-up.

  Fiftyish, Nick Santangelo took the same chair as Stokes. Santangelo ran the charitable outreach programs for the church.

  He said, “Do you really think someone from the church has committed the murders?”

  Vargas said, “We’re here trying to figure that out.”

  “That’s scary.”

  I said, “We understand you run the charitable side of things here.”

  “Yes, more like the outreach programs we run for the Latino and migrant worker community. People tend to forget that just fifteen minutes outside of Naples there are people just scraping by. Our mission is to support them, make their lives better, any way we can.”

  “By bringing them food?”

  “They actually eat pretty well, especially those that work in agriculture. But we help them navigate the maze of programs out there that they can draw upon, make sure their children are enrolled and doing well in school. Those types of things.”

  I asked, “Do you have any interaction with the prisons or those recently released?”

  “No, that’s Jeremy’s area, the guy that was just in here. I share some of our resources with him, but he handles that population.”

  “Did you know the four men who were killed?”

  “I knew them but not well. Like I said, Jeremy knew them pretty good, I suppose.”

  “He said he didn’t know Dick Cornwall.”

  “Are you sure? I saw the two of them leaving together the day Dick was killed.”

  I leaned toward Santangelo. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

  “Yeah, Dick was helping me stock the food pantry, and Jeremy came in to get him, said they were going to be late or something.”

  “Where were they going?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

  Vargas asked, “You’re sure it was Dick Cornwall and that it was the day he was murdered?”

  “It would be hard to forget something like that.”

  “Thank you for your time today, Mr. Santangelo.”

  Vargas leaned over as he left. “We should drag Stokes down to the station right now.”

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure, but the minister’s wife is up next.”

  “Come on, Frank. just because she’s an introvert doesn’t make her a suspect.”

  Twenty minutes past the appointed time, Hannah Booth came into the room holding hands with her husband, who said, “We’re sorry to keep you waiting, but something came up, I couldn’t break away.”

  Vargas said, “No problem, but we’d like to speak with your wife alone.”

  “Alone? Why?”

  “It’s standard procedure when conducting an interview.”

  “Hannah is uncomfortable speaking with you alone.”

  I said, “She has nothing to be afraid of, if she has nothing to hide.”

  “Is my wife a suspect?”

  Vargas said, “Please, Minister, this is a simple interview we use to collect information. It helps us to put together a picture of where the church fits in all this.”

  The minister turned to Hannah, who slightly shook her head. The minister said, “If you insist on speaking with her alone, we’re going to ask that you contact our attorney.”

  They seemed to be hiding something, and I wanted to get whatever we could from them before they lawyered up. I put my hands up. “Whoa, take it easy, Minister Booth. This is not adversarial. We’ll break procedure as a courtesy. No problem. take a seat, and let’s get this over with. Okay?”

  Hannah leaned on her husband as she lowered herself into a chair.

  “You want me to get the cushion?”

  “It’s okay. My back feels okay now that I’m sitting.”

  The minister sat and reached for his wife’s hand as I asked, “How long have the two of you been married?”

  The minister smiled. “Hannah and I just celebrated our seventh anniversary.”

  “Congrats. Any children?”

  “None together. I have a daughter with my first wife, whom I lost to cancer a dozen years ago. She’s a sophomore, up at Florida State.”

  Trying to break the ice with the arctic queen was going nowhere. “Good school. So, Mrs. Booth, if you recall, we were trying to determine if Joseph Chapman was a member of the church, and you said you would check with Miriam.”

  Hannah said, “I don’t remember saying that.”

  “Minister Booth, you were there.”

  “I don’t recall the discussion verbatim, but I remember your interest in finding out who was a member.”

  “Does your husband’s recollection help you at all?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No. It was a busy day and unsettling to see the police here.”

  “Why would our presence unsettle you?”

  “When the police show up, it’s never a good thing.”

  Why the hell did anyone innocent feel uncomfortable with the police around? We’re sworn to serve and protect, for God’s sake.

  Vargas said, “I understand, but what I’m confused about is you said he wasn’t a member of this church, and when we checked with Miriam she said you never even asked her about Chapman.”

  “Are you saying my wife is being untruthful?”

  “We’re trying to clarify why she said what she did.”

  I don’t know what confused me more, the smile she gave or what she said next.

  “I may have been confused. This is God’s house, and the work we do here is on behalf of his children. Well . . . it . . . it’s difficult to reconcile the killing of these young men.”

  “Do you know who might have killed these men?”

  Minister Booth said, “Detective, if we knew we’d be the first to tell you.”

  “Mrs. Booth, when was the last time you saw Brett Tinder?”

  There was a slight quiver to her lips as she said, �
�I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Minister Booth said, “My wife has a very bad back and the painkillers she takes can make her forgetful at times.”

  How convenient. “When did you see Dick Cornwall last?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Is there anything you do remember?”

  Minister Booth said, “Detective, please, there is no reason to antagonize Hannah. We came here voluntarily to offer our assistance.”

  Hannah sniffled and turned to her husband. “Let’s go. I want to leave.”

  Chapter 21

  The smell of nail polish hit me as I finished up a call. I hated it when Vargas touched up her nails in the office. I said, “Well, things just got a bit more interesting. Hannah Booth or Hannah Gilbey, as she was known when married to a John Gilbey, had a son who died ten years ago. The cause of death was listed as an overdose. But the coroner said he wasn’t sure it was an overdose and wanted to conduct an autopsy. There were some markings on the kid’s face that he thought might have come from smothering.”

  “What? Who found him?”

  “Hannah. She said he was dead when she came back from grocery shopping.”

  “Why didn’t they do an autopsy, if there was suspicion?”

  “No one seems to know, but the kid was an addict who’d overdosed three times before.”

  “Maybe she put him out of his misery.”

  “Exactly what I’m thinking. If so, she’s killed before.”

  “It’d be a stunner if she turned out to be the killer.”

  “You know, Vargas, nothing surprises me anymore.”

  “That’s not a healthy perspective to see of the world, Frank. Cynicism is like acid.”

  “Okay, okay. What did you get on Stokes?”

  “For starters, he served a stint, courtesy of Lee County, for assault with a deadly weapon. Beat some guy unconscious after cracking his head open with a bottle.”

  “I knew it! He still on probation?”

  “No, it ended a year ago.”

  “What else?”

  “Stokes and Cornwall knew each other good enough to have lunch together most days.”

  “Holy shit. So, the question is, why would Stokes lie about that and prison?”