Murder in the Parish

by C T Mitchell

  “What in the world?!” Samuel exclaimed, standing up quickly. He looked frantically around to check the windows, when he saw the one above the sink, he dropped to the floor and crawled over to slam it shut. “That’s a poison dart isn’t it?”

  “Well, there’s no dart that I can see. But maybe a pin so small that we can’t see it just yet…” Father Douglas searched the folds of her clothes and the floor around them but found nothing. “Troubling.”

  Samuel wandered over slowly, constantly checking the entrances and windows as he came across the floor.

  “Calm down, Samuel. If whoever shot this into Miss Ashley’s neck wanted us dead, then it already would have happened.” Samuel’s eyes widened as he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t say that to alarm or frighten you. Have a seat. All things happen for a reason, as you know, and there are no mistakes. We were put in this place at this time to help this poor woman. And…no, look at me, I’m serious…..and if we are meant to go to the good Lord at this time then that’s what we shall do.” He searched his pockets for his cell phone and phoned the Inspector Jackson. “It appears, however, that we are meant to be alive at this time. So have a seat and wait with me. The police will be here presently.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Samuel paced back and forth in front of the couch where Father Douglas now sat next to Ashley’s body. What else was there to do but pace? “Could be…could be a curare dart. But I didn’t see anything on the neck of the other lady.” He was deep in thought, his hands pressed together just below his chin. He glanced at his superior briefly before adding, “Whoever she was.”

  “Right, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. We shall have to hear what the autopsy has to say about it, eh? For now, though, we know the drill.”

  “Right. Don’t touch anything.”

  Ten minutes, by Father Douglas’s watch, was precisely how long it took for Inspector Jackson to arrive and when he did, he wasn’t a bit pleased.

  “What’s the problem, Inspector? You look upset.” Father Douglas was actually surprised at how deeply unsettled the man looked.

  “My problem, honestly, is you two gentleman.” Samuel began trembling when the words reached him, and Father Douglas shook his head.

  “Now son, stop that. We haven’t done anything wrong except for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Twice,” Jackson corrected. “Twice today you’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now you two seem really nice, and I hear you’re well respected around town but that boy,” he pointed to Pere Samuel. “That boy wouldn’t be shaking for no reason now would he?”

  “Now, Inspector,” Father Douglas began.

  “No, I’m not saying you boys are causing any trouble. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be doing my job correctly if I didn’t find it suspicious that you’ve been at both my crime scenes today. What brought you here today, do you even know this woman?”

  Both men shook their heads, though Samuel’s head shaking was a bit more exaggerated.

  “I have something to show you,” Father Douglas offered, hoping it would buy him a bit of time and possibly help the case. God knew that he didn’t want to be tied up in something as a suspect when he’d rather be helping out. He produced the slip of paper from the folds of his robe and handed it to Detective Jackson without getting up.

  “What’s this?”

  “This is a note that the first victim handed to my friend, here, just moments before she died. This is why we were here.”

  “You’re—you’re joking, right? This is withholding evidence! I don’t know how to put it nicely, but it’s what we like to call ‘a big no-no’. Is there anything else you’d like to share before I continue speaking?” Both men fell silent. “Okay, well then you’re both in a lot of trouble, I’m sad to say.”

  “Well, that is just fine with us,” Father Douglas said calmly. “We trust in God’s benevolence and understanding. His timing is perfect, so the fact that we’re in trouble right now is really just more of a setback for us because, quite honestly, we’d really like to help you. Isn’t that right, Samuel?” Samuel nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, hopefully we’ll still be of great assistance to you, and may help you solve this case after all.”

  Jackson was set back a little. He didn’t want any trouble with the clerics, and he knew that if he had them arrested on the spot that he would win no favors in the general public once it got out. The favor of the general public was a great thing to have, for as long as you could have it.

  “Alright, boys. I don’t like it, but I’m gonna let you go for now. DO NOT…do this again.” He waved the paper in the air and looked at both of them as a headmaster would scold children who were in trouble. “Never again, you got it? Go on to Hastings Point, and wait for me to get hold of you.”

  Pere Samuel cleared his throat, which startled the Detective, but he spoke anyway. “I’m to leave in only a few days for Thailand, sir. My—my abbot. I’m to join them in Singapore and then return to Thailand for our missions work.”

  “Well then, son. It looks like you’re going to miss your flight. I don’t imagine I can get all this tidied up in a matter of days, especially now that I’ve got more questions than answers out of you two.”

  The two priests left quietly, and they went mostly unnoticed by the arriving squad cars. The ride to the parish at Hastings Point was a very somber one. Father Douglas didn’t want to ask too many questions of his apprentice because he was fairly certain the boy wouldn’t tell him anything, anyway. All in its due time. You couldn’t rush matters of the heart, he believed, and it certainly looked as though Samuel was troubled about something.

  “Good afternoon, gentleman.” Charity Roberts scurried over to them quickly and spoke softly into the Father’s ear. “You already have two calls from the bishop, sir. He doesn’t seem happy.” Charity had always been a great secretary, but she could really work herself into a tizzy about things if she felt anything serious floating about. The dear woman was a worrier.

  “Alright, dear. Did he say what he wanted? He doesn’t usually call twice, and certainly not when I haven’t been out very long. It must be important.” They quickened their pace as they all three walked toward the parish office.

  “Sir, you’re…you’re wanted for questioning!” Charity exclaimed.

  “Alright, settled down. It’ll be alright,” he reassured her. “There’s just been a misunderstanding, isn’t that right, Pere Samuel?” But Samuel didn’t hear him because he was lost in thought. Father Douglas motioned for him to join the two of them and told Charity to grab them some sandwiches, because it may be a long day.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Don’t worry, Pere Samuel. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Father Douglas said on the ride to station.

  “Forgive me, Father, but the last idea you had got us in trouble.” Samuel stared out the window as they rode.

  “Well, if you recall, it was you who handed the note to me. I simply took it on your authority that you were entrusting it to me for a good reason. How am I to know what comes of the little decisions people make every day?”

  “You’re right, my apologies. I just don’t like any of this, not one bit.” Samuel bit his lip and tried to sit still. “So what’s your plan?”

  Father Douglas didn’t say another word the rest of the trip to the Lismore police station. Once inside, they were instructed to sit on a waiting bench and were offered tea or water by a nice receptionist. Father Douglas refused both, but Samuel took a hot tea to calm his nerves and wash down the sandwich he’d eaten in the car.

  “Father!” A handsome, uniformed gentleman walked into the waiting area with his arms already outstretched.

  “Sullivan,” even Father Douglas’s voice was all smiles. “Pere Samuel, you remember Detective Inspector Tom Sullivan? The best in the area, and a good, good man.” He went in for another hug, and Detective Sullivan slapped him on the back several times, affectionately.
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  “How are you? I got your message and have had the boys on lookout for me to alert me as soon as you arrived. What’s going on?” Sullivan shifted gears from a friendly embrace to professionalism effortlessly.

  “Well, I think you may have already been in touch with Detective Jackson…” Father Douglas began.

  “Oh yeah,” Tom chuckled. “Jackson’s pissed. But mostly because he’s easily tricked and he always kind of feels like he’s one step behind.” He laughed again. “Which he often is.”

  “I’m really here because I was asked to be, Tom. Charity said that the bishop called twice to make sure I came in promptly.” Father Douglas continued giving his friend the rundown of what had transpired, and Tom took it all in stride like he always did.

  “You know I love all the help I can get, Father. I’ll be happy to take all this into considering and give Jackson a call. We’ve worked together plenty, and he ought to heed my direction at least for a little bit, but see what you can do on your end to pray for some Divine Providence and get it sorted out. Just stay in contact with me, but you two can go ahead and go back to Byron Bay for now.”

  “Any idea on what this is all about?” Samuel finally asked.

  “Ah! He does speak. I think I have an idea, kid, but for now we’ll just say that it may have something to do with some very dangerous people.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened farther than usual. “What do you mean…dangerous?”

  “You leave the worrying about that to me. Get this kid home and rest, Father. I’ll be in touch.”

  Father Douglas leaned in toward Samuel as they walked down the corridor to the front steps of the station. “Don’t you think it strange…that the bishop would already be informed of our involvement in this case?” Samuel wasn’t following, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. “And wouldn’t Detective Jackson have contacted me personally, if he wanted me brought in to the station for questioning? Don’t you find that curious?”

  Samuel nodded, still not quite understanding.

  “Detective Inspector Jackson has all of my contact information. Wouldn’t he have gotten hold of me, himself, if he wanted to ask us more questions? Why would he have called the bishop and asked him to give me a message? He knows my cell phone number, as of today.”

  “Maybe we should call the bishop, himself. Maybe we could pay him a visit?” Samuel surprised even himself with the suggestion. He was more of an accidents guy, not one to really barge headfirst into something confrontational. Nevertheless, he had missions work on his mind, and all of the goings-on were distracting him from it.

  “What’s on your mind, son? May I ask?” Father Douglas was an expert at timing, knowing when to ask a question and just in which way to do so. He believed it was God leading his spirit, and it felt very comfortable to ask difficult or pointed questions at seemingly awkward times….. and it almost always produced the intended result.

  “It’s the mission, Father. I just…I just really want to get there, and now I may not. It’s really weighing on my heart and I can’t seem to shake it.”

  Father Douglas thought for a moment. “Tell me about this trip again? Weren’t you short on supplies or something, anyway?”

  Samuel nodded. “Yes, we were, I mean are. We are short. I was trying to gather up what funds I could, but the vaccines for the bird flu are quite expensive and the Australian medical team doesn’t mess around, they need what they need, and don’t have time for excuses. There are people’s lives on the line, for crying out loud.”

  “Well when we do cry out loud, God hears us. So don’t forget to cry out to Him this evening before bed, and if it is in His will for you to make it to Thailand this week, then it will be so. But for now, we have people’s lives on the line here at home, and we are to tend to this for now.”

  Later that evening, the two men arrived at the bishop’s home, only to discover that he was as surprised as they were about being called in for a second round of questioning.

  “I never left any messages, Father Douglas. Not a one.”

  “Has anyone phoned in information from the parish?” Samuel asked him.

  “Not to my knowledge, no.” The bishop was a kind man, and his word was as good as gold. He never messed around in conversation, didn’t waste words. So if he said no, it meant no.

  “Charity said - “Father Douglas began, but he soon trailed off, deep in thought. “Never mind what Charity said. Would you mind if we used your kitchen for a short time?”

  The bishop nodded and prepared some tea for them while the two priests went over the case again. Father Douglas had his cousin gather every piece of paper and every notebook in the house that could be spared. Several ink pens and some markers were also strewn about the table so that if an idea struck, or a bit of new information remembered, stationery for recording it would not be in short supply. Every detail had to be remembered correctly, because surely they were missing something. The two men sat at the table for a long time, writing down every little detail they could think of, and making pages of notes about the two crimes.

  “I don’t understand why we keep going over this, isn’t this police work?” Samuel asked during a lull in scribbling.”

  “Yes, of course it is, son. But the police need our help sometimes, don’t they? Just like any of God’s people, we all need to call in extra troops sometimes, and we are those extra troops. As such, we are going to give it all we’ve got on our end in case we catch something that they miss.”

  “Right,” Samuel said, exasperated. “We’re all in this together, I suppose.”

  “Precisely!” Father Douglas exclaimed. “I’m so glad you agree. Now, what else do you recall about the first woman. She looked a bit plain, that’s all I can manage.” He was furiously writing notes as he spoke. “You would expect someone who was about to be killed to be a little disheveled from running from someone, but she didn’t appear that way, did she?”

  “No sir,” Samuel looked off into the distance, his eyes low and sad. “She didn’t look as though she were running from anyone, you’re right.”

  “What was she wearing? Slacks, I think….a decent looking blouse. Nothing fancy, but you could tell she dressed with intention.” Father Douglas was in his element, he actually seemed thrilled by the process of elimination, and Samuel imagined what he was like as a young person.

  Probably one of those students who loved doing reports and taking notes during class. It was likely he excelled in school and life when he was younger, and Samuel made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Her hair was plain, as well, but you could tell she had fixed it. She was sort of dressed like she was also going to meet someone for tea…..as though it were any ordinary day. That’s very curious.” He tapped the pen on his chin for a full minute, his mind visibly swirling with possibilities.

  “The only thing I really noticed about the woman who died at the café, Father…Elizabeth…is that she seemed to be much younger than our new friend Ashley.” Pere Samuel scratched his head. Knowing so little about both women was proving insurmountable, how did the detectives gather information about people they knew nothing about? Father Douglas didn’t seem too worried about it; he was calmly approaching each new set of notes differently than the one before, even though the content of each page of notes said pretty much the same thing.

  “There didn’t seem to be any family resemblance between the two of them, did there? Hmmm.” Father Douglas jotted down some more notes, though Pere Samuel couldn’t figure out why the fact that they were not related mattered at all. “And didn’t you find her house a bit strange? Or was that just me?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Father.” Samuel cocked his head to the side, searching his memory for what the woman’s house even looked like. It was wholly unremarkable.

  “Well now, since I’ve been sitting here playing it back out in my mind, I realized that her house was strange. There were no family pictures at all in it. Not in any of the main parts of the house that we were in�
��…perhaps there could have been some in the bedrooms…” Father Douglas trailed off, talking more to himself than anyone else. “Moreover, don’t you find it odd that she wasn’t doing anything?”

  “I don’t follow,” Samuel remarked.

  “You don’t often find older ladies home alone and idle, in the middle of the day. They usually have things to do, playing Bridge or gathering for quilting or serving. Unless they’re invalids or not easily mobile, that is. But Ashley did not look as though she were dressed for…anything.”

  “Maybe that’s because she knew her friend was fixing to die,” Samuel half chuckled, but Father Douglas clicked his tongue twice to indicate that he should have more tact at a time like this. Samuel dipped his head in apology.

  “I don’t think Ashley actually lived in that house, to be honest,” Father Douglas concluded. “Maybe it was Liz’s house, and she was just there for some reason. After all, the phone number Liz was carrying was hers, but why would she be in her friend’s home on the day she died? This all sounds much bigger than we’re allowing ourselves to imagine. I also find it a little bit odd that she would trust two men on the other end of the phone that she didn’t know. If I were an older woman, home alone, would want two strange men showing up at my house, especially if I knew something was amiss? I’m curious as to why she even answered the phone at all if she didn’t recognize my phone number.”

  “Perhaps she thought her friend would be calling from a different phone, you know, like in case of an emergency? Or if she didn’t want her call to be traced to her personal cell.” Samuel was getting better at this, Father Douglas thought. “So maybe it isn’t so strange that she answered the phone call, but what is strange is that she allowed us to come over at all. I do agree with you there.”

  “Alright,” Father Douglas made a large, dark circle around a question mark next to a paragraph he had written. “So the reason she allowed us to come will remain a mystery for now. Let’s talk about why she was in that house in the first place.”