Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon

by Mark Schweizer

  Chapter 16

  "I'm really not responsible for that," I told Meg. Our appetites had returned by supper, and we were having grilled cheese sandwiches and a new black and tan ale I had found, called Mississippi Mud.

  "This is good beer," Meg said, taking a sip. "And you are definitely responsible. I don't know how exactly, but you are."

  "I told Moosey to give the donkey some carrots. You know, to lead him down the aisle. Not asparagus and chili enchiladas."

  "Well, Ardine was sure mad. I can tell you that! She said that you and Moosey promised there'd be no trouble."

  "Well, how do you think I feel? All that work that the choir did preparing those pieces is down the drain. We can use the Victoria piece after Easter, but we can't sing O Vos Omnes until next year."

  "If they have the church cleaned up by then."

  "I think that the FOOSCHWAG must have offended the pig," I said. "It sure smelled worse than a sty in there."

  "Very funny. Billy Hixon says he can get a cleaning crew in there tonight to start work. He says that it'll cost twice as much, but if they wait until tomorrow, it may be too late."

  "On the up side, there may not be very much support for Father Barna's application to serve as permanent rector."

  "You're probably right there. Although, if the vestry thinks that you had anything to do with it, you may be the one out of a job."

  "I am innocent of all charges. I have been nothing but supportive to Father Barna, Jelly, Princess Foo-Foo, Wenceslas, Mr. Christopher and all their cronies."

  "That's sort of true. The snakes, of course, were your fault."

  "Not mine. Those snakes escaped on their own."

  "You brought the snake handler in."

  "Father Barna asked me to."

  "Really?" Meg asked doubtfully.

  "That's my story and I'm stickin' to it."

  •••

  "Spring at last," said Pete Moss as I walked into the Slab for our Monday morning staff meeting. "It's supposed to get up into the sixties today."

  Nancy was drinking coffee at the table and waiting for her breakfast. Dave hadn't shown up yet.

  "I guess it's time," I said. "Gardens are supposed to go in by Good Friday."

  "They're going to be late this year," said Nancy. "No one in their right mind would put in a garden for at least a month."

  "You'd be surprised," I said. "Old timers swear by the Almanac." I turned my attention to the kitchen. "Hey, Noylene! Do you think I can get a haircut this afternoon?"

  Noylene stuck her head out of the swinging door. "Can you come by around two?"

  "I'll be here."

  Nancy pulled her pad out of her pocket and set it on the table. It was now official – our meeting had begun. With or without Dave.

  "How's your hand?" asked Nancy, trying to look at the small scar that remained on my palm.

  "Good as new," I said, holding up my hand for her to see. "That Dermabond is amazing stuff. No stitches!"

  "Just like superglue," said Nancy. "Anything new on the clown case?"

  "We don't even know if it is a case. Unless we can prove foul play, I guess it'll be ruled an accident."

  Nancy nodded. "Did you ever get any information back from the Chapel Hill police?"

  "Not yet. We can't even find a next-of-kin."

  •••

  I called Hugh when I got back to the office. It was about two in the afternoon, England time, and he picked up on the third ring.

  "Glad I caught you," I said. "I think I have it figured out. At least part of it. I should have thought of it before, but I was so sure the diamond was in the water."

  "Well, you can't be right all the time."

  "Sure I can. Anyway, one of the men you're looking for is the policeman whose daughter was singing a solo in the choir. I'm pretty sure he's involved – if not in the murder, then certainly in the theft."

  "That would be Alex Benwick. But he's been with the Minster force for three or four years."

  "Any problems at home?"

  "He got divorced last summer. The missus ended up with the two children. It hasn't been an easy situation for him. I only know because I was counseling with him."

  "I think the police should check him out. And maybe search his house."

  "Why do you think it was him?"

  "A few reasons. Number one. He was conveniently out of the office when the cameras were turned off. Number two. He had access to a key and could have easily given it to Kris. Number three. His daughter was singing the soprano solo in the Stanford Magnificat. That's the opening solo. She would have been finished by 5:15 at the latest, but he didn't return to the office until after evensong was over thirty minutes later. Number four – and this is what I should have caught earlier. I'm betting that the fake diamond was set back into the chalice using Dermabond."

  "The surgical glue they used to stick your hand back together after you cut it?"

  "The very stuff. They had a couple of small tubes of it in the Minster Police's first-aid kit. You can check it against the glue on the back of the CZ. I'll bet that the chemical makeup is the same."

  "But why would he do it?"

  "I don't know. Could be a lot of reasons, but he most probably did it for the money. Check on his debt to salary ratio if you can. If you do a little digging, it won't be hard to find the reason why."

  "I'll alert the Minster Police and give you a call back if they find anything."

  "Great! Talk to you soon."

  •••

  "Now I've got you, flatfoot."

  I knew it would come to this as soon as I called the coppers, but I could see no way around it. Race was dead. Mackerel dead. Doornail dead. Abraham Lincoln dead. And he was in my office, a poisoned drink on his lips.

  "Take it easy, Lieutenant. You know I'm not good for it. I'm the one who called it in."

  "Looks to me like you're the main suspect." He pointed to the dead body. "An acquaintance of yours?"

  "Never seen him before."

  "Yea, sure. Then how is it that he's dead on your floor after drinking your booze? And why is he wearing an evening gown?"

  That caught me by surprise. Race's trench coat had fallen open when he hit the floor. I looked again. A Versace knock-off. Not bad, I thought. Probably paid about three-hundred for it. It was strapless--a Basque waist with a straight cut bust line in a champagne floral print. Size 28.

  "So, what can you tell me? Do you know him? Is this some kind of chintz?"

  "Yea, I know him," I said. "He's a baritone. And it's chiffon."

  •••

  "At last," said Meg, skimming the page hanging half out of the typewriter. "At last we get to it. I wondered how long it would take you. The baritone wore chiffon. Another cross-dressing moment in detective literature."

  I was grilling a couple of steaks in the kitchen and tossing Archimedes a mouse every once in a while. He was sitting in the window propping it open, and he seemed to be especially hungry this evening. While the steaks were sizzling, I rummaged around my bookshelf and found my favorite recording of Handel's Messiah recorded by St. Martin's in the Field. It was Holy Week, after all, and I planned to listen to all three hours of it tonight.

  "You'll be glad to know," I called out, "that I'm pretty sure that I'll be finishing it up soon. Lent is almost over."

  "We're all very relieved to hear it," Meg said as she came into the kitchen. My Messiah-thon had started, and the overture was echoing through the house.

  "Are the interviews still on?" I asked.

  "The first candidate – the man – is coming on the Friday after Easter. He'll interview, meet the vestry and then preach the next Sunday morning. Father Barna wouldn't let him celebrate communion."

  "That figures."

  "The woman will be here the week after that. Same schedule. She may be celebrating because Father Barna is scheduled to be gone. He might change his mind though and stick around."

  I took the baked potatoes out of the oven, ga
ve the salad a final toss, and helped Meg dish up the food.

  "When are we going to start our Sunday after-church picnicking again?"

  "How about after the last priestly candidate is here? I'd sort of like to be around for those," I said.

  "That sounds like a plan."

  We were just starting to eat when the phone rang. It was Hugh.

  "A little late where you are, isn't it?" I said.

  "About one in the morning."

  "What did you find out?"

  "Alex Benwick – you know – the Minster Policeman with the daughter – hasn't been into work for three days. He called in the first day and said he was ill. He didn't call in the second two days, but everyone assumed he was still feeling under the weather."

  "Did you go by his house?"

  "The Minster Police got in touch with the Yorkshire Police and went to his flat. I went with them, of course."

  "Of course."

  "He was there, all right. Drunk as a lord. Had been for days, I reckon. He was read his rights and he just started crying. Blurted out the whole story even though the police tried to shut him up. They thought that since he was drunk, his confession might not stand up in court. He wouldn't stop, though. Just kept sobbing the story out."

  "Let's hear it then."

  "He'd been up to his neck in gambling. It's why his wife left him in the first place. I couldn't tell you that the first time we talked. It was confidential."

  "I understand."

  "He got in trouble with some very bad people and he needed some money in a hurry. Then one night after services, he got to talking with Kris Toth over a pint down at the Golden Fleece. It seems that Kris had a plan to steal something out of the treasury. All Alex had to do was make sure the cameras were off and get Kris a key to one of the cabinets. Kris would take care of everything else. She'd steal the diamond – although, at that point, Alex wasn't told what would be stolen – replace the diamond with a fake and return the key to Alex. No one would be the wiser. The theft might not have been discovered for years."

  "What was in it for Alex?"

  "Kris told him that he'd get fifty thousand pounds once the diamond was sold."

  "Let me guess what happened next," I said. "Alex got greedy, went down to the treasury, they had a scuffle for the diamond and Alex killed her."

  "Not according to Alex. He says he didn't go into the treasury at all. Not until Kris was found dead. He says that Kris came to him in a panic right before Evensong that night and asked for some glue. Apparently she'd forgotten to get any. All that Alex had was the Dermabond in the first-aid kit, so he gave Kris a tube. The next time he saw Kris, she was dead on the floor."

  "Did he know that Kris was a woman?"

  "He says he had no idea."

  "Did you search his house for the diamond?"

  "He's in custody. They'll search his house tomorrow, but I doubt that they'll find anything. I'm a pretty good judge of confessions – God knows, I've heard enough of them – and this one rings true."

  "I think you're probably right. This means that there's someone else involved as well. And I might have an idea who."

  "Can you tell me?"

  "Not just yet. Let me do a little more sleuthing."

  "Are you coming over?"

  "Nope. I think I can do it from here."

  "Really? This is becoming most curious."

  "It's more curious than you think," I said.

  Chapter 17

  "Dave," I said, as I walked into the office, shed my light coat, and poured a cup of coffee. "Would you get me the Ringling Brothers Circus Museum on the phone?"

  "And exactly how would I do that?" asked Dave.

  "Call information. I think the place is located in Sarasota."

  "I'll give it a try."

  I doctored my coffee, got a donut out of a day-old box and made it to my office by the time Dave called out, "Line two."

  "Thanks," I said, picking up the receiver. "Is this the Circus Museum? Yes? This is Detective Konig from St. Germaine in North Carolina. I wonder if you have a circus historian at the museum? May I speak with him please?"

  There was a short pause. Then a voice seasoned with age came on the line.

  "Hello. This is Roger Watkins."

  "Mr. Watkins, this is Detective Hayden Konig with the St. Germaine Police Department. I understand that you're the historian for the museum and I wonder if you can help me. I'm working on a murder investigation."

  "Yes, Detective. I'll certainly help if I can."

  "I'm looking for some information on an old circus family. The family would have been active in Europe at the end of the last century."

  "Just a moment and I'll pull up our data base."

  I waited a minute and the voice came back on the line.

  "I have it now. What's the family you're looking for?"

  "The name is Kaszas. Hungarian. Probably from Budapest."

  "Ah, the Kaszas family. I won't even have to look that one up. Der Kaszas Kaiserlicher Zirkus. Or if you prefer – The Kaszas Imperial Circus."

  "German?"

  "Austrian actually. But in the late nineteenth century, it was an Austro-Hungarian empire. The circus was, in fact, based in Budapest but they were a favorite of Emperor Franz Josef and so spent most of their time in Vienna. They were a very famous troupe, playing everywhere from England to Russia and as far north as Sweden. All over Europe actually."

  "What happened to them? Are they still around?"

  "Well, presumably the descendants are. Hang on a second and I'll pull the history up. My memory isn't what it used to be. Yes, there it is."

  "The Kaiserlicher Zirkus had its last official performance in 1918 at the end of the World War I. It was scheduled to play in St. Petersburg, Russia, but ended up going to Yekaterinburg, several days journey to the south. They traveled by train, of course."

  "Do the records indicate which month?" I asked.

  "No, but it would have been late spring or summer. The circus didn't perform in the winter."

  "Yekaterinburg? That's incredible!"

  "Yes. It would have been a dangerous trip."

  "Is there anything else?"

  "The circus disbanded because their train couldn't make it back. It was confiscated by the Bolsheviks and never returned. The circus went bankrupt. The performers that did manage to get back to Budapest joined other shows after the war. Several joined the Forepaugh-Sells Show. Others came over to America and joined P.T. Barnum."

  "Wow! Can you do another search for me?"

  "Surely."

  "Are there any entries for a bareback rider named Howes? A woman."

  "Just a second." I waited for a moment, still trying to make sense of what I was hearing.

  "There are many Howes listed but only one bareback rider. Belle Howes. Second wife of Seth B. Howes. Seth was just about the wealthiest circus owner in the business in the 1870's. Next to P.T. Barnum, that is. In the 1850s, the Howes Circus included 'the Celebrated and Original General Tom Thumb.' Seth sold the entire enterprise to James Bailey in 1870 who in turn united the show with P.T. Barnum in 1880. The Howes name was dropped when the circus became Barnum and Bailey’s 'Greatest Show on Earth.' Madam Howes came to America long before 1918 though. I show that she was a featured bareback rider in 1868. 'The Incomparable Madam Howes.' She was called 'Madam' because she was married, but she was probably around eighteen years old or so."

  "Do you show Belle Howes' maiden name?" I asked.

  "Why, yes I do."

  "And it is…?"

  "Kaszas."

  •••

  I met with Meg at the Slab for lunch and invited Nancy to come along, leaving Dave to mind the store. Business was picking up around town, now that the weather had turned, and the café had more than its usual customers. All around town shopkeepers were sprucing up their storefronts, moving displays out onto the sidewalks and cleaning the salt and mud splatters off their windows. Looking up into the hardwoods, I could make out just
a hint of green. Another few days and the leaves would open, changing the look of St. Germaine completely. It would happen, seemingly, overnight and, although I preferred cold weather, it was always a pleasure to watch another spring break forth.

  "A Reuben sandwich for me, Noylene," I said, sitting down and not bothering to look at the menu. "And a Coke." I had taken a booth in the back rather than our usual up-front table.

  "Meg said to order her a club platter and a water. Nancy can order when she gets here."

  "I'll get it started," said Noylene. "Oh, wait. Here they are now."

  Nancy and Meg came in the door and walked back to the booth.

  "This is pretty secretive," said Nancy. "We hardly ever use a booth." She turned to Noylene. "I'll have the Turkey Blue-Plate Special."

  "Did you order for me?" asked Meg, sliding in.

  "Club sandwich platter and a water," said Noylene.

  "I'll have iced tea," said Nancy. Noylene noted it in her pad, nodded and walked back to the kitchen.

  "Why the meeting?" Nancy said.

  "I need to lay this all out. Meg is up on the England case," I said, "and you're up on the Peppermint case. And here's the thing." I looked at Meg, then at Nancy. "They're related."

  "How can they be?" asked Meg.

  "I don't know how, yet. I just know that they are. Here's what I know about the York case."

  "Kris Toth, studying on a fellowship and with a position as a baritone in the Minster choir, was strangled after having been knocked unconscious. It turned out that Kris, although the proud owner of a pretty convincing beard and a good baritone voice, was a she. She was strangled in the treasury of the Minster with her own black panty-hose."

  "The autopsy revealed that Kris Toth suffered from hirsutism. That is, excessive hair growth. The condition runs in families and, in her case, was caused by abnormally high levels of androgens. She could have controlled it with medication, but apparently chose not to."

  "She was found dead in the middle of the Roman ruins, wearing a Victoria's Secret outfit underneath her choir robe and clutching a cross. This cross was thought to have been worn by Czar Nicholas II when he was assassinated. If the story were true it would be a valuable piece, but its value is miniscule when compared to the diamond – worth 1.3 million pounds, by the way – that was taken and replaced with a 32-carat cubic zirconium. The CZ had been set into the chalice using Dermabond, an adhesive similar to Superglue but with medical applications. We presumed that an accomplice killed her, but her only accomplice has already been apprehended. Alex Benwick, a Minster Policeman, had some bad gambling debts. When Kris offered him the opportunity to rid himself of the debts with very little risk, he took it. All he had to do was turn the cameras off, give Kris the key to the cabinet and stay out of the way for forty minutes. He did exactly that and, although he's still a suspect, he doesn't have the diamond, and I don't think he killed her."