“Oh, you must be new.” Her smile didn't actually disappear it just went to parade rest. She waved the card away, certain I was who I claimed to be, and waved me toward a pale wooden door on the far side of the room. “They're in Studio One.”
“Of course.” The big clock on the wall said the Temple of Majesty's Power Hour would be on air live in twenty minutes. Well, partially live. The living and breathing minister was somewhere within preparing his sermon for the listening faithful. His secretary would be with him. His announcer would be at their side hawking the reverend's newest book, church tote bag, coffee mugs, and T-shirts, and ever-ready to verbally trumpet Delp in and out of the commercials. The rest of the show, from theme song, to chorus, to guest speakers, to transitional music, came out of a can or, more accurately, off of tapes. Gina had filled me in on the mechanics of it all and, even with my faulty memory and my recently scrambled brain, I remembered that. I offered the blonde a friendly wave, told her, “God bless you,” and, with the click of the door latch behind me, headed down the long hall to the studio.
I know what you're probably thinking and you're right. I had no business there. Had Wenders known I was there, he'd have shot (or at least arrested) me. I didn't care. Delp was my man; he had to be. That meant I needed to go into the lion's den and give him a poke.
The hall door to Studio One was closed. Through a window I saw the reverend, Gina, and their announcer rehearsing before music stands and microphones. On the other side, through another window, the show's director and sound engineer were going about their business, making last minute preparations to go On Air. The studio door to the control room was closed as well. I didn't know the announcer, and I was willing to excuse Gina for reasons that probably shouldn't have existed but did, but for my money, Delp looked like what he was; a rat in a box.
Delp and Gina looked up at the same time and saw me standing there. It was a coin toss which of the two grew the grimmest expression quickest. Delp stepped from the studio into the hall with Gina following. “Well,” the reverend said, sounding either frustrated or tired. (I didn't know which but hoped it was both.) “If it isn't the man who can't take a hint. Mr. Blake, what can I do for you?”
“Well,” I said, aping his creepy smile. “If I can have anything I want for Christmas, you'll confess to five murders and take your ass to prison where it belongs.” Had I punched him between the eyes I don't think I could have produced a better reaction. I almost felt sorry for him; almost.
Then he got rude and stifled all my compassion. “You need to see someone, Blake. You are mentally ill.”
“Nah.” I waved it away as if he'd offered me a hard candy covered in pocket lint. “You just think I'm nuts. Truth be told, it's a common misconception; given the lie back in the first grade.”
I expected Gina's jaw to drop like Jonathan Winters' pants but, to my surprise, she pinched her lips and hung in there studying the two of us as if she were watching a tennis match. Her boss, meanwhile, (and I give him credit for the act) looked a trifle confused. “What,” he asked, “are you talking about?”
“My first grade teacher wanted me seen by a psychiatrist,” I confessed. “Every time the class colored, no matter what the project, I always used a black crayon. She was very concerned. But my mother is a miserable old bitch who makes it a point never to agree with anyone. So, rather than take the teacher's advice, she demanded I explain myself. I told her that when we lined up for crayons I did as I was taught and let the others go first. By the time I got to the box, black was the only color left. You see, I didn't need my head candled at all. I just needed to go first once in a while.”
My effort to clear the minister's confusion had failed. The poor man's eyes were all-but crossed. “I'm certain that is fascinating,” Delp said. (I noted with amusement he didn't sound fascinated.) “I congratulate you. Now, if you don't mind, we have a show to prepare and I have no time to listen to any more of your idiotic ranting.” As an afterthought he added, “or your accusations.”
“I don't mind,” I assured him. “Actually, Reverend, I came to apologize. In hiring me, you threw good money after bad and it's my fault. This case, it turns out, was so simple, I should have been able to solve it from bed. Instead, I've been running down blind alleys, balancing ice packs on my nose, and stiff-arming the cops for nothing. So, I apologize.” He stared warily. I tried not to be hurt. “I also came to congratulate you on the impressive operation you manage. I'll lay odds there aren't any two members of your organization with a damned clue what the other is doing.”
That made him mad. “You, Blake, are a vile little man.”
“I have my moments,” I agreed. “But, enough about me, let's talk about you. You discovered your wife was sharpening the bookkeeper's pencil.” I paused, struck by a notion, and pointed at Delp. “I'll bet you thought Nick Nikitin was a vile little man as well?”
“Yes,” the minister said in a monotone, “I suspect he was.”
“You stood to lose everything because your wife had hot pants for a vile little man.”
“What are you implying now?” Between sentences, you couldn't have slipped a sheet of paper past his pinched lips. “You're saying I killed Katherine?”
“No. Heavens, no. You didn't have the guts to kill her. You just wanted her dead. And regardless of how little your religion means to you…” I ignored Gina's gasp. “You have surrounded yourself with actual believers, so they weren't going to do it for you. You needed a killer. Luckily, you had an ex-con to find one for you. All you had to do was pull the wool over his eyes.”
Delp glared. From the corner of my eye I noted that Gina finally wore the look of shock that went with her earlier intake of air. It was about time. I'd been around cigar store Indians easier to annoy. I soldiered on. “Poor Reggie Riaz actually believed all that bullshit you fed him about the church having money problems.” I turned to look at Gina, “They all did,” then back to Delp. “You needed Reggie to believe that God's work would come to a screeching halt if you didn't find a way to shake everyone in the congregation up; something dramatic to bring in donations.” Delp's glare had, surprisingly, turned to one of utter confusion. I didn't know what that was all about, but I wasn't buying it and chose to ignore it. “Reggie gave it away with a Freudian slip. When I asked if Katherine had any enemies, he said `I don't know anyone who would take her.' That's what it was in the beginning. You convinced Reggie to take your wife; to kidnap her.”
“Nonsense!”
“Show a little faith.” The muscles in Delp's jaw tightened as he stared holes through me. On the bright side, I had his attention. “When Reggie said he couldn't do it alone, you agreed. You told him the sort of individual that might help. You suggested, or got him to suggest, an old cell mate; Eddie Love. Reggie had turned the wayward cowboy on to the Lord in prison. You met both through your evangelism work. You appeared for both at their parole hearings. What Reggie never considered, what he never imagined you were counting on, was that a maniac, even a religious one, especially a religious one, is still a maniac. Eddie rented a motel room, telling Reggie it would be a safe place to keep Katherine out of sight until the church was saved. The poor slob had no clue you'd met with Eddie alone and made arrangements for that kidnapping to become a murder.”
Delp's lower lip trembled and he started to sputter. I plowed on.
“Reggie didn't know you altered the plan. He went to his grave thinking the maniac cowboy just lost control that night. He had no idea Eddie was filling an order for you. Trouble was, you didn't know Eddie had a plan of his own. While he was handling your business, he was getting revenge for himself on a broken down private detective that, ages ago, had put him away.”
“I watched Katherine and Nick from a tree limb outside your wife's bedroom window. Which, come to think of it, could prove that I am nuts. Anyway, they were too busy undressing each other to worry about a peeping Tom. What I didn't know then was I had a couple of peepers of my own; Eddie and Reggie watching
me from the bushes. Thinking back, I heard them rustling around below but, when I studied the yard, I saw only shadows and heard only the breeze. It's what everyone tells themselves in horror stories and murder mysteries, isn't it, it's only the wind.”
I'd given up trying to guess what my listeners were thinking. They were attentive, so I continued.
“Your wife did not accompany Nick to the front door. They said their good-nights upstairs. Young Nikitin drove away and I watched Katherine turn out the bedroom light and go to sleep; her head filled with the stuff that dreams are made of. Then I descended, hopped the fence, and took my leave confident I had done the job for which you'd hired me. Whether or not the evening had turned out as you imagined was not in my power to guess. I hate to admit it, but Nikitin was only one of the myriad complications of which I was ignorant that night. The others concerned the presence, the intentions, the actions of Eddie Love and Reggie Riaz. They were there the whole time, saw me on stakeout, saw me pop the lock on Nick's car, watched me watch the lovers. They waited for Nick and me to leave.”
“With their intended victim, your wife, alone in bed, and now that the coast was clear, Eddie and Reggie emerged from the bushes headed for the house. They forced a withdrawing room window located, significantly and unfortunately, above the rock garden at the side of your house and entered. Reggie went first. Behind him and, I believe, without his knowledge, Eddie grabbed up a hefty rock and followed. They were headed upstairs, Reggie thought, to kidnap your wife. But Love had something else in mind.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
It felt as if the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in that radio station hallway. I ignored the chill and cold stares coming from Delp and, it hurt to say, Gina. But I wasn't sorry. I was determined to unravel the web of deceit we'd all been caught in and, to that end, I had a story to tell. “As your right-hand man, and your rented psycho, climbed your stairs that night headed for Katherine's room,” I said. “I don't think Reggie had any idea they were bringing on her doom.”
“You're not only delirious, you're fanciful as well.”
“But you digress. No. It's far more likely that Reggie freaked out when Eddie stole past him into that bedroom, rock held high, and bashed in your wife's skull. He thought he'd just snapped; thought the idea of Katherine and Nick fornicating right there in front of them in your house made Eddie so righteously indignant that he went ballistic. You were most likely shocked yourself when you heard about it. When you heard what Eddie had done.”
Delp shook his head. “I know Eddie Love, of course,” he said. “Through the prison service. I did appear on his behalf, as I do for many, at their hearings. But this conspiracy… Blake, you're ranting. I was shocked by Katherine's murder. Of course I was shocked,” he added acidly. “She was my wife.”
I wanted to laugh in his face or at least blow a raspberry. Instead, I merely smiled (Delp wasn't the only one that could muster quiet dignity from whole cloth) and moved on. “My guess is he wasn't supposed to kill her until he had her alone at the Flying Saucer Motel. But we'll come back to that. The real question the night of the murder was, what the hell was Eddie doing? His rage made no sense. He knew your wife was an adulteress, that's how you convinced him to kill her in the first place.”
Gina finally made her presence known. “The whole thing is ridiculous, Blake,” she said. “If this were true, if any of it were true, why would the Reverend have hired you?”
I gawped at Gina (and couldn't help but notice that Delp did too).
“The answer of the week,” I told Delp, “is that I come highly recommended.” Gina frowned. “But the fact is, the reverend didn't hire me.” The ping pong was killing me but I turned back to Delp. “If my scorecard's accurate, Eddie hired me, through Reggie and Gina, in your name.” I said it all nice and slow, then added, “Gina knew nothing about your plot with Eddie, and you knew nothing about me. In fact I'm going to guess that, not only did you not order my hire but that, if it was even suggested, you specifically told Eddie not to do it.”
The minister and his secretary traded unreadable, but what to them might have been meaningful, looks. I took is as a sign I was right and, with my confidence bolstered, continued.
“Eddie suggests hiring me to strengthen your alibi,” I said. “You're not only out of town but your lovely wife was being guarded by what was purported to be a professional private detective. How could you know I was a screw up? You tell him you're Reverend Delp and you don't need an alibi. As far as you're concerned that ended the matter. But Love had a hard-on for me of which none of you were aware. I sent him to prison. Eddie was going to get me back; he promised that at his sentencing. He used the occasion of killing your wife as an opportunity to set me up. It makes little difference really, either without your orders or against your orders, he got me there, to your house and, after killing your wife, anonymously reported my presence to the police.”
The reverend had run the gamut of facial expressions and, for the moment, had returned to giving me the stink eye. Oddly, it looked good on him. Gina, I confess, remained unreadable. “Yes, Reverend, you conduct your business in many directions at once. You fight on many fronts.”
“I fight the great enemy of mankind,” the pompous bastard said. Then he stared right at me and got insulting. “And his minions.”
If I'd known what a minion was I'd have been hurt. But, not knowing anything at all, I continued unmoved. “Yes, and I'm sure the world appreciates it. But we keep getting off track. As great a team captain as you are, you're not all that perceptive. Certainly not as perceptive as your followers give you credit for.” I hadn't entered the studio with my name on anybody's Christmas card list and there was no point in pulling punches then. Gina was either going to follow me toward the light or stick with her boss but she was a big girl and the choice would be hers. The way I saw it, there was a truth that needed to be told. “You had plenty of balls in the air. But it never occurred to you that Eddie did too. You thought him just a killer. But he had his own game to play. Like I said, after killing your wife, he turned me in to the cops. That could have been bad. The police need little incentive to give me a hard time. But they aren't stupid. They thought I knew something about what was going on but they never, for a minute, believed I had anything to do with Katherine's murder.”
Delp was glowering. I didn't know if it was because I kept bringing up his dead wife or because the Alpha wolf in him had learned something about one of his pack he hadn't known. Not my problem.
“Long story, short,” I continued, “Where Katherine died was inconvenient but, ultimately, it didn't matter. She was dead and as anticipated your followers were amazed and inspired by your ability to carry on. The donations to your stale dog and pony show, which had begun to dry up, once again began flowing like wine. But Nick Nikitin was out there, somewhere. It wouldn't have made the slightest difference had your wife died during a botched kidnapping. But she'd died at home. Nick could be tied in, if you happened to get an investigator on the case that was worth a damn. And Nick knew things about the church and about you. You put me on Nikitin's trail. You did the same with Eddie. He found him first, hiding away in a lakeside cabin with his brother, and he killed them both. All justified as far as you were concerned because he was tying up loose ends for the glory of God's chosen one.”
“It's ridiculous,” Delp insisted. “The whole thing is outlandish.”
How the minister still managed to hold his nose up was beyond me. But there it was. You could have flown a flag off of it. To hell with it, and him. Where was I? “Did Eddie give you the details? How he shot the big one, John, blocked the cabin doors, then set the place on fire?”
Gina gasped and, if it wasn't the crappy lighting in the studio, grew pale. Delp was stoic but I thought I detected a bob of his Adam's apple. A gulp was the least he could do.
“Those two extra murders might have been the end of it; were the end as far as you were concerned. But little did you know, there was
that goddamned crazy cowboy, Love, still trying to stick it in my keister; trying to set me up as a killer. Again, he left evidence of my presence at the scene, just as he had at your house. But this time it was a major blunder. Like a kindergartner in a sandbox, he left a message in the mud by the lake bank where I'd slipped and fell. Then he wrenched the license plate from my car, beat it against an innocent tree, and left it to be found. It was not only less convincing than before, it was cartoonishly embarrassing. It called attention to itself. I've already said I'm no friend of the cops but they're not complete morons. For no apparent reason, suddenly, an unrelated fire in a cabin in the woods a hundred miles from Chicago was connected to the murder of a prominent minister's wife. Instead of floating away on your resurgent river of money, with your cheating wife out of your thinning hair, you're hearing your name pop up in another investigation.”
“Only from you, Blake.”
I wanted to take a bow but settled for a smile. “Love was quickly becoming a liability.” Delp stared, as icy as Capone's corpse. “You discovered Love wasn't your only trouble. Reggie Riaz and his wife, and their collective consciences, were threatening to further bitch things up.”
Gina had gone from pale to gray and, standing still, looked like a statue. “You were at your desk,” I told her, “most likely staring at his office door with a mask of concern while your boss and Reggie had it out.” She opened her mouth but didn't speak. I felt for her and turned it back on Delp where I was certain it belonged. “You'd used Reggie, Reverend. He saw his whole life collapsing around his ears. Rocio had nothing to do with any of it. Reggie wouldn't have if he'd even suspected murder. It doesn't matter what finally fueled him, his love for Rocio, fear of a return to the joint, guilt. Whatever it was, Reggie wanted out. That's what you had words about the morning he went on sabbatical.”
Corpses Say the Darndest Things: A Nod Blake Mystery Page 19