MURDER RITES: THE JOHNNY SUNDANCE MYSTERY SERIES (JOHNNY SUNDANCE MYSTERIES Book 1)

by Ronald Yarosh

  "I wondered when you’d show up," he said. "Come on in. Let’s talk."

  I followed him into his office. The stink of stale cigars insulted my nostrils. His scarred, oak desk was covered in various papers and a mountain of case files. A large ceramic mug, sporting a police badge decal, was half full of black coffee, most likely cold. A dish, holding three partially eaten bear claws, sat next to a dirty ash tray populated by half-smoked cigars.

  There were several gold-framed photos of his two girls, and his only son, on a small table behind him. One showed Robert at his Bar Mitzvah reading from the Torah. Two other shots were of Rosanne and Bella at their respective Bat Mitzvahs. His walls were covered in plaques, photos and framed collections of law enforcement patches from departments all over the country, and all over the world.

  "Well, your office hasn’t changed much. But, you look like you gained another ten pounds or more. You’d better stop eating all those pastries. You’re beginning to look like The Michelin Man."

  "Yeah, yeah. Did my ex-wife send you over here to bug me?"

  "Which ex-wife? Aren’t there three now?" I smiled.

  "The last one, Erica. She was always harassing me about my weight. She said I looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy."

  "She’s right." I chuckled. "Anyway, I think you know why I’m here. It’s not about your weight. By the way, how are you doing?"

  "Overworked, underpaid and not enough hours in the day to keep up with all this crap. Now, they want to change to electronic record keeping. The idiots on the City Council want us to walk around with iPads or some other contraption to take notes, photos, or whatever else those dummies dream up for us. Imagine yourself with a gun in one hand and a computer in the other. If you needed it, you’d have to put your flashlight in your mouth."

  "Or any other available orifice."

  "Ah, yeah. I get it. Very funny. Oh, and they’re going to make us scan all our files. The dummies have money for computers and scanners, but not for pay raises. And, if that isn't enough, they want us to wear body cameras, which we will have to pay for from our operations budget. We can hardly make ends meet as it is." His face had turned burgundy. The large vein at his left temple was throbbing.

  "Calm down, Jake. You’ll have a stroke. You should get out of this rat race. Here, maybe this will cheer you up. These are from Castro himself." I handed him the box of Coronas. Jake’s eyes were bulging. He produced a wall-to-wall smile on his face.

  "I’ve only seen these in cigar magazines. You made my day, Buddy Boy. You must be running around with the rich and famous crowd to snag something like this. I don’t know whether to smoke the damned things or hide them in my safe as an investment."

  "It’s your choice, Big Guy. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them either way. Oh, can I have one of those?"

  He frowned. "Since when do you smoke cigars?"

  "It’s not for me. I thought I’d give one to Ricky Martinez since he just got promoted to sergeant."

  Jake stared at the box in his hands. "Hmmm …okay. I guess he deserves a cigar, but not one of these Cuban babies. I'll give him a La Finca." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. He handed me the substitute. "Sorry for the rant. I'm just so fed up with things around here. I'm trying to get another job. I haven’t told anyone about this yet, but I’m looking to get a job with FDLE. It may be a long shot, but hopefully assisting you, and pleasing the big wigs in Tallahassee, will help me secure a position. Have a seat. Care for a drink?"

  "What have you got?"

  "How about some BenRiach-16 scotch? We confiscated a couple of bottles during a drug raid a few weeks ago. It was at Bernie Montalvo’s place on Lake Holiday. The bum was really pissed when I took it. You remember Montalvo, don’t you?"

  "Yeah. How could I forget that bastard? He’s a cousin of the no good piece of crap who took Emily’s life. We found Montalvo’s photo in the Aquino’s car along with a note inviting him to join Montalvo’s cartel. It was Emily’s last night."

  "It was also Aquino’s last night," he said, as he poured a couple of drinks into some stained water glasses. It wasn’t elegant, but it would suffice. I figured the alcohol would kill any germs living in the glasses. "L’chaim," he said.

  "Nostrovia," I said, using the little Polish I learned from a former college roommate.

  I moved some case files from one of the chairs and took a seat.

  "You have some pretty powerful friends in Tallahassee, Johnny. They really put the screws to me. Even though you’re the best detective this department has ever seen, some people around here aren't going to be happy with you poking around in the Watson case." I didn’t tell Jake I had met Sands and Horowitz who were rather upset about the whole idea.

  "Have you briefed anyone yet?"

  "No. I was going to call a meeting this afternoon. I didn’t know what time you’d show up."

  "Please, tell them it’s just my job. I have no ax to grind."

  "Okay. I’ll tell everyone you’ll go easy on ‘em if you find anything they missed. So, why the ungodly rush on this? Who hired you to put the department under a microscope?"

  I took a sip of the BenRiach. It was smooth. "Sorry, I can’t tell you that. I promised my client confidentiality. I said I’d do everything I could to find the murderer. You know I’d tell you if I could. The two of us have a good deal of history together. But, a promise is a promise. I’ll let you know how things are going. I may need more help than just the case file and the evidence."

  "You’ll get all the help you want." He got up. He then presented me with two boxes, which had been sitting on the floor. "Here are the case files and the evidence. You can look this stuff over in one of the interview rooms. Give the evidence to Claire when you’re done. You can hold on to the file if you want." He went over to his office door, and then opened it. "Claire, I need you to text everyone involved in the Watson case and let them know that Johnny is the one who will be looking it over."

  "Yes, Chief. I’ll get right on it."

  He came back to his desk. "I may not be around the office when you’re finished here today. I’ve got a meeting with the Mayor to discuss our budget and the pending changes they want to make in the department. Once I hand the evidence over to you, a good defense attorney would probably call the stuff contaminated, and get a judge to throw it out. Then what?" He sipped his scotch.

  "From what I recall, there really wasn’t much to begin with. In any case, I guess I’ll have to find some new evidence, if there’s any to be found." I took another sip.

  "Good luck with finding anything at this late date."

  "I’ll do my best to locate something useful."

  "I hope you remember how to smooth ruffled feathers. You may be doing a lot of that. Of course, your biggest problem would have been with our new Chief of Detectives, Ralph Kent. Luckily, he’s on vacation for two weeks."

  We both finished our scotch. Jake smiled and picked up a half smoked La Finca. "Well, Johnny, I’ll do every thing I can to help, short of doing the work for you. Once the principals in this case are notified, which has probably already happened, I'm sure they’ll cooperate with you. If not, they’ll have to answer to me. Will that be sufficient?"

  "Yes."

  "I’ve got to go," he said.

  "Thanks. I’ll see you later. I’ll let you know if anything develops." I signed for the case file and evidence. We hugged. I left his office with the boxes. As I walked out I heard him say, "I’ll be a damned. I’m holding an actual Cuban Corona owned by Castro himself. Someone’s going to think I’m takin’ friggin’ bribes."

  I stopped at Claire’s desk.

  "Looks like you made the boss’ day."

  "He practically crapped his pants over a box of cigars. What a guy. See you later, Sweetie. Say hello to Ricky and the kids for me. And, give this to Ricky with my congratulations. I gave her the cigar.

  "I’ll give him this later. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear it’s from you." She got up, ran around the desk, and the
n gave me a hug. She kissed me on the cheek.

  "Thanks, I needed that."

  "I sent the text, Johnny. Everyone responded. There were a few expletives in the replies."

  "I expected that. Take care. I’ll see you later." I left for the nearest interview room.

  4

  I found an empty room, then turned on the lights. It was your typical intimate police setting with a metal table that had seen better days and a few metal chairs. The walls were covered in white sound proofing material. There was a mirrored window on one wall. A video camera was situated behind the glass. During the time I was there, we videotaped many confessions ranging from simple burglary to murders.

  I put the boxes on the desk and then drew up a chair. I opened the case file. It brought back memories. Being Chief of Detectives, I had reviewed the reports submitted by then, Sergeant Amanda Sands, the Lead Detective on the Case, and Sergeant Fred Horowitz. Sands had since gotten a masters degree in criminology, and was promoted to Lt. There were also reports from Patrolmen Alex Dalton, Arnold Gomez and Sergeant James Tallman.

  The crime scene photos included many angles of the victim, the blood pool and the confessional area, also known as a Reconciliation Room. Father Brian Watson’s body was lying prone. His black cassock was covered in blood. A black, leather bound prayer book lay near him. There were photos of several bloody footprints on the wooden floor, but they didn’t lead in any specific direction. Shoes belonging to all viable suspects, as well as police employees, were examined. None of the prints from their shoes matched the prints left at the scene. There was no indication of a struggle in the room. Then, I noticed something. Father Watson wasn’t wearing a stole. It’s a blessed, cloth vestment worn over the shoulders. A priest always wears a stole while hearing confessions. I checked the other photos. I didn’t see a stole anywhere in the photo, nor did I find one in the evidence collected. That was puzzling to me.

  Father Watson’s autopsy report revealed he been stabbed twenty-seven times with a large knife which had one serrated edge. The weapon was possibly a hunting knife. He suffered wounds in the torso and neck. Two cuts to the heart severed his aorta and right coronary artery. He died from exsanguination. He had defensive wounds on his arms and hands. Judging from the position and angles of the wounds, it was determined that the killer was left-handed and taller than the victim.

  Searches of Father Watson’s office and his room at the Rectory came up empty. An examination of his computer revealed no evidence anyone wanted to harm him, nor did it disclose any illegal activity on his part. A search of his office and personal phone records revealed nothing significant. Although those searches came up clean, obviously there was someone out there who wanted to hurt him. In my opinion, it was a lunatic. The question was why did someone want to harm him in such a brutal and vicious way? What could he have done to trigger such rage and violence in another human being?

  I read the interviews of witnesses who found the body. They were conducted by Sands and Horowitz. They included interviews of a Mrs. Lupe Perez, Associate Pastor, Father Barton Small, Deacon Peter Sidwell, alter server Benjamin Gurney, and a host of other people in and around the church at the time of the murder.

  Mrs. Perez said she didn’t see anyone with Father Watson when she waited in line for confession outside the Reconciliation Room. She did say she heard a muffled argument between two people coming from the room, which by its nature was virtually sound proof due to the delicacy of the environment. She said she became alarmed when Father Watson didn’t turn on the green light precisely at 4 o’clock, indicating he was ready for the first penitent. Mrs. Perez said she waited a bit longer, and then she tried the door. She found it unlocked. She called out to Father Watson. He didn’t respond. She walked into the room, and then found him lying on the floor covered in blood. She said she bent over his body and started to scream. Then, other people arrived. She told police when she entered, she didn’t see anyone in the room but Father Watson.

  In the interview notes, I read where several people had verified that Mrs. Perez was waiting outside the Reconciliation Room prior to the murder. During a subsequent interview by Sands and Horowitz, she declared that the Mother of Jesus had told her Watson was going to die. The detectives repeatedly asked her if she could be wrong about that statement. Perez insisted it was true. She then began to cry and carry-on. Apparently, there were no follow-up questions about her mystical statement. She didn’t recall seeing any bloody footprints in the room. The interview ended.

  In his statement, Father Barton Small said he was in another Reconciliation Room at 4 o’clock when he heard screams coming from somewhere in the church. He left the room and noticed a crowd near the other Reconciliation Room. When he got there, he saw Mrs. Perez leaning over the body of Father Watson. She was screaming something in Spanish. A few seconds later, Deacon Sidwell came into the room. Being a former Army medic, Sidwell checked Father Watson’s pulse and determined he was dead. Shortly after, a policeman came in and secured the room. Father Small also said Father Watson usually entered the room around three, in preparation for confessions. Small claimed he was in the sacristy of the church and the media room between three and four that afternoon. Small said, during that time, he spoke with Deacon Sidwell as well as altar servers Benjamin Gurney and Walter Jennings.

  Deacon Sidwell said he entered the church through the main entrance about 3:30. He then walked to the sacristy to hang up his vestments. Sidwell said he was going to assist at Mass that evening. At 4 o’clock, he heard screaming coming from the front of the church. He rushed over to the area. He found Father Small, Mrs. Perez and Father Watson who was lying in what he called, "a puddle of blood". He said he checked the body and found no signs of life. Then, a policeman arrived. The officer told everyone to leave, but stay nearby so that detectives could talk to them. Sidwell said he escorted Mrs. Perez to a nearby pew where they waited to be interviewed.

  Father James Preston, a visiting priest from a nearby monastery, was later interviewed. He stated he was alone in the rectory at the time of the murder. He was going over a sermon he was going to deliver at the 5 o’clock Mass. He didn’t know anything about the killing until later when he noticed the church was sealed off with crime tape. He said he then went back to the rectory. He agreed to a polygraph examination, which he passed.

  The report filed by Officer Alex Dalton revealed he was on patrol when he received an emergency call regarding a possible homicide at St. Francis de Sales Parish around 4:15 that Saturday afternoon. He and Officer Arnold Gomez responded. They made their way through the crowd and into the Reconciliation Room where Dalton saw the victim. He radioed headquarters to report a homicide and request backup. He also asked for EMS. He told everyone to leave the murder scene, but to standby to be interviewed by other officers who were on their way. Then, Sergeant Tallman arrived. He told Tallman that Sidwell, and Perez had blood on their clothing. Tallman instructed Gomez to seal off the perimeter of the building with crime scene tape. Tallman then instructed Dalton to go to the narthex to make sure no one left the church. Shortly afterwards, detectives Sands and Horowitz arrived.

  Officer Gomez related he wasn’t inside the church very long when Sgt. Tallman ordered him outside to tape off the building. He said he saw ordinary looking people walking toward the church. He didn’t notice any suspicious activity.

  Tallman said he arrived on the scene, and then took charge until the detectives showed up. He had no further information other than what I had and ready gleaned from the other reports.

  Sands’ and Horowitz’s reports revealed they had interviewed every individual they could locate who was inside the church during the approximate time of the murder. All in all, no one could identify the people involved in the argument before the homicide occurred. Some witnesses assumed it was Father Watson and someone he knew, perhaps a Mr. Bernard Flowers who was fired after some money went missing from a weekly collection. In addition, Watson had confrontations with Father Small. Sands
and Horowitz also spoke with all available people who were outside the church during the approximate time of the murder. None of them saw anyone run out of the church, or act suspiciously.

  The report revealed officers conducted a search of the entire area in and outside the church. No evidence was found other than that discovered at the murder scene.

  Lab analysis of the blood found on Deacon Sidwell’s vestments and Mrs. Perez clothing, revealed it was the victim’s. Neither Sidwell nor Perez had any cuts on their hands as would be expected in a violent stabbing incident. No other blood evidence was collected from individuals at the scene.

  Bernard Flowers was later brought in for questioning. He admitted he and Watson had a heated argument after $1,500 in collection money was discovered missing one weekend. Flowers had been in charge of collections for the parish. He said he later resigned as collections manager. He said the police cleared him of any wrongdoing in regard to the theft of the money due to the fact that others in the church at the time had access to it. He denied having any involvement in the murder of Watson. Flowers refused to take a polygraph examination. He did consent to a search of his home. No evidence was discovered connecting him to the murder. However, during the search it was noted that Flowers had a large knife collection. Detective Sands noticed that one of Flowers’ knives was missing from a plaque, which hung from a wall in his living room. When questioned about that, Flowers said one of his knives had been stolen while he was at a gun and knife show in Orlando weeks before the murder. He said he reported the theft to the Orlando police. But the Bowie knife was never recovered. Sands believed it was the kind of knife used in the murder. After his home was searched, Flowers was hauled into police headquarters. Horowitz contacted the Orlando police and verified Flowers had reported a knife had been stolen at the show. They said the knife had not been found. Since there were no viable suspects, Orlando PD closed their file. Flowers was repeatedly questioned about the missing knife. He asked for a lawyer. Due to lack of evidence, Flowers was never charged with the crime.