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

by Ronald Yarosh

  Father Small was also interviewed at police headquarters. He related he did have spats now and then with the victim, but they were just disagreements over liturgical methods and homily topics. He said Father Watson had a volatile temper and would go off on him and others over the smallest issues. He also said Watson fired Flowers during a heated argument the missing money. There was no evidence to hold Father Small, so he was released.

  The altar servers Benjamin Gurney and Walter Jennings didn't have much to offer.

  After I studied all related documents, I decided my first task would be to find and re-interview any available witnesses. I worked cold cases in the past. It took a certain mind set and a lot of patience. It was difficult work, but I loved the challenge. I looked at cold case investigations like I was re-reading a book or watching a movie again. There were always things I missed the first time through.

  I knew most of my interviews would probably be less informative than the immediate ones conducted at the scene, due the amount of time since the murder. I’m only 45. There are times when I can’t remember what I had for lunch three days earlier. In some cases, people have psychological blocks or barriers, which hinder their recall of traumatic events they had witnessed. Others don’t. However, I was quite certain if I could latch on to the murderer, he or she would most likely remember the events as though they happened a few minutes earlier. Violent criminals can usually recall every thought and movement involved in their criminal activity

  I made a list of the people I wanted to interview. I looked through the evidence. There was nothing new or interesting that caught my eye. I took the boxes to Claire’s office. I left them with her. There was something I needed to do.

  5

  I took the list I had made to the records room. A young, uniformed officer was sitting at a desk. His name tag read, "Officer Thomas Newcombe". He had brown eyes, a smooth face and spiked red hair. He looked young enough to be in Middle School.

  I smiled at him. "Hello Officer Newcombe. I have something for you." I presented him with the paper. "I’d like you to run this list and give me their current addresses and phone numbers."

  He sat there and looked at me like I was asking him for his lunch money. "Who are you? That’s private information. Why do you need it? Do you have permission to be back here, sir? Where’s your visitor’s badge?"

  I noticed Alex Dalton in the rear of the room. He was a 6-foot-4, two hundred pound Goliath. He had been with the force for three years. A lot of women in the department loved the twenty-eight-year old’s curly blond hair and Paul Newman eyes. Even though I’m 6-foot 2, I wouldn’t want to go up against him. Many a stupid perp would try it, only to end up in a hospital bed. All in all, he was a good-natured guy. Alex had played point guard for the Florida Gators. He injured his knee in his fourth year during a playoff game.

  He looked up from his computer. He smiled and winked at me. He walked over to Newcombe. "Hey, kid. Didn’t you get the memo? He’s Johnny Sundance, a Private Dick. He was Chief of Detectives here while you were still in diapers. Now he’s back, by order of Chief Rosen. Just do what he says and you’ll get through the day unscathed. Got it?" Dalton looked at me and winked. "There’s always the twenty percent who just don’t get it." He laughed.

  The kid stood up like someone had just pricked him in the butt with a pin. He was visibly shaken. His jaw had dropped. He was bug-eyed. I saw his forehead glisten. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll get to it right away, sir." The kid sat down, and then examined the list.

  Dalton walked over to me. We shook hands and hugged. "I just got a text from The Chief saying you’d be around here checking up on us. I think the whole department knows. Well, almost everyone. While you’re waiting for our junior G-Man, to work on your request, why don’t we go over to Cassie’s and indulge ourselves."

  "Sounds like a plan," I said.

  Cassie’s Coffee was just across the street. It was a favorite spot for cops and civilians alike. They gave nice discounts to people in law enforcement. The owner, Cassie Burns Martin, must have felt secure with a lot of cops around. She always seemed to be on edge after her husband, Patrolman Daniel Martin, was gunned down during a traffic stop. From what I had heard, she opened the place a year later using his insurance money and donations. We had been dating for a while before she got married, but we really never hit it off, especially after I found out she had been seeing someone else on the side. In the end, we mutually agreed to go our separate ways. It wasn’t long before, she was Mrs. Daniel Martin. I learned later that Dan was the man she had been seeing.

  As we walked to the coffee shop, Alex said, "Johnny, have you heard? I’m on administrative leave again. Some jackass perp is suing me for excessive force."

  "How many admins does that make for you now, Alex?"

  He gave a hardy laugh. "This is the fifth, but I’ve been cleared in every one so far. I can’t wait for us to get those body cameras so I won’t have to go through this crap every time some jerk tries my patience by taking a run at me. But, it does give me a little time to write my novel while on duty. There’s nothing much else to do but call complainants and take reports on their stolen lawn mowers or stuff like that. It’s boring as hell."

  "A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, Alex."

  "Yeah. You’re right. So, who’s behind all this nosin’ around? It’s got some folks around here real riled up. Some people think it’s the Governor himself."

  "The Governor? Rumors, rumors. How fast they spread. So, how’s the novel coming along?"

  "Not bad. It’s one of those police thingy books. I’m working on chapter two right now."

  "Police procedural?" I said.

  "Yeah, yeah, police procedural, that’s it. I forget all the names of those genders, and sub-genders."

  "You mean genres, don’t you?"

  "Yeah. That’s it? Funny thing to call them."

  "You did get a degree in creative writing didn’t you?"

  He laughed. "Well, you know how it is with jocks. I didn’t have to attend classes a lot. But, I did get a diploma from UF that says, ‘Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing’ on it."

  "Well, good luck with it, Alex.

  We arrived at Cassie’s. It was a brightly lit place painted in white with blue trim. The walls were full of police memorabilia. There was a police vehicle, light bar on one wall. Another supported an old police call box. A third wall contained a number of law enforcement decals from various local and worldwide agencies. The fourth wall was lined with windows facing the street.

  The place was about half full. Uniformed officers from the Florida Highway Patrol, Eden Palms and other departments were eating and carrying on conversations. Those who knew me, waived.

  When Cassie saw us she ran over. She gave me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. She hugged Alex as well. She was a slim, 5-foot-4 blond with divine blue eyes. I hadn’t seen her since her husband’s funeral. She was left on her own with three boys ranging from four to six. The department did what it could to help her adjust, but that kind of change takes months of grief and sometimes years of soul searching.

  "It’s so good to see you again, Johnny. How are you?"

  "I’m fine, and you?"

  "I’m getting by."

  "How’s the place going? How are the boys?"

  "This place is doing great. It’s difficult running a business and making mortgage payments, but I’m getting by day to day. The boys? Well as they say, ‘boys will be boys’. The three cats and two dogs, well that’s another thing altogether."

  "I’m happy to hear everyone is doing well."

  Someone from the kitchen called her. "I’ve got to go. Don’t stay away so long. I’d really like to see you again."

  "I’ll try to stop by more often."

  We hugged. She kissed me on the cheek. Then, she hurried to the kitchen.

  Alex and I took a booth at the rear of the place. Just then, his cell phone rang.

  "It’s the Chief. He wants me to drive him t
o some meeting."

  "Tell him I need you right now."

  "Hey Chief, I’m with Johnny. He says he needs me. What? ––Okay. Thanks, Chief." His eyes widened. "Wow, you must really be important. The Chief said, ‘never mind’, and hung up. What’s this all about?"

  I smiled. "Sorry, Buddy. It’s confidential. By the way, I need to ask you some questions."

  "Sure, sure. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, as long as I know the answers."

  "Tell me about the Watson murder. You were the first responder. What did you see? What did you hear? I need to know every detail."

  His face scrunched up a bit. He rubbed his chin. "It’s been quite a while. Things get fuzzy with time. I’ve had a lot of calls since then. You know how it is. Everything I did at the scene that day, everything I saw, and everything I heard, is in my report."

  "Yes, I know. Tell me what you remember. Sometimes later on, things come to mind."

  He turned his head a little to the right and seemed to look into space. "Well, I heard the call on the radio. I was just a couple of blocks away, so I responded."

  "What time was that?"

  "I can’t remember. It’s in the log. I guess it was sometime after four in the afternoon. I remember it was a Saturday because one of my girls was at a soccer game. When I got inside the church, it was chaos. People were screaming. I saw a large throng of people standing near a doorway. I pushed my way through the crowd. I looked inside the room. There was this old woman leaning over the body of what looked like a priest. Blood was everywhere. She was babbling in Spanish. I know a little Spanish cause my wife’s from Puerto Rico. She speaks Spanish all the time to the kids and her family. It drives me crazy."

  "What was she saying?"

  "Who, Alma or the old lady?"

  "The old lady, Mrs. Perez."

  "Oh yeah. She was talking to the victim. She was saying, ‘Father, Father. Our Lady said this would happen. You didn’t listen. Now you’re dead. Then she kept screaming, ‘Dios Mio’ over and over."

  Suzi, a waitress came to our table. We ordered some coffees, and pie.

  "What else happened?"

  "Well, I picked up the old lady. She had blood all over her clothes. I asked some kind of priest with a green band over his shoulder to take her to a pew and wait there. He had bloodstains on his clothes. He told me he was a former Army medic and that the priest was dead. Anyway, he took her out of the room then sat with her. Another priest was also there. I told him to wait outside the room and stand by. I checked the victim for a pulse, but I knew right off the man was gone. His blood was everywhere."

  "Alex, by any chance, did you see any bloody footprints around body when you arrived?"

  "I didn’t notice. I guess I really wasn’t looking for bloody footprints. Anyway, next thing I knew, EMS showed up. They checked the priest over. They pronounced him dead. I told them to check out the woman and the guy. The EMS folks left the room. I secured it. After that, Tallman showed up. He took over. I went to the front of the church to keep people in. That’s it. Oh yeah, then CSU showed up. A few minutes later, Horowitz, and Sands arrived. Then Jensen, Riley, and a few other guys showed up to secure the outside. You heard about Jenson didn’t you?"

  My eyes watered. It always hurts me deep inside when a law-enforcement officer is injured. I heard about Marty Jensen during a news broadcast. He was a great guy. He had eight years on the force before he was gunned down during a domestic disturbance call. He suffered brain damage. He was on a medical retirement. "Yeah, I heard."

  "Anyway, the folks in charge at the church helped me round up people for interviews. Gomez went outside and put tape around all the doors. It was a mess."

  "Who else did you see hanging around when you were rounding up witnesses in the church?"

  "Hmmm… like I said, there was that guy with the green thing."

  "He’s a Deacon."

  "Whatever. I’m not Catholic. What do I know? Alma, now she’s Catholic." He laughed.

  "And?"

  "Ah, there was a young boy, maybe fourteen or so. There was a younger boy with him. They both were wearing black and white gowns of some kind."

  "They were altar servers. Who else?"

  "Okay, let’s see. A bunch of other people. As far as I know they were all interviewed by Sands and Horowitz."

  "What else?"

  He scratched his head. "As far as I remember, that’s it. Like I said, it was chaos. I never witnessed a crowd like that at a crime scene. I was only on the job about nine months then. I was still considered a rookie. I didn’t know whether to crap or go blind. I was sure glad when the others showed up. Where were you?"

  "I was working that triple shooting in the Ashwood apartments with Jake. We couldn’t leave the scene. We were doing a search of the area for the perp. But, that’s another story. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

  "Sorry, boss. It’s all in my report. Did you read it?"

  "Of course I read it, but there’s always more to it than meets the eye."

  "Hey. I like that. Can I use it in my book?"

  "What ever. Did you notice anyone on the grounds when you pulled up? Anyone running away? Did anybody establish an immediate perimeter?"

  Suzi delivered our order with a great smile, and then she walked away.

  "Geez, Gomez and me were alone at first. I was real nervous. It was my first homicide. I didn’t think of a perimeter. Anyway, I didn’t see any runners around. I did see some dude outside who looked like he could be the grounds keeper. He was working near some bushes near one of those statues. And, there were other people around the place. No one in particular looked suspicious. Besides, I was on my way into the church to look around. You should talk to Gomez."

  "I can’t. He’s serving in Afghanistan until next January."

  "Oh yeah. That’s right. Sorry."

  "Did you see anyone else? Anybody at all?"

  Alex attacked his piece of pie and took a slug of the coffee. I took a bite of my dessert. I waited until Alex’s loud chewing subsided. He noticed me looking at him. He laughed. "People hate it when I chew so loud. Oh, yeah. To answer your question about outside the church, no that’s it, Johnny."

  I stared at him. I had a feeling he saw more than that but he couldn’t jog his memory to get to it.

  "Okay, Alex, I want you to relax. Then, I want you to close your eyes and visualize the scene again from beginning to end. Tell me what you see."

  "I’ll look stupid just sitting here with my eyes closed."

  "Don’t worry about it, just do it."

  "Okay, you’re the boss." He dropped his fork. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  "What do you see? Concentrate."

  "Hmmm ...there’s so much noise in here, I can’t think."

  "Okay. Pretend you’re focusing on making a free throw at a game. It’s the same thing."

  He sat there for a while with his face all wrinkled and his eyes closed tight. Oh I can see things, Johnny. There’s a FedEx truck pulling out of the parking lot. The doors are open. A black guy’s driving it." There was a long pause. "Oh yeah, and I see a jogger in a dark suit running on the sidewalk away from the church going north. I’m thinking he must be an idiot to be in dark clothes in the summer when it was ninety-seven degrees outside. A black woman in a tan dress is walking her poodle. Some young guy in blue shorts and a red t-shirt, no helmet, is riding his bike like a bat out of hell in the parking lot. I almost hit him, but he speeds away."

  "There you go. You do know more than you thought. Now think about the murder scene. Do you see a priest’s stole anywhere?"

  "You mean that thing they hang around their neck? One of my girls told me about that when she made her First Communion. It was one of the facts they had to know to qualify."

  "Yes. Do you see a stole in the room?"

  "No. I don’t see one."

  "Okay. You can open your eyes now." The list of people he gave me made the case even more difficult. There was nothing in the rec
ords that identified anyone Alex had seen outside. Except for the FedEx driver, it would take a lot of legwork and a lot of interviews to sort it all out. That would take an awful long time to complete.

  "That was amazing!" He went back to his pie. He followed it with another slug of coffee.

  "All right, Alex. If you can think of anything else, call me."

  "Sure, sure. I’ll call you right way, Buddy."

  We finished our snacks, and then went back to headquarters.

  Officer Newcombe stood up when we entered the records room. He handed me his work. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

  I looked it over. It looked complete. "No Newcombe, nothing at this time. You did a fine job."

  "Yeah kid," Alex said. "I’ll give you a gold star for the day." He laughed.

  Newcombe flashed a weak smile. He picked up a file folder from the desk. "I have to take this report to Sergeant Blackman’s office. He’s waiting for it. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sundance."

  "Take care, Newcombe. Good luck to you."

  "Thank you, sir." He left the room.

  "Alex, do you know if Horowitz and Sands are around?"

  "Last I heard, they responded to an assault and rape at Palms College."

  "I guess I’ll be seeing them later. Take care."

  "Hey, I’ll walk you out to your car."

  We left the building. "You know, Johnny, Cassie looked like she was sweet on you. She could use a great guy like you around the place."