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

by Ronald Yarosh

  "Do you know where Deacon Sidwell was prior to finding the body?"

  "Hmmm …I believe he was in the sacristy. I think he arrived around 3:30."

  "What about Mrs. Perez?"

  "She was in her usual position, first in line outside the West Reconciliation Room. I saw her as I walked to the media room."

  "If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the room where Father Watson was murdered."

  "Certainly.” He stood up. I followed his lead.

  "By the way, Bart, do you know of anyone who may have wanted to hurt Father Watson?"

  "As I told the police at the time, I have no idea who would have wanted to hurt Brian. He was a sweet, decent, and honorable man. He was an inspiring priest. People generally loved him, though he did have a bit of a temper now and then. His parishioners adored him. We had a great, but short working relationship. I had only been here a few months before the murder took place."

  "This may seem a little pointed, but in reading the case file, I noticed that you and Father Watson had a few, shall we say, heated discussions from time to time."

  "I must confess, we had our differences and rowdy spats, which were purely based upon liturgy and practices. After all, I’m a Benedictine. He was a regular Diocesan Priest. There’s quite a difference. Sometimes we didn’t see eye to eye about my topics for homilies. Occasionally he would get upset when I asked for time off. But, those disagreements were hardly a motive to do him in. I could have asked for a reassignment at any time. There was never anything to our head butting. In the end, we always worked out our little problems. By the way, Johnny, do you consider me a suspect? Should I, as they say on TV, ‘get a lawyer’?"

  "You’re not a suspect. Not at this point anyway. I just have to cover all the bases.”

  "I fully understand. We, each of us, I have our paths in life."

  We left the administrative offices.

  8

  We walked to the church. We entered the narthex through the teakwood doors. There was a large oak table in the middle of the tiled floor. A gold crucifix sat on the table. A white lace doily had been placed under the crucifix. A prayer book and a rosary lay at the foot of the crucifix. Various religious paintings adorned the walls. Three large crystal chandeliers hung from the gold colored ceiling. Six beveled glass doors led to the interior of the church proper.

  Father Small went inside. I followed. He bowed toward the Tabernacle, and then turned to his left. He stopped at a frosted windowed door. There was a red and green colored light assembly above the door. It was a warning light for penitents. If the light was red, one couldn’t enter the room. If the light was green, it was okay. However once confessions began, it was quite apparent when a person was done, since they would leave using the same door they used to enter.

  We went inside. The room looked much warmer than it appeared in the crime scene photos. It measured about twenty feet square. There were no windows to the outside. The walls were a pale yellow. The ceiling was off white. The carpet was a medium beige color. Immediately to the right, about ten feet in, was a wooden screen used to shield a penitent’s identity from the priest. It was about 6-feet high. There was a kneeler in front of the screen. A stuffed, red leather chair was positioned in back of the screen. About six feet away, in front of the chair, was a high back wooden chair where someone could sit in front of the priest, if so desired, to confess. A black and purple stole hung from a hook on the inside of the wood frame of the screen. There were two tables in the corners across from the penitential area. A stained glass lamp rested on each one. There was a stuffed armchair next to each of the tables. To the right of where the priest sat was another door. It was made of solid mahogany. It held a brass doorknob.

  "Well, Johnny. This is where I found Brian’s body. Of course, the room has been somewhat renovated. They decided to put carpeting over the wooden floor. At the time, I told everything I knew about the incident to the police."

  "Did you notice any bloody footprints around the body while you were here?"

  "Sorry, I can’t recall seeing any bloody footprints. I was focusing on Brian Watson. Everything happened so fast. The next thing I knew we were being ushered out of the room."

  "I understand." I pointed to the mahogany door. "Where does that door lead?"

  "Let me show you." I followed him. It opened to a dark hallway, which went right and left.

  "Is there anyway to light this hallway, Bart?"

  "Yes." He walked a few feet from me and flipped a switch. An overhead light came on just above the door. I noticed a keypad lock on the outside of the door. It was a security measure to keep people from entering the Reconciliation Room while confessions were in progress.

  "Was it this dark in the hallway at the time of the murder?"

  "I assume so. I’m afraid it was an energy conservation measure. Brian wanted the church to be ‘green’ as they say. I also think he was cost conscious. He used to admonish me when I’d leave the TV on or have the air conditioning too low. Father Ed has kept this hallway as you now see it."

  "Who had the security code to this door on the day of the murder?"

  "Oh, my. You’ve got me there, Johnny. I know I had it. And, of course Brian. I suppose some of the retired priests, or visiting priests from San Sebastian who used the room to hear confessions might have had the code. I really don’t know. The janitor most certainly would have had it. It’s really quite hard to say at this point."

  "Has the code changed since the murder?"

  He flashed a puzzled look on his face. "My word. I don’t think so. Let me try it." He closed the door. "One, two, three, four, five. There, it opened. Dear Lord, it hasn’t been changed."

  I hadn’t seen anything in the reports about the keypad door lock. Someone from the department missed an important clue. The killer’s prints, or some blood, might have been left on the buttons. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I shook my head. "So, the code is one thru five. That’s the generic code the lock has when it comes from the factory. I can’t believe no one changed it when it was installed. Why have a security lock that almost anyone with half a brain could open?"

  "Hmmm… I don’t know. You’d have to ask the groundskeeper, Mr. Lyons. He doubles as a handyman around here. Do you think the killer came in this way?"

  "Well, the murderer could have come through the penitent door, but most likely he would’ve been seen by someone. So, logically –– "

  "He’d come in the through the hallway where no one might see him. Brilliant!"

  "Yes. Where will this hallway take us?"

  "Well, to the right, it leads to the Cry Room. The door to that room is usually locked so no one can get into the hallway. One doesn’t want kids running about the halls during Mass or during confessions. The exit door to the Cry Room leads to the narthex, which of course takes you to the main entrance. If you go left from here, it leads to the Chapel, and then to several other entrances to the church. It’s quite private actually. Brian never liked anyone but clergy using the hallways. He was strict about that. I saw him ball out an errant alter server now and then for violating that rule."

  "Well, Bart, I guess that’s it for now. I’ll look around on my own and see what I can come up with. Thanks for all your help. May I call on you again if necessary?"

  "Certainly. Please do. Glad to be of help, though I wasn’t very helpful. Perhaps we can have a drink together sometime."

  "That sounds good to me."

  "Good bye, Johnny and God bless you."

  "Thanks, Bart. God bless you." He turned to leave.

  Suddenly something came to mind. "Say Bart, before you leave I have a couple more questions."

  "Fire away. But, I do have to run." We started for the narthex.

  "In the case file said that you were witness to an argument between Mr. Bernard Flowers and Father Watson. What can you tell me about that?"

  "It was pretty much common knowledge that a lot of money went missing from the collection one weekend. Flowers was in
charge of the donations each week. The money went missing whilst he was counting it. Alone I might add. Flowers denied taking the cash. He and Brian had a heated argument about it in the church offices the Monday after it happened. Mrs. Butterfield and Mr. Lyons were there. I am sure they would give you the same account. Brian fired Bernard that day. Brian also reported the loss of money to the police. I guess the police talked to Flowers, but he was subsequently released."

  "Another question. Is Deacon Sidwell here now?"

  "Not right now, but he will be this evening for a meeting. However, you might be able to find him at the Fashion Square Mall in Orlando. He has a restaurant there. It’s called, ‘Sidwell’s Fish House’." He looked at his watch.

  "Oh yes. I’ve heard of it. Thanks. Also, I need to talk to the servers who were here that day. Does the office have their contact information?"

  He cocked his head to one side. "Let’s see. For some reason, I do remember that the Gurney twins and Walter Jennings were scheduled to serve that day. I recall that fact because they were very disturbed over the whole matter. I later counseled them. On the evening of the incident, Father Preston drove the Gurneys home in the church van. Yes, I’m quite sure the office has their information. I’ll see that Ms. Butterfield gives it to you before you leave."

  "By the way, did you notice any blood stains on either of the servers, or anyone besides Sidwell or Perez?"

  He checked his watch again. "Why no, they all looked perfectly fine to me. Why do you ask?"

  "Just a routine question."

  "I see. Wait a minute. Come to think of it, Ben Gurney and his sister, Julia will both be here at 4 o’clock today for our Youth Group gathering. You don’t think they had any involvement in the killing do you? They’re just a couple of children."

  "I don’t think they’re involved. It’s just a loose end I need to clear up."

  Just as we got to one of the church entrance doors, a tall lanky man came in. He was wearing a black polo shirt, black slacks, and black shoes.

  "Ah, Jimmy, perfect timing. This is Mr. Johnny Sundance. He’s with the police. He’s here about Brian Watson’s murder. He’s talking to everyone who was here at the time."

  Jimmy walked over to me and shook my hand. It was a rather weak shake for such a large man. He was about 6-foot, frail, with a shaven head. His gray eyes were dull. He appeared to be in his late thirties. "Happy to meet you, Mr. Sundance. What can I do for you?"

  "I’ll leave you two alone," Bart said. He walked toward the exit, and then departed.

  "Will this take very long, Mr. Sundance? I have a meeting with our Scoutmaster in a few minutes."

  "It shouldn’t take that long, Father Preston."

  "What would you like to know?"

  "Please tell me where you were the afternoon Father Watson was murdered."

  "I already told police all about that. Did you happen to read their report?"

  "I read the report, but I always like to get the information straight from the person who made the statement."

  "I arrived at the rectory between 2 and 3 o’clock. Mrs. Perez made me some tea. Bart Small was there. He left about 3:15 to go to the church to prepare things for Mass. Mrs. Perez left around 3:20. She always liked to get to the church early, so she could be first in line for confession. I remained in the rectory until about 4:30. I was going over my sermon for the 5 o’clock mass. I made a number of revisions. I didn’t know anything about the murder until later when I saw the police hanging around, and the rear of the building sealed off with police tape. I then went back to the rectory." He spoke in a calm and confident manner.

  "So you were alone in the rectory from about 3:15 to 4:30. Is that right?"

  "That’s correct."

  "Did you have the passcode to the combination on the rear door to the Reconciliation Room where the Father Watson’s body was found?"

  "Yes, I had that combination. I occasionally hear confessions here. Others around the parish also had the code."

  "Who else would’ve had that combination?"

  "I really don’t know for sure, but I imagine the janitor would have it, as well as Father Small and Deacon Sidwell, and of course Father Watson. There may have been others. I never looked into that."

  "So basically you don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder, and you have access to the Reconciliation Room where the murder took place."

  He began to blush. His voice became stronger. He articulated in slow deliberate terms. "Spoken like a true policeman. You are correct. I don’t have an alibi, and I had access to the room. Like I told you, I was alone in the Rectory going over my sermon. That’s the truth. What more can I say? If you’re trying to implicate me in the murder of Brian Watson you’re making a grave mistake. I’m not a killer. I’m a consecrated priest, for God’s sake. I had no reason to kill Brian. He and I we’re great friends. You can ask anyone. He was difficult to get along with at times, but who isn’t in this world today? Besides, I was given a polygraph examination by the police and I passed it."

  "Well, if you didn’t murder Father Watson, who do you think might have done it?"

  "That’s something you should be asking yourself, Mr. Sundance. But, since you asked, I’ll tell you what I think. In my opinion, the person with a plausible motive would be Bernard Flowers. Brian fired him because a great deal of money that went missing from a Sunday collection while Flowers was counting it. He and Father Watson had a bitter argument over that. In addition, from what I understand, Bernard had a large knife collection. I understand one of his knives was missing. If you put all that information together, plus his military experience, it’s my opinion Flowers murdered Father Watson. He’s the person you should be after.”

  "Do you know if he had the combination to the Reconciliation Room?"

  "I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him about that."

  "I’ll be talking to him in the near future. Is there anything else you can tell me about that day that might be of help to me?"

  "No. That about sums it up. I really have to run. Is it okay to leave now?"

  "Yes. Thank you for your input. Have a good day."

  "You’re welcome." Preston turned and left the church without shaking my hand. He definitely didn’t like being pressed on the question of who killed Brian Watson.

  9

  I decided to look around. I went back to the Reconciliation Room. I entered through the back door. I scanned the room one more time. Nothing of importance caught my attention. I left the room going through the same door. I turned to the left, figuring the killer probably didn’t go right toward the Cry Room. Light from the frosted glass, side exit door windows, filtered down the corridor. Anyone lurking about would’ve had a good chance of not being seen. Father Watson’s idea of being "green" may have cost him his life. I wondered if there was another reason why the cleric wanted the hallway dark. Was it a way for secret penitents to get to the Reconciliation Room without being seen? Or, was he just a penny saver?

  As I walked along the hallway, I discovered two unlocked storage closets and a janitorial closet with a sink. Each room was large enough to allow someone to stand inside while the door was closed giving ample space for a murderer to hide, perhaps even to change clothes and/or wash up. I found three doors leading to the outside of the building. One door led to the back of the church, another to the side and the third near the front. They were locked from the outside with the same type of coded lock. They all responded to the same generic combination. How convenient, I thought. How utterly ridiculous. Anyone knowing that code could enter the church at will at any time.

  I left the church through the door near the front of the church. Outside to the right near the sidewalk was a statue of Mary. Flowering shrubs and rose bushes surrounded it. Further along the walkway, I found a statue of Saint Francis de Sales, patron saint of writers and one of Saint Francis of Assisi. There was also a statue of The Sacred Heart of Jesus. All were suitably adorned with various plant materials.

 
After my walk around the church, I wondered if the killer had changed clothes or had he removed something like a jump suit, put it in a suitable container, and then hid it somewhere inside until it was safe to leave. According to the case file, the police did a complete search of the building. I imagined the closets were checked, but sometimes things are missed. They found no bloody clothes, no bloodstains, no murder weapon, and no suspects. The killer’s bloody hands could have been washed in the Janitor’s closet. However, if he or she, (I’ll go with he for now), was wearing gloves, there probably wouldn’t be any visible blood on his hands. Washing wouldn’t have been a priority. Gloves would have been a convenient time saver, and they would have shielded fingerprints. Exterior, facial bloodstains could have been taken off with a cleaning wipe.

  Then again, the slasher could have left the church immediately after the crime with the evidence concealed in some way. He could have used the dimly lit hallway to escape through one of the three exit doors. The slayer could also have brazenly removed his blood stained clothes while in the Reconciliation Room, then left the murder scene, going through the hallway to the right. He could have walked through the Cry Room, which was most likely vacant at the time. He could have been in the crowd, holding a bag containing blood soaked garments, and the murder weapon, looking innocent and concerned.

  However, I believe an observant detective or patrolman might’ve seen the bag and interrogated that person, unless of course the murderer fled the scene before the police arrived. Suddenly a question formed in my mind. Could there have been an accomplice? That heightened the possibilities.

  Then, there was the nagging question of motive. Why would someone want to murder a priest? Who would want to murder a priest? A jilted lover? A jealous lover? Someone who was abused as a child by a cleric? Someone who had grown up and wanted revenge? A partner in a crime who got double crossed? Someone who had a beef with the Pastor over something serious or even trivial? Maybe it was Bernard Flowers. And, where was the missing stole? The Number of possibilities involving the murder multiplied exponentially in my brain. I wondered if I had bitten off more than I could chew. Time was running out. I had to work fast.