“You stayed the whole time? Why?”
“Um, because I didn’t want Edna to be alone while her husband might have been having a heart attack.”
“You care that much?”
Enough was enough. “I’m sorry, detective, does this have anything to do with Amanda’s murder?”
“It could.”
“What, are you trying to establish my alibi? Am I a suspect or something?” I stared at them, not understanding the direction the conversation had taken.
“That’s exactly what we are trying to do,” Lieutenant Weaver said.
I couldn’t believe it. Me? A murder suspect?
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, we are,” Weaver said.
“How did you come up with that?”
“We’ll get to that, Pastor Schaeffer,” Jennifer said.
So, she was back to Pastor Schaeffer. “No, I don’t want to get to that, I want to know now!”
Jennifer stared at me. I couldn’t figure out how eyes that beautiful could look so cold. “Pastor Schaeffer, we will get to everything in due process. For now, let me ask the questions.”
“I’m sorry, but this is all a bit much.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it is, but if your story checks out about the hospital, you’re in the clear. I’m having an officer call the Wilkes’ right now, but in the meantime, I need to ask you some more questions.”
I crossed my legs and sat back in the chair. “Okay.”
“I want to return to that last conversation with Ms. McDougal. Describe the nature of your relationship about that time.”
“Do I have to? It’s not really one of my finer moments.”
She nodded. “Please.”
I sighed. “Well, to begin with, breaking up was not my idea. She met some other pastor. I never found out who it was, and she said she needed someone more spiritual in her life.”
“And how did you react?” She wrote on her legal pad, not looking at me.
“Well, I guess I exploded. We were engaged, got a dog together, and were making plans for the future. It was like being punched in the face. I really thought we were going to spend our lives together. I called her every name I could think of.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows at me. “That’s not very spiritual of you.”
Yeah, well I’m not very spiritual anymore, so stick it up your ass!
“Ministers are people too, as some people seem to forget. Just like cops, I would imagine,” I growled.
She looked at Weaver, who gave me a slight smile. “Good point,” he said. “And you haven’t talked to her since?”
“No, I haven’t. I wanted to call her all the time, but my stupid pride got in the way. I didn’t want to be the pathetic ex, whining about how good we were together.”
“And so you just let her go? Forgot about your love for her?” Jen stared at me in disbelief.
I threw up my hands. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. It’s also why I haven’t slept soundly for the past six months or stopped complaining to my friends about how lonely I am now. You can ask them if you like.”
“So, no emails? No text messages? Nothing?” Weaver pressed.
“No, not in the least. She didn’t even come over to my place to pick up the stuff she had left at my condo.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “You two lived together?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, detective. If we did, you can bet your gun I would’ve been fired. But she did spend a lot of time at my place.”
“Do you still have her stuff?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I probably should give it to Ann, Amanda’s mom.”
“You will need to give it to us,” Jennifer said.
She looked at Lieutenant Weaver again, who nodded.
“Pastor Schaeffer,” she continued, “do you recognize the handwriting on this sheet of paper?” She passed a photocopy over to me.
“Yeah, it’s Amanda’s.” I took the note in my hand and forced it not to shake. I cleared my throat and read. “Aidan, he is the one. Find him at the Caves of the Dead. 614-181-0844.”
I looked up at Jennifer. “That’s my phone number.”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “This note was found on Amanda’s body. As you can see, it seems to indicate you are the murderer.”
Smartly done, accusing me of murder without actually saying so. I guess I couldn’t blame them. But seeing as I was innocent, it didn’t worry me.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I am quite serious. In fact, we have thought about arresting you.” Jennifer reached for something behind her back. I could only assume it was handcuffs.
I had no idea whether she was bluffing. I didn’t watch many police shows, so I didn’t know if she could just arrest me because she felt like it. I looked at the note again. “You might want to wait before you put me in handcuffs.”
For the first time, she looked puzzled. “Yeah, why?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“Because of the comma.”
“What are you talking about?”
I held up the piece of paper. “Here. Notice what it says. It says, ‘Aidan,’ comma, meaning, this message is addressed to me, it seems. Or she wanted it to get to me.”
“Why would a comma make a difference?”
I let out a little snort. “Because Amanda is … was … an English teacher who was anal about grammar. If she had wanted to tell you that I was the killer, she would have been more precise.”
Jennifer frowned. “People forget themselves when they are about to die.”
Every horror movie, serial killer, and dissecting video I had seen began to show in my mind. Every dead body had Amanda’s face on it. Bodies with arms missing, stab wounds, blank, staring eyes.
“Pastor Schaeffer?”
“I’m sorry; I’m just having a hard time with this. I really loved her, you know.” I took a drink of my water to wash down the lump in my throat. “And as for the comma, you don’t know Amanda.”
“Enlighten me.”
I paused with a little smile on my face as the tears began to run down my cheek. I wiped them with the back of my hand. “When I first met her, I preached on a Sunday when our pastor was gone. Amanda had decided to come to our church to visit. She walked up to me after the service and told me my sermon was great, but the grammar was terrible.”
“And then what, you asked her out to lunch?” Jennifer rolled her eyes.
I smiled. “That is exactly what I did, actually.”
“Gutsy of you,” Weaver commented with a small smile.
I shrugged. “Couldn’t really help myself.”
Jennifer didn’t smile and continued to stare at me.
A knock on the door interrupted us before an overweight, mustached man popped his head in the room. “Detectives?”
“If you’ll excuse us a minute, Pastor Schaeffer,” Jennifer said. They walked out and closed the door.
My muscles ached as if someone had just beaten me senseless. I realized I had been tensed up during the entire exchange. I wanted to cry again, but I didn’t want to give the watchers behind the glass a chance to see it. I wanted to be alone at home, and be really, really piss drunk in the grand tradition of my Irish ancestors.
The detectives came back ten minutes later. I noticed their demeanor had changed, and their faces were a bit more relaxed.
“Well, it seems your story checks out,” Jennifer said. “The Wilkes’ are coming down to the station to file their report.”
“Great, so now the whole church will know I’ve been suspected of murder.”
Her unreadable face changed to a wrinkle of disgust. “Pastor Aidan, trust us to handle things a little better than that.”
“Trust you? You have me come down here without telling me why and tell me the woman I loved was killed. And then, you nearly accuse me of her murder. Sorry if I don’t participate in a trust fall with you anytime soon.”
I
thought she was going to jump over the table at me, but she leaned forward and pointed a finger at me. “It’s my job. There are things I have to do sometimes that I don’t like. Surely a minister understands that.”
She had me there, but I didn’t want to admit it.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have the power to ruin people’s lives and reputations with a false accusation.”
“Of course you do; you’re a minister. Don’t you do that all the time?”
I about came out of my chair when Lieutenant Weaver broke in.
“Okay, that’s enough, Pastor Schaeffer, it had to be done. You can deal with that by knowing that we are just trying to figure out who killed Amanda.”
“So what you really mean is, grow up, be a man, and help us any way you can now, is that it?” I said as I ran my hands through my hair.
“That’s about right,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Fair enough.”
Jennifer remained silent but stared at me with her arms crossed. “I know it’s painful, but can you tell us anything about this boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “No, she didn’t say much about him, except that he was more mature and spiritual, whatever that means.”
“So, maybe older?” Jennifer pressed.
I scratched my arm. “I suppose that’s possible. She didn’t like me spending time on my PlayStation or watching SpongeBob SquarePants.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrow. “You watch SpongeBob SquarePants?”
“I like cartoons, sue me. I watch it with my brother’s kids when I visit. They got me hooked. I also like Stanley Kubrick films, quiet country music, and a nice smooth whisky. Do you want all my hopes and dreams now?”
Lieutenant Weaver interrupted. “What about the message? I’m willing to bet she was trying to tell you something, but what could it be?”
“Truthfully, lieutenant, I have no idea. I know it looks weird. I just don’t have any explanation for you. My bitterness would say that ‘he’ refers to whoever this boyfriend might be. Seeing as I didn’t know him, she might be telling me something else.” I paused. “May I ask where she was murdered?”
Jen looked at Lieutenant Weaver who nodded. “She was murdered at the Confederate Cemetery.”
I scrunched up my face. “Confederate Cemetery? As in where dead soldiers from the South are buried? We have one of those in Columbus?”
Weaver gave Jennifer a thin smile. “Ah, here’s another one! You owe me ten bucks, Jen. I told you most people in Columbus didn’t know that.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because most people in Columbus are stupid when it comes to their own history.”
A bit pissed by their banter, I broke in. “I’m actually not from Columbus. I’m from Indianapolis.”
“No excuse,” she said.
“Okay, whatever. How was she killed?”
“We aren’t releasing details of that right now, not even to the family,” Weaver said.
“Why?”
They glanced at each other again. “Let’s just say there are elements to this case we prefer the public didn’t know as of yet,” Jennifer said.
I nodded. “I just want to be helpful.”
“We don’t have any more questions for you, Pastor Schaeffer.” Weaver stood up. “Thank you for coming in. I need to run, so Jennifer is going to finish up.”
He left, and Jennifer and I stared at each other.
“Listen, Detective Brown, Jennifer, I’m sorry I snapped. I’m just in shock, and my emotions aren’t always in check. I have a bit of a temper.”
She smiled, her lips tight. “Me too, and I’m sorry.”
“Well, let’s agree to forgive each other then.”
“Fair enough.” She handed me her card. “If there is anything you can do to help us in this case, please call. If we need to talk to you again, may we call you?”
“Of course. I just want you to find the sick bastard or bastards who did this.”
“I didn’t know that pastors used that word.”
“Only me. I have a problem with my mouth.”
“Well, thank you for coming in.” She offered her hand. The touch sent a sensation through me that I hadn’t felt in a while. She took her hand away as our eyes met. “I’m sorry, Aidan, I’m sure she meant a lot to you.”
“Thank you, she did.” My throat tightened again. “I guess I always thought she would come back to me at some point.”
She nodded, fingering her scar. “I understand.”
“Let me know if there is anything else you need.” I walked out of the room not waiting for her response.
Chapter Ten
“That’s been my past forty-eight hours, Brian, finding out my spiritual leader is having an affair and almost being arrested for murder.” I held the phone between my head and shoulder as I stirred my homemade spaghetti sauce for dinner.
“Excuse me, but holy shit!”
“No excuse needed, and I hope your wife is not around to hear your language.” Ashley was one of those women who blushed when she said “crap,” but since she was one of the kindest, most beautiful women I had ever met, I forgave her for that flaw. For some reason, she loved me like a brother, even though I had been a corrupting influence on her husband.
“Nah, she’s at her book club tonight.” He paused. “I can’t believe Amanda is…” he stuttered, “gone. I’m sorry; that sounded so heartless.”
“It’s okay, man. Seriously.” I added the onion I had chopped up. My eyes watered, though I didn’t think it was because of that.
“So, you didn’t do it, did you?”
“Are you serious?” I slammed down the wooden spoon.
“I just had to ask. It’s good to know I’m not friends with a murderer.”
“This is serious, Brian! Amanda’s dead!”
“I know, which is why I asked.”
“What would you have done if I had confessed?” I wrinkled my brow.
“Come on, it’s not like I really believe you did it. Don’t get your panties in a twist. But you have to admit, you would have been wondering the same thing if it had been me.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. I knew that he really didn’t believe I would have killed Amanda, or anyone else for that matter. Still, for a moment, I felt very alone.
“Aidan? Are you mad at me?”
“No, not really. Natural enough question, I suppose.” And it was. I had to keep telling myself that. Whenever a woman was murdered, so I had read in P.D. James’ novels, the lover or ex-lover was usually the first to be suspected.
“Who do you think really did it?”
I took a sip of beer. “I’m not sure. Maybe it was this guy she left me for, but I never actually met him, of course. I probably would have kicked his ass if I had.”
I closed my eyes as I fought another round of tears.
“Most likely.” Brian agreed. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Try to help in any way I can. I still love her, or loved her, so I feel I owe her something.” My voice cracked. Thankfully, Brian didn’t notice.
“Even after six months of not talking to her?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Weird, isn’t it?”
“No, Aidan, it isn’t weird at all.”
I stirred the spaghetti sauce. Bishop nosed my leg, and I fed him a dog treat. I guessed Brian was right. It wasn’t weird. I still loved Amanda but tried to deny it the way most men did when they had their pride destroyed — by acting as if it didn’t bother us at all. Inwardly, we asked pretty much the same questions women did. Did I do something wrong? Could I have made changes to make her stay? Treated her better? I hadn’t always been the most considerate person in the world.
I felt a totally irrational desire to prove to her that I loved her by finding her killer.
“I don’t know how I can help, Brian. I have no idea where to start looking.”
“Did she leave any personal stuff at the condo? Things you might be able to
look through?”
“No, there’s nothing but a few CD’s and other small stuff I have to give to the police. Wait…” I said, closing my eyes as I thought.
“What is it?” Brian asked.
“I just remembered that I have a key to our storage shed. I hadn’t gotten around to getting my stuff out because I didn’t want to take the chance that I would run into her.”
“Well, give the attractive Detective Brown a call and have her personally escort you.”
“Who said she was attractive?”
He laughed. “You keep talking about her in ‘the voice.’”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“You make this voice that you use when you think a woman is really good looking. You use it every time you talk about my wife.”
“Brian, I…”
He laughed again. “Don’t worry about it, man. Can’t be married to an attractive, fantastic woman and expect to be the only guy who notices.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, she is the total package.” I stirred my dinner. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be finding my total package in Detective Brown. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”
“Hey, call it romantic tension.”
“Right. It really gets me going that she thinks I’m a murderer.” I paused. “Besides, Brian, I really loved Amanda.”
“I know you did.”
I tasted the sauce. It needed a few more minutes. “I don’t even know if we’ll find anything in that shed. I don’t really want to go there.”
“Why not?” Brian prodded.
“Because it’s near a grave…”
I dropped the spoon on the floor.
“Aidan?”
“Caves of the Dead. I know what Amanda was trying to tell me.”
“What?”
“When we first got the shed, we noticed the graveyard right behind it. We made a joke that the storage sheds were like the caves of the dead.”
“Wow. Maybe you should call Detective Brown now.”
“It’s eleven o’clock. I think it can probably wait until the morning.”
“I wouldn’t wait. Call her. In these types of cases, from what I understand, time is everything.”
I poured a glass of wine and took a big sip. “You’re right. I do need to run though, the sauce is about ready.”
3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) Page 7