Keeping Promises Can Be Murder: A Lexi Taylor and Ray Jansen Mystery

by Susan Goslak

  Ray left the police station, but he didn’t return to the office. Instead he went to the area where the murders had occurred. He strolled up one street and down another, stopping into shops, looking always looking. In one block there were three bars. Ray went into each one and showed the drawings to the bartenders and the patrons. Nobody recognized any of them. He came to a Catholic church, Saint Simon’s, and went inside. It’s hard to believe that our killer frequents churches, but maybe somebody in there has seen him, thought Ray.

  The church was small and dark inside. Obviously the parish was poor. The stained glass windows made colorful patches of light on the worn linoleum floor. It was cool and quiet in the church. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light Ray saw several people in the pews: a young girl with a scarf on her head kneeling in the back; an old woman lighting a candle in the front; and two others sitting in the pews and reading from prayer books.

  On his way down the main aisle Ray dropped a twenty dollar bill into the poor box. He quietly spoke to each parishioner. Nobody had seen any of the faces in the sketchbook, and nobody had seen a suspicious character lurking about. As Ray was speaking to the old woman who was lighting candles a priest came out from the sacristy

  and asked Ray if he needed some help.

  Ray told the priest, Father Liam O’Shea, who he was and why he was there.

  “Come into the rectory so I can take a good look at those pictures and we’ll have a nice cup of tea,” Father O’Shea suggested.

  The rectory was shabby, but neat and clean. Father O’Shea invited Ray to sit at the kitchen table, as he made each of them a cup of tea that was so strong it looked like coffee. Father O’Shea went to a sideboard and picked up a bottle of Irish whiskey. He held the bottle up and asked, “Care for a little sweetener?”

  Ray nodded and Father O’Shea added a healthy shot of whisky to each cup. “Tell me more of what’s been going on.”

  “Before I do that, are there any other priests here?”

  “Yes, my assistant, Father Tom Seton. He’s out visiting shut-ins now, but he’ll be back in and hour or two. He isn’t here all the time. Sometimes he visits shut-ins and he also has some duties at the local hospital. There’s a lot of work to be done. On those occasions when we need extra help we can call on one of the priests from Saint Norbert’s to help us.

  “I’d like to talk to your assistant,” said Ray, then he told Father everything that he knew.

  Father O’Shea looked sad. “What a terrible shame. I’ll pray for the souls of the victims, for their families, and for the murderer.”

  “For the murderer, Father?”

  “Oh, yes, my son, especially for him. He needs God’s help more than anyone. He needs God’s help to stop his evil and to seek help. And he desperately needs God’s forgiveness.” Father O’Shea sipped his tea without taking any pleasure in it. He was thoughtful,

  “Should I warn my parishioners that they might be in danger?”

  “That’s a good idea, Father,” answered Ray. He opened Toon’s sketchbook to show Father O’Shea the faces Ray was trying to identify. “Have you seen any of these people?”

  Father O’Shea took the photos to the sideboard so that he could put them under the lamp that was there. “That light over the table is so dim. I’ll be able to see better here,” he said.

  He studied each face carefully once, and then looked at each one again. He singled out one face. “This one, I’ve seen this man before. I can’t remember where though.”

  Ray started to speak.

  Father put up his hand as if he was stopping traffic. “No, don’t say anything. Let me think.” He took another distracted sip of his tea. He chewed on his thumbnail and thought. “I’ve got it! He was here for six a.m. mass last Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday is the day of the week that each murder was committed,” said Ray.

  Father‘s face turned pale. He crossed himself.

  Ray pointed to the sketch that they were talking about. “Are you sure that this is the man you saw?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m positive”

  “Have you seen him since then?” asked Ray.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Had you ever seen him before last Wednesday?”

  “I may have, but I can’t be sure,” answered Father.

  “Tell me about him. What was he wearing? How did he act?

  Tell me anything you can remember,” said Ray excitedly.

  Father O’Shea looked off into space as if that would help him remember. “Well, as I said, he attended last Wednesday’s six a.m. mass. He sat in the first pew. He wore chinos and a polo shirt. I think the shirt was some shade of yellow. He also wore a plain navy blue jacket. I didn’t pay any attention to him until he came up for communion. At that time I noticed that he was very tall. I think he‘s even taller than you are. I also noticed that he was very thin. He looked emaciated.

  Father O’Shea took a deep, shaky breath. He looked into Ray’s eyes and put his hand on Ray’s arm. His hand was shaking. “Mr. Jansen, when I put the host into his hands I saw that they were very big, then he looked at me. He looked right at me. That was the scariest experience of my life. I actually sucked in a breath and took a step back. I have never seen such evil eyes.”

  “My secretary said that they didn’t even look human,” said

  Ray

  Father crossed himself and said a silent prayer. “Mr. Jansen, I believe that this man just might be a murderer. I feel a great sadness for you. I’m afraid for you. You are about to experience true evil. You will need to be very strong. Will you allow me to bless you before you go forth on your very difficult task?”

  “Thank you, Father,” said Ray as he bowed his head. The blessing was given and the men shook hands. Before Ray left, Father pressed a tiny cross into Ray’s hand. “Keep this on you, and remember: God will protect you.”

  Ray called me when he left the rectory to tell me that he’d bring a pizza to my apartment. When he came in he said that he

  wanted to talk. I poured Ray a beer and myself a glass of wine. We sat at my kitchen counter.

  “You said that you wanted to talk to me. What about?” I asked.

  “I had an unusual experience today that I want to tell you about,” replied Ray. He reached into his pocket and brought out the tiny cross that father O’Shea had given him.

  I listened intently as Ray recounted what had happened at the church. “Your story has given me goose bumps.” I rubbed my arms. “What Father O’Shea said is scary. I’m worried about you. Please take extra precautions with this case,”

  “Now, Honey, I didn’t tell you this to scare you. The man in church might be as innocent as you are. We have no proof that he’s a murderer. Why don’t you make a pot of coffee and we’ll take it into the living room?”

  When we were settled on the couch with our coffee I asked, “Ray, you grew up Catholic didn’t you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Do you think there’s more to what happened today than just what we see on the surface?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ray.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s a message from God. Maybe God is guiding you to find the murderer. And maybe he’s warning you to be extra careful.”

  “Do you think God sends messages to us?” Ray asked.

  “I do. Maybe it’s my Irish genes, but I believe that those who

  have died can communicate with us. Once, when I was practicing

  meditation, I was sitting on the floor looking out the patio door. I was reciting my mantra and trying to empty my mind. I wasn’t thinking of anything when I heard my dad say, “I’m with your mother and we’re just fine.” It made me cry, but it also made me feel calm and reassured that there is a heaven and we will see our loved ones there.”

  Ray just looked at me. I’m sure he didn’t know what to say about my revelation. He looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t read and said, “I’ve never been much of a church goe
r and I’m not spiritual like you are. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if Father O’Shea’s predictions come true.”

  “And while you’re waiting, you’ll be extra careful, right?” I said as I put my arms around Ray’s neck for a hug. “Will you stay tonight? I feel a little unsure after this talk. I’d feel better if you stayed.”

  “I’ll stay,” said Ray.

  “Wait a minute,” I said as I dashed into my bedroom. I came back with a silver chain. “This was in my jewelry box. I think your cross will fit on it. You can wear the cross around your neck under your shirt.” I fastened the chain around Ray’s neck. “There. Now don’t take it off until this case is over.”

  Ray touched the cross. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll wear it. Right now let’s see if there’s a comedy on T.V. that we can watch.

  It’ll take your mind off of this talk of evil and murder. After the movie I’ll help take your mind off of everything but me.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  « Chapter Eighteen »

  On Saturday Cathy Logan arrived in town for her photography show that was set to open on Monday at the Stanton Art Gallery with a wine and cheese reception. Ray and I met her and Cliff at the airport. She came into the waiting area with a big smile on her face and went right up to Ray.

  She greeted Ray, and then turned to me. “You must be Lexi. Now I can put a face to the voice I’ve heard on the phone,”

  “And I can do the same. Nice to meet you.” I replied.

  Cliff put his hand out for me to shake and introduced himself.

  “Ray, you and Cliff go get the luggage and the car. Cathy and I will meet you out front.” As we walked through the airport I asked Cathy how the flight had been and suggested that we go to her hotel to get her and Cliff settled before we do anything else.

  “I’d like to go to the art gallery to make sure that everything is set up and ready for Monday. If you don’t mind,” Cathy said.

  “Mind? Of course not. We’ll get to see your photographs before anyone else. I can’t wait to see them,” I said.

  We didn’t have to wait too long for Ray and Cliff to drive up.

  Cathy and I hopped in the car and Ray took the Santa Monica free-way north to La Cienega Boulevard.

  “Look at those palm trees. I’ve seen pictures of them, but I’ve never seen a real one. They’re majestic,” Cathy said. She was so excited that she could hardly sit still. “I can’t believe that I’m really in California. When I was a kid I went through the “I’m going to grow up to be a movie star” period, but I never thought I’d actually get here.”

  “There seem to be a lot of restaurants on this street,” said Cliff.

  “That’s why we refer to it as restaurant row,” said Ray.

  I said to Cathy, ”I think every young girl thinks about becoming a movie star. I know I did. I was as excited as you are when I first arrived here.”

  We turned west onto route 2, Santa Monica Boulevard. “I am so glad that I brought my camera. I’m going to take a million photos!” Cathy told us.

  We all chuckled. “There’s plenty of things and lots of people to take pictures of here,” commented Ray as he turned north on route 170. “Anybody hungry?” We can grab a bite at the bar in the hotel.

  “Great, I need a beer,” said Cliff.

  “I’m too excited to eat,” said Cathy.

  Ray turned east on Hollywood Boulevard and both Cliff and Cathy gawked at the crowds of tourists. “Holy Toledo, look at the hotel!’ said Cliff.

  “I’ll drop the three of you at the door, park the car, and meet

  you in the bar. Take your time. I’ll be enjoying my drink,” said Ray as he pulled up to the entrance to the Hotel Hollywood Roosevelt.

  “Oh my gosh, the hotel is right on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!” said Cathy. “Look, we can see the Hollywood sign from here.”

  We entered the hotel and were awestruck by the beauty of the lobby. “This place is amazing,” said Cathy as we walked toward the check-in desk. She and Cliff registered and we went up to their rooms which were nicer than any hotel rooms I’d ever seen. I left them to unpack and went down to the bar to join Ray.

  In about twenty minutes Cliff came into the bar. He ordered a beer and drank deeply when it was put before him. “That’s just what I needed,” he sighed. “I told Cathy to hurry up.”

  Cathy didn’t take too much longer. When she came into the bar we all ordered a sandwich and another drink. “Hurry up, everybody, eat your food so we can get going,” said Cathy breathlessly. I can’t wait to get started.”

  At the Stanton Art Gallery Mrs. Walker greeted us and showed Cathy to the room where her exhibit was to be shown. Miss Delano showed us where the wine and cheese would be on opening night. She asked Cathy how she liked the flyers that had been printed for the event.

  While Cathy was talking with them we went to look at Cathy’s photos. “Oh, they’re wonderful!” I exclaimed.

  “She’s good, isn’t she?” asked Cliff.

  “Sure is,” agreed Ray. “She’s got a lot of skill.”

  “These aren’t just photos. They’re poetry.” I exclaimed.

  “They’re so well staged and the lighting is so well done that they evoke feelings in the viewer. “This one,” I said, pointing, “makes me feel sad.” I pointed to another. “That one makes me laugh”

  “You’re right. They are very special photographs obviously taken by a caring photographer,” said Ray.

  “Well, what do you think?” asked Cathy as she entered the room behind us.

  We repeated our praise and added to it. Cathy beamed. Miss Delano said, “I’m sure that the visitors will feel the same. I expect to have a lot of sales.

  We returned to the hotel and Ray parked the car. We decided to walk along Hollywood Boulevard to take in the sights. We passed trendy shops, Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, and Capitol Records among other places of interest. We saw people dressed as celebrities like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe and, of course, we checked out the stars on the walk of fame. Cathy took some wide angle shots of the area, and some shots with us in them. Ray took some shots of Cathy standing next to Elvis.

  When our feet got tired we returned Cathy and Cliff to the hotel so that they could rest a little before dinner. Ray dropped me at my apartment and went to his house so we could change. At seven we picked up Cathy and Cliff. Cathy was wearing the cutest plum colored sun dress with a hand painted shawl that a friend of hers had decorated. I was wearing my new backless, flower print sun dress and my favorite red crocheted sweater.

  Ray drove us around Belle Air and Beverly Hills .to see some

  of the mansions. “You’ve got to see some of these places lit up at night,” I said. “They’re amazing.

  Ray had made reservations for us at Spago. We arrived at 8:50, a few minutes before our reservation and were seated on the patio which was so romantic with trees and tiny white lights. The food was fantastic. We saw Kelsey Grammer and his family eating a few tables over and we saw and Jimmy Kinmel and a lot of other celebs. Wolfgang Puck stopped at our table. We introduced Cathy and invited him to her exhibit. Ray took a picture of Cathy and Wolfgang. Wolfgang sent an order of Santa Rosa plum and cardamom sorbet to our table for Cathy which we all tasted and declared fantastic.

  Cathy and Cliff thanked us for a great day when we dropped them off at the hotel. “This has been one of the best days ever,” said Cathy. “I’m floating on cloud nine.”

  Ray spent the evening at my apartment and, before we slept, Ray made sure that we were both floating on cloud nine, too.

  Cathy and Cliff opted to have a leisurely breakfast at the hotel followed by a workout in their exercise room and a dip in the pool. We picked them up at 1:00 and drove to Beverly Hills for the Vintage Bouquet Food and Wine Extravaganza at the Greystone mansion. There were over 50 exhibitors from the best restaurants and specialty food vendors plus 12 wineries. The event was a benefit for the Beverly Hills Bar pro bono legal work. We h
ad a ball samp-ling goodies and bidding on items at the silent auction. The event was over at 4:00. Ray and Cliff went to Ray’s house to watch a baseball game that he’d taped and enjoy a beer and some junk food,

  while Cathy and I went to the Sunset homes of Charity. I was going to do some art work with the residents, and Cathy was going to take photos. We would use the photos at the upcoming fundraiser that Linda and I were planning.

  « Chapter Nineteen »

  On Monday morning Ray went to Lt. Jim Donner’s office to tell him what Father O’Shea had said. “I’m going to get religion on Wednesday,” declared Ray.

  Lt. Donner chuckled, “Does somebody have to get murdered for you to go to church?”

  “Funny,” said Ray.

  “I’ll send a couple of plain clothes officers to church on Wednesday, too. If our perp shows up they can bring him in. If he doesn’t, the religious experience might do them some good.”

  You really are funny today,” said Ray. “But, Jim, do you think we should pick him up? It might be better to keep an eye on him so we can catch him in the act.”

  “Come on, Ray, you’ve been watching too much T.V. We’ll bring him in for questioning and see what comes of that.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss, but considering the fact that we have no evidence that we can use; no prints, no DNA, no witnesses, no anything, we’d better catch him in the act or we won’t have anything to take to court. By the way, what did Dr. Winfred say?” asked Ray.

  “Just what you’d expect, we’re looking for a white male, age 25 to 45. He’s a big, strong man with large hands and feet. We don’t know how long he’s been killing people so we can’t figure out what the stressor was that caused him to kill. We may assume that the incident that caused him to kill occurred on a Wednesday and that he is seeking revenge on homeless men. Perhaps a homeless man caused harm either to the killer himself or to someone the killer loves. Our killer probably lives and works in the area. He’s religious, so that is a good avenue to explore.