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

by Susan Goslak

  They took a brief pause here so that Meg could ask a few clarifying questions for her report.

  Gil signaled his cameramen again and this time he introduced

  Cathy. He interviewed her in a similar manner to Carl, but he tried to elicit more emotion from her. Cathy was tough, though. She wasn’t about to give out personal information or show any emotion at all.

  I stood in the back of the room silently rooting for her. You

  go girl! I thought. Don’t let these media jerks intimidate you!

  Before Meg could ask her any questions, Cathy looked her in the eye and firmly said, “I don’t have any more information for you.” She said it with such loathing that Meg got the message loud and clear.

  Finally, Gil interviewed William who took his cue from Cathy and only gave limited details. To Meg he said, “Sorry, I have to go along with Cathy. You have all the information I am willing to give.”

  It is the policy in our office to foster a good relationship with the media while only giving them as much information as we absolutely have to. Gil and Meg thanked Paul and Ray for the exclusive and asked them for statements. Ray and Paul made them brief. Both crews packed up quickly and headed back to their studios to edit the material and prepare it for public consumption.

  Paul took the Logans into his office and settled them in comfortable chairs with drinks. Cathy and William had ginger ale. Carl, Ray, and Paul had bourbon.

  Paul said, “Welcome back, Mr. Logan. We don’t want to pry into your personal life, but I know that Ray has a few questions that he’d like to ask. You don’t have to answer him.” He nodded at Ray.

  Ray looked at William. “You are, or have been, homeless.

  Correct?”

  “I was homeless,” answered William. “Now I’m living with a coworker at his house.”

  “You sometimes eat at a restaurant called Angie’s Place. I spoke with Angie. She told me that the last time she saw you was the

  Friday before Easter, May 18th, and Toon says that he last saw you on the Saturday before Easter, May 19th, and then you turn up on Monday the 5th. Where were you in between those dates?”

  William took a sip of his ginger ale and set the glass down. “I guess I have to go back to the Friday before Easter, Good Friday it’s called. Well, it was really good for me because a worker from the soup kitchen told me that there was a job opening at the Stanton Art Gallery for a janitor. I hurried over and got the job. I got jobs for Toon and Doc too. We helped hang the show that opened on the Monday after Easter.”

  William took another sip of his ginger ale and smiled at Cathy before continuing, “I felt good, better than I had in a long time. I had a job and the woman who was my boss, Mrs. Walker, gave me her deceased husband’s old clothes as an Easter present. She told me that she hadn’t thrown them out and she didn’t know why until she met me. She said that I am the exact height and weight of her husband and that it was fate that made her keep the clothes until she met me. I was happy to have them and she was delighted to give them to me. I put my old clothes and my backpack in the trash outside of the art gallery. I guess the man who was found dead took my clothes to wear, probably because they were better than the ones he had. When a dead man turned up wearing my clothes you all naturally assumed that the dead man was me. How awful that must

  have been for you.”

  Carl spoke, “It was shocking. I‘d always assumed that you were alive somewhere and that I’d see you again. When I feared that you might be dead I was devastated.”

  Cathy wiped a tear from her eyes.

  William continued his narrative, “I intended to borrow money from Don, that’s Don Forrest, the coworker I’ve been living with, to buy Easter gifts for all my friends and pass them out on Easter Sunday, but I woke up that day feeling sick. I stayed in bed hoping that I’d feel better later in the day. I just got worse. Don tried to help me the best way he could but, I just kept getting worse until my fever was so high that I became delirious.”

  He took a deep breath. “I didn’t know if I was going to make it. I have never felt so bad in my whole life. My friend rushed me to the hospital on Wednesday. I guess that was the 23rd. Turns out I had a very bad case of the flu. I stayed in the hospital for nine days. I came home last Saturday, rested on Sunday and I just returned to work on the night of Cathy’s show.

  “Well, that certainly explains where you’ve been these past weeks,” said Paul. “Can you explain why you haven’t come forward before now?”

  Carl patted William on the back. “William we are your family. Yes, we want to know why you ran away from your problems instead of asking us for help, but we just want to know because we’re curious. We aren’t angry with you. We LOVE you.”

  That statement made William break down. He wiped his eyes and took another deep breath. “I’m not sure that I can explain to

  myself why I didn’t come forward sooner. I knew that you must have been looking for me and wondering why I was gone. I know that I’ve put you through hell and I don’t deserve your understanding or your forgiveness.”

  Ray poured more ginger ale into William’s glass. William’s hands shook as he took it. He gulped some of it and continued, “Over a period of months as the economy got bad, then worse, and I watched as our company took hit after hit. I was becoming more and more nervous. I was even taking pills for anxiety.”

  He looked at Cathy. “I kept it hidden from you, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Bill, I would have understood. Maybe I could have helped you in some way.” She placed her hand over his.

  “I was too proud and too embarrassed to ask for help or to even admit that I needed help. I became depressed and I was self-medicating with booze. I can’t believe that I was so weak, so cowardly. I couldn’t face up to reality. The house was being foreclosed, the car repossessed, I lost my job. I was drinking so much that I was drunk all the time. The final straw was the day I hit Cathy. Oh, God! I hit the woman I loved! I still can’t believe it.”

  William broke down again. This time Cathy put her arms around him. “Bill I love you. I always have I forgive you. Please forgive yourself.”

  William moved back from Cathy, but kept his hand on her arm as he spoke, “I left town and came here. I tried to find work, but everybody told me that I was overqualified. When my money was gone I took odd jobs. I kept drinking and finally became homeless and hopeless. On Good Friday God stepped in and changed my life.

  Now you are all here and I can move forward with the love of my family and their forgiveness.” He turned to Ray and shook his hand. “Thank you.” And then he shook Paul’s hand and thanked him. “And you, my dear,” he said putting his hand on my shoulder and looking at everyone. “You should have seen how angry she got when she thought that I was going to chicken out and not see Cathy.”

  We all laughed.

  “Thank you, Miss Taylor.”

  William’s story aired on the evening news and made the front page of the evening paper. Ray and I watched the news together in his living room. I looked at Ray. He looked so relaxed with his feet up on the foot stool. “You’re happy about the way this case turned out,” I said it as a statement of fact, not a question.

  “I am happy for everyone involved,” said Ray as he pulled me closer.

  I snuggled up to him and ran my fingers through his hair. “It’s nice to just relax and enjoy some quiet time together.”

  Ray kissed me, then ran his hand down my back. Without saying another word we slipped into a slow, tender love making that left us both happy and contented.

  The next morning our office phones and the phones at the hotel where William was staying rang continuously. Reporters camped out in the hotel lobby and in the lobby of our building. Fortunately, the Logans were no longer staying at the hotel because

  Ray moved them right after their interview in our office. Carl flew home to Pittsburgh where he had plenty of staff members to intercede between him and any reporters who might show up.

&n
bsp; William wanted some time with Cathy before he flew to Pittsburgh to see the rest of his family. Linda graciously made arrangements to fly them to her family’s hunting cabin in Michigan.

  We all hoped that Cathy and William would be able to put the past behind them and mend their marriage, maybe even wind up with a better relationship than the one they had before all this happened. William instructed Ray to say good-bye to all his friends and to tell them that when things quieted down, he’d be back to say good-bye in person.

  « Chapter Twenty One »

  I was still sleeping Wednesday morning at six a.m. while Ray was attending mass at Saint Simon’s Church. As he carefully walked up the cracked and pitted steps he saw four policemen about to enter the church. Two of them he knew by name, the other two he recognized, but he didn’t remember their names. Ray felt a little odd as he opened the large oak door. I haven’t attended mass since I was a kid he thought.

  Ray took a seat at the back of the church, positioning himself so that he could see all the people as they entered the church. There was only one entrance for the parishoners to use. The other door was only accessible through the sacristy. That entrance was only to be used by Father O’Shea and the altar boys.

  There were more people at mass at that hour than Ray expected. The church was about three quarters full. He had expected old ladies with scarves on their heads and he saw several of them, but he also saw working men and women in the uniforms of their trades. There were construction workers, nurses, waitresses and young mothers with toddlers.

  Ray didn’t pay much attention to the first part of the mass because his mind was on his job. When Father O’Shea was about to read the gospel Ray’s attention turned toward the front of the church. He saw the altar covered in a cloth that had been hand embroidered by some of the ladies of the parish. Gleaming brass candlesticks held snow white candles. A frayed red carpet led from the altar down three steps to the floor of the church where it ran all the way to the front door.

  Father walked to the pulpit, opened his bible, and said, “The gospel of the Lord.”

  Ray made a small sign of the cross on his forehead and said, “The Lord be in my mind.” He made a small sign of the cross on his lips and said, “And on my lips.” He made a small sign of the cross over his heart and said, “And in my heart.” Even though Ray hadn’t been to mass in the last twenty years, he remembered the correct responses that were spoken by the congregation during the celebration of mass. He didn’t even give this fact a thought. He just knew the responses the same way he just knew the alphabet or the multiplication tables that he’d learned as a child.

  As Ray took his seat to listen to Father O’Shea give the homily he searched the pews once more looking for a murderer. He noticed a man in the first pew right in front of Father O’Shea. How did that man get in without me seeing him? Ray asked himself. The man was tall. He was wearing chinos and a navy blue jacket. Ray thought that this was the man in Toon’s sketch, but he needed to see his face. Where did he come from?

  During communion Ray rose and walked to Mary’s altar

  which was located to the left of the main altar and covered in flowers. He pretended to light a candle so that he could look at the face of the man in the front pew.

  After receiving communion, the man bowed his head in prayer. When his prayer was over he looked up and Ray was able to see that he was indeed the man in Toon’s sketch.

  The rest of the mass didn’t go fast enough for Ray. He was eager to see the suspected murderer picked up by the police.

  At last Father O’Shea gave the blessing and walked down the main aisle with the altar boys. He stood on the steps outside of the church to greet each parishioner as they left.

  From his pew Ray watched the suspect walk toward the altar while the rest of the congregation walked the opposite way toward the door. Ray tried to step into the aisle to follow him, but a woman in an electric wheelchair was making her way slowly down the aisle and her wheelchair took up the whole narrow aisle. He looked at the center aisle. There was no way he was going to make his way to the altar against the crush of people leaving the church. He put his hands on the back of the pew in front of him and leaped over it, and the one in front of that and the one in front of that. He saw the suspect enter the sacristy and ran after him. A woman screamed. A man yelled Hey! Another man tackled Ray. The people remaining in the church began to run towards the door, screaming, pushing, shoving, and trampling others as they did.

  The man who tackled Ray was kneeling on top of him.

  Ken ran in from outside the sacristy door. “What the hell is going on here?” he asked as he held up his badge. “Get off of him.”

  The man who tackled Ray got off of him and helped Ray up.

  Ray was trying to catch his breath.

  “This guy was jumping over pews, so I thought he was going to hurt someone. I thought I was tackling some kind of maniac, or the killer that father warned us about.”

  Ken said, “This man is with me. He’s helping us apprehend the killer.”

  The man started to apologize, but Ray cut him off as he turned toward Ken.. “Did our suspect come past you?” he asked.

  Ken shook his head, no.

  Ray turned toward the tackler. “Is there another way out of here?”

  “There’s a storm door in the basement. You get to the basement through the sacristy. It’s the door beside the closet.”

  Ray and Ken ran towards the sacristy. They searched the basement and found that indeed the suspect had probably gone out through the old storm door.

  When they came up from the basement they saw the residue of the melee. People were picking themselves up from the floor and helping others get up. The altar boys were passing out band aids and cups of water. The other two policemen were trying to disperse the crowd outside the church.

  Father walked up to Ray and Ken, “What happened?”

  “Anyone hurt seriously?” Ken asked.

  “No,” said one of the policemen who had come inside.

  “Good. The two officers can handle this. Let’s step into the sacristy and we’ll explain what happened,” said Ken.

  As the men were explaining what happened one of the altar

  boys ran in. “Mrs. Filbert says she need to talk to you, Father.”

  The three men walked back into the church. They saw that things were under control. Father O’Shea raised his voice, “Attention, please. I’m sorry about what just happened, but thankful that nobody was hurt. These men are policemen they were trying to apprehend the man I told you about. He is long gone now and we are all out of danger. I want all of you to take a deep breath and relax. Let’s bow our heads and pray. Dear God, thank you for keeping us safe. Please protect these policemen as they work to apprehend the man they are after. Please help them to be able to put him in jail. And let us also pray for forgiveness for the killer. Help us, Lord, to be able to forgive him. Amen.”

  Ray and the policemen left after the prayer and returned to the station. Lt. Donner couldn’t believe his ears when they told him what had happened at the church. “I need some aspirin,” he said, holding his head.

  Ray apologized, “Don’t blame your men, they did their jobs. I caused the fiasco. I told Father O’Shea to warn his congregation about the murderer and, when they saw me leaping over the pews, they jumped to the conclusion that I was the murderer.

  “Well, at least no one was hurt. Are we all set for tonight?” asked Jim, “If so, we’ll meet at the park at ten p.m.”

  Ray raised one eyebrow, as his way of saying sorry and walked out of the office. He went back to St. Norbert’s to see if he could put a little pressure on Father Timmons so he’d find out what he was holding back. They met at a small table in the garden of the

  rectory.

  “Father, I know that what you hear in the confessional is privileged communication like a lawyer and his client. I understand that. However, I think that you’ve heard something in the confessional that
you’d like to tell me.”

  The expression on Father Timmon’s face confirmed that Ray was right.

  “Father, this is a matter of life and death. Tonight someone is going to get killed. If you have any information that can help me prevent that killing, you absolutely must tell me.”

  Father Timmons wrung his hands. “I . . . I . . . I can’t. Don’t ask me.”

  Ray leaned closer to father and looked into his eyes. His face was hard and cold. “Father, if you don’t tell me everything you know, you’ll be as guilty of murder as the murderer himself.”

  Father Timmons took a deep breath. His face was sad. “That may be so, but I can’t reveal anything that I’ve heard in the confessional, not to you, or anyone else.”

  “You might be able to prevent some murders and you’re concerned about protecting the murderer! What kind of damn stupid law is that?” Ray was so angry that he was shouting.

  Before Ray could go on Father Meyers, the pastor of St.Norbert’s Church, strode from the rectory. “What is all the shouting about? I could hear you in my study. Would one of you please explain?”

  Ray turned with his fists clenched at his sides and walked a few steps away. He was trying to get his temper under control.

  Father Timmons looked sadly at the pastor, “Mr. Jensen does not understand the seal of the confessional.”

  Father Meyers looked confused, “What does . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence because he realized that Ray must have thought that Father Timmons had heard something about the murders in the confessional. He put his hand on Father Timmons’ shoulder as a gesture of comfort, took a deep breath and called to Ray, “Mr. Jansen, please come over here and sit down.”

  Ray complied with the request sitting rigidly on one of the wrought iron chairs. He glanced from one priest to another.