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

by Susan Goslak

  Father Meyers took a seat across from Ray and sat close He looked earnestly into Ray’s eyes. “Please allow me to explain the seal of the confessional to you.”

  Ray started to interrupt, angrily, “I don’t need an explanation. No, maybe I do need one. I can’t understand how the rights of a murderer are somehow more important than preventing more murders.”

  Father Meyers reached a hand out to Ray, but didn’t touch him. “You’re angry.”

  “Damn . . . darn right I am,” Ray corrected his language.

  “I understand, my son, but please allow me to at least try to explain the law to you.”

  Ray nodded

  “Most people understand that a priest’s duty is to keep confidential that which he hears in the confessional. This is decreed by Cannon Law and is called the seal of the confessional. What they don’t know is that it outweighs all other forms of professional

  confidentiality. It is inviolable. A confessor cannot betray the confidence of a penitent by word or by any other manner, for any reason, not even to save a life. A priest can’t even ask another priest for advice without the consent of the penitent. A priest who violates the seal of the confessional will be excommunicated! You can surely see, by the severity of the punishment, how seriously the church considers this matter.”

  Ray stood up. “Father, I understand law and the duty we have to uphold it. I was once a policeman, so I understand it all too well. What I don’t get is how in all good conscience you can protect murderers and criminals just because hundreds of years ago somebody wrote a law, a law that should have been revamped years ago.” Ray glared at both priests. “The seal of the confessional is wrong! It’s just plain wrong!” He stormed off to his car and laid rubber when he peeled off.

  Ray drove directly home. He was still so angry when he got there that he had trouble putting his key in the lock. Once inside he poured himself a large shot of bourbon and gulped it down. He poured another and sat on the couch to drink it slowly. He only remained sitting for a minute and he was up pacing the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck that was all knotted up and tense. I need to relax. I need to get my head back in the game. He stripped off his clothes and took a hot shower. He put everything out of his mind except the task at hand which was stopping a murderer.

  In short order he was back in his car, dressed as a homeless man and armed to the teeth, driving toward the area where the

  murders had occurred.

  I had no idea what Ray was dealing with. I just knew that he wouldn’t be in the office most of the day and I planned to use the time to put the finishing touches on Ray’s new office. I stood a brass coat rack in one corner, placed a beautiful leather bound desk set on his new oak desk, and added some plants and nick-knacks to his bookshelf. Finally, I adjusted his two new client chairs so that everything looked perfect. I couldn’t wait for him to see the finished result of my efforts.

  Because it was too early for Ray to stake out the area, he called me from his car and asked me to order Chinese food so that we could eat dinner in our office conference room.

  “I don’t know why you want to eat here, but I’m glad because I want you to see how your new office looks,” I told him. “It’s all finished!”

  “Can’t wait to see it,” Ray said.

  I was alone in the office with the door locked when I heard a knock. I hurried to the door to let Ray in, but, instead of Ray, I saw a tramp standing there. His light brown hair was disheveled; he wore pants that were baggy, dirty, and torn. His jacket was dingy and patched and he wore dirty tennis shoes.

  “Go away!” I said through the glass. “We are closed.”

  The tramp reached up and removed his wig and I was astonished to see that the tramp was actually Ray.

  I opened the door and stepped back to let him enter.

  Ray was smiling. “Fooled you!”

  I just stood there looking at him.

  His smile faded. “Did I scare you?”

  “Why are you dressed like a homeless person?” I asked angrily.

  “What’s wrong, Honey? You sound angry.”

  My breathing was becoming labored and my face was flushed. “You’re hoping that the murderer will attack you! You’re acting like a decoy!”

  “That’s right,” Ray agreed.

  I stamped my foot and balled my hands into fists that I angrily pushed down at my sides. “Why?”

  Ray put his arm out to reach for my hand, but I stepped back away from him. “I’m trying to find a murderer.” He said.

  “Why? Why are you putting your life in danger? Why don’t you let the police handle this? Your job was to find William and you did. Now quit. Nobody is paying you to find the killer, so quit.”

  Ray stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. “Honey, you’re right. I don’t have to find the murderer. I offered my help to Lt. Jim Donner and he took it. I took a liking to Earl, Toon, Carter and I’d like to help him clear his name by finding the real killer.”

  I looked into Ray’s eyes. “That’s true. You do want to help Toon, but there’s more to it. You like the danger and the excitement, too.”

  “Maybe. If that’s true, is it wrong?” Ray asked.

  I turned my back to him because I was starting to cry and I didn’t want him to see. I was not just angry. I was frustrated and afraid, too. I turned back to face him. “I can’t lose you! I can’t! I can’t lose another man that I love! Please don’t do this!” I begged.

  Ray put his arms around me and gently put his hand on the back of my head as I cried on his shoulder. “Lexi, don’t cry. I’m not going to get killed. There will be policemen out there with me. I promise you that I’m not going to get killed.”

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes with a napkin that I picked up from the credenza that we were standing next to. I shouted, “That’s what David said, but he was killed.” I grabbed my purse from the credenza and ran out the door. I ran down all six flights to the basement and got into my car. I cried all the way to my sister’s house.

  Ray stood in the hallway looking toward the stairway. “Lexi, wait!” he called after me, but he chose not to follow me because he felt that I needed time to cool off and think things through before we talked again.

  One of the janitors, Mike Bell, was just coming out of the office next to ours. “Is something wrong, Mister?” he asked, but before Ray could answer, Mike took a closer look at Ray and said, “Mr. Jansen is that you?”

  “Yes, Mike, it’s me.”

  “Oh, you must be working under cover.”

  “That’s right. I am.”

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” asked Mike.

  “As a matter of fact, I happen to have Chinese food for two.

  Have you eaten your dinner yet? My girlfriend left in a huff and I need someone to help me eat this food. You game?”

  Ray ushered Mike into the conference room and they enjoyed the food while Ray gave Mike a brief description of what had

  occurred between us.

  Mike had been working as a janitor in our building for the past six months. Before he came to work at our building he had worked as an accountant. Because the economy was so bad his company failed and he lost his job. So far he’d been unable to get a job as an accountant, but he still had bills to pay so he took the job at our building so that he could work at night and job hunt during the day.

  Mike advised Ray to be patient with me. “It’s easy to see why she is afraid for you. Actually, it just shows that she loves you. Just give her time and be patient. In time she’ll feel better and things between you two will work out just fine.”

  Ray said that he would take Mike’s advice. When the two men had finished their meal they both got back to work.

  I fumed and fussed all the way to my sister’s house, but by the time I got there I had cooled down a little. I needed to talk to someone; someone who always knows the right thing to say to calm me down. Pat listened patiently as I told her why I was so upset and
what Ray and I had said to each other.

  “Lexi, I know how hard it was for you when David died and I guess that you must be leery of losing another man, but you’re over-reacting. You do know that any one of us could die at any time. We could be hit by a bus while crossing the street or slip in the tub and hit our head or any number of things. You just can’t worry all the time. You have to relax.”

  “I know. I know. I really gave Ray a hard time. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I’m afraid.”

  “Stop that! You must have faith. I know that it’s easier to give advice than to take it, but you must put the past aside. It’s gone and you can’t change it. You can’t go around worrying that Ray is going to be killed. You know what he does for a living. You know that he sometimes goes in harms way. You have to trust that Ray has the skills he needs to keep himself safe.”

  “I thought that David had the skills he needed to keep himself safe but he died. David died and I couldn’t take it if Ray died, too.” I whined.

  Pat looked at me with a mixture of compassion and frustration. “There’s a big difference between war and solving crimes. Don’t dwell on the past. It’s over. If it pops into your head, push it out. You also can’t change the future. God has a plan and what’s going to happen will happen no matter how much worrying you do about it. The best thing you can do, and you’ll hear this advice from lots of people, is to live in the moment. Right now Ray is alive and well. Enjoy your time together. Don’t worry about what might happen just enjoy today. If you are always fearful that something bad is going to happen, you’ll take all the joy out of living.”

  “You’re right. I’m glad I came over. If I’d been alone tonight I’d have made this fear of mine into something that wouldn’t go away. I know that the right thing to do is to get out there and live the best life I can, trusting that things will work out, but there’s something else, something really scary.”

  Here I told Pat what Father O’Shea had said to Ray. “Isn’t

  that scary?” I asked.

  Pat’s face grew serious. “Yes, that is scary, but Father gave Ray that cross to protect him. I think that the cross will protect Ray.”

  She put her hands out, palms up. “You have to have faith. That’s all anybody can do.”

  She smiled. “Feel better?”

  I smiled back. “Yes, I do, thanks.” I put my hands on my cheeks. “Oh, my gosh!”

  “What?” Pat asked.

  “I invited Ray to come to see his new office and I ran out before I showed it to him. That just shows you how upset I was when I saw that Ray was putting his life on the line to catch a killer. I need to call him to apologize.”

  Pat rose. “You call Ray and then stay for dinner. Jack will be home soon. After dinner we can play three-handed pinochle.

  Ray’s phone went right to voice mail. I left a message: “Ray, please call me when you can. I need to apologize for my crazy behavior. I love you.”

  Ray and I didn’t talk to each other that night because Ray didn’t get my message until after midnight and he didn’t want to call me that late because he thought that I would be sleeping. Of course, I wasn’t sleeping. I was waiting for him to call. I fell asleep on the couch, woke up some time in the middle of the night and dragged myself to bed.

  « Chapter Twenty Two »

  As he was about to walk up the steps of the church the man saw some policemen standing on the curb talking to each other. They’re not in uniform, but I just know that they’re cops. You can always tell. I must take precautions in case they are after me, he thought. I can’t let them catch me before my job is done. He bowed his head and walked close to some men as they entered the church. He kept close to them until he came to one of the confessionals. He quickly slipped into the confessional hoping no one had noticed.

  When the man heard the organ begin to play he opened the door to the confessional to peek out. There were people passing in front of the confessional so he opened the door and joined them. He walked to the front of the church and took a seat in the first pew in front of Father O’ Shea. The man stood when the congregation stood, sat when they sat and knelt when they knelt. He said all the proper responses at just the right times. He didn’t have to think about these things. He knew them in the same way that he knew his alphabet or the multiplication tables that he’d learned as a child. He was anxious for Father to begin the homily. Father was a good

  speaker.

  The man always felt good after one of Father’s homilies. He made the sign of the cross on his forehead, his lips and his heart and said, “The lord be in my thoughts, and on my lips, and in my heart.

  The gospel was the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus gave us the Golden Rule. “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”

  Father O’Shea looked out at his parishoners. “Imagine how peaceful our world would be if all of us followed the Golden Rule. Will you all do something for me this week? Will you all try very hard to follow the Golden Rule? Will you all treat others the way you want them to treat you? This means that you can’t be mean, or nasty, or unkind in any way. Next Wednesday, if any of you would like to share your experiences, we’ll all be happy to listen. Now, my friends, after the blessing go live a golden life for one week.”

  What a meaningful homily that was, thought the man. After the blessing he joined with the rest of the congregation in singing the recessional as Father and the altar boys walked down the center aisle to the outside of the church. Father stood at the door and spoke with the people as they left, while the altar boys returned to the altar to do their chores. When the altar boys went into the sacristy the man was able to sneak past them and down into the basement. He climbed the steps that led outside through the old fashioned storm door. He unlatched the door and went through into the narrow rear alley completely unaware of the mayhem occurring in the church.

  The man walked a few blocks to a bus stop. He waited with the other riders until his bus came. He boarded the bus and took a

  seat. Twenty minutes later he got off the bus in front of the office building where he worked as a bookkeeper. He was early so he didn’t have to greet anybody as he walked to his desk. He opened his computer and began the day’s work. After work he took a bus to an upscale apartment building. The doorman greeted him as he entered the building.

  The man smiled and nodded. He took the elevator to the seventh floor and entered apartment B. Once inside he flopped down on his bed and promptly fell asleep.

  He woke up hours later, ravenously hungry. He made himself two grilled cheese sandwiches and wolfed them down. He drank two beers and ate some chips. He topped off his meal with a snickers candy bar.

  The man tidied up the kitchen. He liked to keep his apartment neat and clean. After all, cleanliness is next to Godliness. After that he knelt beside his bed and prayed the rosary. “Blessed Mother,” he prayed aloud. “I am saying this rosary for all the families of murder victims. They need your help.”

  The man rose from his knees, walked to the kitchen for another beer, then made himself comfortable in front of the television. He would not leave his apartment until well after dark.

  At midnight the man put on his jacket and prepared to leave his apartment. The doorman greeted him as he walked through the door, “Going for your evening constitutional, Sir?”

  The man smiled, “Yes, I find that I sleep well after a little walk.”

  The man quickly walked the few blocks to the park. He

  slowed his pace once he entered the park. That was a good homily that father O’Shea gave this morning. We should treat others the way we want them to treat us. “That’s a good idea,” he said aloud. Yes, we should treat others the way they treat us. “Right!” Treat others the way they treat us.

  The man looked around. The park was dark, as dark as a night can get:, overcast, no stars, no moon, and where Ray was sitting on the ground it was pitch black. Some people would have been uncomfortable or even scared, but Ray wasn’t scared. The ma
n wasn’t scared either. He picked up a stick and tapped it against his pant leg as he walked.

  Ray had been walking around the area for hours and so far he hadn’t seen anyone doing anything wrong. He checked in periodically with the policemen and none of them had seen anything either.

  The man also didn’t see anyone. He tapped the stick against his leg as he continued to walk. There were policemen in church this morning. I know. They must be looking for the monster who killed Cissy. They told me to stay out of it. They said they’d find him and put him in jail. It’s been four years, four months and sixteen days and they still don’t have him in jail. The man broke the stick in half. It made a loud crack that he didn’t even hear because he was remembering a cold day in December. That day was etched on his mind forever. He remembered his beautiful younger sister, Cissy.

  She had curly red hair and laughing blue eyes. She was so kind and gentle. Tears streamed down the man’s face as he thought about the sister that he loved. Since her murder he thought about her

  more and more each day. It seemed that now he almost thought about her 24/7. “Why can’t the police find him?” he asked aloud to no one. “I’m so tired of looking for him, so very tired.”

  The man sat on a bench, the one that a policeman had been sitting on just ten minutes ago, put his head in his hands and cried for the sister he missed. His tears gradually lessened and he became aware of the fact that there were people walking nearby. He was embarrassed to be seen crying in public so he quickly stood up and walked rapidly toward the church. He intended to light a candle for his sister.

  When the man entered the church he started to walk toward the candles at the front of the church. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a homeless man sleeping in one of the back pews. You killed my Cissy and now I’m going to kill you. He reached over the back of the pew and squeezed the life out of the sleeping man. The homeless man was so drunk that he didn’t even wake up when the man’s big hands went around his throat.

  The man let the dead body fall to the pew. I did what Father O’Shea said to do. I did to you what you did to Cissy. The man bent over to look closely at the man’s face. He stood up with a jerk.