by Meg Lelvis
People gathered in the Narthex waiting to walk across the church grounds to the fellowship hall for refreshments and to pay their respects to the family.
Jack maneuvered his way through groups of people to reach Molly Winters, who was engaged in a conversation with an elderly man. When the old windbag finally shut up, Jack caught her eye.
“Hi, Ms. Winters. I met you— “
“Yes, I remember. Detective Bailey. Thank you for coming.” She had an alluring smile.
“My partner—” Jack looked and saw Sherk greeting someone halfway across the vestibule. “Anyway, we wanted to pay our respects and keep our eyes out for any—” Didn’t want to talk about the case now. Not the time nor place.
“That’s nice of you, Detective. Are you staying for refreshments?”
“Afraid not. We need to get back to work.” He would rather be alone with her. He’d keep her number handy.
Sherk approached them and greeted Molly. “Your aunt’s service was lovely.”
“Yes, she would’ve approved, and been happy to see so many of her friends.”
The detectives said goodbye and waved to Father Jim on their way out. He was busy chatting with a middle-aged couple, and Jack didn’t want to hang around. Had his fill of idle chatter for one day.
“Let’s split up and meander our way out,” Sherk said. “Last chance to case out the crowd.”
Jack doubted the perp would have the balls to go for lunch, but who knew. They ambled their way around clumps of people standing about, and met at the doorway.
“I noticed several ordinary-looking men in the church, but didn’t see them in here.” Sherk put on his jacket.
“Yeah, mostly old guys. Maybe a few younger ones, but nobody stuck out.”
As they emerged from the church, Jack squinted against the sun but shivered in the crisp air. He climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Sherk took out his phone. “Okay to meet the boy’s parents at six-thirty today?”
Jack grimaced. “I guess.” He listened while Sherk called and made the arrangements.
They arrived at the station and were nearing the door when Jack stopped. “Fu--”
“What’s the problem, Jack?”
“I forgot about my—meeting later on.”
He hadn’t told Sherk about his non-date with Bonnie tonight at Shinnick’s. If he bailed on her, she’d never believe he had to work.
“You wouldn’t mind going alone, would ya?”
Sherk followed Jack into the building. “No, but the dragon lady will object.”
“Screw her. Look, Sherk, if you must know— “
“Hold it, Jack.” Sherk gave a half smile. “I never asked. Far be it from me to intrude in your personal affairs.”
They reached their desks after shedding their jackets in the cloak room.
Jack sat and sighed loudly. “Aw, what the hell. Remember the dinner last week my mother roped me into? Got set up, and I’m meeting her tonight. She says there’ll be no strings, just have a drink, talk without my ma’s big ears around.”
Sherk looked curious. “Interesting, Jack. One never knows what might ensue. Yes, I’ll do the interview and leave it up to you to explain to Ms. LePere if it comes up.”
“Not a problem. And no questions from you tomorrow.”
Sherk faked a poker face. “Questions? The last thing on my mind.”
. . . . .
The afternoon plodded by with no new reports on the Bruce Welton case. Forensics should be in by the end of the week. Restless, Jack left at 4:30. He’d be early for his meeting with Bonnie. Fine with him. Fortify himself with a Jameson or two before she arrived.
Shinnick’s was half empty when Jack walked through the door. When the hostess approached him, he requested a booth in a far corner. A bored looking waiter sauntered over to take the order.
“There’ll be someone else coming, but I’ll have a double Jameson while I wait.” Might as well get loosened up. He wondered what he was doing, what the real purpose of this meeting was. Did he want a relationship, and if so, what kind? Just friends? Someone smart to talk to? Sex? Had to admit, he missed that. Hell, he didn’t know.
Jack stared at his phone screen so he’d look preoccupied. He felt conflicted about meeting Bonnie rather than Molly. There was chemistry with Molly, but he felt he should give Bonnie a chance. Two women on his radar screen. Either feast or famine.
The waiter brought his drink. “Anything else?”
“Nah. I’ll wait for my friend.”
The minutes dragged on. He wondered what they’d talk about. She must know his past, what happened twelve years ago. Their mothers had known each other for years. He felt pressure building up inside as if this were a real date. He felt the urge to bolt, but forced himself to stay put. He glanced at the entry door. Blotted sweat from his forehead. Oh, God. The time had come.
Chapter 13
Bonnie walked through the door and glanced around. Jack caught her eye, swiped at his forehead again. He waved to her. She skirted her way around tables and customers toward Jack. They greeted each other with hellos and an awkward half-hug.
Sitting across from him, Bonnie shrugged out of her tan leather jacket. “How’s it going, Jack?”
“Pretty good.” Jack looked around for the waiter. “You hungry?”
“No, I’ll just have a glass of Merlot.”
Jack nodded, wondering what to say. “How was your day?” How original.
Bonnie smiled. “Fine. And yours?”
Thank god the waiter came and took their orders. “She’ll have a glass of Merlot. A Guinness for me.”
The waiter took the empty shot glass and walked away.
Bonnie tucked one side of her dark hair behind her ear. A diamond earring twinkled in the light. She wore a black sweater with a red print scarf. “Are you comfortable with this situation, Jack?”
He tried to relax. Took a deep breath. “What’s your job again?”
She told him about her hospice position at the clinic a few miles away, how later in her career as an RN she became interested in end-of-life nursing.
“Sounds depressing.” Jack wished the waiter would hurry with their drinks.
“That’s what a lot of people think, but in the last twenty years, it’s become a whole new field in medicine. In our culture, we’re so afraid of death and dying, and my job brings the conversation out in the open.” She paused. “Sorry, Jack. Listen to me, lecturing like a professor.”
“No worries.” His phone vibrated, but he stopped himself from grabbing it.
The waiter arrived with their drinks. After he left, Jack held up his mug of beer for a toast. “Here’s to non-dates and end-of-life conversations.” What a dumb ass thing to say.
Bonnie smiled and clinked her glass with his. “Cheers.”
She took a sip. “Look, Jack. I’ll be honest. I know about your wife and daughter in Ireland. Everyone from here knew when it happened. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to talk about, but just let me say, I’m so sorry.” She took another drink of wine. “I just wanted to mention it and not avoid the subject like it’s the proverbial elephant in the room.”
“Yeah.” Jack cleared his throat. “A lot of people don’t want to bring it up, and you’re right, I don’t talk about it. Even though it’s been a long time—”
“I know, Jack. You’ve heard a hundred times how there’s no timeline for grief. I just wanted you to know that I understand.” She waited. “Not that I know what it’s like.”
The room turned hot, stifling
. Jack’s face felt like it glowed with sweat. He took a deep breath. He wanted out.
“Thanks, Bonnie.” He cleared his throat. “This case I’ve been on, the nun’s. You know about that. It’s not going anywhere.” He guzzled his beer. “You didn’t hear that from me, but things aren’t that great now.” He was babbling. God, why had he come here?
Bonnie folded her napkin in half, then in fourths. “It’s okay. We don’t have to dwell on that. How’s your mom doing? And Tommy and the rest?”
“They’re good.” Jack managed to update her on his siblings, how their kids were, all safe topics.
Fifteen minutes inched by with benign conversation. Jack drained his beer, and waved the waiter away when he interrupted them asking about another round. Bonnie said she needed to leave. Jack signaled the waiter back for the check.
She put on her jacket. “It’s okay, Jack. No pressure. Excuse me if I’m out of line, but I don’t feel you’re ready for anything serious now.”
Jack sighed with relief. “I don’t know what to say. I guess I agree. Nice we can be honest.”
Bonnie beamed. “That’s the beauty of the non-date. No expectations.”
After Jack paid the tab, they strolled into the chilly blackness.
He walked Bonnie to her car. She unlocked the door and climbed in. “If you ever want to just hang out and talk, Jack, you know where to reach me.”
“Sounds good. I’ll do that.” He knew he never would.
Watching her drive into the night, he was glad that was over. He felt bad he wasn’t engaging and interactive. But he couldn’t fake it. Bonnie’s a nice woman. He hoped she’d find someone to make her happy. He just wasn’t that someone.
. . . . .
Driving to work the next morning, Jack felt sluggish. He’d tossed and turned all night from dreams of running through green fields toward something he needed. Then explosions. Reds. Oranges. Yellows. Anger lighting the sky. He thought the nightmares were over. Maybe last night was a fluke. Wouldn’t happen again. He hated the thought of repeating the PTSD therapy from his past.
He walked into the bull pen where Sherk sat gazing at his computer. Maybe they’d get the forensics report on the Bible-thumper case this morning.
When Jack reached his desk, he muttered, “Gonna get coffee.” He found his mug amidst the mess of papers cluttering the surface.
“Good morning to you too, Jack. I’m fine, thank you.” Sherk grinned.
“Too early for sarcasm, dude, not to mention cheerfulness.” Jack left for the break room.
He managed to avoid talking to anyone and returned with a steaming mug of coffee emitting a strong hazelnut balm.
Sherk leaned back in his chair. “Did you have an enjoyable evening?”
“What about your promise not to ask?”
“Au contraire, Jack. A promise I did not make. After your directive not to ask about said evening, I stated it would be the last thing on my mind. However, it—”
“Pow, Alice, to the moon—” How he put up with Sherk was beyond him.
“All in jest, Jack, all in jest.”
Jack flipped open his notebook. “Ready for an update on your meeting last night, assuming you made it there without me.” Curious whether Welton’s vic’s folks knew about the murder.
“The boy’s parents were cooperative. Their names are Dick and Jane Ryson.”
Jack scoffed. “I’m surprised they weren’t running after Spot.”
“Pardon?”
“Oh yeah. Forgot you learned to read in Munich. Never mind.”
Sherk explained the Rysons had been notified when Bruce Welton was released from prison. They heard about the murder on TV. Sherk didn’t ask them to relive the situation with their son, but the father seemed nervous, clearing his throat frequently. Neither parent had a strong alibi of their whereabouts the night of the murder. Jane said she was home with their two boys helping them with homework and did not leave the house until Monday morning. Dick excused himself to get water, and returned saying he’d been to Jewel for groceries, stopped at a Burger King for a quick dinner, and then home by nine or so. Jane corroborated his statement.
“What about pets?” Jack thought about the drug used to ice Welton.
“They have a large yellow dog, similar to Boone. A Labrador of some kind I’d say. No one in the family has a connection to horses.”
Jack flicked his pen back and forth. “Did you see the kid?”
“Yes, he and an older brother were in the room momentarily before trotting off, their devices in hand. Seemed like nice, ordinary kids.”
Jack closed his notebook. “Looks like zilch there. We’ll check the dad’s alibi if nothing solid comes up.”
“What’s on the agenda today other than hiding from Ms. LePere?”
“We should pick Gray’s brain about the Bible thumper.”
“There’s a pun in there, but the wording escapes me at the moment.”
“Huh?” Jack frowned. “Oh, like brain gray matter…give it a rest, Sherk. Since you’re so witty this morning, you call him.”
“Of course, there’s Gray’s Anatomy, the classic textbook, not the TV— “
“Call the guy already.”
Maybe Daryl Gray, resident psychologist, could help. A retired FBI agent, he was known for his profiling expertise.
Sherk made the call, paused, and hung up. “The good doctor is out of town and is expected back tomorrow.”
“Damn. The lab’s dragging its ass on forensics too.” Jack thought for a minute. “We should look at Welton’s prison contacts. Maybe somebody got sprung about the same time, and that somebody had it in for a pedophile. His DNA would be in the system though. We can worry about the Bible verse connection later.”
“We know mistakes happen in labs, rare as they may be. I’ll ask Gary to provide information on Welton’s record in Stateville.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can go to Joliet and talk to people. Find out Welton’s social life in the pen.”
Sherk agreed. “Yes, it would give us a break from the station. It’s about an hour from here. We could take in the scenes of the city.”
“A real thrill. Nothing in that town but the old prison.”
“Actually, Jack, there’s an interesting old theater in the downtown area. Al Capone used to patronize the place.”
“You sold me, Sherk. I’m game.”
It might be a good escape. A welcome relief, mostly since Saturday was descending on him. The day he’d have to face Karen’s parents at her grave.
Chapter 14
The next day dragged by with no critical information on the Bible thumper. Jack ditched the idea of the Joliet trip as a waste of time. Instead, Sherk phoned a staff member at Stateville regarding Bruce Welton’s tenure in the pen. Seems the guy kept to himself as much as one can under the circumstances. The CO said when possible, staff separates sex offenders from other inmates for their own protection. Welton stayed out of trouble except for occasional incidences in the yard where confrontations occurred with several Latino prisoners. One of them named Al Vendez was released the same time as Welton. The CO gave Sherk Vendez’s parole officer’s contact information.
Jack slurped lukewarm coffee. “I dunno, Welton might have pissed off Vendez, but a motive for murder? I doubt if a low life sleaze ball has the smarts to get ahold of that drug to clip Welton for bein’ a pedophile.”
“I tend to agree. Our killer seems intelligent enough to cover his tracks, not to mention using Bible verses to send a message. A rather intellectual touch to his MO.”
“Wish we’d get the damn forensics
report. It’s the weekend. Sick of waiting.”
The bull pen thinned out; people leaving for the day. Jack was ready to leave when Sherk said, “Here she comes.”
Daisy LePere walked through the door and glanced around, seeming to notice the number of cops and clerks vacating the room. She wore her standard dark pants suit with a pink silk shirt. Traipsing over to Jack’s desk, she asked, “What’s the latest on your case?”
Jack said, “Still waiting for forensics. Sherk found out about Welton’s life in the pen before release. Same ‘ol, same ‘ol.”
LePere sighed. “Well, Sherkenbach, enlighten me.”
He explained Bruce Welton’s prison life and his conflicts with Vendez.
“You need to check him out, even though, in your infinite wisdom, you might not think he’s a viable suspect.” She stared at Jack.
He stared back. “If forensics comes up with a match, of course we’ll bring him in. But we’d know by now. Vendez’s DNA would’ve shown up in the system after the nun’s murder.”
She scoffed and swept back her bangs. “Presuming the same person murdered both.” She hesitated. “Keep on top of it.” She turned on her heels and left in a huff.
Jack set his teeth on edge. “What a pain in the ass.”
“Do you think it’s safe to leave? Our work is done for today.” He untangled his mile-long legs and stretched.
“Yeah, the bitch is gone. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He was eager for a relaxing evening with Boone.
. . . . .
Friday morning Jack sat at his desk, hot coffee and glazed donuts on hand when Velda Vatava breezed through the doorway, her gray pantsuit matching her hair. She handed Jack a manila file
“Here’s a present for you, Bailey. You can thank me later.”
“Don’t tell me. Forensics?” He opened the folder.
“See? Said it was a present. You owe me. I’ll collect at Shinnick’s tonight.”