Murder in the Parish Read online

  “You don’t say?” It wouldn’t be the first time Tom Sullivan had listened to outside help to solve a case, and he assumed it wouldn’t be the last. It was kind of part of the job in these parts here in New South Wales, Australia. The citizens were sometimes annoyingly helpful in his cases. “Do go on.”

  “Oh…I just was thinking that perhaps Alice knew something about who was tampering with the petrol. Maybe she knew what it was laced with and where it was done, and whoever was behind it just killed her to shut her up. It seems like something she would know, right?” Father Douglas secretly hoped that his theory hadn’t sounded ridiculous, because it kind of felt like a far reach once he said it out loud.

  “Very good theory, Father. As I said, I respect you…”

  “As I respect you, Detective. I’ll not take any more of your time; you have a very important job. I’m going to head to the church as soon as the two truck driver gets here and we get my car fixed up. Good luck, Detective Sullivan.”

  Not even an hour later, the offending petrol was drained from the tank of the Alvis and replaced with premium fuel, and Father Douglas finally made it to the church. He figured the only thing he could do to be helpful would be to help locate Surfer Sam for Detective Sullivan. He shouldn’t delve any further into the petrol-tampering problem, that sort of problem was best left to the experts in that field.

  Pulling around to the back of the church, he noticed that his garage door was ajar. He was certain it would have been locked this morning when he left, he made everything in his life a habit, and this wasn’t one that he would forget. When he walked into the opened door, he found Surfer Sam curled up in a ball in the corner of the garage.

  Shocked, Father Douglas ran over to him. The boy was badly hurt, but alive, so the father called 000 who told him not to move the boy, but to stay with him. He then immediately called Detective Sullivan and within ten minutes, the detective was by his side watching over the boy until the medics arrived. When they took the boy away, they couldn’t verify if he would survive or not, which turned Father Douglas’s stomach. Tom looked pretty upset as well.

  Dumbfounded, the two men walked back to the rectory where Father Douglas offered his old friend a cup of tea to chat about what had happened. Both men were pretty shaken, usually when a victim looked that badly beaten, they were dead…not still alive….and for it to be a boy, it made it all that much harder for them to swallow.

  Once the Father gave the Detective his official story, which had to happen every time, the two men chatted a bit longer. Tom opened up and let Father Douglas know that he’d found out some more information about the case.

  “We have a lead in the petrol bit of the case, Father. I don’t know if I mentioned it to you when I got here.” Tom wiped his forehead with his strong hand, tired from a long day of mayhem. “From none other than your church secretary.”

  “Charity Roberts?! What in the world?! No you didn’t tell me that, Tom.”

  “Yeah, yeah. She saw a tanker that was delivering the spoiled fuel to a neighboring village. You know how normally those big tanker trucks that deliver stuff like that have logos and such on the sides?” Father Douglas nodded in understanding. “Well, this one didn’t have anything on it at all. She thought that was pretty bonkers, and so do I.”

  “Yes, I for certain think that is very strange, but I’m concerned about one thing, friend. I don’t understand why you’re even spending as much time as you are on the petrol case. Shouldn’t we be searching harder for whoever killed Alice and attacked Surfer Sam? I mean, that’s downright heinous!”

  “Yes of course, Father. But you have to understand that I have to think about all of my cases at once. It is part of the heavy burden of my job, and like you said, they may very well be related more closely than we originally thought.”

  Tom rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head side to side to try and ease the tension of the long day. “I’d best be getting back to the station. There will no doubt be loads of paperwork waiting on me, and if things are going to go the way they have been, then as soon as I get started on it, something else will come up. It’s already going to be a late one at this rate. Thank you very much for the tea, I’ll let you know if there are any changes, and you let me know if you think of anything else. Or, uh—come across any more bodies today, will ya?”

  Father Douglas nodded and watched the Detective climb in his patrol car and head back to town. Immediately, he jumped in the Alvis and headed to visit the Elder. No doubt the Detective would have informed him of his son’s injuries, and subsequent hospital stay.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Elder, a man by the name of Lionel Sanders, welcomed the Father warmly. The man seemed genuinely overjoyed that his son had been found.

  “Did Sam mention anything to you last night about the funny petrol problem we’re having here in town, Sir? I don’t know how much he talks about work, but I think that may be what this is all about…”

  “Yes Father, he did mention something about a strange occurrence last night. He seemed a bit put out; something seemed off. Apparently, the regular petrol delivery truck was in the shop for repair, so the oil company sent this other, unmarked truck in its place. My boy also witnessed some kind of unpleasant conversation between his boss and whoever the delivery truck driver was. I thought it was strange that the two of them would be talking at all; much less arguing about anything…and he thought so too. So he brought it up but when I asked him specifics, he didn’t seem to know much. All he heard was his boss say she would and then the driver left.”

  “She said that she would what, exactly?” Father Douglas inquired.

  “No idea,” the Elder responded. “And now we may never know. I know that when Alice first heard about the fuel complaints, she phoned the oil company and they told her their regular truck had been hijacked and tampered with. I remember that story from weeks ago. I guess once it went down in her very own town, Alice was ready to make waves for them and they didn’t like it. I understand that if you interfere with something like that, you’re likely to be injured, I just hate that my boy was hurt in the process.”

  The Elder was saddened, though he looked confident that everything would turn out in the end. It was the same kind of hope–filled expression that Father Douglas hung on to during times of crisis or loneliness.

  Excusing himself, the Father drove back into town, wondering what the motive for this prank would be. He called Detective Sullivan to tell him what he’d found out.

  “Wow, thank you, Father. You’re really putting some mileage in on this case.”

  “My pleasure. You know? I really don’t think this is money driven. There are likely several people involved, though I know you put a call out to have the driver arrested. It sounds like some kind of boycott or something to me. An elaborate boycott of some sort.”

  “Makes sense,” Detective Sullivan said.

  “But the best way to go about sabotage is to keep things discreet, so it wouldn’t explain why Alice was killed or the boy was attacked. I may have been wrong, there almost has to be an outsider involved in the murder case.”

  “Sleep on it, Father. It’s getting late, and we all need some rest. I’ll take what you’ve said and put it in my notes for the case. I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

  And he did just that. A few days later, Detective Sullivan had arrested the owner of the tanker trucks, a disgruntled man whose oil company contracts hadn’t been renewed for the next three years.

  While that was certainly a good reason to be upset, it certainly didn’t fit the bill for a motive for murdering Alice Grimshaw. In fact, everyone that Tom interviewed seemed to have nothing at all to do with killing Alice or attacking Surfer Sam. The driver of the tanker truck didn’t even remember seeing Alice after their argument at the shop, and he couldn’t recall what their argument had been about.

  Later that Thursday afternoon, Dr. Russell called with the final autopsy report, letting Tom know that three sets of
fingerprints were found on the murder weapon. Alice’s were on there, as well as Surfer Sam’s. Tom called Father Douglas to let him know about the third set of prints on the wrench, and when he did, the Father had to sit down from the news, alone. The man the prints belonged to was not inclined to violence at all, and Father Douglas felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Father Douglas couldn’t believe what he’d been told. There was no way his favorite Choir Master at church could be the murderer…he was an organist for crying out loud! Organists don’t kill people. He simply couldn’t believe it and assured Detective Sullivan that he would talk to Julian Jackwitz, or “JJ” as everyone in the parish knew him, before he was arrested.

  “Whatever you feel like needs to happen, Father. You have two hours to do it in, though. And I’ll be present for most of that, so off you go, I’ll meet you there.” There was an authority in Tom’s voice that let the Father know he’d better make it quick.

  When the Father arrived at JJ’s house, he noticed an ornate vase filled with a dozen black long-stemmed roses in the front window. It looked odd, but Father Douglas didn’t say anything, he was too shaken up and in quite a hurry. JJ’s mother, an elderly woman, helped JJ prepare the tea and they all sat at the kitchen table.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Alice,” Father Douglas said.

  “Well, you just get right to the point, don’t you, Father? Hello to you, too.” JJ smiled his sweet smile and his mother giggled.

  “You were so sweet on her, dear! I know you wish she would have accepted one of those dozens of proposals you were always giving her.” She turned toward the Father and placed her frail hand on his. “I would have dearly loved to have her as a daughter in law; I wish she would have said yes eventually.

  “Mother, please,” JJ snapped. He seemed annoyed and embarrassed, though not really angry.

  “Did…did you love her, JJ?” Father Douglas had a hunch.

  JJ shrugged his shoulders. “What does that matter?”

  Clearly, the man wanted to marry Alice to get out of the house, away from his mother, and probably couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected. The man, 39 but looking 59, just didn’t have many other options, and his social skills probably weren’t strong enough to really consider any other options.

  “JJ, did you ever hurt Alice?”

  The young man nodded. “Of course, I had to teach her respect for her superiors, just like Mother taught me.” JJ sat slumped in his chair, appearing almost childlike; way earlier than his years.

  Father Douglas nodded as though he understand and left shortly after, as if nothing were wrong. He met Detective Sullivan at the station, since his questioning hadn’t taken long, and Tom informed him that JJ had apparently been institutionalized at the Lismore asylum after killing his cat with a wrench at age twelve.

  “He’s still under supervision,” Detective Sullivan added.

  When the Father asked if there was any mention of black roses in the reports, Tom confirmed that he always asked to be brought black roses when people came to visit him.

  “How strange,” Father Douglas said quietly. “What a sad soul, I’ll pray for him.”

  “Yeah you do that, Father.” Tom grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “I’m gonna go arrest him, now. Want to ride along?”

  By eight thirty that evening, JJ was under arrest for the murder of Alice Grimshaw. Sadly she would reject him no more.

  Detective Sullivan and Father Douglas rode back from the other side of town in the patrol car, neither of them speaking. Without asking Father Douglas if he wanted to, Tom drove them both to the hospital to check on Surfer Sam. Tom knew the Father would have wanted to go, and it would allow him some closure as they interviewed the boy one more time to wrap things up.

  At the hospital, Surfer Sam had regained consciousness, though he looked like hell. Being sensitive of the boy’s time awake, and not wanting to intrude too much on the effectiveness of his pain medication, the gentlemen kept it quick.

  “So for the record, son, can you give me the briefest rundown in the history of rundowns? I know it’s a pain to talk, but if you wouldn’t mind….”

  “No of course not, sir. I did see JJ there that day, yes.” The boy grunted as he moved his neck.

  “He and Alice were arguing about marriage as best as I could tell, and then I saw her shake her head real hard. After that, JJ grabbed the wrench from her hand…and just hit her with it. HARD. When I tried to grab it from him, he knocked me out with it.”

  “I’m so sorry, son.” Father Douglas scooted his chair closer to the hospital bed and wrapped his hands around the boys, careful not to mess with the cords and wires attached to him.

  “I had no idea he killed Alice until you told me just now, Detective. I thought he only hurt her like he did me.”

  Tom laughed a painful sort of chuckle. “Son, he did more than just hurt you, he nearly killed you, too.” Tom ruffled the boy’s hair gently and stood to leave. “Father? Don’t you have something you normally do at this point?”

  Father Douglas nodded his head then bowed it. No one heard the prayer he said, but whatever it was, it brought tears to his eyes and caused Tom to swallow a hard lump in his throat seeing his friend struggle through a prayer. Without another word, the two men left, having a deeper respect for each other and connection with each other than ever before.

  Father Douglas looked to the ceiling as they passed through the hospital doors on their way to the carpark and silently thanked the Lord for guiding him through another case.

  MURDER

  AND THE

  JEWELRY BOX

  CHAPTER 1

  The clock struck eight in the morning and Father Douglas listened to its chimes with a smile, as he did every morning. He was patiently waiting in the church for Sarah Walters to show up, and only assumed she’d be early. If he’d known she would be closer to the hour he would have started his tea.

  Though he appreciated punctuality as well as the next person, he was never one to judge people for being a bit late. Sarah lived with her Aunt Melissa in the village of Hastings Point, New South Wales, Australia. Although not large or of significance in the grand scheme of things, Father Douglas’s parish here in town was of great importance to him.

  He prided himself on knowing everyone by name and had baptized many in the community. He dearly loved the countryside, the beach, even the wintry days, and felt that he lived in the most beautiful place on earth. The coast was unspoiled and still void of the insidious tourist popularity that infected most resort towns in far north New South Wales. This, he always told himself, was his own little slice of Heaven until he was honored to see the real thing.

  Although she was only seven years old, Sarah Walters was a very astute young lady. The day before, after Sunday mass, she had requested to meet with Father Douglas at the church “to discuss a very important matter.”

  When the Father asked her if she wanted to make a confession, Sarah told him in no uncertain terms that she had no sin to confess. The girl mentioned that she only wanted to discuss some sort of private matter with him. That evening, after everyone had gone home and he was left to ponder the request for a while, Father Douglas was still unsettled about it. Unsure what to make of it, he phoned Sarah’s aunt. He asked Melissa if she was aware of her niece wanting to meet with him the next morning, which she was, but when he inquired about the reason, the woman had no idea.

  So as not to concern himself too much with a matter that would surely be explained the next day, Father Douglas had some warm milk that evening and turned in early. Whatever desire or issue God had placed on the little girl’s heart would present itself in due time and it would be a sin to dwell on it any further.

  That left him here, at eight in the morning, waiting on little Sarah Walters to walk from her house to the parish after breakfast…just as she’d promised she would. Father Douglas was sitting in the front pew of the sanctuary, readi
ng a chapter in Nehemiah, when he heard the pitter patter of little footsteps making their way through the foyer. He waited for a moment, enjoying the sounds of a small child echoing through the church, and closed his eyes and smiled. It wasn’t until he heard her coming down the center aisle, walking steadily between the pews that he stood up and turned toward her.

  Immediately, he noticed that she was carrying a package in her small hands. Not wanting to appear anxious, or too inquisitive, he asked Sarah if she would like to go to the office to have

  their conversation. Her face was pleasant, yet serious, and she nodded to him as surely as if she were a tiny adult. The motion both warmed the Father’s heart and stopped it all at once. She walked with purpose toward him and he straightened his robe.

  “Right this way, then, my dear. Would you like some tea?”

  “No thank you, Father. That’s really nice, but Aunt Melissa already offered me some. I wasn’t really in the mood today.” Her voice was small in the large room, and he had to strain to hear some of her words as they walked to his office. Every once in a while, he would stoop down so as to hear her better.

  “Do you have a safe in your office, Father?” Sarah asked without looking at him. She said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a seven year old to ask. Again, not wanting to appear too curious, Father Douglas steadied his voice and hoped there wasn’t something disgusting like a severed finger in that package she was carrying. He’d heard stories from Lady Maggie about things like that, and he was in no mood to see such a thing this early in the morning!

  “Yes young lady, I sure do. It’s just to the left there—here we are.” They walked into the office and Sarah turned toward him and stared blankly at him, as though she were giving him some silent cue….waiting on him to do something.

  Father Douglas jumped a bit when he realized what she was waiting on, and shut the door behind them. Sarah smiled and took a seat in front of his desk, placing the package in her lap. The visitor’s chair could have seated three children her size, easily. She looked so small in it, so innocent. As matter-of-factly as could be, Sarah Walters leaned forward, her small legs dangling from the chair, and placed the package on his desk.