A Wedding and a Killing (5 page)

“Bearer of bad news,” Bogie said. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

“Can be a fatal job sometimes,” David said.

“How did Alan take the news of being fired from the counters?” Mac asked the pastor.

“He was fine,” Deborah replied.

“Or so he said,” Helga interjected. “He didn’t come to church service on Sunday.”

“It was a holiday weekend,” Edna pointed out. “A lot of people didn’t come this past Sunday. They didn’t all shoot Eugene.”

“Hey, Chief,” David’s radio crackled.

The police chief pressed the button on his radio. “Yes, Brewster …”

“We’ve got a couple of young people here at the front door insisting that they need to come in,” Brewster reported. “They claim their mothers are inside … and the girl is extremely upset.” He added in a whisper, “She’s crying, sir. I’m not good with sobbing girls. I can handle flying bullets and blood and even dead bodies, but this …”

“That’s probably my daughter,” Ruth said.

The reverend added, “And Chase, my son.”

With a sigh, David instructed Brewster to escort them into the sanctuary.

Seconds later, a teenaged boy and girl rushed inside. The girl ran to hug Ruth while the boy rushed to Deborah. “Mom, what’s going on?” the boy asked. “I heard one of the officers saying there’s been a shooting. Has anyone been hurt?”

“It was Eugene,” Deborah said. “Someone shot him.” She hugged the teenager tightly.

“Eugene!” the girl gasped. “Who would want to hurt Eugene?” She turned to Ruth. “Do they know who did it?”

Deborah ordered her son, “Chase, you need to take Natalie back to the house. Stay with her. Pray for Eugene and the police and doctors—”

From where he observed the girl hugging the caretaker, Mac recognized the terror in Natalie’s face when she asked, “Was it—”

“No,” Ruth shushed her daughter. “It was someone trying to steal money from the offering or the church office.”

“Are you sure—” There was a desperate tone in the girl’s queries.

With a quick glance in Mac’s direction, Deborah pulled Natalie from Ruth’s grasp. “Dear, we have a lot of questions to answer for these police officers. You really can’t be here right now.” She grasped her son’s hand and placed Natalie’s hand in his. “Go home with Chase and stay there.” She ushered both of them in the direction of the door. “We’ll be back home as soon as possible.”

In spite of their desire to stay, Chase led Natalie out of the sanctuary at the same time that Brewster arrived with a man dressed in worn shorts, sandals, and a fishing hat. “He says he’s with the woman in the hat,” the officer said with a shrug of his shoulders.

David replied in a low voice, “Go back to your post and tell everyone else that no more sightseers are allowed inside.”

Brewster rushed back out the door.

“Sirrus,” Helga grasped the man’s arm, “you would never believe what has happened here! Someone shot Eugene.”

“That’s awful.” Sirrus took off his fishing hat to reveal a dark brown toupee plastered on top of his head. Greasy gray strands hung below the toupee, sticking to the side of his sweaty face. Beads of perspiration hung from his flabby jowls. He went over to where the three women from the church were comforting each other. “Edna, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sirrus,” Edna assured him. “Thank you for asking.”

“Is there anything that I can do for you … any of you?”

“Right now we need to go to the hospital,” Deborah said.

“Hospital?” Sirrus repeated the word before grinning. “Does that mean Eugene is going to be okay? Thank the Lord.”

“It’s really bad,” Deborah said. “We’re praying for a miracle right now.”

“Sirrus,” Helga’s voice snapped. “Come,” she ordered as if she were calling a dog. “These officers have work to do and I need to call together the trustees to let them know what’s going on. We need to appoint a new chief to be in charge—no telling how long Eugene will be out of commission—if he survives.”

“No,” the pastor said in a sharp tone.

“You seem to be moving awfully fast to take over the board of trustees, Helga,” Edna said.

“Really fast,” Deborah said. “Too fast, if you ask me.”

Mac’s voice echoed the reverend’s tone. “Right now we need to keep a lid on what information is made public. I recommend that any statement made about the shooting be cleared through Chief O’Callaghan beforehand.”

Helga’s hands were back on her hips. “I am on the board of the trustees. I expect to be kept informed during every step of this investigation.”

His own hands on his hips, David stepped up to the difficult woman, who met his gaze with a glare. “I am in charge of this investigation, Mrs. Thorpe, not you. I will decide who receives what information when, not you. Do you understand me?”

“Did Eugene say who shot him?” Sirrus asked.

“Hopefully, he’ll get through this and be able to answer all of our questions,” Ruth said.

Nodding her head, Helga shook her finger in Deborah’s direction. “If you had listened to me, none of this would have happened.”

“None of this is anyone’s fault except the evil person who shot Eugene,” Deborah said.

Gesturing for Bogie to remove Helga from the sanctuary, David said, “Ms. Thorpe—”

“Misses,” she corrected him. “Call me Misses. I am Mrs. Helga Thorpe.” She gestured at her husband, who was eying her with narrowed eyes. “My husband, Sirrus, and I own Thorpe Sporting Goods and Boat Rentals.” Beaming with pride, she announced, “We’ve been here on the lake for thirty-five years and are close friends with every member of the town council, including Bill Clark.”

Chuckling when he saw David’s lips purse at the name of the chief of the town council being dropped, Mac swallowed a scoff that fought its way to his lips.

Oblivious to Bogie gesturing from the open sanctuary doors for Brewster to come remove the unwanted witness, Helga continued, “I manage all of our store’s business matters, which is why the church asked me to take charge of the counters. When we were last audited, they found the church to be only seventy-five cents off in our favor.”

“That’s very impressive, Mrs. Thorpe.” As soon as he saw his officer, David gestured for Brewster to get her and her husband out of his sight.

“I am very detail oriented.” Helga pulled away from Brewster’s grasp while raising her handbag to strike if need be. “Nothing ever gets past me. Before I was in charge—”

Cutting her off, David ordered, “Get her out of here.”

“How rude!” Throwing back her shoulders and thrusting her nose up into the air, Helga marched out of the sanctuary and toward the church foyer.

Snapping Sirrus’ attention away from where he was staring at the pastor, office manager, and Ruth, Mac ushered him toward the door as well.

When his radio crackled, Bogie turned around to speak into it in a low voice.

David ordered Officer Brewster before he returned to his post, “Tell forensics to bring in the fingerprinting kit. We need to get prints for everyone on the church staff and all of the trustees.”

“Fingerprints!” Ruth clasped her hand over her face.

Deborah stepped forward. “What are you going to do with these prints?”

“We’re going to need to compare them to the prints we collect in the crime scene,” Mac explained as gently as possible. “That way, we can eliminate those fingerprints that belong on the scene from anyone who doesn’t belong in there.” He gestured at Ruth. “Since you clean the church and take care of the building, then we can expect to find your prints on the scene. But the only way we can identify them are by taking your prints.”

“Are you going to be running background checks on everyone whose prints you take?” Deborah asked. “Like putting them in the national database?”

“Is there a problem with that?” Mac asked.

Her eyes wide, Deborah gazed at him.

“If there’s a problem,” Mac said, “it would be more advantageous for everyone if we talked about it now.”

They all waited while Deborah stared at Mac. She then turned to where the portrait of Jesus Christ hung on the wall to look down onto the sanctuary. “No,” she said in a strong tone, “there’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“We’ve got a lead,” Bogie turned from where he had been making and receiving calls on his radio. “As of this morning, Chip Van Dorn owned a gun. Tonya just radioed that he applied for a permit last week and records showed that he picked up a nine-millimeter Colt semi-automatic at a store in Oakland this morning. I just called Fletcher to tell him that Chip Van Dorn was armed. He reported that he’s not at his bookstore and the assistant manager said Van Dorn and one of his employees were supposed to open up this morning but, when she got there at one o’clock for her shift, the store was locked up tight and had never been opened.”

“He applied for the gun permit last week,” Mac asked, “the same week that his wife left him? My guess is that his wife would be the intended target.”

“Eugene could have been collateral damage when Chip came to the church to take out Deborah for counseling Tina to leave him,” Chelsea said.

“We don’t have time to hash this out right now,” David said. “We need to make sure Tina Van Dorn is safe and locate her husband.”

Edna was rushing for the sanctuary doors. “I have her mother’s address in our database.”

Chapter Four

Once he was armed with the home address for Tina Van Dorn’s mother, David directed Officer Brewster to take Reverend Deborah Hess and Edna Parker to the hospital. “Be sure to pay close attention to how Newton’s wife behaves.”

“Do you want me to try to get a statement from her?” Brewster asked.

“Just a preliminary,” David said. “Let her know that I’ll be coming to the hospital as soon as possible. We need to track down this lead on Van Dorn first. Hopefully, he hasn’t left the area.”

Across the parking lot, Mac was saying good-bye to Archie, who was driving Chelsea and Molly home in his SUV. He would be riding with David to meet the county sheriff in McHenry to question Chip Van Dorn’s estranged wife. When backing out of the parking space, Archie almost plowed the vehicle into Sirrus Thorpe, who was darting across the parking lot toward Officer Brewster’s cruiser.

“Ms. Edna, where are they taking you?” He ran up to the rear door and grabbed the car handle. “Are they arresting you? They don’t think you shot Eugene, do they?” He turned around to the police chief. “Miss Edna would never hurt anyone.”

“They’re taking her and the reverend to the hospital to check on Eugene and be with his wife,” David assured him. “We’re still taking statements and interviewing witnesses.”

“It’s okay, Sirrus.” Deborah rolled down the front passenger seat window to assure him. “Officer Brewster needs to talk to Marilyn, so he’s driving us since he’s going there anyway.” She gestured for him to move on.

David ushered the old man out of the cruiser’s path. “I understand how extremely upsetting a violent crime like this can be, especially when it happens to someone you know. The best way you and your wife can help us is to go home. We’ll call you if we have any questions.”

Wordlessly, Sirrus peered after the cruiser that had pulled out of the parking lot onto the lake shore road before shuffling back to his old pick-up truck.

“Ready to go, Chief?” Bogie came up to him to ask.

“Just about,” David replied. “I have a question for you. What do you think you’re doing? You promised Reverend Hess that we’d catch whoever shot Eugene Newton. I remember a time you would have kicked my butt from here to Morgantown if I had said something like that. Don’t make promises to a victim’s friends and family because you don’t know that you can keep them, and it only makes things worse if you can’t. That’s what you and Dad used to drill into my head from the time I got my first badge and now you’re doing exactly the same thing.”

Bogie’s thick silver mustache twitched. “I know what I’ve told you. I also know what I said in there.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the church building. “I’m not senile … yet.”

“Then why—”

Bogie hitched his thumbs inside his utility belt. Before David’s eyes, the powerfully built deputy chief appeared to age several years. “Your daddy was sick for a very long time before he died,” he said in a gentle tone. “He was like a brother to me. Watching someone that you’re really close to—slipping away the way he did—it makes a man think about things, especially a man like me who was always the one in control of everything.”

David uttered a deep sigh. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, Bogie. I was there. I never felt so helpless—”

“Then you know what that does to a man,” Bogie said. “How it makes him ask questions … about why. Why are we here? Who would let a good man like Patrick O’Callaghan get so sick and suffer the way he did for so long? Why do bad things happen to good people like Patrick and now Eugene and other good people who I have seen hurt throughout the years?” He turned around to face the church. “This is where your daddy’s funeral was held. It was standing room only. Folks came from all over to pay him their respect.”

Unable to think about that awful day, David refused to look at the building. He concentrated on a pebble near the toe of his loafer. “I remember.”

“But I was here before that,” Bogie said. “One day, when your dad was in a whole lot of pain, so much that I couldn’t watch it anymore, I came in looking for answers. Deborah was here. We prayed together and when I left, I didn't have all the answers, but I had a few. I left this place with a whole lot of peace, and I think your daddy got some, too, thanks to our prayers.”

Turning back to David, Bogie captured his attention. “These are my people and something evil came in to hurt them today,” the deputy chief said in a low voice. “Yeah, I promised Deborah to find the slime ball who shot Eugene, and I intend to keep that promise.”

The intense glare in Bogie’s eyes made David back up a step. “Just don’t go off the reservation, Bogie.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I know how to handle myself.”

“Go meet Sheriff Turow in McHenry. Mac and I will catch up with you there.” David glanced around the parking lot. “Did you see where Mac went?” At the same time Bogie was about to answer, the police chief’s cell phone vibrated on his hip. Grabbing the phone, David turned away.

Bogie tossed his head in the direction of the church building. “Mac went back inside. I think he wanted to take another look at the crime scene.”

Thanking the caller, David disconnected the call. “I’m afraid it’s not a shooting anymore.”

Bogie’s jaw dropped.

“Eugene just died.” David laid his hand on Bogie’s shoulder.

Sniffing, the deputy chief hung his head.

“It’s gone from a shooting to a murder,” David said. “I’m sorry, Bogie.”