Marcie's Murder (10 page)

“All right, Charlie. Should I call
Garrett?”

Brother Charles hesitated
,
looking at
Branham. “Gordon Garrett’s our attorney.” He turned back to Brother David. “I’m not under arrest yet, but you might as well let him know what’s happening. If I need him, I’ll call him.” He turned back to Branham. “Fair enough?”

“You’ve voluntarily agreed to come to Harmony for a formal interview,
”
Branham said, “
so it’s your choice whether or not to have your attorney present
.
Y
our rights will be respected
at all times
.”

“Then let’s go,” Brother Charles said.

They stopped at his office on the way, where Brother Charles removed his robe and hung it up in a small closet. “We don’t wear these off campus,” he explained, “because it puts people off. We want to be able to interact with people without artificial barriers. We wear them here as a symbol of our commitment to the order.”

Karen looked around the office. It was unexpectedly small, given that Brother Charles was top dog in a
n outfit that managed
twelve
million
dollar
s
a
year
. She looked at a wall filled with books, a simple walnut desk and chair, a small meeting table and chairs on the side, and a leather armchair near the window in the back corner. It looked very much like the office of a professor of religious studies on a
medium-sized university campus.

She glanced at the spines of the books on the bookshelf. She wasn’t a reader
the way Hank was, and she seldom
saw
a book that she’d actually read, but she was an experienced investigator who knew that the things people kept on their shelves sometimes said important things about them. The books she noticed included
The Pagan Christ
by Tom Harpur,
The Living Goddesses
by Marija Gimbutas, Joseph Campbell’s
Transformations of Myth Through Time
,
Liberating the Gospels
by
John Shelby Spong and
How Jesus Became Christian
by Barrie Wilson.

“Where’s your Stephen King and Dan
Brown
?” she quipped.

Brother Charles smiled at her faintly.
“In my room.”

They took him downstairs and Branham guided him into the back seat of the cruiser.
No one spoke
as they rolled down the driveway and turned onto the highway
.

Karen glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brother Charles was looking out the window, his face impassive. She turned
back
and pursed her lips, rolling it around in her mind.
Another guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was he a w
acko nut job?
A s
exual predator? A psycho who arrange
s
to meet married women
in secret
and strangle
s the life out of them?

Time to find out.

9

Hank was wonder
ing
what had happened to lunch when the metal door opened and
Officer Grimes
came down to his cell.

“
Let’s go
.
”
Grimes
unlock
ed
the door and
motion
ed
him out.

Hank followed him down the corridor and through the metal door
into the office
. Karen was sitting in a visitor’s chair at Detective Hall’s desk
while
Hall was
slumped
over
another desk in the corner watching a video display and listening to the audio feed through a headset.
Branham was in his office, on the telephone.
The civilian dispatcher was
typing
.
Officer Grimes
dropped into his chair and
stared at his computer monitor with undisguised boredom
.

H
ank
walked over
to Karen. “What’s happen
ing
?”

“They’re letting you go, Lou. Found a better suspect. Tall guy with a beard. Ring a bell?”

“Christ.”

“Guy name of Brother Charles Baker. Runs a monastery outfit not far from here. Their
little shrimp
eyewitness
sat right here in this chair while
Askew
marched
Baker
past him
in
to the interview room.” She pointed at a
closed
door
on the far wall
. “
Made a positive ID
.”

“It’s too late for a show-up. Hell, it was too late when he looked at me
before
.
What do they have against lineups around here?
”

“
Whatever. It got you out of that fucking cell.”

T
he front door opened and two men walked into the station. One was a tall, fortyish man with short, straight white hair and an expensive navy blue suit. His ears were huge and his nose was long and pointed
. H
e carried himself with the unmistakable self
-
assurance that comes with success in public life. The other man was just as tall but stockier, with trim brown hair
and
a
ruddy
complexion. He wore brown trousers and a white
long
-sleeved shirt
and brown tie. The shirt bore
large gold and black shoulder patches
emblazoned with the words TAZEWELL CO
UNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE
,
a gold badge
,
and
a
black name
tag
that said
Steele
in gold letters
. They walked through the cattle door at the end of the counter as though they owned the place and looked into Chief Askew’s office.

“Where is he?” the white-haired man in the navy suit asked Branham
, who was walking out of his office
.

“Interrogation,” Branham replied,
offering his
hand. “How are you, Mr. Hatfield?”
They shook hands and Branham
turned to shake hands with the other man. “Sheriff
.
”

“Call him out, will you, Neil?” Hatfield asked. “I understand there’s been a development.”

“That’s right. We’ve found the individual seen by the witness going behind the bar.
The Chief’s
interrogating him right now.”

“Who’s this, then?” Hatfield look
ed
at Hank over Branham’s shoulder.

“Homicide Lieutenant Hank Donaghue and Detective Karen Stainer, from
Glendale,
Maryland
,” Branham said, making the introductions
.
“
This is Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney
Donald
Hatfield and Tazewell County Sheriff
Isham
Steele.”

“I understand you were also at the scene Saturday night,” Steele
said
aggressively, staring at Hank.

“That’
s right
,
” Hank star
ed
back
,
“
but
I didn’t
make it
to the back of the
goddamned
building.”

“I expect Chief Askew owes you an apology,” Hatfield said
quickly
, glancing at the small bandage on Hank’s left cheek and the scabbed nicks
on his forehead and lower lip.

“You think?” Hank
replied
angrily
.

“It’s a municipal issue. I’ll speak to the mayor about it.” Hatfield turned to Branham.
“Get
Billy
out here
.
”

Branham
knocked
on
the door of the interview room and let himself in.

Karen looked at Steele.
“Did y
ou
bring the
l
ieutenant’s firearm
and personal effects
back with you?”

The
sheriff
ignored her.

The door of the interview room opened and Chief Askew emerged, followed by Branham. Askew was clearly not a happy man. He shook hand
s
with Hatfield and ignored
Steele
altogether
.

“Mr. Hatfield, what can I do for you?”

“You’ve got another suspect in custody, I understand?”

“Correct. Brother Charles Baker, from the monastery in Burkes Garden.”

Hatfield’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’s the abbot out there, isn’t he? Why on earth would you think he’s involved?”

“Our eyewitness positively identified him as the man he saw
walking past the window
,” Askew replied defensively, “and
the suspect’s
admitted he was there.”

“And this man here,” Hatfield nodded at Hank, “that you told me about
before
, he’s not the man seen by the eyewitness after all?”

“No.”

“I
intend to have a word with
your mayor
about this
,” Hatfield said, “but if you’ve got an ounce of common sense you’ll
personally
apologize in writing to Lieutenant Donaghue here and pray he doesn’t sue your ass.
Has Baker given you anything at all to go on?”

“Like I say,” Askew ground out, “he’s admitted he was there at the time of the murder, he’s admitted he went around to the back of the place, he’s admitted he went there to meet with someone but he won’t say who it was and he won’t say anything other than that.”

“Has he been placed under arrest?”

“Not yet.”

“Is his attorney here?”

“Not yet.
He’s been Mirandized
and has waived counsel
.
”

Hatfield turned to Steele. “Did your
people
find any physical evidence at all
at the crime scene
that might connect Baker to this?”

“No,” Steele shook his head gravely.

Askew jumped on it.
“How the hell can you
answer
that
question when it
’s
supposed to be my crime scene?
W
hen
the hell were you planning on letting me know what
you
may or may not have found?”

“Are you aware of any connection between this guy and
your wife
?” Hatfield pressed
Askew
. “
Anything that would be a
motive for killing her?”

“How the hell would I know?” Askew replied. “
H
e won’t
give me a straight
answer
on anything
.
I sure as hell never heard her mention him before.
”

“This is the problem, Billy,” Steele said, trying to sound sympathetic. “If there was a connection between them it might be real upsetting for you since you were her husband, and you can’t be expected to keep a clear head about it.”

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”

“No, it’s not bullshit,” Hatfield contradicted, “and
you
know it.
You know as well as I do it’s SOP for a law enforcement officer to withdraw from a case when he has a personal connection.
” He held up a hand to forestall Askew’s protests. “I know, I know
. I appreciate your years of experience and
professional
ism
and
all that, b
ut I’m having a hard time seeing why this case shouldn’t be transferred to the
c
ounty
s
heriff’s
o
ffice right this minute.”

“It’s goddamned politics, that’s what it is,” Askew growled. “I’m just appointed by the municipality here but you two
’
re elected, you
cater
to the press and your precious voters, and that means we’re not playing on the same field. I’m telling you right now if you start pulling local law enforcement off important cases, every department in this county
’
ll be completely demoralized. Yo
u have to give us a fair chance
. I can’t tell you if there’s physical evidence connecting my suspect to the crime scene if this guy sits on it. Plus,” he ticked off the point on his index finger, “the autopsy won’t be done until tomorrow and it’ll take at least a week to process the stuff
that
was under her fingernails. Plus,” he ticked off another point on his middle finger, “nothing physical’s been done on
Baker
yet. I need
the crime scene
truck to go over to the monastery and turn his room or whatever the fuck he lives in upside down and every scrap of evidence analyzed up the ass. The truck he drove, everything. How the hell can I make any progress when we haven’t even worked him yet? You call this fair? You call this professional?”