Secrets in the Shallows (Book 1: The Monastery Murders) (35 page)

Mother Superior obeyed and slowly sat down on the thinly padded, black seat cushion. A long gray metal table sat ominously in the center of the room in front or her. Setting at the end of the table was a lonely plastic pitcher of water with several paper cups.

As he picked up the pitcher and a cup to pour some water, he held it out for her and asked, “Would you like some water, Mother?”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied as she accepted his offering.

Taking another cup, Sheriff Johnson poured some water and took a sip before setting it down on the table. Sitting down in a chair opposite from Mother Superior, the sheriff pulled out a pen and notepad from his coat pocket.

Mother Superior Mary Ellen looked around the room, searching for one element of hope. From the fluorescent lighting above them, down to the drab gray carpet, the room was completely void of any reciprocation. The almost “prison cell” appearance did little to encourage her.

Mother’s voice quivered as she asked, “How long is this going to take?”

“It could take a while, ma’am,” he replied as he stood up.

Sheriff Johnson walked toward the door and opened it. Looking back at her, he added, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t leave this room, please.”

Surprised, she said, “I haven’t done anything wrong, so why would I run away? God will bring the truth to light.”

Amused by her response, the sheriff walked out the door and closed it behind him. As he headed back towards the hallway entrance, he spotted a young deputy, named Stephen Clark, at a water fountain. “Can you please wait in that room with my suspect until I come back? I don’t know how long I’m going to be.”

The young deputy smiled with a slightly confused look on his face. “Yes, sir, Sheriff.”

Patting the deputy on the shoulder, he gave him a hardy shake, “Thank you, Deputy. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

“My pleasure, sir.” The young deputy pivoted on his heels and headed toward the room as he watched the sheriff walk away.

Stephen turned the knob and opened the door. He stopped in his tracks; he was surprised to see Mother Superior Mary Ellen sitting alone at the table.

I know her
, he thought to himself. “I’m Deputy Clark, Mother Superior. I’ll be here until Sheriff Johnson returns,” he said as he closed the door. He nodded and moved over to the corner then stood at attention with one arm behind his back.

“Didn’t you go to the school at St. Francis, Deputy?”

“Yes, ma’am. I graduated with honors six years ago,” he smiled.

“It’s nice to see that you are in a fine occupation, Deputy,” she smiled back at him and took a deep breath as she waited for the sheriff to return.

* * * *

Smoke rose from the chimney of a three-story Colonial mansion as the frigid evening air rolled in from the bay. Inside the warm dwelling, Judge Taylor sat in his study on his favorite overstuffed chair, quietly listening to his favorite Beethoven piece,
Moonlight Sonata
. Blue gingham slippers covered his feet, which were resting on the ottoman in front of him. An earthy aroma of pipe smoke filled the air as the judge flipped pages of
The Ellsworth American.

Turning a page of her latest novel, his wife, June, inserted a bookmark and closed the hardcover. Light from the ceiling fixture reflected from her silver hair, making it glisten. She stood up in front of her husband and asked him, “More tea, sweetheart?”

Judge Taylor held up his empty saucer and cup, “Yes, my dear. That would be great.”

She leaned over, giving a peck on the top of her husband’s bald head. On her way to the kitchen, the phone rang. Stopping to answer it, she said, “Hello.”

A familiar voice asked, “Mrs. Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sheriff Johnson, down at the station. Is your husband in?”

“Oh ... Hello, Sheriff. Yes, hold on, he’s right here.”

June tapped her husband on the shoulder handing over the cordless phone. “Sweetie, it’s the Sheriff.”

Judge Taylor took the phone and pressed it against his ear. “Hello, Sheriff. It must be important to bother me at home.”

Sheriff Johnson sat up, holding a photo of Tom Green’s backpack. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, Your Honor. I am so sorry to bother you. I need to see you tomorrow, if at all possible.”

June silently handed her husband a full cup of tea. Judge Taylor took a sip and then another. “Why? What is so urgent?”

“Your Honor, I need to get a court order to exhume the body of Tom Green.”

Judge Taylor took another sip and started to choke on the steaming hot liquid.

Hearing the horrible hacking and coughing, Sheriff Johnson held his cell phone away from his ear. Crinkling his nose, he asked loudly, “Judge, are you all right?”

Wiping his mouth, Judge Taylor replied, “Yes, I was taken off guard there. Did I hear you right, Sheriff? You want to exhume the body of Tom Green?”

“Yes, Your Honor, you heard me correctly.”

Judge Taylor sat back in his plush lounge chair. “I assume you found some credible evidence that would indicate Tom Green may have not committed suicide in the monastery’s pond?”

“Yes, Your Honor, that is right. We found Tom Green’s backpack in the pond when we were diving for evidence this morning. We suspect there was foul play involved in that case too. We need to do an autopsy on the body to make sure we didn’t miss anything the first time around.”

The sheriff continued, “Remember, I told you about Peter Balkan; that top forensic investigator that’s working with us on the Fields’ case? Well, his team went through the backpack, and they found several bricks in it. There was also a long gray hair wrapped around one of the bricks that matches some hairs that were tangled in the rope that we believe held down Timothy Fields’ body underwater in the monastery pond.”

“So you support what he’s saying?” Judge Taylor asked.

“Absolutely, sir! We also found the missing Fields’ evidence from the morgue locker in Mother Superior’s desk drawer, and even heard some incriminating testimony on a counseling session tape that she had in Timothy Fields’ counseling folder. It all seems to point to her being the perpetrator. We probably need to check into Tom Green’s background more too.”

“It sounds like the evidence is overwhelming.”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

The judge stated, “This is what we need to do, Sheriff. Locate the whereabouts of Mr. and Mrs. Green. If you cannot find them, then you need to contact the next of kin to try to get a hold of the Greens. Let me know if you can’t locate them, or if they won’t cooperate.”

Sheriff Johnson was relieved to hear the judge’s response and said, “I have my assistant trying to locate Mr. and Mrs. Green as we speak.”

“That is fine. I will see you tomorrow then. I have to be in court at 8:30 a.m. Let me know when you get back so I can try to fit you in somewhere.”

“Thank you so much, Your Honor. You have a good night.”

“You do the same, Sheriff.”

* * * *

Quietly focused on her computer screen, a woman with thick, nearly black hair worked diligently at her desk. Her long wavy hair was tied back with a decorative clip to keep it out of her eyes. Heather Strong had been Sheriff Johnson’s personal assistant for five years. Lifting a pen out of her cup holder, she wrote down the only address belonging to a Tom and Helen Green, Sr. She removed the small piece of paper from her note pad and smiled as she stood up and walked into the Sheriff’s office.

“Sheriff, this is the only address I could find for Mr. and Mrs. Green. It seems they moved to Sanger a few months ago. I also put their phone number on there. They said they would be available in the morning, if you wanted to head that way, sir.”

Sheriff Johnson took the paper and read it. “It’s only a forty-five minute drive. Heather, you are awesome!”

“It’s my job, Sheriff, but thank you just the same. I’ve already taken the liberty of contacting them, so they are expecting your call. All you need to do is call and verify when you will be there. Needless to say, they aren’t very excited about speaking with you.”

“I understand, but they need to know how important this is. I’m going to head out there first thing in the morning. I imagine you’ll be going home soon, so I’ll see you when I get in.” The sheriff smiled as he headed into the hallway.

C
HAPTER
33

Snow-covered stone steps led up to the covered porch of the
Mariner’s Inn
. Lonely rocking chairs looked out on the ocean, waiting for the company of warmer weather. Deputy Williams assisted the huddle of nuns to carefully climb the steps of the inn entrance as they carried their belongings inside.

Opening the door, the deputy led them into a front parlor where a nice fire invitingly waited for them. Relieved to find the comfortable room, the sisters put their bags together in a corner. Seeking relief from the cold, they gathered around the crackling flames of the fireplace.

Deputy Williams informed them, “I’ll get you all checked in and be right back. Please stay here until I come to get you. A restroom is across the hallway if you need to freshen up.”

The nuns nodded, affirming they understood the instructions. Turning back to the fire, their attention was focused on breaking the icy hold of the chill in their bones. Many of them vigorously rubbed their hands together to speed up the process.

Turning around, the deputy made his way to the front desk and checked them all in. He glanced up into the front desk clerk’s gray-blue eyes and asked, “Once they are settled, is there a nice private room I can use temporarily for some interrogations, ma’am?”

Her long, auburn hair hung loosely on her shoulders as she looked up from filling out some paperwork. “Of course, Deputy. I have a private conference area in my office. You are welcome to use that. You can close the door for privacy. Will that suffice?”

Deputy Williams nodded and smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

As her eyes darted over to the nuns in the parlor, the desk clerk asked, “Is everything all right? I heard about the boy’s body being found in the monastery pond. How gruesome.”

“I can’t discuss the investigation. I do appreciate your cooperation though.”

“My pleasure, Deputy. I’m happy to help. I’m fascinated by those forensics shows on TV,” she replied as she entered the information for the new arrivals in her computer. Looking him in the eyes, she smiled and added, “We’ll have them settled in their rooms in just a few minutes. Your office called ahead, so I have the rooms ready and waiting.”

Noticing her name tag, the deputy said, “Thank you… Nancy.”
She’s kinda’ cute,
he thought to himself as he straightened up his uniform shirt to make himself more presentable. Looking down at her left ring finger, he noticed she had no evidence of romantic ties.
Not married or engaged. Maybe she’s available.

“Just doing my job, Deputy Williams. I’m Nancy Jones, by the way. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones. I’m Deputy Christopher Williams,” he introduced himself. “It is
miss
, right?”

Nancy nodded her head in affirmation. “Yes,
miss
is correct,” she replied, smiling.

“As soon as you are able to get all of the keys together and I get the sisters settled, I’ll try to finish the interrogations as quickly as possible so you can have your conference room back. Perhaps after I’m done, we can chat some too, if you’d like? I need to stick around until my relief comes anyway.”

Nancy’s eyes brightened as she replied, “That would be nice, Deputy. Let me know if you need any water or coffee, and I’ll be happy to get some for you.”

Williams smiled as he replied, “Coffee would be wonderful, Nancy.”

* * * *

Sitting in the interrogation room, Mother Superior Mary Ellen stared at a stack of the files and the tape recorder on the table in front of her. “Are you going to record to me?”

“Not with that recorder, at least,” Sheriff Johnson replied as he grabbed a digital voice recorder from his pocket. “I will record you with this one though.”

“Why do you need to record me? I didn’t do anything wrong.”