Chapter 11
"The coroner's here, Detective, but of course we didn't touch anything; we were waiting for you to arrive."
"Good thinking. You'll be able to keep your badge a little longer that way, Officer." The detective walked between the old wooden doors of the dilapidated mansion and into the building where he was greeted by a tall thin woman in tears and a mauve business suit that began to talk non-stop.
"Detective, I'm so glad you got here," the secretary said. "I was in my office working at the computer and Father Theophane had a one p.m. appointment. A young man was waiting in the parlor--I think he might have been interested in becoming a priest, and it was now one fifteen and Father Theophane had not yet appeared. He's always on time; he never goes anywhere without telling me. I began to get concerned. I buzzed his room--no answer. I buzzed Father Andrew's room and he answered. I asked if he would check on Father Theophane for me. He obliged. The next thing I knew he was yelling down the steps to call the police and also to call for an ambulance. I dialed 911 and ran up the stairs where I'm really not supposed to go, to be of service. He told me not to go in Father Theophane's room, that something horrible had happened. I asked him what. He didn't want to tell me. I pleaded with him. Finally, he said it looks as if Father Theophane is dead. Dead, I said, how could he be dead, I was with him only and hour or two before?"
As the excited lady continued to talk, a police officer was trying to get her away from the detective, but Dave waved his hand as if to say that it would be okay. The secretary continued: "It turns out that Father drowned in his bathtub. I don't understand it. How can one drown in the bathtub? He must have slipped. I don't know what happened. All I know is it's horrible, just horrible."
"Where's the young man who was waiting for Father Theophane now?"
"Well, in the parlor I suppose, where I put him before all this happened."
"Please show me to the parlor, Ms...."
"Miss Von Kiel, if you please. Right this way Detective."
We echoed as we walked down the hall of the first floor of the mansion and eventually Miss Von Kiel opened a door. There was no sign of anyone in the room. "That's strange. I wonder when he left," she said, with a confused look on her proper and dazed face.
"Thank you ma'am." Dave went up the steps and was greeted by the coroner who took him into the bathroom where he saw a man's body face down in a bathtub brimming full with water."
"Why is his head under water? Shouldn't he be floating or something?" The coroner responded in a jaded tone: "You wouldn't float either if you had a rock tied around your neck." With that Dave ran down the steps, looking for the secretary. "Where is she, where is Von Kiel?"
"In her office," said a police officer with a gut that probably wouldn't pass inspection.
"Point me toward it."
"Right over there."
The detective turned around and flew into her office. "Don't touch your computer!"
"I was just about to, Officer. The screen saver is on, making these beautiful colored designs and I've been staring at it for a few minutes, just trying to refresh my mind, sort of hypnotized."
"Can you get rid of that screen saver without disturbing what is underneath it, that is what will then appear under it?"
"Certainly I can. I just touch the escape key and whatever was on the screen will be there again. Why do you ask?"
"Humor me, for now, Ms. Von Kiel."
"No, no, Detective, it's Miss."
"Oh yes, Ms. Von Kiel, and just touch the escape key."
With that the swirling pastels of the screen saver dissolved and a sentence appeared on the screen. "It would be better for anyone who leads astray one of these little ones who believe in me to be drowned by a millstone around one's neck in the depth of the sea."
"Did you type that on there, Ms Von Kiel?"
"No, Detective, I don't know how it got there."
"Do me a favor, please, and print that screen for me on paper."
"Certainly." She pressed the print screen key and what was on the screen came out of a printer on a sheet of paper within a few seconds and a hum.
"Thank you ma'am, very much. Please don't touch anything else. This computer needs to be dusted for fingerprints."
"Very well, Detective."
Dave went back upstairs, looked around, told the coroner he could remove the body, and supervised the collection of evidence for the next few hours. Back home, he was sitting and staring and massaging his neck without being conscious of doing any of it when the phone rang.
"I'm down the street," said a voice as pretty as the person who owned it.
"Chantal, it's good to hear you, but I don't think you'd want to be with me in my shape."
"Oh, I like your shape just fine, Dave. Sort of like an eggplant. Besides, I wanted to get even with you for that pizza bribe last night. I have Chinese food in the car and I happen to know you like Chinese."
"Now how did you find that out?" A little life was dawning.
"My friend Francis told me."
"Our friend. How did he find that out, Chantal? Probably something about those vibes he picks up."
"Let me in." Before long, Chantal was massaging Dave's neck and the man with temporary burnout was opening the food containers and sliding chopsticks out of their red paper wrappers.
"I don't know how you can use those sticks," he said. "Give me good old American silverware.
"I love using chopsticks," Chantal insisted. It really makes it feel like I'm in the Orient. And besides, I eat more slowly and less which is certainly something I need to do, especially after last night. When the lower part of my right hand gets numb I know that I'm using them correctly--only the top stick is supposed to move so, you know."
"Where did you learn, Chantal?"
"Believe it or not, Dave, Francis taught me." When we were interns, we would go to oriental restaurants once in a while. We had no time to ourselves and practically no money so once in a blue moon we would splurge." Francis always loved oriental philosophy and spirituality and he really seemed to come alive in atmospheres like that.
"By the way, Chantal," Dave stammered making an awkward transition, "sorry I got mad this morning. I guess this case is getting to me. It's been about a month and I think they're going to pull me off of it if something doesn't break soon, especially with the latest murder they gave me."
"Can you talk about it, Dave?"
"Yeah, it's a priest from that traditional Catholic group that lives in the old mansion on the other side of town. He was found in a bathtub full of water with a rock tied around his neck." Chantal dropped her chopsticks.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"No, I wish I were, Chantal."
"Dave, they're not going to pull you off of that case. There's certainly a connection there between these two deaths. They're going to want it investigated, aren't they?"
"I suppose so; I'm not thinking real clearly at this point. You see, it might be just a copycat murder."
"Or there might be a religious fanatic out there, Dave, who's also a sociopath. You know, we used to call them psychopaths. A person who appears to have no conscience, no concept of right or wrong."
"Sounds charming, Chantal. Aren't sociopaths pretty manipulative?"
"Very much so, Dave, but your first word completes the concept. They are often very charming indeed--and intelligent. They can charm a trained and experienced prison chaplain, for example, to help them get paroled only to kill him or her later when the person is no longer of use to them."
"Like I say, Chantal, charming."
"Other than that, how was your day?" she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"If you want to know the truth, this is the best part of it."
"What, the Chinese food?"
"No, the delivery person."
"Dave, do you think we might be beginning to fall in love or in lust or in something?"
"I think until these cases are solved, it's 'in something.'"