Dan of the Dead Read online

  “This is not an official crime scene until the police get here. Look, he was my friend too, hell. I want to know what happened here. It’s not like we’re going to be tampering with the evidence.”

  “But you’re getting everyone involved,” said Helena in a hushed tone. She glanced back to where the body lay. There were more people there now, some turning away as soon as they saw the covered body. Many lingered. Elliot must have been doing a good job of corralling the mourners, as the church seemed to be filling up once more.

  “So what? We need order now, not panic, which is what’s likely to happen.”

  Helena shook her head. “You don’t get it, Cassy. We’re the main suspects; the old Havenholm gang. If you’re worried about the killer tampering with the evidence, can I suggest locking us all up in a room?”

  The trail stopped. Dan hadn’t managed to get far. More than likely it was the high level of alcohol in his system that had allowed him to do as much as that, delaying the shock of the attack momentarily.

  “You’re right, Hell,” said Cassy. She looked to the entrance at the far end of the room where Elliot was ushering the last few stragglers inside. He gave her the thumbs up and closed the door. Maybe, her heels still clutched in one hand, was dutifully keeping people at bay so that Dan could at least have some dignity in death. As for Cat, she had retreated to one of the pews and sat curled up like her feline namesake. Various family members and friends stood scattered around in groups, talking in whispers. “You’re right. One of us is the killer.”

  Of all the places to be locked in, Oak Hill Church wasn’t so bad. Cassy found most traditional churches chilly and a little aloof. This was, of course, by design. But this place was different. Though still big enough for a decent congregation, it had a comfortable feel, cozy almost. Large stained-glass windows let in a lot of light and the wood-paneled walls added a sense of nature.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd?” asked Helena. “There aren’t any photos or sculptures of Jesus.”

  They’d both retired to the furthest row to get away from all of the commotion. There was little they could do now. Dan was dead and there was no changing that. The best they could do right now was to wait for the law to show up.

  “What do you mean?” Cassy looked around and immediately saw the familiar face looking down at her, perfectly rendered in golden stained glass.

  “There are absolutely no statues. Have you ever been to a church with no statues of Christ?”

  Now that it had been pointed out to her it did seem a little odd. You might expect a cross or two, but there was a distinct lack of those, as well.

  “Not holy enough for you?” asked Cassy. Helena slumped.

  “Just trying to think of anything other than this terrible situation. I still can’t quite believe it. Dan’s dead!”

  Both of them were holding up pretty well considering the strange turn of events. Perhaps it didn’t seem real yet, thought Cassy. After years without seeing him, Dan just showed up unexpectedly, and very noisily, and then just as suddenly as he had appeared, he left. She wasn’t sure which had more of an impression, the arrival or the departure.

  “What happened to the priest?”

  “He went to call the police,” said Cassy as she scanned the room for him.

  “He’s taking his time.”

  “Maybe he got caught in his robes again.”

  This made Helena snort with laughter, which was closely followed by a reverberating echo. Everyone, including twenty of Stuart’s relatives, turned toward the sisters. Very slowly, Helena dropped, sliding further down the seat to hide from the stares until she was lying across the bench.

  “I knew it was a bad idea coming back,” she said from down below. “As soon as I got on the train I told myself that I was making a mistake.”

  “Didn’t you want to see me?” asked Cassy, “Or Mom?”

  “That’s not what I meant. Of course I wanted to see you.”

  “But not Mom.”

  Helena didn’t answer for a moment. When she did speak, it was softly, in a measured tone. “That grave is not Mom. My memories of her are all I need.”

  But Helena’s memories were not complete. How could they have been? She’d left before the end, leaving the little sister to deal with the fallout. Two short years later, Cassy had to arrange the funeral, in the very same church they now found themselves in. Selling the old house had been the hardest exactly because of all those memories, but that was why it had to be done. Having tended to Mother until the end, all memories, good or bad, had to go.

  “You know she would have liked some memories, too. To see her daughter one last time.”

  “Seriously? We’re doing this right now? Isn’t that in poor taste?” Helena sat upright again, though Cassy didn’t turn to look at her. “You know I would have come had I known. But it happened so fast, you said it yourself, there was no warning.”

  “Except there was a warning, wasn’t there?” Cassy was struggling to control herself. “She was diagnosed very early on.”

  “I know, Cassy. I know. And that’s just it. Maybe you had a stronger stomach for it but I couldn’t stay there and watch her die.”

  White appeared across Cassy’s knuckles as she gripped the pew in front. “She didn’t sit there dying. She was alive, and talking. She hadn’t lost her mind or anything like that. You missed out on her when she needed you the most.”

  Helena’s voice broke, not a lot, but Cassy could feel the emotions trying to get through like a leak in a dam. “And I needed her, don’t you see? But she let herself get that way. I couldn’t be there because she was a stupid, stupid woman. She denied herself the medicine she needed—the treatments I could have paid for—all because of her silly superstitions.”

  “It’s not silly,” said Cassy. “They weren’t superstitions.” Why would Helena say such things? “You know it’s not, Helena.” She took in a deep breath, determined not to cry. “You have the same power as she did. The same gift that I do, but that had nothing to do with her choice not to have chemo. She didn’t want to be strung out on meds for her last months alive and she lived longer than the time they gave her. The chance of her beating it was slim, we all knew it and so did she. Mom came to terms with that. It wasn’t that she rejected treatment. She had nothing against it. It’s not like she was going to mix up a potion in the kitchen and say “that’ll do”, which is what you thought she did. No, she didn’t want the treatment because she was at peace with her death, even if you weren’t.”

  It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but it seemed like an eternity, the silence between them. Cassy looked up at Jesus in the window. It was a scene she didn’t recognize, though it looked like he was healing a group of worshipers at his feet. Rays of yellow sun came from behind him and all Cassy could think of was how impressed she was at the craftsmanship.

  “Where’s that damned—I’m sorry,” said Helena, rising, “Where’s that priest got to?”

  Cassy watched as her sister strode off pugnaciously. It had always been this way with Helena. Whenever things became too emotional, she just walked away. Externally she was tough, confident and outgoing, but truthfully, Cassy knew that her sister had problems facing things that might affect her emotionally.

  Deciding not to pursue the issue any further, Cassy went to see if she could find one of the others. Initially she couldn’t see Elliot or Maybe, though Cat was still curled up on the front bench. She had a dazed look in her eyes, just as she suspected everyone did.

  “Are you okay, Cat? Do you want to get some fresh air?”

  Cat stirred as Cassy approached. “I’m all right. I just had a walk around.” She circled a finger around her head. “Who would do something like this, Cassy? At a funeral!”

  They both looked toward the crowd of family members who were talking among themselves. Several were checking watches or repeatedly fishing their phones from their pockets. Who could blame them? The police were taking their time and most of th
em weren’t suspects.

  “I loved him, you know,” said Cat. “Stuart, that is.”

  “I think he was everyone’s first crush,” said Cassy. She put a hand on Cat’s knee.

  “No, not a crush. I loved him. For years I wanted to let him know, but I was too shy.” She faded out momentarily. “Too afraid.”

  “He had that thing, didn’t he? That spark that some people have. Whenever they walk in the room all eyes turn to them and you can’t look away.” The same could have been said for poor Dan, though for very different reasons. She looked at him now, still covered. Maybe had returned to watch over him, though no one else was in a hurry to come close. It was odd. They’d all been eager to look at Stuart in the casket, but with Dan, the idea seemed repulsive.

  Then she saw Elliot emerge from a side door, his hair ruffled, shirt furiously and haphazardly tucked into his waist. He caught Cassy looking at him and froze before smiling sheepishly. He joined Maybe at Dan’s side but looked awkward and uncomfortable, so he moved away.

  “They didn’t know what they had,” said Cat, though Cassy wasn’t really paying attention anymore. She was more interested in what was behind the door Elliot had just exited. Had Maybe also come out of that door? Had they been in there…together? “He was wasted on them. Just used him. I wouldn’t have, though. No sir. I would have looked after him.”

  “That’s good, Cat. Real good.” Cassy squeezed Cat’s hand compassionately. “Stay strong.”

  There was never a good time to pry into people’s relationships, and during the aftermath of a funeral in which another person had also died was very low down on that list. Even so, Cassy’s curiosity was burning a hole in her conscience.

  “Maybe!” said Cassy, standing suddenly and crossing the short distance to where Dan lay. “Can we talk?”

  “Hey, kid.” Maybe looked disheveled, but then again, didn’t they all? “Glad I came back for this one. A whole week of vacation time I used up, just to see two dead friends. It’s so senseless, Cass. I just don’t get it. Dan was the sweetest guy, you know?”

  “Had you kept in touch?”

  “A little, yeah.” Maybe looked down mournfully at the shape on the floor. “I know he liked to drink, but not like this. Something set him off. Being back here, I guess. It’s made me a little emotional, too.”

  Cassy had to be careful. She could feel the desire to begin interrogating everyone to see who the culprit was, but the circumstances were so tricky. She couldn’t be so blatant about it without upsetting a few people. The hardest part was going to be how to approach all the family members she didn’t know.

  “Were you with Elliot?” asked Cassy, pausing tactically to allow Maybe to finish the sentence on her own.

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes darted away from Cassy to the door Elliot had come through moments earlier.

  “Were you with Elliot when we were in the car lot?”

  “No, why?” She shuffled uncomfortably.

  “Well, he was looking after Dan and I wondered if you’d overheard anything. Something really weird is happening here. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  All Cassy could think of in that moment was how much she needed some tea; perhaps something minty. It would help her focus. Surely the priest had a little room somewhere to prepare food. Just how bold would it be if she asked to make herself a cup?

  “Weird? Dan’s dead! I’d say that counts.”

  Cassy grimaced as Maybe raised her voice. Maybe was one of the smartest people she knew, and had always shown promise, even from a young age. The fact that she had set up her own imports business and steered it to success by the time she was thirty was no real surprise to those who knew her. What Cassy needed was to use those brains to her advantage and temper any emotions that might get in the way. It wouldn’t be long before Sheriff Noyce arrived and Cassy was determined to get a head start before then. She loved all of the boys down at the station, but every now and then they needed a little help.

  Gripping Maybe by the elbow, she walked her away from the covered body and whispered to her conspiratorially.

  “The killer is still here, in this room. We need to systematically interrogate everyone here and work out who it is.”

  “Interrogate?” Maybe pulled away but remained close. “The police will be here soon, and that’s their job.”

  Cassy looked back to the main group of suspects, all of whom seemed bored. Of course Maybe was right, but Cassy had more than personal curiosity at stake. This was their friend Dan they were talking about here and making this investigation official might be exactly what the killer wanted. Until the cruisers pulled up outside, the room was in a state of flux, evidence was open to be tampered with, alibis established, misinformation spread and stories cemented. This was a unique situation where she could trap the killer before he or she became comfortable.

  “You’re right,” said Cassy, “We don’t have much time, but if I’m right, we might all still be in danger. We have to move fast.”

  “I think we’re already too late.” Both Cassy and Maybe turned to see Helena walking slowly towards them, her head bowed. She didn’t look upset, more exasperated.

  “Did you find the priest?” Even by the end of the sentence Cassy had answered it herself. A small, discolored spot had appeared on the cuff of her sister’s blouse, staining it red. Blood red.

  “He didn’t make it to the landline,” said Helena as Maybe looked on, incredulous.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Want me to spell it out for you?”

  Cassy stepped in between Maybe and Hell and spoke with a controlled, hushed voice so as to not alert the others in the room, especially Cat.

  “First thing we do is call the police,” she said. “Second—Helena, in your assessment, was the murder weapon the same? A knife, a dagger, perhaps?”

  Helena shrugged, then nodded.

  Just as she was about to lay out her hastily worked out plan, which involved a quick look over the latest body and separating the mourners into easily manageable groups, a gruff voice startled her.

  “What’s this about calling the police? Has no one done it yet? I don’t know about you, but I have places to be.”

  The Proustian rush of cigar smoke sent Cassy skipping back to her childhood once more. But it wasn’t Stuart’s father that confronted her; it was uncle Monty.

  “I’m very sorry for your friend, but I have things to do this afternoon,” he snorted. He didn’t appear to be as affected by the news of yet another death as Cassy would have expected. Also, he was speaking far too loudly and some of those who had lingered with a morbid curiosity near Dan’s shrouded body overheard. The news then spread quickly from them to the remaining people and very quickly Cassy saw panic begin to spread.

  At first glance, it was an old style rotary phone, recognizable even though it lay in several smashed pieces across the floor. Of course, those old things wouldn’t work anymore on the newer phone networks, so Cassy had to assume it was a modern device with a retro look. Helena had left the body as she’d found it. The priest lay face down on the floor, one hand outstretched as if he’d been in the process of making the call when he’d been attacked.

  “There’s a knife wound in his neck,” said Helena, although she wasn’t looking at the body but rather at the rest of the small vestibule. It was a cozy affair with a small desk by a tiny window; overburdened bookcases lined the walls making the space smaller still.

  Other than the smashed phone, the fatal wound was the only thing suggesting an attack. There was no sign of a struggle; a stack of papers on the desk, though tall, had remained precariously balanced. All the books remained on their shelves and the rug under their feet was smooth.

  The victim knew the attacker and was comfortable with them being in this back room, which unfortunately told Cassy absolutely nothing.

  Oddly, the crime scene itself was not going to give her any clues. She’d have to do what she’d intended the moment Cat announ
ced Dan’s death—interview everyone in the church.

  “Have the police been notified yet?” asked Cassy as she crouched down beside the priest, careful to avoid the pool of blood.

  “Not unless you have.”

  “Well, do it then!”

  There was a moment, Cassy could sense it without even looking, when Helena was going to try and pull rank as the older sister. But Cassy was in control—this much was clear—and Helena didn’t argue.

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  While Hell went back out to make the call, Cassy remained a while longer to look over the scene one more time. Her craving for tea had returned and she had half a mind to call Dot to deliver a big steaming flask of the stuff.

  “So what links you and Dan, huh?” she mused aloud. “You must have known something about him or the killer wouldn’t have targeted you. You didn’t die because you went to call the police—any one of us could have done that. So, what was it?”

  When she and her sister had interrupted the priest getting changed, she hadn’t thought anything was odd, beyond the absurdity of the situation. But now as she saw him sprawled out, something did bother her. His vestment had ridden up exposing the clothes underneath. Blue jeans, leather belt and a football jersey could be seen, though what team he supported was obscured. She wasn’t one to judge, and didn’t particularly care what clergy wore under their robes, but it did strike her as odd.

  “I called them. They’ll be here in ten.”

  “Thanks, Hell,” said Cassy. She got to her feet using her sister as support.

  “Taking it easy there, ol’ gal.”

  “We need to talk to everyone. I find you can get more out of people if you don’t have a uniform on.”

  “On a strictly casual basis, of course. Wouldn’t want to step on any toes.”

  “Of course,” said Cassy, smiling. “Just an informal chat. An informal chat designed to expose the killer.”

  Going about such a mass interrogation was not going to be easy, and there was limited time, too. Hell had said ten minutes, which Cassy knew meant closer to twenty. Oak Hill was a ten-minute drive from the station and unless Noyce and his deputies were already en route, they wouldn’t get there that soon.