Dan of the Dead Page 7

  “You do what you want, but I’m outta here,” said Dan, looking to Elliot for support. Elliot hastily agreed.

  “She’s right,” said Stuart, stepping back from the body. “We have to do something.” Without saying another word, Stuart opened the side door of the stables. It creaked loudly on its hinges. “I’m going up there. Who’s with me?”

  He found no support from either Elliot or Dan who inched back the way they had come. Cassy, however, was right behind him only to be snatched back by her older sister.

  “Cassy, come back here!”

  The struggle to get free from Helena’s grip was futile so Cassy relaxed. “Let me go. Stuart’s right. So what if we get caught? It’s the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t care! You’re not going to the house. I’m responsible for you and I say you don’t go into the house where there might be a killer. Understand? Mom doesn’t have to know about any of this, but if something happens to you—!” Helena didn’t need to finish the thought.

  Cassy relented, her head bowed.

  “Maybe, Catherine, I’m taking Cassandra back to the boat. You can come with me or you can stay, but that’s what I’m doing.”

  By now, Stuart was already on his way to the main house. He paused briefly to look back at the stables and to beckon his friends to come with him, then continued.

  What happened after that became unclear. Cassy was certainly on the boat, but who was on it didn’t seem to matter. All Cassy could think about was the body they’d found. It was like an unanswered question just left out for people to find. No, it was a whole book of questions, raw and exposed. Why the stables? Why hide the body? When had it happened? What had the killer planned to do with the body? Had they deserved it?

  Who had done it?

  Everything came to light the following day. It was a huge scandal. John Holloway, the head of the family and CEO of one of the largest firms in the whole county had returned from vacation early under the pretense of resuming work on a major deal. While his family played in the Bahamas, he was meeting with his secret lover back home. Only, it hadn’t worked out like that. He’d been confronted by the partner of the woman he’d been having an affair with who had threatened to kill them both. His lawyers had asserted that what followed was in self-defense.

  As the prosecution’s main witness, Stuart had revealed that this might not have been the case.

  It was all available as part of public record and Cassy had even reviewed the case several years later. The woman they had found in the stables had been planning to blackmail John Holloway, something her partner had no knowledge of. His revenge had been poorly planned and when confronted by the much larger and more experienced Holloway, had received catastrophic injuries.

  The details were hazy and contradictory, but every account left out a vital element. Stuart had kept quiet about the others. Their presence there on that night was never known. As far as anyone was aware, Stuart had acted alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  The police were late, which was strange.

  Cassy heard the sirens long before the vehicles came into view. Swirling red and blue lights, gravel spun up in long stretches. There were three cars, two men apiece, guns drawn. This was an active situation.

  But everything was calm.

  Despite the presence of a dead body in Oak Hill, the guests were calm, even though they were a little exasperated at being delayed and unsure of what was going to happen. If they had known about the priest and that the killer was among them, then things might have been different.

  The first thing Noyce and his men did was get everyone out of the church, which was in its entirety a crime scene. It was just after noon and the morning chill had subsided. Being out in the open allowed many to stretch their legs and some wandered away and had to be herded back to the main group. Even with six men, it was proving difficult to account for everybody and it was exactly that which Cassy was relying on. She’d made a point of giving her statement as soon as possible, going directly to Deputy Jones who she liked to think of as a close friend. He’d jotted everything she said down in his notepad and gave her permission to return to the Spicery. If they needed to talk to her again he knew exactly where to find her. Before she made her excuses, Cassy did have one question. It was out of curiosity’s sake more than anything, suspecting that there was something higher up on the list of priorities than even a double homicide. The truth was far more mundane than that. Apparently Oak Church was not on the GPS and seeing as Deputy Jones was new to town, and Noyce had never been there before, they had taken a wrong turn (or two) before getting there.

  She made a call to Dot to get her to pick her and Helena up from the church, and wished Jones good luck with getting everyone to give their versions of events.

  Only she hadn’t made the call, only pretended that she had. With the investigation concentrated on the exterior of the building, it was easy for Cassy to slip back inside. There were a few things she wanted to investigate.

  She had a hunch. It might have been nothing but she had to make sure and somewhere inside there had to be something that could back her up. It would explain a few things that had been bothering her, the most recent of which was why the police had taken so long to get here.

  She passed Elliot and Maybe, now no longer hiding their public displays of affection. They were both leaning against his car, her cradled in his arms. She wondered how much of their story had been true, about her car breaking down and him coincidentally passing by. Not that she really cared one way or the other, but she was curious why they’d decided to be coy about their affair.

  She knew exactly where Cat was. She was with Helena. Cat had worried Cassy a little with her little outburst of song earlier. Cat had never been the most stable of people and Cassy hoped that this whole thing hadn’t pushed her too far. With everyone accounted for, Cassy returned to the church, sneaking in through the door where Monty had been smoking. She found a stub of one of his cigars as she entered and picked it up, always conscious about keeping the place tidy. Only it wasn’t a stub at all but a near complete cigar, certainly not something you would discard. There was the chance that he had simply dropped it by accident, but that wasn’t the only thing that bothered her. She was not a smoker but even she knew how you clip a cigar and the one she held in her hands was inexpertly done. The problem was that it had been inelegantly sliced too far up the main body leaving the tobacco to spill out and the end to become unraveled.

  Monty was not a smoker either, it would seem. But why had he decided to start now at all? Weren’t there better times than a funeral to take up such a hobby?

  The more she thought about it, and every little thing about Monty, the more nothing added up. He was a strange man and didn’t seem to fit in. Almost as if he wasn’t part of the Wellington family. As she hastily made her way back through the pews to the offices at the back, Cassandra called Dot on her phone. This time for real.

  “Dorothy, I have to be quick, so just listen,” she said as soon as Dot answered the call.

  “What is it, hun? I’m busy right now. Some of us have jobs to do, you know.”

  “Dot, I’m at a funeral,” said Cassy. If only Dot could have seen her over exaggerated eye-roll. “How much do you know about the Wellingtons?”

  There was a brief pause while Dot checked her databanks (which is how Cassy liked to imagine Dot’s sprawling, messy mind). “Rich family. Old money. Moved out of Havenholm a few years back, though they still own property here. Only one heir to this particular branch of the fortune, though sadly deceased, as you know.”

  “What about the extended family? Brothers, aunts and the like?”

  Silence on the other end of the line either meant Dot was thinking or had been distracted by a butterfly.

  “There was that crazy old sister, but I think something bad happened to her.”

  “Killed?”

  “No, married an auto mechanic.”

  “So John Wellington had no brothers?
Are you sure of this?”

  There was a distinct possibility that the butterfly had returned, considering how long it took for Dot to reply. “Yes, hun, I’m sure. You really think I’d forget something like that?”

  There was no polite straight answer to that question so Cassy simply said goodbye and ended the call. So there it was, her suspicions confirmed. What was the so-called ‘uncle’ Monty doing here? It was possible that there was a simple explanation for his deception, but considering the circumstances, it didn’t seem likely.

  Before she got to quizzing him again, there was one more thing she wanted to do while she was here. With bogus uncles, and a distinct lack of immediate family, Cassandra wanted to know exactly who had organized the ceremony.

  The room next to where the priest had been found was some kind of office and didn’t look at all religious, but she guessed that even churches needed to run the business side of things. It was tucked down a narrow connecting hallway that led to a small vestibule that had clearly been added to the main church just a few years ago. In turn, that led out to the main church itself. The effect was disorienting no matter which way you were going, either walking out into a large space or finding yourself suddenly constricted.

  Along one wall of the office there were old-style filing cabinets, which should have been made obsolete by the laptop on the small desk in the corner. It was open and on the desktop already. Cassy praised whoever had forgotten to put a timed sleeper on it.

  She opened the file explorer and went straight to the most recent files and brought up three documents pertaining to ‘Wellington’. The second document was the one she was looking for—an invoice. Once again, she was surprised. Oak Hill church was a cheap place to have a funeral, it would seem, and factoring in just how much money the Wellingtons had, it seemed like an even more paltry amount. But it wasn’t the cost that shocked her, it was the letterhead for the invoice itself.

  “Cassandra!”

  Cassandra jerked in fright, then froze before her mind processed the voice behind her.

  “Helena! You scared me half to death.”

  Standing in the doorway, arms folded like a scolding parent, was Helena.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing? I saw you slip back inside. You do realize that the cops are here, don’t you? This is their job.”

  “Okay, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Cassy closed the laptop. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Helena as she searched her little clutch bag and found an empty pack of cigarettes. “It’s started to rain and the cops are bringing everyone back inside.”

  This was good news. With everyone close by, Cassandra might be able to expose who she suspected was responsible for the terrible events, even if she wasn’t a hundred percent sure herself.

  “When we first got here, did you see anyone suspicious?”

  Helena’s face crumpled in thought. It was not flattering. “Can’t say I did.”

  Casting her mind back, Cassy pictured the scene that she’d only glimpsed from afar. She’d seen a priest arrive with the other guests and it looked like he’d met with another man investments who’d come to greet them. At the time she’d assumed that it had been like some kind of tag team and they were changing shifts. Of course, that wasn’t how churches worked. More important was that the priest who was tagging out hadn’t been in the traditional black with a white collar. There had been no collar at all. What she had seen was simply a man dressed in black.

  “Why would you need to bring a priest to church?” mused Cassy.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Something real fishy is going on here, sis.” Cassy had reached the ‘fidgety and twitchy’ stage of solving a crime. The point just before all the pieces came together but it was still tantalizingly out of reach.

  “Do you remember that ad from years ago? The one with the song that went—’For hands that do dishes…’” Cassy had a terrible voice, a sentiment that was borne out in her sister’s grimace. “Well, you get the idea.”

  “I know the one,” said Helena, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It was Cat who pointed it out to me. I know it sounds crazy but now that I think about it, it might not be so far-fetched.”

  “What’s going on, Cassandra?” asked Helena, giving her that disapproving big sister look.

  “Come with me. I think I’ve figured this out.” Without another word, Cassy spun on her heel and dashed back out through the vestibule. When she saw that Helena wasn’t following, she called back.

  “Hell,” she cried out. “We need to tell Noyce what’s going on. It all makes sense now.” The truth was that it didn’t make a lick of sense, but it was close. “We’ve been tricked, Helena. I knew something was up early on, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Did you have a look at the crucifixes in here? Helena?”

  Cassy stopped talking abruptly, aware that she was now sounding like the excited younger sibling imploring the eldest to come and play. It was remarkable how easy it was to slip back into an expected type.

  But there was no more containing her energy and enthusiasm. Had this whole sorry affair not included the death of her childhood friend she might have been close to happy.

  “Hel-en-a!” Cassy stepped back out into the small corridor that linked the office and the vestibule and almost fainted. Hunched over Helena’s prone body was a man with blond hair, his back turned to Cassy. In his hand was a long knife. Her arrival distracted him momentarily and Helena used the brief opportunity to push him off her. He went sprawling across the floor and scrambled to his feet and fled.

  Cassy bounded to her sister’s side and held her tight. When she winced in pain, Cassy let Helena go.

  “Are you hurt?” Cassy looked Helena over quickly. She was clutching her side. Blood seeped from between her fingers.

  “Just superficial,” she said. As Cassy looked at the ragged tear in her clothes, she wasn’t so sure. The blow must have been powerful. Helena seemed to pass out momentarily and pitched forward into Cassy’s arms before righting herself again.

  “Go get him, Cass—”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  Trembling with adrenaline, Cassy put her hands around her sister and had to fight the impulse to squeeze her and never let go. Despite everything, two deaths and far too many lies, Cassy hadn’t felt as though she was in danger. As always, she’d been one step removed from the problem. And now she saw the whole thing come crashing down around her as if an earthquake had shaken the very foundations of the church.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “There’s no way I’m going to abandon you. Are you crazy?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Helena. “Forever faithful little sister. You’re a better person than me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cassy’s thoughts were scrambled, especially as Helena seemed to be talking more openly than ever.

  “Just get that guy, would you? I’ll be fine.”

  Reluctantly, Cassy got to her feet. The sensation of tearing herself away from her sister was unbearable, but it had to be done. If Helena was talking straight, then it was likely that she hadn’t received much damage.

  She was now in a heightened state; her skin tingled, her breath surged in and out of her. Cassy dashed after the fleeing figure and saw a flash of his white sneakers dart into an adjoining hallway. If she was right, it would lead back out into the main church, mirroring the way she’d just returned from.

  The door ahead of her slammed shut and she nearly ran into it. But with lightning-fast reflexes she pivoted herself so that she came up close to the door, grabbed the handle and spun around so that with one fluid motion she slipped through the opening. Whoever it was she was chasing would not escape her now. Sure he was ahead of her, and no doubt faster too, but once he was out in to the chancel he would have to cross the nave to the nearest door. It would take some kind of divine intervention for him to make it that far in such a
short time, and Cassy had a feeling that God wasn’t on his side. Even so, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. Both exits led straight out into the car lot where six officers were waiting.

  Cassy burst through the door, her heavy footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. Her head twitched left then right, scouring the room for signs of movement. Impossible! He was nowhere to be seen. She walked deftly between the pews, her mind racing to replace the impossible with a rational solution. A noise distracted her. It was the main door opening to let the family back in. Elliot and Maybe were among them too, as was Deputy Jones, but no sign of the blond man who had just stabbed Helena.

  The bodies were dealt with swiftly but not before Helena received medical assitance. The cut was deep but had sliced clean through muscle and not anything vital; it looked bad, but she was advised that she’d spend no longer than a day in the hospital.

  As she was carried out on the stretcher, the remaining friends gathered on the front bench nearest the pulpit. The emptiness where the preacher would have stood seemed to look down on them. Except the man that had been killed was not a preacher. There had never been a priest of Oak Hill Church, nor had there technically been a church.

  “I feel sick,” sobbed Cat. Elliot, who sat next in the row, slung his arm around her and pulled her in tight.

  “We all do, Catherine,” he said somberly.

  “It’s not exactly the school reunion I was hoping for,” said Maybe, adding, “Is your sister going to be all right?”

  “Yes, thank God,” she said, rising from the bench. “Don’t you think it’s odd though that there aren’t any depictions of Jesus in here? Now I know some churches might also have the Virgin Mary too, but I don’t see one of those either.”

  “I can see the big guy himself right up there,” said Elliot, pointing the stained-glass window.

  “So the only depiction of Christ is the one that can’t possibly be removed, or at least without a lot of trouble. Isn’t that a bit odd?”