Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Kenneally pushed Lolita to the limit on speed to keep up with Tom and Harold as they raced down the highway toward the Dixie Land Heavenly Host Interdenominational church. Two black and whites were already parked outside of the church as well as the medical examiner’s van when they arrived.
Harold was already slipping into his sterile jumpsuit when he parked Lolita and Ami got out, running on ahead into the church.
Tom stopped her from entering. “Ami, you don’t want to see this one.”
“What do you mean?” she asked as Kenneally reached her side.
Steven, the other deputy, came out of the church leading the organist who was in hysterics. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Mrs. Rogers,” he said. “I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to drive after witnessing that.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would do that to pastor,” Mrs. Rogers said, between sobbing into her handkerchief. “He was such a good man.”
“Is it that bad?” Ami asked.
“Yes,” Tom said.
“I better take a look first,” Kenneally said. He walked into the church and entered the spacious sanctuary, walking down the long aisle to the front where it appeared a body was stretched out on the altar. Its arms were stretched out like it was being prepared for crucifixion. It’s only clothing a bloodied loincloth indicating that his penis had been severed. And instead of nail prints in the palms of the man’s hands, he held a penis in one hand and a tongue in the other. As he stared, Kenneally realized the parts the dead man held must belong to Connor and Becky and he choked back the bile rising in his throat.
Kenneally shook his head to clear it. He had to give it to this killer for his creativity. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He’d lay good money on it that this was a male killer, not a female.
“Pretty gruesome, don’t you agree?” Tom’s other deputy Buck said coming to stand beside him. “I can’t wait to catch this son of a bitch and watch him fry.”
“Show some respect for where you are,” Kenneally said. “This is a house of worship.”
“Led by a pastor who obviously did something in his past that warranted being murdered like this,” Buck retorted. “Now you tell me how righteous that makes him and what kind of a flock he must be leading?”
“Christ proclaimed he came to save the sinner,” Kenneally said. “That means all people. You shouldn’t judge without knowing all the facts. Even if Weeks sinned in the past as long as he repented and was forgiven and was called to preach the word who are we to judge him for what he did in the past? It may have led to his calling.”
Buck nodded. “Never thought of it like that. Maybe you are right.”
“Not sure, I don’t attend regularly myself, just know you shouldn’t condemn the man without known the facts,” Kenneally said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go bring the mayor in to see this.”
He turned and walked back up the aisle steadying himself to prepare Ami for what she would see.
“Well?” she asked as he emerged from the church.
“I think she can handle it,” he told Tom. Looking at Ami, he added, “Just don’t look at him like it’s David Weeks. Imagine you are going to see a body that has been prepared for crucifixion.”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“His clothes were stripped and he’s wearing a bloodied, loincloth because, you know what’s been done to him,” he explained. “And he’s holding in his outstretched hand the missing tongue and in the other, the missing penis.”
Ami swallowed hard. “I get it. The missing parts from the last crime scene. It follows the pattern.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Tom said. And he walked back inside with them.
Ami covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the body for a long time without saying anything.
Tom pulled Buck over to the side. “Do we know why he was at the church instead of the reunion?”
“The organist said there was a staff meeting at two this afternoon about Christmas fruit baskets,” Buck replied. “He might have stayed over to do some work in his office, but she wasn’t sure.”
“Does the church have surveillance cameras that might have recorded the comings and goings of our killer?” Tom asked.
“Afraid not,” Buck said. “That was the first thing I checked. Mrs. Rogers said she unlocked the door when she came in to prepare the music for tomorrow.”
“So, the building was locked?” Tom said. “That means the killer locked up after he left.”
“Looks like it,” Buck confirmed.
“And did you have CSI dust for prints before everyone handled the doorknobs?” Tom asked.
Buck shook his head.
“Why not?”
“They haven’t arrived yet.”
“First thing when they do.”
“Yes, boss,” Buck said.
Harold and his assistant came in with the gurney and their equipment. “Can we get some light in here?” he asked.
“Sure thing. Buck, go flip the switch please,” Tom ordered.
The deputy hurried across the room to find the switch that would make it lighter on the sanctuary floor.
In the meantime, Harold looked at the body. “I can see our killer likes to keep it consistent.”
“That he does,” Tom said. “How long has the body been dead? Can you give us a time of death yet?”
Harold planted his hands on his hips. “Patience. I just got here. Haven’t even stuck my thermometer into his liver for a reading yet.”
“Times wasting,” Tom said. “We need to get this investigation moving on.”
Harold pressed his lips into a thin line, bent down and got to work. “You’re just lucky I enjoy my job, or I’d tell you what you can do with that attitude right now.”
“Don’t argue, guys,” Ami said. “It isn’t going to change the fact that we have another murder. Tom, I just realized we failed to remember David Weeks when we were discussing the next possible victim the other day.”
“You may have, but I didn’t,” he said. “I warned him to be careful. But in the end, it did no good.”
Ami sighed. “That’s all we could do, isn’t it? You didn’t have the manpower to provide him twenty-four-hour protection without knowing for sure he was the next victim.”
Tom shook his head. “I should have reached out to the Louisiana State Bureau of Investigation like the governor wanted. I didn’t. I thought we could handle it.”
“We were doing everything we thought was possible to make sure the citizens stayed safe,” Ami reminded him. “What more could the LSBI have done?”
“Maybe processed the one piece of DNA evidence faster than our lab could,” Tom said.
Ami felt her mouth tighten when she heard this. “Wait. What did you say? I thought you told me the other day the case was going nowhere because we didn’t have any DNA evidence?”
“I did and that was true when we spoke, but after Kenneally broke into my crime scene at the Bed and Breakfast he found a hair that the CSI team had somehow overlooked,” Tom said crossing his arms. He pivoted on his heels and glanced down at Harold. “I don’t suppose your office has any news on the testing of that evidence yet, tidy whitey?”
Harold yanked the liver thermometer from David Weeks’ body and stood so fast Kenneally thought he was going to hit Tom with it. “No! I don’t. And you know I hate that nick name from high school. Why’d you suddenly start using it tonight?”
“Uh– actually, boss,” Harold’s assistant called, holding up a large manila envelope he pulled from his duffle bag. “This report arrived by messenger before I left the lab.”
Tom stepped around Harold and grabbed the envelope, ripping into it and pulling out the report. He read silently, blinking several times before he finally spoke. “The results show there is a familial match in the National DNA Indexing System that the hair is from a sibling to Susan Holloway.”
Ami gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“What is it, Ami?” Kenneally asked.
She removed her hand and looked at him and then the others before speaking. “Principal Holloway. He told me tonight that the reunion wasn’t a pleasant evening for him because it reminded him that his sister should have been there celebrating the night too,” Ami explained. “It’s him. It’s Kevin Holloway!”
“Are you certain?” Tom asked. “There has to be a reason the principal of the high school would start killing people who went to school with his sister.”
Ami nodded. “He also told me his parents died this year and that they never got over Susan’s death after graduation. What if he discovered why she died?”
“I heard rumors that she was raped,” Harold said. “But it was only rumors back then. You know how gossips like to talk.”
“Shit!” Tom said running his hand up the back of his head and walking around in a circle before stopping in from of the Medical Examiner. “Why didn’t you say that before when Tilda was murdered?”
Harold shrugged. “I– I– I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“And now you think it might be when we have five bodies on our hands?” Tom shouted and lunged toward him.
Harold dropped the liver thermometer to ward off the sheriff as Kenneally and Buck sprang to pull Tom off him.
“Cool down, Tom,” Kenneally warned. “Beating up Harold isn’t going to change what has happened. If Susan Holloway was indeed raped which caused her to commit suicide and the five were involved, they paid a brutal punishment, don’t you agree?”
Tom nodded.
Harold straightened his jumpsuit, bent down and picked up his liver thermometer, “If you are interested, the body temp puts the time of death before the reunion started. Plenty of time for Holloway, if he is the killer, to get home and clean up before escorting Ami on stage for her to do her welcome speech.”
“I’m sorry, Harold,” Tom said heavily, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “That was way out of line and totally unprofessional. I’m more pissed at myself than anything. For not anticipating this. I know you’ve been working your ass off on this case. Hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“I can and I have,” Harold said. “But if you ever call me tidy whitey again these three will not be the last to have their members severed.”
Tom immediately covered his Johnson with his hands. “I promise, unless we get drunk together and it should slip.”
“In that case I won’t remember it either,” Harold said.
The two men laughed.
“Are you two good now?” Ami asked.
They looked at her. “Yes,” they said together.
“I have a question,” Buck said. “How did Susan’s DNA get into the registry?”
“I’m required to register all autopsy records as a Medical Examiner,” Harold said. “I’m sure it was the same with my predecessor.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Ami said, drawing all eyes on her. “About where we might find evidence that has been preserved all these years to prove what happened to Susan Holloway before she killed herself.”