Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (35 page)

Father Fran shook his head. "Not me. Not me." He whispered. "I tried. God knows I tried. But they brought her back."

The young nurse appeared and looked at me sternly. "Okay, I think your great uncle has had enough for today." She took the old priest by the elbow and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right Father?"

I pressed my cheek to his withered face and whispered. "I’m going to find out what you did."

I watched as the perky nurse led him toward the building. He stopped once and looked back, but his expression was blank and confessed nothing to me. Still, I took my small victory. His brain may have been scrambled eggs, but it was clear Father Fran knew the baby in the church was Rose’s and somebody else was involved. What I didn’t know was why anyone would take me to a priest. The church didn’t minister to an orphanage, and I was placed in the care of Child Services. Why didn’t my abductor take me there or to a hospital? Why to the church? And why to that church and that priest?

I needed to go home and review Marley’s interview notes on the priest. Though my sense was that much of the investigation into my disappearance and Rose’s murder, never ended up on paper or in a file. And probably still remained in the mind of one retired homicide detective. The sun was high overhead, and I had plenty of time. I pointed my car toward Marley’s place.

Marley stepped back in surprise when he answered his door. "Ms. Fitzgerald?"

I pulled my sweater closer around me against the wind. "Nice to see you too, Detective."

He gripped the doorknob with a big hand but didn’t invite me inside. "What brings you here?"

"I have a few more questions." I put my hand on the screen door. "May I come in?"

He did a quick backward glance, then stepped out to the porch. "I gave you everything I had. There’s nothing else I can do for you."

I stepped into his personal space. "I disagree. I think there’s plenty more you can do for me."

His eyes scanned the street behind me, concerned his neighbors might overhear us. "You’ve got no business coming to my house and calling me a liar."

I held his gaze. "I just had a visit with Father Fran. Remember him?"

Marley scowled. "The priest? I ain’t senile." The wind gusted and he hugged himself, tucking his hands under his arms. "What about him?"

I pushed the hair out of my eyes. "Well, Father Fran is senile but he still remembers Rose’s baby." I watched Marley’s face for a twitch or tell of some kind. "Funny how some things just stick in the mind, isn’t it?"

Marley rubbed his chin on his shoulder and stared over my head. "He knew the baby. I told you that." He flapped a hand. "You mind getting to the point, ma’am?" He frowned at the increasing wind. "It’s too damn cold to stand out on this stoop all day, so why don’t just say what’s on your mind?"

I stepped closer to Marley and lowered my voice. "He knew the baby was Rose’s. And he knew who brought the baby to the church. His job was to get rid of it. That’s what I’m getting at, Detective. What I want to know is, did you know?" Marley frowned and looked out to his nice, quiet neighborhood. "Because the thing is, I believe you know a lot more than you’re saying. And those things aren’t in any of your notes or files." I tapped my temple." Those things are in your head. I know how cops operate. A lot of things don’t go into the notes. For lots of reasons. They don’t want to share. Or maybe they’re protecting somebody. Or sometimes they don’t want to be bothered." I shrugged. "Human nature, I guess. When it comes down to it, we don’t trust other people. Too risky, right?"

Marley’s daughter-in-law appeared behind him. "Dad? What are you doing out on the porch?" She nodded to me. "Invite your friend inside. It’s too cold to be gabbing out here."

Marley turned and his face softened into a smile. "Ms. Fitzgerald was about to leave. Isn’t that right?"

I smiled cheerfully at Marley. "Actually, I was hoping I could buy you lunch. Is there a good place around here for burgers?"

<<>>

I met Marley at a little coffee shop on Glenoaks and we huddled in a back booth. The waitress brought hot drinks and a burger platter for me. I dunked a fry into a pool of ketchup on my plate. "Not hungry?"

Marley sipped his coffee then pushed it aside. "The only reason I’m here is because I want to keep my family out of this mess."

I made a face. "Mess? I thought it was a pretty open and shut case."

Marley squinted at me. "I still don’t have nothing to tell you."

I bit into my burger and chewed thoughtfully. "Then why’d you meet me here?" I wagged a fry at him. "You have something to tell me, or you would’ve shut the door in my face. What I don’t get is why you’re acting like there’s nothing to tell."

Marley threw up his hands and angled himself so he could swing a leg across the bench. "You don’t give up either do you?"

I shrugged. "Not when it’s important."

Marley took in a deep breath, then let it out slow. "It’s just rumors."

I put down my burger and leaned across the table. "What’s just rumors?"

Marley rubbed his face with a big hand and sighed. "You gotta understand this was thirty years ago. Things were different then. Laws weren’t the same."

My frustration grew with each exaggerated sigh and eye aversion. "What laws? What were they doing in that church?"

Marley lowered his voice. "I never got any proof, but rumor was they were doing adoptions. Private like. Between families."

I tried to wrap my wits around the concept. "Private adoptions? So, what was I, a botched adoption?" Marley shrugged, but his eyes confirmed he thought so. "That’s crazy. Who does that?"

Marley shook his head. "Back then, when girls got into trouble there weren’t abortion clinics on every corner. Working class families scraping by who couldn’t afford another mouth to feed didn’t have that luxury."

I gaped. "So, they dropped babies off for the priest to find families for them?"

Marley shook his head. "Like I said, never got any proof of it. But yeah I think that’s exactly what they were doing."

"And the church let him get away with that?"

Marley shrugged matter of factly. "Maybe the church thought they were helping their flock."

Disgusted, I pushed my plate away. "And is that what the cops thought too?"

He held out his hands. "No proof, no prosecution."

I scoffed. "And who gives a shit about a bunch of poor families giving their babies away, right?" I smirked. "Give them away, have a luxurious abortion, what’s the difference?"

Marley scowled. "You know what I meant about the abortion clinics." He flapped a hand at me and eyed my pregnant belly. "I understand how you might be especially sensitive about issues having to do with babies but you got no right to judge me."

I shrugged. "Maybe not about that…"

Marley swung his leg to the floor and slid to the edge of his seat. "It was a long time ago, ma’am. Maybe it’s best to let it go."

It fell together for me then. "So, you hear the rumor and figure Rose gave her baby to the church to find it a home? But when she changed her mind, it was too late? Her problem. No need to pursue it any further?" I looked him in the eye. "So, it was okay to wash your hands of the whole situation, right?"

Marley stood and zipped his jacket. "I never said that. But you wanted to know what I didn’t put in my notes and that’s it."

"And if you believed Rose’s story, then you’d have to do an investigation. You didn’t want to rock the boat. So it was easier to accuse her of dumping me?" I shrugged. "What’s one more snot-nosed kid, huh?"

Marley shook his head. "Don’t put words in my mouth." He sighed. "Look, I can see you’re hurting, and you got a right. What happened to you shouldn’t never happen to no child. But I can’t go back and change it. You see? It’s done and so am I."

He turned and ambled toward the exit. I ran after him. "Wait." I grabbed his arm. "Please, wait."

Marley stopped and turned a perturbed face toward me. "I don’t know any more."

I let go of his arm and held up my hands. "Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, I’m just trying to make sense of things." I pointed to the table. "Can we talk for a few more minutes? I have to ask you about Rose’s murder."

Marley grumbled, but he returned to the table with me and sat down. "Ask."

I felt timid under Marley’s glare, and I imagined how Rose felt when he interviewed her thirty years ago. I cleared my throat. "Did you move the body? At the crime scene?"

Marley’s face twisted with irritation. "What in the Sam Hill are you saying here? Now you’re accusing me of tampering with a crime scene?"

I shook my head and put my hand on his arm. "No. Not at all. I just wondered if her body was moved because according to the report, she hit her head on the dumpster. But in the crime scene photos, she’s at least a couple of feet away from it. Doesn’t make sense, right?"

Marley frowned and rolled his tongue against his cheek, thinking. "We didn’t move her." He looked at me. "Didn’t you look at the murder book? I gave you everything."

I shook my head. "No, my associate had them. I just got them back from him. I only saw a partial file on the murder."

Marley scratched his chin and looked up like he was trying to access a memory. "Look at my interview with her friend, the other waitress."

I raised my brows. "Kathy Morrissey?"

Marley. "Yeah, that’s the one."

The wind whipped leaves and debris across the road, pattering against my windshield as I traveled. Iron gray clouds muted the late afternoon sun, and a storm was on its way. Looking forward to the warmth and protection of home, I barreled down Glenoaks. It was still hours before Ted would arrive home asking for food and affection, and I was anxious to read through Marley’s files.

Though our conversation verified that the church’s private adoptions weren’t noted in Marley's files, I was sure other pieces of the puzzle were tucked in among them. I reflected on Father Fran’s condition — were his sins so bad that he had to give up his mind to be free of his guilt? A cruel justice perhaps, but I took satisfaction in the thought. But as a human being, I felt sorry for the old man, lost in the corridors of his own head with no hope of escape.

I pulled through to the back, behind our electronic gate. Still unable to shake the feeling of being watched, I felt safer behind a locked barricade. The birches in the backyard bowed to the relentless wind that howled like a scorned lover. Leaves and debris followed me inside as I came through the back door. Boomer sat up in his bed and trembled. As I swept up the debris and leaves I said, "It’s okay, boy, it’s just the wind."

I locked the door and turned on the alarm, then put on the tea kettle. Shivering, I hovered near the stove to steal some warmth. With a hot cup of tea and Boomer for company, I huddled in my room with Marley’s files. It pissed me off that Joe had failed to mention just how much information was in the files. That’s the sort of thing you’d expect your hired P.I. to tell you. Groaning, I pushed him out of my mind and focused on Rose’s case.

I found the notes that mentioned the underground adoption system at St. Daniel’s. Marley had several theories on my fate — among them, that I was a rejected adoption. He believed my unexpected return to the church threw Father Fran into a panic. But why panic? Why not call Rose and say he’d found her baby? Maybe he feared exposure if the police questioned him too closely. Or retribution from whomever he was in cahoots with. Curtis Severied’s mention of the young couple that was with Father Fran when he brought me to him popped into my head again. They were upset and had rushed out, not even curious about the baby he held in his arms. Perhaps they’d been my intended parents.

I found the murder book and flipped to Kathy Morrissey’s interview. She admitted to moving the body, saying she’d pulled Rose away from the dumpster, to revive her. I didn’t know if I believed that. Although, if it had been me, and I found Zee lying in an alley bleeding, I would’ve probably done the same. My head was bursting because I was driving myself nuts second guessing everything.

There were more crime scene photos in the book; the broken dishes on the dining room floor, the open cash drawer, the open back door, and several more of the body at different angles. But none of them clarified anything further.

The murder book confirmed what Marley had told us: Kathy Morrissey was the only witness with little to contradict or back up her story. Police canvassed the area for other witnesses, but the only other businesses in the area were a gas station and a convenience store where customers flitted in and out, and no one reported seeing anything. Marley also interviewed a homeless man, who claimed no one went in or out of the diner during the time of the murder. But the man was old and obviously drunk, making him an unreliable witness. Even if Marley had taken him at his word, he’d seen nothing.

In his summary, Marley noted that he saw no reason Kathy would lie and there was no evidence that she’d been untruthful. He couldn’t find anyone with a motive to kill Rose — a botched robbery was the only logical conclusion. Yet they never found a suspect. I believed Marley had tried to find Rose’s killer, but there wasn’t enough evidence, and eventually he gave up. After reviewing his notes and the murder book, I felt like a shit for being so hard on him. It did seem he tried to do right by Rose but in the end failed.