Against a Brightening Sky (26 page)

Gabe shrugged. “I don't know. I'd guess it was broken off of something, but what that was, I couldn't say.”

Lynch leaned over Jefferson West's shoulder. “Do you mind if I have a closer look, Doctor?”

West held the tongs out, slowly twisting them to different angles. Jordan nodded and straightened up again. “Sometimes my first guess at something is the best. It's a cobbler's awl, or the business end of one. Cobblers and saddle makers use them to punch stitching holes in leather. That jagged end is where the handle was. The killer couldn't hide that in her hand with a big hunk of wood attached.”

Gabe stood and stepped away from the body. Even that much distance let him escape the worst of the smell. He ignored the insistent whisper in his ear that the scent of blood hadn't made him sick in years. So soon after death, the smell of rot shouldn't be this
strong.
“You sound pretty positive.”

“I've seen one before. My wife's brother is a shoemaker.” Lynch gestured toward the tongs. “Awls come in different sizes to make different size holes. Most of Paul's are smaller, but he's got a couple with shafts that size. If that's what killed her, I can't say it's a quick or easy way to die.”

“Her husband didn't die quickly or easily either. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was personal.” He looked across the room. Randy caught his eye and motioned them over. “Let's go meet the cleaning lady, Lieutenant Lynch.”

He'd been told this was a changing room, likely used for weddings or for priests to don their vestments before services. But from the general clutter, the room appeared to be storage space for anything the church didn't use often. Dodd had used that to his advantage and picked the perfect spot for the cleaning lady to wait. She was tucked into a corner out of the flow of foot traffic, her view of the body blocked by an old upright piano and a low stack of pasteboard boxes.

“Patrolman Dodd, this is Detective Lieutenant Jordan Lynch from Chicago. He's working with me on this case until Jack's on his feet. Jordan, this is Randy Dodd. Randy's a friend.”

Jordan gave Gabe a strange look, but offered his hand. “You do run a nice cozy little shop, Ryan. Pleased to meet you, Officer Dodd.”

He gave Randy credit for smiling and shaking Lynch's hand. “Glad to meet you, Lieutenant. Captain Ryan, this is Mrs. Elise Wetzel. She cleans the rectory and cooks for Father Pashkovsky.”

Elise Wetzel looked to be in her fifties or early sixties, with bright blue eyes and hair that held more gray than faded brown. She was short and slight, but Gabe didn't doubt that Mrs. Wetzel was stronger than she appeared. That she looked frightened, pale, and on the edge of panic, wasn't a surprise.

Gabe dragged over another chair, sitting so that Mrs. Wetzel didn't have to look up at him. Looming over someone smaller was intimidating, and scaring this poor woman more was the last thing he wanted to do.

Jack was better at putting people at ease and drawing out information. He'd have to do the best he could alone. Gabe braced his hands on his knees and smiled sympathically. “I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Mrs. Wetzel. I know you told Officer Dodd what happened, but I have to ask you to tell the story one more time. I need to hear it for myself. Start from the beginning and take your time.”

She covered her eyes with a hand for an instant and nodded. “I came back here to find the spare table linens. We box them up after Christmas every year and there weren't enough in the rectory for tonight. The first thing I noticed were flower petals all over the floor. I thought maybe the neighbor's children had gotten in here somehow. Then—then I saw her lying on the floor and the—the blood.”

“Did you see anyone else? Hear anything?”

Mrs. Wetzel shook her head. “Not a living soul. You can hear people walking the corridor or talking in the sanctuary from in here. If anyone else was around, I'd have heard.”

Jordan cleared his throat. “Is the church always this empty during the week, ma'am? No quilting bees or church board meetings?”

Elise Wetzel looked at Jordan blankly, twisting her hands in her apron and struggling toward an answer. “No, not on a weekday. Most days me and the two fathers are the only ones here. Why?”

“Curiosity on my part.” Lynch smiled and tipped his hat. “Police officers ask all kinds of questions. I didn't mean for mine to upset you.”

More than mere curiosity prompted Lynch's question. Both he and Jordan had to assume the killer knew the normal pattern of activity in the church and that was part of the reason he'd picked this room. Even in a usually empty church, this room was set apart. Isolated.

The chance of being caught in the act of killing Eve Rigaux, or of anyone seeing this man coming or going was very slim. And if the killer knew he had time, he might set up almost anything.

Suddenly the way the body was posed, coupled with the strong smell, struck Gabe as ominous. This was more than a message being sent.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wetzel. If you remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call the station.” He stood and helped her up. “Officer Dodd, have Baxter take her home. Once that's taken care of, find a telephone. There should be one in the rectory or the church office. Call my house and see if Dora is still with Delia. I need both of them to consult on this case.”

Randy glanced at Lynch. “Gabe … are you sure?”

“I'm sure. Ask them to hurry.” Gabe pulled the locket out of his inside pocket. He held the glassine envelope by one corner, cautious and wary. The expensive trinket might be harmless or a viper in disguise. “And make sure you describe the scene to Dora. I don't want her walking in unprepared.”

“Neither do I. The last time that happened, she nursed a headache for two days.” Randy tugged down the bottom of his uniform coat. “Let's get you home, Mrs. Wetzel. We'll go out the back door here.”

Lynch leaned heavily on his cane, his expression guarded. Gabe didn't know the Chicago cop well enough to know how Jordan would react to Dora or to the idea of what she and Delia could do. He wouldn't let that stop him from doing what he thought was best. “I shouldn't surprise you either. Delia is my wife. She and Dora are experts in the occult and spiritualism. Occasionally I ask them to consult on a case. Now, go ahead and say what you're thinking, Lieutenant. It won't be anything I haven't heard before.”

Jordan held a hand up and smiled. “I'm not saying anything. I said I wanted to see how San Francisco detectives worked. If you want to bring two women into this investigation, that's your business. I've seen stranger things in the last twenty years.”

That made Gabe smile. He dropped the locket on the top of the piano, in plain sight but not in a place anyone would brush against it by accident. How much physical contact he'd already had made him uneasy. “You may change your mind about that before we're finished here. The coroner can move the body once Delia and Dora say it's safe.”

“You're serious.” Lynch tipped his hat back and looked out at the cops moving around the room. “You think the killer left some kind of booby trap in here. And your wife and her friend will be able to find it?”

“Something like that. Call it a hunch or whatever you like, but everything about this murder feels off. Delia and Dora should be able to figure out why.” Gabe motioned Taylor over. “Tell Dr. West to hold off moving the body or disturbing things more than we already have. Miss Bobet is coming in to have a look, and I want everyone to wait outside until she arrives. I'll give the okay to come back in. The farther they are from this room, the better.”

Taylor glanced back at the body, frowning. “Yes, sir. Will Mrs. Ryan be coming too?”

That raised Jordan Lynch's eyebrows, but Gabe was fairly sure the look on Jordan's face was curiosity. That gave him hope Lynch would keep an open mind. “Yes, Delia is coming too.”

“I'm glad to hear that, Captain. This will get sorted faster with both of them here.” Taylor touched the brim of his hat. “I'll talk to Dr. West and send everyone out.”

He watched the room clearing, aware that the sweet smell of flowers and decay grew stronger each second. In less than a minute, he and Jordan Lynch were the only ones left in the room. “We're going out the back too, Jordan. We can talk more while we wait. I haven't told you everything about this case.”

Jordan went first, squinting against the bright sunshine. Gabe paused in the doorway leading to the rectory yard and took a last look at Eve Rigaux's body. He thought he saw the air thicken and churn above her, and monstrous faces leering at him from inside the mist.

Gabe turned away and walked outside, inhaling clean air that smelled of pine and salt flats along the Bay. With the sun on his back, it was easier to believe he'd imagined the phantoms inside the church, and that this was any other murder case.

He'd settle for that.

 

CHAPTER 13

Delia

We parked Dora's car just across the street from Holy Trinity. Sun glinted off the church's stained glass windows, bright sparks of red, blue, and golden yellow that flew in all directions. The church was beautiful on the outside, surrounded by trees and bordered by flowers. Knowing what ugliness waited for us inside, I held tight to that image of beauty.

The princess ghost had ridden with us all the way from Dora's house, a silent passenger that never budged from the corner of the windscreen. Now she faded from view, her expression a picture of heartfelt grief. I waited for the watcher to make her presence known, but she stayed silent.

Gabe and Randy stood on the sidewalk talking, the anxious looks on their faces adding to my considerable case of nerves. Most of the squad was outside as well, standing around and watching for us. That they weren't inside gathering evidence and going about their jobs said much.

A glance at Dora earned me a raised eyebrow. “I don't know any more than you do, Dee. We'll find out soon enough. Now, be a dear and grab the basket with the candles out of the back. I'll bring the bigger one with the salt, the basil, and the sage.”

Her long, stylish beaver coat swished around her ankles as we hurried across Green Street. Dora was dressed at the height of fashion as always, her skirts so short that only a few years ago, they might have been cause for arrest. She was long past being a fresh-faced young girl, but the new rookies in Gabe's squad and strangers on the street all stared, unable to look away.

Isadora attracted attention everywhere she went, most of it unasked for and at times unwelcome. This was one of those times when having all eyes watching her was especially unwelcome. Both of us would have liked to slip in with as little notice as possible.

Randy took the heavy basket from Dora and kissed her cheek. She beamed at him, but her fingers wrapped tight around his wrist and her shoulders stiffened. I was slightly uncomfortable, but the aftereffects of death, any death, washed through me and the pain didn't last more than an instant. Dora was never that fortunate.

Eve Rigaux's fear was too fresh, the echoes of how she'd suffered too strong, for Dora to avoid or face unaided. Randy was the perfect match for Dora in many ways. That he'd been born with the rare ability to bleed off Isadora's pain made me think that more than luck brought them together. With Randy's help, she could cope with a great deal of the emotion battering her.

Wrapping my arms around Gabe on a public sidewalk wasn't the proper or socially acceptable thing to do, but his smile made flouting propriety worth any amount of scandalized looks from strangers. Death always skulked at our heels in the form of Gabe's job, but over the last week, the prospect of really losing him had drawn too close. If I clung to him a bit tighter, that was to be expected.

Gabe smiled and brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I'm sorry I had to call the two of you to come out here, but I didn't have a choice. You'll see what I mean once we go back inside.”

“Don't be silly. We're in this together, Gabe Ryan.” I deliberately ignored Isadora's exasperated sigh. She made a point of teasing me and Gabe about any display of affection, but that was shaky ground for her to stand on since she'd met Randy. “Neither Dora nor I would leave you to face this on your own.”

He knew that was never in doubt, but I still saw relief in his eyes. That worried me more than his call for help.

Gabe gestured toward the tall Negro man leaning on a cane a few feet away. “Before we go inside, let me introduce both of you to Lieutenant Lynch from Chicago. It was his badge we found after the explosion. The lieutenant has agreed to help out until Jack can get around.”

Lieutenant Lynch stepped forward and tipped his hat. “I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ryan, Miss Bobet. Captain Ryan was just telling me about the both of you.”

His aura was deep and strong, full of vibrant golds and the same placid greens I associated with Gabe. My guess was that Lieutenant Lynch was a lot like my husband, deeply committed to being a cop and seeing justice done. He watched me warily, giving Dora furtive glances I'm sure he'd not want noticed. Gabe had been telling him the truth about the two of us, not polite social fictions. Lieutenant Lynch wasn't sure how to take what he'd heard. I didn't blame him in the slightest.

I set my basket down and stuck out my hand, smiling all the while and trying to look harmless. Best to show him that I wouldn't bite. “I'm glad to meet you, Lieutenant, and I'm very grateful that Gabe has your help.”

He smiled and shook my hand. “I get the feeling he'd do all right on his own.”

Dora drooped heavily against Randy, but she found a friendly smile for Lieutenant Lynch. “Forgive me for not shaking hands, Lieutenant. I imagine that Gabe has already explained a great deal of why Delia and I are here and what he expects us to do. We should get this over with.”