MASS MURDER (56 page)

“Just like our murderer?”

Giorgio looked at his brother
.
“Just like our murder
er.”

Rocky went back to reading one of the articles when Giorgio grabbed his arm and stopped him again
.
“Rocky, what did you say Maynard’s roommate’s name was again?”

Rocky looked back at the clipping
.
“Robert O’Leary
.
Oh, hell
…
you don’t think
…
could this be Father O
’Leary?  After all these years?”

“O’Leary had to be
in his seventies
.
I don’t know how old these boys were, but they were probably pretty young.”

“So, O’Leary was a student here
.
That means he probably knew about the secret door.”

“And
I’ll bet he
shared that information with someone living here now who used it for the wrong reasons.”

“And that person killed O’Leary to make sure the secret died with him.”

Giorgio rolled up the papers and stashed everything back in the box
.
“I think we have more digging to do, but not in the graveyard
.
It’s too late to do anything more tonight
. B
ut tomorrow we find that secret door.”

C
hapter Thirty-Eight

Giorgio slept little that night
.
His mind raced over the details coming together to form the narrative of a first-class ghost story, complete with child sexual predators, murder
,
and suicide
.
And that wasn’t e
ven the case he was working on.

The next morning he asked Mrs. Greenspan to stay with Angie while he went to the station
.
He left Angie dozing peacefully by the fire
,
with Mrs. Greenspan making homemade chicken soup in the kitchen.
He pulled into the back parking lot of the small police station ignoring the swarm of press that clamored for a statement
.
His deadline for the press conference was looming
,
and he had no idea what he would say
.
Swan wasn’t in yet, but McCready was at his computer.

“Anything new?” Giorgio looked over the young cop’s shoulder.

“We have a list of people Olsen hung out with in Chicago and are tracking down their current addresses
.
We also talked to the family again, getting some background information on anyone they were familiar with.”

“Any familiar names?”

“Not yet.”  McCready nodded towards his flat screen monitor
.
“I’m doing background checks on everyone at the conference, including whatever financials I can find
.
So far, a woman named Barbara Yanks was arrested for a DUI six years ago
;
a guy named Peter Wright served time for petty theft
;
and Marsh has filed twice for bankruptcy.”

“It just gets better and better for Mr. Marsh doesn’t it?  Listen, I want you to find out everything you can about a murder committed at the monastery back in 19
43
.”

McCready looked up with surprise
.
“You don’t think we have e
nough murders to investigate?”

“They may be related.”  Giorgio needed to know what, if anything, the decades-old murder had to do with the three killings facing him now
.
“A monk was murdered up there by one of the students when it was still a boys
’
school
.
We found these,” Giorgio gave him the articles from the time capsule. “See what else you can find out.”

If McCready suspected anything, he said nothing
.
He took the articles to photocopy them and then log them in as evidence
.
Giorgio went to his desk to sort through his messages
.
There was a message from the District Attorney
and one from Elvira Applebaum.

“He glanced at his watch and decided to take a chance Ms. Applebaum would be up early
.
She answered on the third ring.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“No, detective
.
I’m glad you called
.
I had trouble sleeping
.
I’ve been up most of the night going through mother’s things
.
It helped me hang on to her a little longer
.
You understand?”

“I do
.
I did the same thing when m
y father died
.”

“I found a box of my father’s things,” Elvira Applebaum said with a sigh
.
“It’s very old and filled with many of his original drafting tools
.
I think I may have something for you.”

“I don’t want to disturb you,” he said apologetically, but knew he would go right away if she offered.

“It’s all right, Detective
.
You can stop by any time. My mother’s presence is still here
.
If I go to sleep, I’m afraid she won’t be here when I wake up
.
I know that probably sounds foolish.”  Her voice wavered.

“It doesn’t sound foolish at all
.
I
’ll be right out
.
Thank you.”

He put in a call to the District Attorney and found that Anya Peters was holding fast
.
Giorgio still couldn’t eliminate Peters as a suspect, but something in his gut said she was just a cold-hear
ted business woman.

He arrived at Ms. Applebaum’s spacious home only twenty minutes later
.
She answered the door in a wrinkled pantsuit
.
Her makeup had worn off
,
and the skin around her mouth sagged, but she attempted a smile when she invited him inside.

“Come in, Detective
.
Can I get you anything?”

Giorgio remembered the granola bar he’d eaten in the car and pondered a cup of hot coffee, but the house was cold and still and somehow asking her t
o brew coffee seemed invasive.

“No, thank you
.
I just had a full breakfast
.
What is it you wanted to show me?”

“It’s over here.”

She drew him to the dining room where the bay window allowed filtered light to warm the room
.
A cherry wood table with four matching chairs and a china cabinet filled the
small
space
.
Laid out on the lace tablecloth were tools of another age; a thick, worn pencil, metal triangle
, and a gum eraser.

“Don’t be sorry
.
We keep people we love alive through memories.”

She looked at him with a weak smile
.
“You’re not what I thought a detective would be like.”

“What did you think we’d be like?”

“Callous and shallow
,
I guess
. Maybe
I’ve seen too many bad movies.”  This made her chuckle, lifting the pall that hung over the room
.
To fill an awkward pause, she reached out and lifted up an iron key about two inches long
.
“My father loved ornate things
.
He made that buffet.”  She pointed to an elaborately carved oak buffet that sat under the window
.
“He was good with his hands
.
Even though the priests didn’t want embellishments, he often added accents in subtle places
, l
ike the spindles on the staircase
.
Like this key
.
This is what I was talking about,” she said, holding it out for him
.
“It
was in the box with his tools.”

Giorgio took the long, graceful key, embellished with an intricate set of curls
.
It was labeled with a tag inscribed with only four capital letter
s.

“The tag made me think of your investigation,” she finished.

Giorgio stared at the tag. “It looks like ‘ORI
…something.”

“The letters spell ORIG, meaning it’s the original,” she replied
.
“There were probably duplicates made, but he kept the original
key
.
I’m not sure why.”

“How do you know this could be useful to me?  It could be a key for anything.”

“My father wouldn’t have kept it unless it was im
portant
.
And, it was in this.”

She handed him an envelope browned with age
.
The envelope had a single word written across the front in the same, cursive handwriting – Monastery.

Giorgio was back in his car contemplating the antique key when his cell phone rang
.
It was McCready telling him that Father Damian had called to say that one of the monks had gone missing
.
Since Giorgio wanted an opportunity to research the key’s significance anyway, he made a beeline for Sunnyside Drive
.

H
e entered the familiar lobby, going directly to Father Damian’s office. He knocked softy and was admitted with an even softer reply
.
The monk stood staring at the painting of the Last Supper, one hand tucked behind his back
.
In the other, he held his crucifix
.
Giorgio was shocked by his appearance
when he pivoted to receive him
.
The monk seemed to be deteriorating right before his eyes
.
The man’s gray eyes seemed to have sunk into his skull
,
and the pallid cast to his skin was alarming
.
Though he was looking directly at Giorgio, he seemed to stare straight through him.