Pretty Witches All in a Row (29 page)

“You guys still think this is being done by Cahill or one of his followers?” Nick blinked, almost having forgotten about that angle of the case.

“Ah yeah… he’s our lead suspect.”  Willis retorted, his tone of voice indicating he thought that was a given.

“He
was
our lead suspect, but what about all this other evidence?  The dirt at each scene that’s been cleaned up by the killer from the last two crime scenes?  The plant compounds found in their systems?  I think they would seem to indicate that the killer was engaged in a ritual killing.”    

“That could also be a sign of religious mania.  We don’t know the reasons behind the dirt or the plant compounds,” Troyer shook his head but Nick wasn’t ready to let it go.

“But we know the dirt was found in the sign of a pentacle at the Mackenzie place because the killer thought the scene would be consumed by fire like it was for the Phillips murder.” 

“What about the communion host? And the fact that the last body was found in such a way to suggest a baptism had taken place?” Nelson countered.

“So you think the killer was careful enough to sweep away the dirt and wipe away any prints but left a piece of a communion host behind?”  Nick’s brows came up skeptically but Nelson stuck to his guns. 

“He made a mistake, the bathroom floor is white, so is the communion wafer…”

“What do you think, Brady?”  Nick looked expectantly to his team for support.

“Well…”  Brady hesitated for a moment before replying.  “The fact that there’s been no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle indicates the victims probably knew the killer.  Ms. Ryan in particular would not have let in Reverend Cahill after last night.”

Nick winked at Brady, looking to Park to see if she supported the theory as well, knowing what she did about Annaliese’s less than standard investigative techniques, and she didn’t disappoint him. 

“The destruction of the ritual rooms could have been done to throw us off track.  There was no message left behind to indicate that the killer was targeting them because of their pagan practices.  Most religious fanatics feel the need to cite some kind of justification for their actions.  A bible quote left behind or a religious artifact to counter the ‘evil’ paraphernalia they’re destroying.  Even at the protest last night, most of them carried signs with quotes, or ‘burn witches burn’.  It seems likely that if it was a religious nut, they would leave behind a similar slogan.”

He was gonna have to buy the first round after it was all over, there was no doubt about that.  Nick’s heart swelled with pride to have his team standing behind him in the face of Troyer’s skepticism, especially since they hadn’t worked together all that long.

“Sir, I don’t think we can discount the church angle,” Nelson insisted, drawing forth a report from a slim folder.  “I’m starting to get some background information on his congregation, and I’ve got a good possible here.”  He pulled out a sheet and handed it over to his boss.  “Norma Goedel, forty-eight, has a history of mental instability.  She’s been in and out of the state hospital over the years, diagnosed with schizophrenia and acute persecution complex.  The department of mental health services sent over her medical record.”

“What, and you’ve been holding her in your back pocket?  Why is this the first we’re hearing of this suspect?” Nick demanded, accepting the sheet on her and scanning it briefly.  It showed a history of minor arrests, nothing that leapt out as particularly violent. 

“I needed to get a friendly judge to release the medicals, and they just sent over the records.  It’s an interesting read, especially since she had an unhealthy obsession with the occult a few years back.  She thought she was possessed, and credits Cahill with saving her soul,” he replied, a smug smile on his face.

“Excellent work,” Troyer praised him.  “Get some copies made; all of you study her file like it was your bible.  Nelson, you and Willis bring her in; let me know as soon as she gets here.  We’ll interview her; see if we can establish her alibis for the nights in question.  Gibson, you go and see Cahill, see if he’ll talk about her.  Park and Brady, dig up what you can on her family and friends.  Let’s see if we can find a link between her and our witches.”

Nick nodded distractedly, staring at the grainy picture on her sheet.  She looked like she was a few cards shy of a full deck, but a ruthless killer?  He didn’t recall seeing her at the candlelight vigil the night before, but then again it had turned into a zoo after the protesters arrived.  It was possible, but something nagged at him.  Crazies were not known for their attention to detail, and the efforts to sanitize the crime scenes didn’t fit with the picture the unstable woman portrayed.  But if Annaliese knew her, she could very well be their killer. 

A few minutes later, he was sitting in his car, calling Annaliese from his Bluetooth.  Nick frowned to himself when it went to voicemail, but for all he knew she was taking a nap.  After all, they had only grabbed a few hours of sleep between staying up late and waking so early.  Still, it couldn’t help but bother him as he left a voicemail.  “Hey Annaliese, give me a call when you get this, I need to ask you something.  I’m on my way to an errand at the moment but I’ll call you when I’m through if I don’t hear from you by then.  Bye.”

Nick continued on to the First Church of the Holy Spirit, in deep thought.  If it was Norma, and she was known to the other members of the coven, it could explain why she’d been admitted to their homes if she didn’t seem like much of a threat.  It could explain why the pentacle had been drawn, depending on what twisted reasoning was behind it.  But was she really crafty enough to have eluded them this far?  Her prints were in the system, if she’d left any behind at the scenes it would have come up by now.  And why these women?  This particular coven?  There were far too many questions for his liking, but things were moving forward again, and he was grateful for something to do.

The parking lot at the church was half full when he arrived, the sound of the anemic choir announcing the church service in progress. 

Nick took up a vantage point from the back of the church, observing until he could speak with Reverend Cahill on his own.  There was no sign of the Goedel woman, but then again attendance was light, it being a weekday, he imagined.  For the most part it seemed like any other church service.  As a unit, the people stood up and sat back down at all the appropriate places, and there was a bit of interaction with the congregation in the form of song and a few shared responses.

Reverend Cahill rose to stand at the podium, and all eyes gravitated to him without exception; he certainly held them in his thrall.  He began to speak, his voice amplified by the microphone clipped to his lapel.  “I read to you from the book of Psalms.  Psalm thirty-seven; verses twenty-seven through twenty-nine.

Turn away from evil and do good; so shall you dwell forever.

For the LORD loves justice; he will not forsake his saints.

They are preserved forever, but the children of the wicked shall be cut off.

The righteous shall inherit the land and dwell upon it forever.

“The Lord loves justice…” Cahill continued, waxing on for the next twenty minutes on how it was every single person’s responsibility to become a sword for the Lord.  To not just turn away from evil but to fight it in all of its guises.  Which pretty much boiled down to anyone that Cahill didn’t feel shared his same idea of holy righteousness. 

As Nick listened, he counted no fewer than twelve minority groups that fell under his definition of evil.  At least he was an equal opportunity hater…  His congregation ate it up though; he could see them nodding to themselves in agreement, though they stopped short of calling anything out in support.  Cahill probably didn’t like being interrupted, his message was too ‘important’.  Almost to the end of his tolerance for that kind of vitriol, Gibson was grateful when the final hymn began and the parishioners rose to file out.  Now came the hard part, tearing the man himself away from his followers, especially now that the Reverend knew who he was and that he’d been there under false pretences on his last visit. 

“It’s Nick, isn’t it?”  A voice at his elbow saved him the trouble of having to find Cahill after all.

“Sergeant Gibson,” he corrected, pulling out his badge to lay things right out on the table that he was there in an official capacity. 

“Sergeant Gibson,” Cahill repeated, maintaining his smile.  “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?  Don’t tell me you had a change of heart since our last meeting?  Perhaps you came to hear the true message of the Lord?”

The guy had balls the size of dump trucks; did he seriously think he’d made a convert out of him?  “I’m here to ask you a few questions about one of your parishioners, is there someplace we can speak in private?” Nick smiled blandly.

“I do have a responsibility to my congregation…” Cahill hedged, “Usually at this time I move to the reception hall and share a little one on one time with my flock.”  He took a step towards the hall, his hand outstretched as though he wanted Nick to join him there.

“It won’t take long, or if you prefer it we can ride downtown and you can answer my questions there.”  Nick’s smile grew a fraction, a glint in his eye over the empty threat.  Troyer certainly hadn’t asked him to bring the man in and the circumstances didn’t really warrant it, but he had to admit, he enjoyed making the man sweat a little at the notion.

“Ah, I don’t think that will be necessary.”  Cahill’s smile dulled a little, but remained fixed on his face.  “Why don’t you come with me to my office?”  He extended his hand in the other direction.

“What a good idea,” Gibson agreed, his own smile a degree brighter at the meaningless victory.  He followed the preacher to the administrative office and to the man’s inner sanctum.

“Please have a seat,” Cahill bade him, taking a seat behind his desk.

Nick ignored him, studying the décor with interest as he moved about the room.  It was very comfortably appointed, with built in bookshelves flanking a sizeable desk fashioned out of a huge burl of wood, polished to a glossy sheen.  The plush carpet was done in a soft, dove gray that must have been murder to keep clean, a pleasant counterpart to the rich blue drapes hanging at the windows.  A large tapestry of the Last Supper hung on the wall behind the desk.  “You have a lot of nice things here.  Who would have thought a man of the cloth would have such a great sense for color,” he smiled over his shoulder at him.  

“Yes, ah… thank you.”  The Reverend shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I imagine the church owns all of this, not you though, is that correct?”

“In a matter of speaking…”

“But you founded the church, so really in a way it all belongs to you, isn’t that so?” Gibson interrupted him before he had a chance to answer.

“I wouldn’t categorize it that way, I…”

“What can you tell me about Norma Goedel?  How long has she been a member of your ‘flock’?”  Nick quickly changed the subject, hoping to keep Cahill off balance.

“Norma?” he blinked, having a little trouble with the abrupt change.  “About six months… no wait… eight, I think.”

“Which is it, six or eight?”  Nick leaned forward on the edge of the desk with both of his hands. 

“Eight,” Cahill replied, shifting again in his chair.

“And how would you
categorize
your relationship with her?  Would you say you two are close?  Share a particular kind of bond?”  He used the man’s own word, looming over him from the advantage of his standing position.

“We don’t have a relationship exactly… that is to say; we have spoken about her spiritual path…”

“So you’ve had some one on one time with Norma then?”

“Of course, she was very, very troubled when she came to us.  Naturally I counseled her as best I could.”

“Naturally,” Gibson’s lips twisted into a wry grin, “and you put her on the right path?”

“Yes, I did,” Cahill nodded.

“At what point did you set her on the path to murder?” Nick asked casually, sitting down on the edge of his desk.

“What?” Cahill’s eyes bulged.  “I never…”

“That is what you preach though, isn’t it?  That all who seek the path of salvation have a duty to fight evil wherever they see it, isn’t that right?”

“I…”

Nick pressed on, deliberately trying to keep him off balance.  “So what’s a woman to do?  She’s seen first hand the evils these witches get up to, dancing naked under the stars, corrupting men with their devilment.  They deserve to be struck down, isn’t that what you preach?”

Cahill swallowed, unconsciously scooting his chair back a few inches. 

“Did you give her the knife or was it her idea?  Did she have one lying around from her wicked past?  Did you convince her that the only way to save her own soul was to sacrifice one of theirs?”

“Now hold on, I never said anything like that to her!”  Cahill finally seemed to find his voice, though it held none of the smooth polish he used from the pulpit. 

“But you did say that these women had it coming, didn’t you?  Isn’t that tantamount to condoning murder?” Nick pressed. 

“I never told anyone to murder anyone else!” 

“Do you think she’s capable of it though?  Of brutally stabbing these women and then setting their corpses on fire?”  He made his voice deliberately gruff, trying to bring some of the horror home to the man.

“I… I hadn’t thought so, she just seemed… lost.”  Cahill shook his head.  “She never spoke of acting out against anyone, she was too concerned with trying to get her own life back on track.

“And you felt the need to fill her head with all kinds of claptrap about fighting the holy fight for redemption.  What did you tell her she had to do to save her immortal soul, Noah?”

“Nothing like that!” Cahill insisted.  “I told her she had to cut off all ties with that kind of lifestyle.  That those people weren’t really her friends if they put her soul in peril and that she should consider them dead and buried to her.”

“And now some of them are actually dead and buried.  Great job, Reverend, looks like your work is done here.”  Rising to his feet he turned his back on the man to leave.