“I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you, Sheriff. I think he simply had a heart attack.”
“Excuse me?”
“Father Francis. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“What about Father Francis?”
“Oh dear, God. I’m sorry. I thought that was why you were here. We think he had a heart attack and fell down the basement steps sometime this morning.”
“Is he okay?”
“I’m afraid he’s dead, God rest his soul.” Father Keller picked at a thread on his robe and avoided Nick’s eyes.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I’m sure it’s a shock. It certainly was for all of us. You served mass for Father Francis, didn’t you? At the old St. Margaret’s?”
“Seems like ages ago.” Nick stared into the fire, remembering how fragile the old priest had looked when he and Maggie questioned him.
“Excuse me, Sheriff, but if you’re not here about Father Francis, what is it I can help you with?”
For a moment the reason escaped him. Then Nick remembered Maggie’s profile. Father Keller matched the physical characteristics. His bare feet even looked about a size twelve. But like his hands, his feet looked too clean, too smooth to have been out in the cold, trampling through rocks and branches.
“Sheriff Morrelli? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Actually, I just had a few questions for you about…about the summer church camp you sponsor.”
“The church camp?” Was the look one of confusion or alarm? Nick couldn’t be sure.
“Both Danny Alverez and Matthew Tanner were in your church camp this past summer.”
“Really?”
“You didn’t know?”
“We had over two hundred boys last summer. I wish I could get to know them all, but there just isn’t time.”
“Do you have pictures taken with all of them?”
“Excuse me?”
“My nephew, Timmy Hamilton, has a photo of about fifteen to twenty boys with you and Mr. Howard.”
“Oh, yes.” Father Keller raked his fingers through his thick hair, and only then did Nick realize it wasn’t wet. “The canoe photos. Not all the boys qualified for the races, but, yes, we did take pictures with the ones who qualified. Mr. Howard is a volunteer counselor. I’ve tried to include Ray in as many church activities as possible ever since he left the seminary last year and came to work for us.”
Howard had been in a seminary. Nick waited for more.
“So Timmy Hamilton is your nephew? He’s a great kid.”
“Yes, yes, he is.” Did he dare ask more questions about Howard or was the distraction exactly what Father Keller wanted? There was no need to have mentioned Howard leaving the seminary.
“You started a similar church camp for boys at your previous parish, didn’t you, Father Keller? In Maine.” Nick pretended to look at his notepad, though it was blank. “Wood River, I believe it was.” He watched for a reaction, but there was none.
“That’s right.”
“Why did you leave Wood River?”
“I was offered an associate pastor position here. You might say it was a promotion.”
“Were you aware of a murder of a little boy in the Wood River area just before you left?”
“Vaguely. I’m not sure I understand your line of questioning, Sheriff. Are you accusing me of having some knowledge about these murders?”
Still, there was no alarm in his voice, no defensiveness, only concern.
“I’m just checking as many leads as possible.” Suddenly, Nick felt ridiculous. How could Maggie ever have led him to believe that a Catholic priest was capable of murder? Then it hit him. “Father Keller, how did you know I served mass for Father Francis at the old St. Margaret’s?”
“I’m not sure. Father Francis must have mentioned it to me.” Again the priest avoided Nick’s eyes. A sudden knock at the door interrupted them, and Father Keller quickly got up, almost too quickly, as if anxious to escape. “I’m certainly not dressed for company.” He smiled at Nick as he tucked in the lapels of his robe and tightened its cinch.
Nick took the opportunity to escape the fire’s heat. He got up and paced the large room. Huge built-in bookcases made up one wall, on the opposite were a bay window and window bench used for green plants. There were few decorations-a highly-polished, dark wooden crucifix with an unusual pointed end. It almost looked like a dagger. There were also several original paintings by an obscure artist. Quite nice, though Nick knew little about art. The swishes of bright color were hypnotic, swirling yellows and reds in a field of vibrant purple.
Then Nick saw them. Tucked away around the side of the brick fireplace that jutted out into the room was a pair of black rubber boots, still plastered with snow and sitting on an old welcome mat. Had Father Keller lied about being out this evening? Or perhaps the boots belonged to Ray Howard.
From the foyer Nick heard voices raised, a hint of frustration in Father Keller’s and accusations from a woman’s voice. Nick hurried to the entrance, where he saw Father Keller trying to remain calm and cool while Maggie O’Dell assaulted him with questions.
Chapter 56
At first Nick didn’t recognize Maggie’s voice. It was loud, shrill and belligerent-this from a woman who appeared to be the essence of control.
“I want to see Father Francis now,” she said and pushed past Father Keller before he could explain. She almost ran into Nick. She backed away, startled. Her eyes met his. There was something wild and dark in hers-something a bit out of control to match her voice.
“Nick, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you have a flight to catch?”
She looked small in the oversize green jacket and blue jeans. Without makeup and with her windblown hair, she could have passed for a college coed.
“Flights are delayed.”
“Excuse me,” Father Keller interrupted.
“Maggie, you haven’t met Father Michael Keller. Father Keller, this is Special Agent Maggie O’Dell.”
“So you’re Keller?” There was accusation in her voice. “What have you done with Father Francis?”
Again, the belligerence. Nick couldn’t figure out this new approach. What happened to the cool, calm woman who usually made him look like the hothead?
“I tried to explain…” Father Keller tried again.
“Yes, you do have some explaining to do. Father Francis was supposed to meet me at the hospital this afternoon. He never showed up.” She looked to Nick. “I’ve been calling here all afternoon and evening.”
“Maggie, why don’t you come in and calm down?”
“I don’t want to calm down. I want some answers. I want to know what the hell’s going on here.”
“There was an accident this morning,” Nick explained, since she wouldn’t allow Father Keller to speak. “Father Francis fell down some basement steps. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
She was quiet, her entire body suddenly still. “An accident?” Then she looked up at Father Keller. “Nick, are you sure it was an accident?”
“Maggie.”
“How can you be sure he wasn’t pushed? Has anyone examined the body? I’ll do the autopsy myself if necessary.”
“An autopsy?” Father Keller repeated.
“Maggie, he was old and frail.”
“Exactly. So why would he be going down basement steps?”
“Actually, it’s our wine cellar,” Father Keller tried to explain.
Maggie stared at him, and Nick noticed her hands clenched into fists. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she took a swing at the priest. Nick couldn’t figure out her angle. If she was playing bad cop, good cop, he wished she’d let him know.
“What exactly are you implying, Father Keller?” she finally asked.
“Implying? I’m not implying anything.”
“Maggie, maybe we should go,” Nick said, taking her gently by the arm. Immediately, she wrenched it from his hold and shot him a look that made him take a step backward. She stared at Father Keller again, then suddenly pushed past both of them and headed for the door.