“Cody’s mother,” she said. “Good Lord. I have to admit, when you said it was too much of a coincidence last night, I chalked it down to, um . . . paranoia.”
“Thanks a lot. If I were a woman, you’d have called it intuition.” She made a face at him. He continued, “Dvorak is going to send DNA samples to Albany, along with some of Cody’s, to make sure. Of course, that will take up to four months.”
“That poor girl. I can’t imagine . . .” Clare looked into the fire. “I wish she could have known Cody was settled with the couple she had picked out for him. Before she died. Was killed.”
He got up and laid another two logs on the fire. “Don’t be wishing that so quick. As far as I’m concerned, Geoff Burns is my number one suspect. With Karen Burns following close behind.”
“You must be joking! The Burnses? You’re just saying that because you don’t like Geoff.”
“I admit that. I don’t like Geoff Burns. He’s an arrogant, self-important, humorless pain in the butt.” He sat down on the edge of his chair, leaning across the table. “But think about it, Clare. Who else has a better motive? The father of the baby? He’s gonna kill to avoid a few bucks child support a month? Or the Burnses, who have been trying for years to get a child, and are running out of resources and time and have no friends at DSS?”
She crossed her feet under her, tailor style. “You know nothing about this girl. What if Cody’s father was a married man, with a family, and she was going to blackmail him? Or what if her boyfriend killed her because Cody wasn’t his? Or . . . or . . .”
“Or what if she was a hit-woman for the Mafia and they rubbed her out before she could testify to the Feds?”
“Don’t be smart. You see what I’m saying, here. You can’t pin a murder on the Burnses without doing a lot more leg-work. Just because they’re convenient.”
“Legwork?”
“Well . . . that’s what they say on TV.”
“I’m not going to cut the investigation short, no. In fact, I want you to help us with something.”
She shifted forward in her chair. “Yeah?”
“The one thing we do know about the girl is that she knew the Burnses were looking for a baby, and that she left Cody at the church.”
“Or she agreed to let someone leave him at the church.”
“Right. Somewhere, there’s a connection. She was either a member of your congregation, or she worked there, or the father of the baby did, or she had friends there.”
“You think someone in my parish will be able to identify her?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back into his chair. “How would you feel about arranging for people to take a look at some photos tomorrow?”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. In the warm light, her hair was the color of honey and molasses. Russ looked into his coffee.
“What do you mean by ‘arranging’ for people to look at the photographs? Flash them in front of every member of the congregation as they leave the church?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“I can’t do that, Russ. Even if I were inclined to try to order them to do something, I’m their priest, not their commanding officer. Besides, you ever hear of a little thing called ‘separation of church and state’?”
“Oh, c’mon, Clare, I’m not asking you to march ’em all past a lineup at gunpoint. There are how many members of St. Alban’s?”
“Around two hundred families. We’ll get maybe a hundred folks at the ten o’clock service, and thirty or so at seven-thirty.”
“I’ve got an eight-man force that has to cover three towns as well as investigate this murder. Can you imagine what going door-to-door with every member of St. Alban’s will cost us in lost hours? I can’t spare the time this case will take me as it is. You know domestics, drunk driving, and shoplifting all increase around Christmas. Gimme a break. Help me out.” She crossed her arms and worried her lower lip. He pressed his point. “Neither of us wants to see something preventable happen because my officers were canvassing your congregation.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spare me. Next you’ll be trotting out a poor orphan boy and his sick dog. Just because I wear a collar doesn’t mean I’m a soft touch.”
“Okay, okay, scratch the last. Please. I’ll go by your rules, Clare, whatever you say. I need your help.”
She crossed her ankle over her knee, like a guy, and rested her mug on her leg. “This is what I can do. I’ll explain that your Jane Doe may have had some connection to the church. I’ll offer anyone who’s willing to help the chance to look at the photographs.” She looked into the fire. “I’ll remind them that somewhere she’s got parents, or brothers and sisters, who don’t know where she is or what’s happened to her.” She paused for a moment, then looked back at him. “You can take down the names of anyone who views the pictures, and I’ll have Lois give you a copy of our membership directory.” She smiled a one-sided smile. “The rest, I’m afraid, will have to be legwork.”
“You really like that word, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay. Thank you. I know this is a lot to throw on you, this being your, what, third week? Thank you. For everything.”
“Oh, lord. My sermon was going to be on Cody, and then the announcement about the Burnses’ attempt to have him fostered with them. Do I have to tell everyone we think this girl is his mother? Not that I want to sweep it under the rug, far from it, but it will make things sound awfully odd. ‘Here’s the baby, here are the adoptive parents, and, oh, by the way, will you all look at pictures of the dead mother?’ ”
“No. As a matter of fact, I’d rather play that piece of information close to my vest. Let’s just say I have reason to believe the dead girl had some connection to St. Alban’s and leave it at that.”
Clare leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m still going ahead with my announcement after the sermon, asking the congregation to write letters in support of the Burnses. I cannot believe they had anything to do with that girl’s death.” She shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I hope you can find out her name soon. It sounds so callous to keep calling her ‘that girl.’ ”
He nodded. “I know. I want you to ask yourself if you can’t believe the Burnses might have done it because they really haven’t ever given you any cause to think they might be capable of such a thing, or if you can’t believe it because you’ve met them, they belong to your church, and they’re ‘nice people.’ ”
She frowned, bit her lower lip again. “They’re very intense, very focused on getting Cody. But anyone who’s been trying to have a baby for so long would be that way, I think. And they strike me more as the types who would throw money or the force of law at a problem and expect it to go away.” She looked at Russ. “I met with them just this morning, did I mention that?”
“Last night you told me you had an appointment with them. How did it go?”
“Fine. Karen was all bubbly and hopeful, and Geoff was . . . his usual self. They certainly didn’t behave like a couple who committed murder the night before.”
“Have you ever seen anyone after they committed murder?”
“Um.” She looked into the fireplace.
“Um?”
“I’ve seen people after they’ve killed. How’s that?”
Russ retreated from the sharpness in her voice. “I didn’t mean to be flip. What I’m saying is that you can’t always tell by someone’s behavior afterwards.”
She waved a hand. “No, no, I’m sorry. Sensitive area. You’re right.” She looked into his eyes. “I do recognize that part of me doesn’t want anyone from my parish to be involved. That I can’t believe that one of my . . .”
“Nice, white-collar Episcopalians?”
She smiled ruefully. “One of my nice Episcopalians could do something so brutal. Now, if someone had been murdered with poisoned sherry . . .”