Tully regarded him, then said, “If you insist on one, we’ll get one.”
“You’ll have to show probable cause before a judge will issue one,” Marie said.
“After all that’s been said here, the things you’ve said to each other in the presence of witnesses, the threats,” Tully said, “it shouldn’t be difficult at all to convince a judge.”
Tully waited, but there were no further arguments. “Of course we’ll have to wonder why you are so reluctant to have a police search. But that’s up to you. You can give us permission to search or you can tough it out. Up to you.”
After a few moments, Marie said, “Very well.”
Benbow, with a glance, checked to see if his wife had any objection. Seeing none, he said, “You have our permission.”
Augustine seemed to be fighting the issue within himself. “Oh, all right. But you can be sure the people back in Massachusetts are going to hear about what a police state you have here in Detroit.”
Tully ignored the virtually undeliverable threat. “Good. Now, please, all of you stay where you are. The officers will be here very shortly to take your statements.”
Tully did not leave a happy group behind him. But as he, Koznicki, and Koesler left the room Tully felt the emotional charge of commencing the investigation. It was off the ground. The chase was on to discover whodunit.
He quickly dispatched officers, some to interrogate the faculty, some to search their rooms.
“It was fortunate they backed away from their insistence on a warrant,” said Koznicki.
“Yes,” Tully said. “That could have taken some time. I’m sure we wouldn’t have any trouble getting one. But we’d have had to limit ourselves to whatever areas we listed in the warrants. Now we can bring to light anything we happen to find.”
“What did you think of the session with them just now?” Koznicki asked.
“Interesting,” Tully said. “They’re amateurs, of course, but they are familiar with police procedure. Probably done their research well. But one thing puzzles me.”
“And that?” Koznicki asked.
“They’re not turning on each other.”
“Not turning on each other?” Koesler asked.
“Sister Janet just doesn’t figure in that group. Martha Benbow might be a stronger suspect if only on behalf of her husband. But, then, she was at the movie during the 8:00 to 10:00 time of death.
“That leaves Benbow, Augustine, and Marie. Each of them seems to have some kind of grudge against Krieg. Only we don’t know why. It’s gotta be more, lots more, than that they just don’t want to write for him. Hell, all they’ve got to do is say ‘no.’ Even if they have to say it more than once. God, it’s a free country. Krieg can ask them pretty please as often as he wants. And they can say, ‘Get lost, creep,’ as often as they want.
“I think, first thing, we gotta find out what’s the kicker. Why are they so sore-assed about it?
“But the most puzzling thing is that they’re not going after each other. I gave them every chance to jump on each other. Augustine could say Marie or Benbow did this or that, which makes them more likely suspects. Or Benbow could say Augustine or Marie did such and so, which turns the spotlight on them. But no; they stuck together. When one agrees to be interrogated, they all agree. When one agrees to a search, they all agree. It doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense. But it will,” he added, “it will.”
“The statements they made, the questions they asked,” Koesler said, “didn’t you find them rather unusual?”
“Unusual?” Koznicki repeated.
“For one thing,” Koesler said, “I know that without their consent you wouldn’t have been able to search their rooms without a warrant. But I didn’t know about “probable cause”-that you wouldn’t be able to get a judge to issue a warrant without convincing him that there was reason to believe they could be guilty of a crime and that the search was necessary.”
“Yeah,” Tully said. “Well, like I said, they’re amateurs. They’ve done their homework; probably learned a lot from research. That’s good news and bad news. Maybe they can be helpful if they pay attention and let us know what they think, what they suspect, what they see and hear. On the other hand, they are just as likely to get in the way.”
“And one thing we must never overlook,” Koznicki said. “One of them killed a man.”
“Yeah,” Tully agreed.
“If you don’t mind,” said Koesler, “I have one more question.”
Tully said nothing, but he came close to minding. What he’d said about the others in this ersatz faculty also applied to Koesler. The others wrote murder mysteries. Granted Koesler had been involved in actual homicide investigations. And, to be fair, he had made few mistakes, and had actually been very helpful on occasion. But they all were amateurs and while they could prove useful, they could even more probably get in the way.
Plus-and this was more like the bottom line-there was the awareness that Koesler was a close friend of Walt Koznicki. And Koznicki, although he needn’t and didn’t throw his considerable weight around, was still the boss.
It was with all that in mind that Tully accepted another question.
“The thing that kept bothering me in there was how narrow the scope of this investigation is. Now I know I’m not a detective and I’m not a real part of this investigation-nor should I be.
“But you seem to be insisting that the crime had to be committed this evening between 8:00 and 10:00. That the liqueur had to be poisoned during that time. And that it had to be done by either Dave Benbow, Augustine, or Marie.
“Isn’t that a bit restrictive? I know that people have been in and out and around the dining area all day long. But isn’t it just possible that somebody, somehow, managed to get into the dining room, into the cabinet and poison the drink sometime during the day, long before dinner?
“And if that is possible, isn’t it also possible that almost anyone could have done it?”
Tully nodded. “Sure, everything’s possible. Thing is, we got a hot potato goin’ on here. People downtown are gonna want this thing closed yesterday, which gives us an advantage we don’t ordinarily get: We’ll get lots of help. With all that help, we’ll be lookin’ into everything. All the things you mentioned and more, Padre. The students, the kitchen people, the security guards-everybody’s being checked and interrogated. When we get done with the initial phase of this investigation, we will pretty well know what everybody has been doing nearly minute by minute all day today.”
“Well,” Koesler said, “I must say that’s reassuring. I’m sorry I raised the question. No,” he corrected himself, “I’m glad I asked, because it puts my mind at ease. But then. .”
“But then,” Tully picked up, “if all that’s goin’ on, why am I concentrating on Benbow, Marie, and Augustine?”
“Well, yes.”
“It could be anybody, Padre, like you say. But if it isn’t Benbow, Marie, or Augustine or any combination thereof, I’ll swallow my badge. They make up the list of the likely perps. That’s why with everybody else covering everybody else, I and a few others are gonna zero in on those three.”
15
“Father Koesler!”
The priest spun around. The greeting had been delivered so unaffectedly and enthusiastically that it had taken him by complete surprise.
It was a woman with an uncommonly pronounced smile. Dark hair styled in bangs, no glasses, hazel eyes, about five-feet-six, comfortably filled out; she looked like someone’s idea of the stereotypical homemaker.
Who was she?
It happened all the time. Priests meet so very many people. Especially priests who move from parish to parish during their extensive tours of duty. Inevitably, no matter where he happens to be, people will accost a priest with something like, “Father so-and-so! Remember me?”
More often than not the answer had to be, “Not really.”
Which usually was followed by, “You married me!” Or, “You baptized me!”