"Yes. He'd missed morning prayers and didn't appear for breakfast. I thought he might be sick."
"What time was that?"
"About seven o'clock," Brother Jerome said, "There was so much blood I knew he was dead as soon as I stepped into the room."
"The door was unlocked?"
"Yes, and all his personal possessions were missing. I gave a list of what I knew he kept in his room to the sergeant."
"How long was it before you called to report the death?"
"Within a few minutes. Almost immediately."
"Did you see anybody nearby?"
"I saw no strangers, if that's what you mean, and everyone else had been to prayer and breakfast."
"Your colleagues seem to know very little about Father Joseph."
"He kept to himself and we respected his privacy. I may know a little more, since I granted Father Joseph's request for a visiting scholar's appointment."
"So far all I've learned is where he earned his advanced degrees, where he recently taught, and that he served a hitch as an army chaplain,"
Kerney said.
"Father Joseph retired as an army chaplain with the rank of major about a dozen years ago. He was stationed all over the world. He took his master's in history at a university in Georgia while on active duty, and completed his Phd after he retired."
"What else can you tell me about his professional life?" Kerney asked.
"His research interest was military history. Much of it he did on the Internet."
"What brought him to Santa Fe?"
"He was gathering oral histories from some significant primary and secondary sources. Mostly retired military officers living in the state, I believe."
"Did Father Joseph mention any names?"
"Not to me. But he spent a fair amount of time conducting interviews."
"Did he talk about his personal or family life?"
Brother Jerome shook his head.
"Only in the most general of terms. We shared a few reminiscences one evening shortly after he arrived. He has a widowed mother who lives in Houston. And his only younger brother died while serving as a military attache at an embassy in Latin American some time ago. He wouldn't say more about it and never seemed willing to discuss it again."
"Did you ever try?"
"Yes. Father Joseph said it was just an everyday sort of tragedy in today's America."
"How would you characterize Father Joseph's political views?" Kerney asked.
"Very liberal. Are you looking to do a bit of witch hunting, Chief Kerney?"
"That's not how the question was meant. Understanding Father Joseph may help me catch his killer. This could be the act of an everyday criminal.
On the other hand it could be connected to something in Father Joseph's past. Did you learn anything about the younger brother?"
"He was career military, I believe. A colonel in the army."
"Did Father Joseph speak to you of any personal or family problems, conflicts with others, or worries he might have had?" Kerney asked.
"No. He seemed very content and at ease with himself and others. He was a fine man and a good priest."
"What about contact with students?"
"He had no teaching responsibilities," Brother Jerome replied, "although he may have had some casual association with individual students."
"Did he keep any papers or documents outside of his room, or show you his work in progress?"
"I never saw his manuscript or research notes. He did have a briefcase he carried with him whenever he left the residence."
"Did Father Mitchell have a car?"
"Yes, he drives a brown Toyota. It should be parked outside."
"We found no briefcase in his room," Kerney noted.
"I see," Brother Jerome said.
"Would you like to look for it?"
"If it's not a bother."
"By all means."
No briefcase was found during the search of the residence hall, and nothing turned up in the car search. After checking in with Catanach and Sloan, Kerney left the residence hall to find Officer Herrera hurriedly finishing his supplemental report.
Cloudy handed over the paperwork and had Kerney sign the crime-scene log.
"Is your report complete?" Kerney asked.
"Yeah. There wasn't much to say."
At his office Kerney entered the information he'd gathered from his interviews into the computerized paperwork system. He finished and looked over the list of stolen items. The perpetrator had cleaned out all the priest's research plus two computers. Two trips would have been necessary to cart it away, which heightened the chance of discovery. No professional thief would risk getting caught unless the stolen items had more than a monetary value. It upped the probability that Father Joseph had been silenced by someone who wanted to avoid exposure or keep a secret. But of what?
He accessed the Terrell case file and read through the forensic notes that had been posted earlier that morning. Semen had been found on the bed sheets, along with some pubic and head hairs not from the victim, which didn't match the samples taken from Santiago Terjo. Autopsy findings showed Phyllis Terrell had engaged in sexual intercourse no more than a few hours before her murder. DNA analysis confirmed Terjo wasn't Terrell's bed partner, at least not on the night of the murder.
He scrolled through the supplementary report menu and pulled up Sal Molina's notes on Terjo. The man had stuck with his story during Sal's second full-press interrogation. But Kerney still felt Terjo was holding something back. Maybe the night spent in jail would induce him to be more forthcoming.
He shut down the computer and switched his attention to Alonso Herrera's personnel file. After a year on patrol Herrera had been transferred to the Crime Prevention Unit. Six months into the assignment he'd requested a return to patrol and had been assigned to a different team. Ratings from his field training officers and supervisors fell in the adequate range and nothing in the file reflected negatively on the officer.
Kerney found Herrera's unusually rapid transfer to the crime prevention unit interesting. From experience he knew junior officers rarely moved so quickly off patrol duty. Normally, it took between three to five years for a uniformed officer to get bumped up to a specialist slot.
Occasionally, an exceptionally sharp officer could make the cut in two years, but that was rare. From what Kerney had seen of Herrera, he certainly didn't fit the criteria of an officer on a fast track.
He switched his attention to the supplemental field report Herrera had given him on his way out of the crime scene, first reading for content and then for competency. Because of a patrol-officer shortage on the swing shift, Herrera had been held over at the Terrell residence for several hours, and according to his report Applewhite had appeared about an hour before her arrival at police headquarters. Herrera's penmanship was sloppy, his use of grammar and syntax unbelievably bad, and his spelling bordered on semiliterate.
Kerney buzzed Helen Muiz and asked for a quick meeting. Helen came in, notebook and file folder in hand, and sat with Kerney at the conference table. Today's outfit was a smartly tailored pair of slacks complemented by a cashmere sweater.
"You look very nice today," Kerney said.
"As do you," Helen replied.
"You mean the uniform?" Kerney asked, tugging at the collar with the four stars.
"Yes, and it's about time you started wearing it."
"Should I wear it every day?" he asked.
"Frequently will do," Helen replied.
"A response to your FAA inquiry regarding the aircraft identification numbers on the corporate jet used by Ambassador Terrell came in while you were out. The plane is leased by Trade Source Venture International.
According to its Web site the company engages in multinational high value technology start-up enterprises-whatever that means."
"It usually means, give us your money," Kerney replied.