Body in the Baptistery Read online

  “Come on, Dick, you know I’m not a church-goer. Isn’t there someone else I could see? I know I need some help, but a Bible-thumper?”

  Jenkins handed Grant a slip of paper. “Here’s the time and place. I’m not negotiating with you about this. If you value your career, be there.”

  • · · · ·

  GRANT WAS pleasantly surprised and impressed with Pastor Joel Cates. He was non-judgmental, and seemed to genuinely care. And he understood the problem. The pastor listened attentively as Grant told his story. He didn’t preach to him, which not only surprised Grant, but put him at ease.

  “I think I’m on the verge of becoming an alcoholic.”

  “You think?” Cates responded.

  “Okay, I am an alcoholic.”

  “That admission is the first step in a long battle in whipping this demon.”

  After the first of several sessions with Cates, he put Grant in touch with a member of Highland Baptist who was a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. After talking with the dried out alcoholic about A.A., he called the pastor and said, “Thanks for all your help, but I’m not about to stand up in front of a bunch of strangers and tell them my problems.” Several months passed before he saw Joel Cates again.

  Chapter Three

  M AJOR JENKINS STEPPED to the pulpit of Highland Baptist and shouted to gain the attention of the remaining congregation. “Please, everyone, may I have your attention?” After a couple of minutes the milling crowd grew quiet and looked at Jenkins expectantly. “I know you are all as shocked and grief stricken as I am. All of us who knew and loved Brother Joel are devastated.” Throughout the sanctuary heads nodded in agreement.

  “As most of you know, I’m a police officer. And as an officer of the law, I’m asking you to remain where you are for a while. Other officers will arrive shortly. We will need to obtain statements from most, if not all, of you.”

  A man in the back spoke up. “We can’t stay here all day. I’ve got an appointment to keep, and I’m already late.” Jenkins continued speaking as though he didn’t hear the interruption. “Knowing you folks as I do, I’m confident of your cooperation. I promise to have you out of here as soon as possible. Thank you.”

  As he was speaking sirens could be heard, becoming louder as they drew nearer. Within two or three minutes Lieutenant Orley Tate burst through the rear doors followed by Sergeant Phil Early and a half dozen more officers. Tate and Early were in plain clothes but the rest were dressed in the dark blue uniforms of Springfield’s finest.

  Within an hour the SPD Criminal Investigation Section was searching Highland Baptist Church, now a crime scene, from top to bottom, for any evidence which would lead to the identification of the person, or persons, who had murdered Reverend Joel Cates. Most of the members of the unit had worked with Grant at one time or another, so as long as he kept his distance, they tolerated his presence. They also knew he and Major Jenkins had once been partners and were still close friends, which was clearly in his favor.

  Gideon watched their every move. His ability to observe a crime scene and almost photographically recall its details later had always been a valuable asset. He had bragged about it often, but since his conversion, he was just thankful. He noted with interest a comment by the unit leader that the water in the baptistery was warm. Three small feathers floated near Cates’ body, which was clothed in faded jeans, a green sweat shirt, and sneakers. There appeared to be no blood in the water. Standing on one of the choir chairs and looking over the glass, Grant could see there were no apparent wounds in the body, but he could see only the back. On the bottom of the pool he saw what appeared to be a small, bright piece of metal, perhaps brass or copper.

  The CIS Unit Leader was in no mood to receive suggestions from a PI, even if he was an ex-cop and friend of Major Jenkins. So Grant kept his observations to himself. He climbed down from the choir chair and wandered into the Church Office complex. He found Jenkins talking to a group of choir members. As he listened he was disappointed they had no new worthwhile information to offer.

  As the group drifted out of the office, he approached Jenkins and said, “Dick, I want in on this.”

  “Gideon, this is going to be very high profile. I know Joel meant an awful lot to you. For heaven’s sake, he was my pastor, too.”

  For some reason Grant didn’t understand, his old temper began to rise. “Let’s put it this way. I am in this investigation. I don’t take orders from you or anybody else anymore.” His neck grew warm and his bald scalp turned pink.

  “Cool down, Gideon, you know my hands are tied.” Unwilling to back down, Grant said hotly, “Yeah, yeah...the book says...” His cynicism was clear to Jenkins.

  “It’s not just the book; it’s for your own good. If you go off half-cocked, you’re liable to get your license pulled.”

  “They’ve tried that before and I’ve still got it.”

  Jenkins pulled him into an unoccupied office and closed the door. “Now you listen to me. We’ve known each other too long for this kind of nonsense. I’ll do what I can to keep you in the loop, but as you well know, I’ve got people above me watching.”

  Grant loosened his tie and thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. Unable to meet Jenkins’ gaze, he stared at the carpet. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never faced anything like this before.”

  “This is new to all of us, Gideon.”

  “I’m just so mixed up I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Or what I’m supposed to do.”

  “All of us, this whole church, are crushed and infuriated by this. It’s horrible!”

  “I’m so new at this business of being a Christian. How could God allow something like this to happen? It’s all so...so unfair.”

  “There are no easy answers to be found in a murder case, especially one like this. But we have to maintain some professional objectivity, difficult as that may be.”

  “Nuts to objectivity,” Grant cried, “ I’m not going to rest until I find the low life creep who killed my friend and dumped his body in the baptistery of his own church—my church, too.”

  “There are hundreds of us at Highland who feel the same way. But as I said, you and I are professionals, and we’ve got to keep our heads clear and be objective about this.”

  “But I’m so mad.” Grant said. “Somebody killed that godly man, the man who baptized me, and...and then desecrated the place where I was baptized, the place where we worship, Dick.” He slammed his hand against the wall so hard a picture bounced off its hanger and fell to the floor, the glass shattering. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I will find out who did this and see to it he goes to death row at Potosi.”

  “Calm down and start using that good head God gave you. Anger won’t help. It takes up too much of your energy, and it clouds your judgment and your vision of the facts.”

  Grant remembered how many times his onetime partner had calmed him when his emotions got the best of him. Jenkins had that effect on the people who worked in his chain of command. It was one of the things that made him such a good leader. “I guess I’ll go on home,” Grant said, “there’s nothing more for me to do here.”

  A knock on the office door interrupted their conversation. The CIS Unit Leader entered with a preliminary report for Jenkins. He hesitated before speaking; looking at Grant as though his presence was unwanted. Reading his look, Jenkins said, “It’s all right. What’ve you got?”

  “To begin with, Cates was killed in the church pastor’s office...or study, whatever it’s called. We found some bloodstains on the desk chair and the carpet. We’re sending samples to the lab, but there’s not much doubt they’ll match Cates. Unless, of course, the perp, for some reason bled in there, which I doubt. And, an old feather type sofa pillow was found on the floor. Had two bullet holes through it and powder burns. Killer must have used it to muffle the sound of the shots.”

  “But what could have been the motive?” Jenkins asked. “And something else that bothers me a lot is, why
go to the trouble of putting Joel’s body in the baptistery? He wasn’t a big man, probably about a hundred and fifty pounds, but carrying him up those narrow stairs to the baptistery was no easy task.”

  The three men settled into a companionable silence, thinking. Grant broke the silence. “He must’ ve wanted to throw off the Medical Examiner’s estimate of the time of death.”

  The unit leader rolled his eyes and said, “Like he ever gets it close anyhow.” Grant said, “I think I saw Louis Wilson, the custodian, out in the hall a while ago. There’s something I want to ask him about.” He and Jenkins went out of the office together. As they were leaving, the CIS Leader said, “If you don’t need me for this, Major, I’ll get back to my team.” “That’ll be fine. And thanks,” Jenkins said as the officer left. They found Wilson standing in the hall in an apparent daze. “Louis, can we ask you a question about the baptistery?” Grant asked. At first the custodian gave him a blank stare. Then he blinked a couple of times as though he was just coming awake, and said, “Sure, Mr. Grant. I don’t know how I can help, but I’ll sure do what I can. I still can’t believe it.”

  “I’m sure working with Joel every day must make this loss even harder,” Jenkins said sympathetically.

  “I’ve been here through a lot of preachers in the last thirty years, and I can honestly tell you he was one of the best of the lot. Good boss, good friend.” Grant laid his hand on the old man’s arm and asked, “Did you know the water in the baptistery was heated this morning?”

  “That’s news to me. Wasn’t supposed to be heated ‘til this afternoon for tonight’s service. Little Bobby Mills was to be baptized. That new heater we put in last month will heat it in a few hours.”

  Grant scratched his bald head in thought. “Would it be difficult for anyone else to turn the heater on, someone unfamiliar with the system?”

  “Naw. The directions are printed right on the front of it. Just turn on the water and flip the switch. A float device turns the water off when it gets full, but I don’t trust it, so I keep an eye on it when the water’s running. I’ve had a choir loft full of water before...don’t want that again, for sure.” “Thanks, Louis,” Grant said. “That helps more than you know.” Grant and Jenkins walked away as Louis headed in the opposite direction. “The killer must have turned it on,” Grant said. “No other explanation makes any sense.”

  “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up here,” Jenkins said, “and then I’ll have to go to the office to write up my report. I sent Ellen and Angel home with Bob and Karen Ross. They live near us. Tonight’s service has been cancelled, of course, so you can catch me at home later if you need me for anything.”

  “Thanks, Dick. I don’t know how I could’ve made it this far through all this without you. I’m beginning to learn what Christian friends and a church family are all about.”

  “That’s what keeps me going,” Jenkins said as he walked toward the sanctuary. Grant headed to the parking lot and his Ford Ranger pickup.

  Chapter Four

  G IDEON DROVE SLOWLY away from the church, only vaguely aware of the direction he was traveling and with no particular destination in mind. His thoughts were crowded to overflowing with the tragic events of this morning; a morning he would never forget. He had no idea just how much his life would change because of this fateful event.

  As he drove he began to pray aloud. “Father God, I just don’t get it. Joel taught us You are not only a loving God, but sovereign, too... that You’re in charge of everything. I’m trying to believe all that, but I need some help to get through this pain. Help me understand...to believe. And help me to find the one who killed Joel. Lord, help me...” and he began to shake with sobs so deep he had to stop in an empty parking lot. It had been a long time since he had cried, not since he realized his marriage to Diann was really over.

  After a few minutes the sobbing subsided. Looking to his right he saw, without realizing it, he had parked in front of a liquor store. The old overwhelming need for a drink hit him so hard he could hardly breathe. Without thinking he opened the truck door and started walking toward the door of the store. The closer he got the faster he walked, eager to get something to ease the pain that was devouring him.

  As he placed his hand on the door handle to pull it open, an inaudible voice spoke to him. “What about your promise?” He stopped and stepped away from the door shaking his head. “Oh, God,” he thought, “the promise I made to Joel Cates, to Dick...to myself...and most important—to You. But oh, God, will this pain ever go away?” The promise that he made was to never take another drink of alcohol. He turned from the liquor store door and began walking to his truck, his feet seemed to weigh fifty pounds as he fought the battle against his mind and body; his body crying out for the anesthesia of a bottle of whiskey and his heart wanted to keep his promise. With every step a quiet peace settled deeper and deeper into his heart and mind. After he sat in the truck for a moment, he got his bearings and noted he was going north on Campbell Avenue, the main north-south artery in the center of town. He continued driving north, automatically stopping and going at the traffic lights, not noticing anything going on around him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  GRAVEL CRUNCHED under his tires as he pulled into the narrow driveway leading to a single attached garage in the corner of his backyard. After he moved out of the house in which he and Diann had lived for three years, he rented this small house on West Dale, near his old neighborhood. He had lived on the North side all his life. It was the oldest part of town. Many of the houses were over a hundred years old. Some were well preserved and cared for, but most looked their age. Mature trees graced most of the yards. He was comfortable there. A cute girl he’d had a teenage crush on used to live a couple blocks over on North Grant, but she was married to a preacher in Oklahoma.

  He pushed the button on the remote door opener attached to the visor, waited a moment until the door was fully open, and drove in. The black, extended-cab, four-wheel drive truck was a prized possession which he guarded with a passion, always parking inside whenever possible. So far, the paint job was ding-free.

  The little white house was adequate for his simple needs. It provided two small bedrooms, one of which he used as an office which primarily held his computer. The living room was comfortably furnished, and there was an eat-in kitchen and a small bathroom. The new paint job looks nice, he thought. His landlord had let him skip a month’s rent in exchange for painting it himself.

  The front door opened before he could insert his key into the lock. Bonnie Wilks, his live-in girlfriend, stood there with a wide smile on her face. “Hi, Sugar, I heard you drive in.” She went up on her tiptoes, offering her lips for a kiss. His response was a quick peck on her lips and a brief hug. He hadn’t particularly invited her to move in, but it was okay with him. It helped with the loneliness and he hated coming home to any empty house.

  “Honey, what’s the matter? You look awful.”

  “You can’t imagine how awful I feel. What a horrible day. You’ve been promising to go to church with me—well, be glad you didn’t choose today,” he said wearily.

  “Sermon was that bad, huh?”

  “It’s no joke, Bonnie. Joel Cates was murdered last night. Some monster came into his study and shot him, and then dumped his body in the baptistery.”

  Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth in surprise. “Oh, Gideon, I’m so sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

  “It’s not just me. It’s our whole church. What are we gonna do? Brother Joel was the one who held us all together.”

  “Who’s going to preach now?”

  “How should I know? It never occurred to me that Joel wouldn’t always be there.”

  “Maybe your friend, Dick, might know. Isn’t he some kind of official in the church?”

  “Yeah, he’s one of the deacons. They’re kind of lay leaders in the church, but I’m not sure what they can do.” He flopped down on the sofa in the living room. “I can’t get a
handle on this. Joel was too good a man to die like that.”

  “I only met him that one time he came by the house, but he seemed so nice. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

  “That’s what I’ve been asking myself. It just makes no sense. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to go back into that church.”

  Not knowing how to respond to his grief, and uncomfortable with the roll of comforter, she changed the subject. “Lunch is almost ready, that is if you feel like eating.”

  “Thanks, but I really don’t. I’m so mad my stomach is tied up in knots.”

  “Don’t let this make you sick.”

  “I’m already sick...at heart. And I won’t rest ‘til I find the monster that did this.”

  Even though he didn’t feel like eating, he sat at the kitchen table with Bonnie. They said nothing as she nibbled at the Marie Callendar frozen dinner she had prepared in the microwave. She knew that cooking was not her forte so she didn’t try. She could make good strong coffee, and he sipped it cautiously so as not to scald his tongue.

  She finally broke the silence as she haltingly said, “I’ve been thinking about our discussion last night, what you said about my staying here with you.”

  “Not now, Bonnie. I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about that now.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  THAT SUBJECT loomed large for both of them on Saturday night. A Christian for only six months, Grant, for the first time in his life, was becoming conscious of how his life-style appeared to God. Six months earlier, Dick and Ellen Jenkins invited him to their home for dinner and afterward Dick led the conversation to spiritual matters. After an hour of reading the Bible and asking dozens of questions, Gideon Grant knelt with Dick and Ellen in their den, and prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his personal Savior and Lord. His life changed forever.