Cry From The Grave
Chapter 10
The chapel at St. Matthew's Grove fit the mold of most institutional sanctuaries--practical, banal, and impaired by standard-pattern acrylic stained glass that hearkened back to the seventies. Ballack saw little point to the colored tiles when there was a scant amount of natural light entering the room. There were two small pews on either side of the middle aisle, which led to a rail that stood in front of the altar. To either side of that edifice, slender yet sturdy lecterns faced what would be a meager congregation. Ballack saw the one to the left was slightly larger than the other and wondered if the smaller was a functional reader's post.
Father Giles motioned Tori to sit in the front pew and he sat four feet to her left. He handed several papers to Ballack, and on these sheaves, the detective found the addresses and phone numbers of the entire staff at St. Matthew's Grove. Ballack positioned himself in front, splitting the distance between the two of them and nodding to Tori his expectation that she should take the lead. He would enter the fray when good and ready.
Tori's initial questions covered the mundane matters of Giles' background and work. He had graduated from Virginia Theological Seminary, but after five years spent as a vicar in Delaware, he decided to try his hand at collegiate ministry. He pastored a small parish in Williamsburg, Kentucky, while starting an Episcopal student group at what was then Cumberland College. In the process, he had become more taken with the idea of chaplaincy and began working toward his certification.
"Did you complete that in Kentucky?" asked Tori.
Giles shook his head no. "Started it there at Baptist Regional Medical Center in Corbin, which is about ten miles from Williamsburg. But that area was the tightest buckle in the Bible Belt, and I needed a change of venue. I moved to another church here, Church of the Advent in Crestwood, after four years in Kentucky. That was just under twenty-two years ago and I finished my CPEs at St. Luke's. I left Advent after five years and was a chaplain at Barnes for thirteen years before coming here. They had utilized volunteer chaplain's here for some time, but Nick Fisher was pushing to establish a permanent staff position. He's the rector across the street at Emmanuel Episcopal Church and he'd be a good resource for information about the hospice."
"My father is a chaplain at St. Luke's," Ballack spoke for the first time, his notebook hiding the fact he was finishing a Sudoku puzzle. His eyes never left the page.
Giles appraised the detective carefully. "Martin Ballack?"
Ballack looked at the priest and nodded. "That's him. I gather you know of him?"
"He's quite the comic," smiled Giles. "Very rare to meet someone in this field who combined concern and humor in equal measure."
"I think many would call him the resident iconoclast wherever he is," replied Ballack. "But no matter what, my dad's a good man."
His eyes turned back to the puzzle. Tori leaned in slightly toward Giles and asked, "In the last few days, had you noticed any signs that there was trouble here around St. Matthew's? Any sense you had that Dr. Hibbler's life was at risk?"
"You mean that someone would kill him?" asked Giles, his eyes widening even as his body shrunk back, making him appear even smaller than normal.
"That's the general idea," Tori remarked. "I know you saw his body and this has to be very disturbing for you."
"I can't imagine that anyone would feel that way."
"What about anyone working in this facility?"
"Even more unbelievable that any member of this place, of any faith community, would do that."
"Our experience on our murder investigations," said Ballack firmly but evenly, "proves just the opposite." He marked the last few numbers in the remaining blocks, completing the puzzle.
"Well," said Giles, after a considerable pause, "I'm not telling you any more than you'll eventually find out. Two days ago, we met off-campus at Robust Wine Bar down the street."
"We meaning who?" asked Tori.
"Whom," corrected the grammatically compulsive Ballack.
"Thanks, professor," his partner grumbled.
"Myself, for one," Giles answered. "Nick Fisher joined us--and in fact he called the meeting as he is the diocesan liaison to St. Matthew's Grove. Dr. Hibbler was there and the fourth was Isabel Andrews. The purpose was to discuss the reality that the hospice might be closed or bought as part of a corporate takeover."
"Was anyone upset by that?" asked Tori.
Giles hesitated.
"You may speak freely, Father," Ballack offered gently, entreatingly.
"Well," Giles eventually replied, "it wasn't the most thrilling news. None of wanted to hear it."
"None of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Very simply," said Ballack, stuffing the notebook in the side pocket of his wheelchair, "we get the fact this was less than ideal. But to everyone? And on Thursday, this news gets dropped in everyone's lap. This morning, Dr. Hibbler is found dead at his desk. Father, you saw the body. Put two and two together. What was Hibbler's role in all this? It would throw light on why we're sitting here now talking about his lifeless corpse just eighty feet away."
Knowing he could delay the inevitable no longer, Giles exhaled deeply and shared the details of Hibbler's negotiations with Dignity Care, Isabel's vociferous reaction, and Fisher's vain attempts to restore order. Tori wrote copiously while Ballack's stony brown eyes never left Giles' form. There was a long pause when the chaplain finished.
"Did Mrs. Andrews' response surprise you?" asked Tori.
"She has never personally cared for Dr. Hibbler," Giles replied, "although professionally there has always been a working detente for some time. I guess what I'm trying to say is that her words did not shock me. It was her tone that was truly upsetting."
"There's upsetting and then there's off-the-cliff-of-goodwill-and-reason," Ballack interjected, tapping his finger on his knee. "From what you're describing, this leaned more toward acrimony than exasperation."
"What are you saying, detective?"
"Just that," said Tori, "Mrs. Andrews didn't handle it that well. I can appreciate her concern for the staff, but her reaction--if you're describing it accurately--goes beyond a touch of compassion."
"And I can't imagine," Ballack remarked as he leaned forward, "that either closure or corporate maneuvering would benefit you either. That's pretty clear."
"I said nothing about that," Giles retorted.
"You didn't have to, and I wouldn't expect you to volunteer that information. But I was tracking your life story there and I imagine that even if you entered seminary right out of college...let's see, as an Episcopalian you'd have educational training, then postulancy...if you did that one after the other, and all your time periods follow, you're looking at a minimum age of fifty-eight right now."
Giles was stunned at Ballack's quick mind. "Almost fifty-nine. I'm impressed."
"And I'm just saying that is something to consider from my perspective, Father. Even a skeptic like me knows that in your denomination, parishes, membership, and attendance are shrinking. Funerals outnumber baptisms for the Episcopal Church. You might be a diligent priest, but you're nearing sixty. Surely you're not such an idealist that you believe a position is waiting just around the corner for you? In this economy? In your denomination?"
Giles crossed his arms defiantly and squirmed in his pew. "Again, detective. what's your point?"
Ballack returned to an erect posture. He knew that--given the savage nature of the killing blow to Hibbler's neck--it might be unlikely Giles had the strength to wield the blade from that position. Still, he wanted the chaplain to sweat a little. "I'm saying Isabel Andrews might not have been the only one with her vocation on the line. Did you combat this possibility of closure? Or if this company...what's its name? Dignity? Let's face it, Father. Filling or establishing a chaplain's position might not be in the uber-critical column of their to-do list."
Horrified, Giles looked to Tori and back to Ballack. "Are you declaring me a suspect?"
"Person of interest is more likely," Tori said, "but to make sure, it would help us to know where you were this morning between six and ten."
"I woke up at six-thirty and had tea on my back porch with my wife. Karen and I live in Crestwood. She left to go to Dierbergs around eight, but she called around eight-thirty to our home line and I took the call. She was asking if we had enough potatoes or if she needed to buy more. Our son and daughter-in-law are coming to town next week, so Karen wanted to have plenty of food on hand."
"And when did you leave the house?" Ballack inquired, irritated the conversation wasn't moving along fast enough.
"It was soon after Karen called. I stopped at a coffee shop to buy a newspaper and sat in my car reading it for a few minutes."
"Which coffee shop?" asked Ballack.
"The Bread Co. by Watson," Giles shrugged. "I paid cash. No receipt."
Indeed, thought Ballack.
As if reading the detective's thoughts, Giles continued, "If you want to confirm, the paper is in the passenger seat of my car outside."
"And then?" asked Tori.
"I went to Emmanuel to speak with Nick Fisher. I got there about nine-fifteen."
"Speak to him about what?"
"Several concerns I had about where we were headed in this next sequence of events."
"The closure? The Dignity move?"
"Yes, whichever."
"And he said?"
"Nick seemed to be coming around that there were several reasons why Dr. Hibbler should not head up any reorganization attempts. I brought some matters to his attention, things which I am sure he might share with you. We spoke from nine-fifteen until five till ten. I got her a few minutes after the hour."
Ballack had heard enough, more intrigued now at the chance to cross-check these revelations with Nick Fisher. Tori quietly dismissed Giles and the priest rose, slowly turning to head back down the aisle.
"Father," Tori asked, "may I accompany you, please? I'll need to ask Mrs. Andrews to see us now."
The chaplain wearily nodded his acquiescence. He had moved past the first pew when Ballack spoke up.
"Father Giles, are you sorry Dr. Hibbler is dead?"
Giles turned slowly. His small, exhausted eyes looked once more at Ballack. If he believed the question to be callous, his gaze didn't betray that notion.
"He was my colleague even if he wasn't a friend," he said. "We disagreed on many things, but when has the workplace ever been a den of perpetual concord? I know I should feel a great wave of sadness, but more than anything I feel numb. I guess I feel sorry because he is dead and I can conjure no passion whatsoever. And for me to possess that apathy as a priest is especially pathetic." And with that, he walked out of the chapel with Tori trailing him.
"You mean that someone would kill him?" asked Giles, his eyes widening even as his body shrunk back, making him appear even smaller than normal.
"That's the general idea," Tori remarked. "I know you saw his body and this has to be very disturbing for you."
"I can't imagine that anyone would feel that way."
"What about anyone working in this facility?"
"Even more unbelievable that any member of this place, of any faith community, would do that."
"Our experience on our murder investigations," said Ballack firmly but evenly, "proves just the opposite." He marked the last few numbers in the remaining blocks, completing the puzzle.
"Well," said Giles, after a considerable pause, "I'm not telling you any more than you'll eventually find out. Two days ago, we met off-campus at Robust Wine Bar down the street."
"We meaning who?" asked Tori.
"Whom," corrected the grammatically compulsive Ballack.
"Thanks, professor," his partner grumbled.
"Myself, for one," Giles answered. "Nick Fisher joined us--and in fact he called the meeting as he is the diocesan liaison to St. Matthew's Grove. Dr. Hibbler was there and the fourth was Isabel Andrews. The purpose was to discuss the reality that the hospice might be closed or bought as part of a corporate takeover."
"Was anyone upset by that?" asked Tori.
Giles hesitated.
"You may speak freely, Father," Ballack offered gently, entreatingly.
"Well," Giles eventually replied, "it wasn't the most thrilling news. None of wanted to hear it."
"None of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Very simply," said Ballack, stuffing the notebook in the side pocket of his wheelchair, "we get the fact this was less than ideal. But to everyone? And on Thursday, this news gets dropped in everyone's lap. This morning, Dr. Hibbler is found dead at his desk. Father, you saw the body. Put two and two together. What was Hibbler's role in all this? It would throw light on why we're sitting here now talking about his lifeless corpse just eighty feet away."
Knowing he could delay the inevitable no longer, Giles exhaled deeply and shared the details of Hibbler's negotiations with Dignity Care, Isabel's vociferous reaction, and Fisher's vain attempts to restore order. Tori wrote copiously while Ballack's stony brown eyes never left Giles' form. There was a long pause when the chaplain finished.
"Did Mrs. Andrews' response surprise you?" asked Tori.
"She has never personally cared for Dr. Hibbler," Giles replied, "although professionally there has always been a working detente for some time. I guess what I'm trying to say is that her words did not shock me. It was her tone that was truly upsetting."
"There's upsetting and then there's off-the-cliff-of-goodwill-and-reason," Ballack interjected, tapping his finger on his knee. "From what you're describing, this leaned more toward acrimony than exasperation."
"What are you saying, detective?"
"Just that," said Tori, "Mrs. Andrews didn't handle it that well. I can appreciate her concern for the staff, but her reaction--if you're describing it accurately--goes beyond a touch of compassion."
"And I can't imagine," Ballack remarked as he leaned forward, "that either closure or corporate maneuvering would benefit you either. That's pretty clear."
"I said nothing about that," Giles retorted.
"You didn't have to, and I wouldn't expect you to volunteer that information. But I was tracking your life story there and I imagine that even if you entered seminary right out of college...let's see, as an Episcopalian you'd have educational training, then postulancy...if you did that one after the other, and all your time periods follow, you're looking at a minimum age of fifty-eight right now."
Giles was stunned at Ballack's quick mind. "Almost fifty-nine. I'm impressed."
"And I'm just saying that is something to consider from my perspective, Father. Even a skeptic like me knows that in your denomination, parishes, membership, and attendance are shrinking. Funerals outnumber baptisms for the Episcopal Church. You might be a diligent priest, but you're nearing sixty. Surely you're not such an idealist that you believe a position is waiting just around the corner for you? In this economy? In your denomination?"
Giles crossed his arms defiantly and squirmed in his pew. "Again, detective. what's your point?"
Ballack returned to an erect posture. He knew that--given the savage nature of the killing blow to Hibbler's neck--it might be unlikely Giles had the strength to wield the blade from that position. Still, he wanted the chaplain to sweat a little. "I'm saying Isabel Andrews might not have been the only one with her vocation on the line. Did you combat this possibility of closure? Or if this company...what's its name? Dignity? Let's face it, Father. Filling or establishing a chaplain's position might not be in the uber-critical column of their to-do list."
Horrified, Giles looked to Tori and back to Ballack. "Are you declaring me a suspect?"
"Person of interest is more likely," Tori said, "but to make sure, it would help us to know where you were this morning between six and ten."
"I woke up at six-thirty and had tea on my back porch with my wife. Karen and I live in Crestwood. She left to go to Dierbergs around eight, but she called around eight-thirty to our home line and I took the call. She was asking if we had enough potatoes or if she needed to buy more. Our son and daughter-in-law are coming to town next week, so Karen wanted to have plenty of food on hand."
"And when did you leave the house?" Ballack inquired, irritated the conversation wasn't moving along fast enough.
"It was soon after Karen called. I stopped at a coffee shop to buy a newspaper and sat in my car reading it for a few minutes."
"Which coffee shop?" asked Ballack.
"The Bread Co. by Watson," Giles shrugged. "I paid cash. No receipt."
Indeed, thought Ballack.
As if reading the detective's thoughts, Giles continued, "If you want to confirm, the paper is in the passenger seat of my car outside."
"And then?" asked Tori.
"I went to Emmanuel to speak with Nick Fisher. I got there about nine-fifteen."
"Speak to him about what?"
"Several concerns I had about where we were headed in this next sequence of events."
"The closure? The Dignity move?"
"Yes, whichever."
"And he said?"
"Nick seemed to be coming around that there were several reasons why Dr. Hibbler should not head up any reorganization attempts. I brought some matters to his attention, things which I am sure he might share with you. We spoke from nine-fifteen until five till ten. I got her a few minutes after the hour."
Ballack had heard enough, more intrigued now at the chance to cross-check these revelations with Nick Fisher. Tori quietly dismissed Giles and the priest rose, slowly turning to head back down the aisle.
"Father," Tori asked, "may I accompany you, please? I'll need to ask Mrs. Andrews to see us now."
The chaplain wearily nodded his acquiescence. He had moved past the first pew when Ballack spoke up.
"Father Giles, are you sorry Dr. Hibbler is dead?"
Giles turned slowly. His small, exhausted eyes looked once more at Ballack. If he believed the question to be callous, his gaze didn't betray that notion.
"He was my colleague even if he wasn't a friend," he said. "We disagreed on many things, but when has the workplace ever been a den of perpetual concord? I know I should feel a great wave of sadness, but more than anything I feel numb. I guess I feel sorry because he is dead and I can conjure no passion whatsoever. And for me to possess that apathy as a priest is especially pathetic." And with that, he walked out of the chapel with Tori trailing him.
More please.
ReplyDeleteEditing chapters 11 and 12 tomorrow. Will post them around midweek.
DeleteThank you.
Delete