Cry From The Grave
Chapter 16
At a table nestled in between the stage and the fireplace of the Highway 61 Roadhouse, the four detectives compared notes over a dinner designed to beat the Saturday evening rush. With wall murals of St. Louis people and history--including one of the Gateway Arch--in the background, they tore into their food with a vengeance. Tori opted for the Bourbon Street Chicken while Missy ordered a pair of blackened chicken tacos. Ballack and Hull showed a united front, both selecting the restaurant's famous BBQ Spaghetti. Both of their orders came smothered in barbecue sauce featuring massive chunks of pulled pork with garlic bread on the side.
"You two are disgusting," Missy cringed, wishing they could have a private room as Hull, never one to be finicky about cleanliness, was wearing the sauce on his face like war paint.
"I knew there was a reason Zane was okay with this," smiled Ballack. "To be a Patriot missile to that pile of protein. As for me, I know I'll have to take a doggy bag home." They ate for a few more minutes in silence.
"So, what are the plans now?" asked Tori. They had caught up on progress while waiting for their food.
"Well, we still need to find Eric Carter for questioning," said Crabolli. "The fact that we found the knife on the seminary campus, that we confirmed he was there this morning likely after Hibbler died, and he's nowhere to be found...none of these put him in a favorable light."
"That can be your doing," said Ballack. "You made the initial parry, see it though as long as you can. By the way, did you call Father Giles' wife to confirm his movements this morning?"
"Got her," said Hull. "Everything matched up, give or take about ten minutes, but from what you told us about Fisher, there's no reason to believe he was at the church for much of the time in question."
"Not all of it," cautioned Tori.
"True," said Ballack, "and we need to keep an open mind. But on the surface, I never saw Father Giles doing this to Hibbler. He struck me as the least cagey individual in the room this morning. And Evan also texted me a message that he established the time of death just prior to nine o'clock. Anyway, that effectively eliminates the chaplain if he, his wife, and Nick Fisher are all telling the truth. "
"Which leaves us where we began," groused Crabolli.
"Not really," Tori corrected her as she pushed her plate away. "We've likely eliminated a couple of people. The murder weapon is found and we're waiting on Sheilah to confirm the DNA match. We're in a holding pattern now, but we've faced worse."
Ballack threw his napkin on the table and signaled the waitress for a to-go box. "It's probably going to be past nine o'clock by the time we're done with our next leads and enter our reports. You two focus on finding Eric Carter. Now, about this Delmar Psychiatric Clinic where Hibbler formerly worked--there could be a story there. Hibbler was forced out, according to Fisher, who got the news from an old clipping handed on to him this morning by Giles. It could be that someone had an ax to grind with Hibbler from years back."
"You mean like a former patient?" Hull asked. "I can see that, but that would mean having access to St. Matthew's Grove, being aware of Hibbler's movements, and getting into his office. This has all the looks of an inside job."
"Except for the rage evident in the attack," Crabolli offered.
"More like controlled manic fury," Ballack countered. "I've never seen an entry wound of that magnitude. Absolutely staggering."
"Anyway," said Tori, wanting to make sure her food stayed down. "Who takes the clinic. I doubt it'll be open on the weekend."
"But it doesn't hurt to try," said Ballack. "They may have an on-call person, and even if you can set up an appointment for Monday morning, it's better than nothing. Zane, can you check that out?"
"Got it, C.B.," Hull said, taking the clinic's phone number from Ballack. "How will the two of you occupy your time tonight?"
"While we were waiting for your guys," Tori said, "I called Hibbler's ex-wife. She said she could meet with us around seven, but she lives out in St. Charles County."
"Convenient for you," said Crabolli, receiving the bill from the waitress.
"Super convenient for me," added Ballack, motioning for her to pass the check his way. "I'll take care of the culinary damages. Anyhow, the former Mrs. Hibbler lives a couple miles south of my place. Any questions on what we're doing next?"
Nobody raised one, so Ballack put his chair in gear and backed up slowly. "Okay, I'll pay this and we'll split up. Let's check in around nine by phone."
It was as they passed the Big Bend exit on Interstate 44 West that Ballack's phone rang. An unfamiliar number graced the screen, and it was with a sense of foreboding that he answered.
"Detective Ballack? It's Father Giles."
"Father, hello. How can I help you?"
"Actually, something just popped into my mind. I seem to recall that when I arrived at St. Matthew's today, I went to my office first. My usual practice is to open my desk and get the keys out for the entire facility. I don't keep them on my car key ring because I don't like to be lugging around a large set myself."
"Yes, I see," said Ballack impatiently, wishing the priest would make his point.
"It's just that I had difficulty opening my desk drawer today, and it took several seconds to do so. Anyhow, when I heard Beverly Overton scream, I rushed to his office and was joined by Anna Barber. We settled Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Overton down and then I told them I'd call the SID."
"I'm following so far," replied Ballack.
"I called Commander Krieger from my office," continued Giles, "and after I hung up, I say down to gather myself. It was then that I noticed two things. One, I definitely had fewer keys on my key ring than before. The second was that the key slot to my desk drawer looked horribly scratched."
"Picked?" asked Ballack.
"It seemed so."
"But you had difficulty opening it, sir. Wouldn't that mean whoever had picked at it--provided they stole the keys off your ring--would have had to re-lock the drawer somehow."
"That's what doesn't make sense, Detective. And I could be imagining a lot, but here's another thing. I thought I might be having a senile moment, so I put it out of my mind. But just now, I was getting ready to leave the hospice and went to lock my keys away in the desk drawer as usual. Instead, at the last minute, I decided to place them elsewhere. I put them in the top file cabinet in my office, but when I dropped them in there, I noticed that all the keys were back on the ring."
"Back on?" asked the suspicious Ballack. "Father Giles, could this be something you thought was the case but wasn't, and whoever picked at your desk drawer never got in?"
"Possibly, but the key ring felt lighter."
"By approximately how many keys?"
"I'd say three or four. But it could have been that way for some time and I never noticed until today."
"And you never brought this up this morning, in the cafeteria or when we met in the chapel?"
"Like I said, it slipped my mind. Senior moment."
Ballack groaned when a question shot through his mind. "Father, does anyone else know where you normally keep those keys?"
"I'm not certain, but why would anyone steal it?"
Smacking his forehead, staggered at how much of his parents' Calvinism he unwittingly held to, Ballack replied, "Father Giles, I have enough experience with human nature to suspect anyone. A more pertinent question would be: Did you leave the keys in your office unattended at any point today?"
"For a few moments, when I was setting up the chapel for Morning Prayer and Holy Communion tomorrow. Why?"
"It could be nothing," Ballack responded, a pressure headache beginning to cleave his brain over his right eye. "So, they were not in your possession at all times today?"
Giles gulped. "No, not the whole day."
"Father, are you calling from your office now?"
"I am."
"Do me a favor, Father. Take the keys home with you. Do not take them off your person at all while you are at work. Ever. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly."
"Thank you. I'll speak to you in the morning."
"Sounds like the hospice's resident space cadet," Tori said ruefully when Ballack signed off.
"More like an idealist," Ballack shrugged. "He can't imagine anyone being sinister as we know people are capable of."
"What is it about clergy?" Tori exploded. "Can't they open their eyes to the garbage around them?"
"Dad always says it's crazy how the ministry can cloud objectivity at the worst of times," replied Ballack. "Let's hope it's a passing craze with Father Giles, although I'm afraid it resides fairly deep within his bones."
"Which leaves us where we began," groused Crabolli.
"Not really," Tori corrected her as she pushed her plate away. "We've likely eliminated a couple of people. The murder weapon is found and we're waiting on Sheilah to confirm the DNA match. We're in a holding pattern now, but we've faced worse."
Ballack threw his napkin on the table and signaled the waitress for a to-go box. "It's probably going to be past nine o'clock by the time we're done with our next leads and enter our reports. You two focus on finding Eric Carter. Now, about this Delmar Psychiatric Clinic where Hibbler formerly worked--there could be a story there. Hibbler was forced out, according to Fisher, who got the news from an old clipping handed on to him this morning by Giles. It could be that someone had an ax to grind with Hibbler from years back."
"You mean like a former patient?" Hull asked. "I can see that, but that would mean having access to St. Matthew's Grove, being aware of Hibbler's movements, and getting into his office. This has all the looks of an inside job."
"Except for the rage evident in the attack," Crabolli offered.
"More like controlled manic fury," Ballack countered. "I've never seen an entry wound of that magnitude. Absolutely staggering."
"Anyway," said Tori, wanting to make sure her food stayed down. "Who takes the clinic. I doubt it'll be open on the weekend."
"But it doesn't hurt to try," said Ballack. "They may have an on-call person, and even if you can set up an appointment for Monday morning, it's better than nothing. Zane, can you check that out?"
"Got it, C.B.," Hull said, taking the clinic's phone number from Ballack. "How will the two of you occupy your time tonight?"
"While we were waiting for your guys," Tori said, "I called Hibbler's ex-wife. She said she could meet with us around seven, but she lives out in St. Charles County."
"Convenient for you," said Crabolli, receiving the bill from the waitress.
"Super convenient for me," added Ballack, motioning for her to pass the check his way. "I'll take care of the culinary damages. Anyhow, the former Mrs. Hibbler lives a couple miles south of my place. Any questions on what we're doing next?"
Nobody raised one, so Ballack put his chair in gear and backed up slowly. "Okay, I'll pay this and we'll split up. Let's check in around nine by phone."
It was as they passed the Big Bend exit on Interstate 44 West that Ballack's phone rang. An unfamiliar number graced the screen, and it was with a sense of foreboding that he answered.
"Detective Ballack? It's Father Giles."
"Father, hello. How can I help you?"
"Actually, something just popped into my mind. I seem to recall that when I arrived at St. Matthew's today, I went to my office first. My usual practice is to open my desk and get the keys out for the entire facility. I don't keep them on my car key ring because I don't like to be lugging around a large set myself."
"Yes, I see," said Ballack impatiently, wishing the priest would make his point.
"It's just that I had difficulty opening my desk drawer today, and it took several seconds to do so. Anyhow, when I heard Beverly Overton scream, I rushed to his office and was joined by Anna Barber. We settled Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Overton down and then I told them I'd call the SID."
"I'm following so far," replied Ballack.
"I called Commander Krieger from my office," continued Giles, "and after I hung up, I say down to gather myself. It was then that I noticed two things. One, I definitely had fewer keys on my key ring than before. The second was that the key slot to my desk drawer looked horribly scratched."
"Picked?" asked Ballack.
"It seemed so."
"But you had difficulty opening it, sir. Wouldn't that mean whoever had picked at it--provided they stole the keys off your ring--would have had to re-lock the drawer somehow."
"That's what doesn't make sense, Detective. And I could be imagining a lot, but here's another thing. I thought I might be having a senile moment, so I put it out of my mind. But just now, I was getting ready to leave the hospice and went to lock my keys away in the desk drawer as usual. Instead, at the last minute, I decided to place them elsewhere. I put them in the top file cabinet in my office, but when I dropped them in there, I noticed that all the keys were back on the ring."
"Back on?" asked the suspicious Ballack. "Father Giles, could this be something you thought was the case but wasn't, and whoever picked at your desk drawer never got in?"
"Possibly, but the key ring felt lighter."
"By approximately how many keys?"
"I'd say three or four. But it could have been that way for some time and I never noticed until today."
"And you never brought this up this morning, in the cafeteria or when we met in the chapel?"
"Like I said, it slipped my mind. Senior moment."
Ballack groaned when a question shot through his mind. "Father, does anyone else know where you normally keep those keys?"
"I'm not certain, but why would anyone steal it?"
Smacking his forehead, staggered at how much of his parents' Calvinism he unwittingly held to, Ballack replied, "Father Giles, I have enough experience with human nature to suspect anyone. A more pertinent question would be: Did you leave the keys in your office unattended at any point today?"
"For a few moments, when I was setting up the chapel for Morning Prayer and Holy Communion tomorrow. Why?"
"It could be nothing," Ballack responded, a pressure headache beginning to cleave his brain over his right eye. "So, they were not in your possession at all times today?"
Giles gulped. "No, not the whole day."
"Father, are you calling from your office now?"
"I am."
"Do me a favor, Father. Take the keys home with you. Do not take them off your person at all while you are at work. Ever. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly."
"Thank you. I'll speak to you in the morning."
"Sounds like the hospice's resident space cadet," Tori said ruefully when Ballack signed off.
"More like an idealist," Ballack shrugged. "He can't imagine anyone being sinister as we know people are capable of."
"What is it about clergy?" Tori exploded. "Can't they open their eyes to the garbage around them?"
"Dad always says it's crazy how the ministry can cloud objectivity at the worst of times," replied Ballack. "Let's hope it's a passing craze with Father Giles, although I'm afraid it resides fairly deep within his bones."
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