Cry From The Grave (Chapter 31)

Cry From The Grave

Chapter 31

     Karen Giles had dressed selectively for her sorrowful expedition. Both Holbrook and Grimshaw had wisely steered her from the chapel. Ballack suggested meeting with her in the library, but Karen adamantly expressed her desire to speak in her husband's office. Ballack thought this was imprudent but refused to dissuade her. He offered her to choose her seat and she headed straight for her husband's easy chair that sat in front of an impressive array of shelved books. Ballack noted titles by Rowan Williams and Brennan Manning, among others. He pulled up within three feet of Karen. Despite her grief, she had taken time in her arrival. She had shampooed and brushed her willowy copper hair, exhibiting its softness and shine. Her red long-sleeved blouse complemented her black pinstripe slacks and glossy pumps. Her face had a light covering of makeup, and there was barely a trace of tears smudging her mascara. Though he had expected a decidedly mournful appearance from this widow, Ballack decided upon further reflection that a sacrificial offering of unkempt display would only dishonor the dead, and this example of sturdy bereavement in front of him would do just as well.

     After several quiet moments, Karen Giles turned to him and said, "Detective Ballack, how long will the forensics team be in the chapel?"

     He hoped to steer her mentally from that locale. "it is difficult to say. It will depend on what evidence they find, and how much." He leaned back in his wheelchair. "In the meantime, Mrs. Giles, I still need to ask you some questions. Are you certain you'd be most comfortable here?"

     "Yes," she said quietly, "although I would like to see my husband."

     "I understand, ma'am," Ballack replied hastily, "but for now the chapel is a crime scene as your husband was murdered. I know you desire to see him, but I have viewed his body. And I would definitively tell you it would be best that you remember him as he was and not as he is now."

     "I take it that his death was especially...brutal?"

     There was no easy way of putting it. "That's a fair questions, and sadly, the answer is yes."

     Karen Giles shifted in her chair and leaned in Ballack's direction. "How did Rory die, Detective? Nick Fisher did not tell me."

     Which doesn't mean he didn't know, thought Ballack. "Reverend Fisher does not know the specific manner of death. All that we have told him is that Father Giles was murdered. Mrs. barber discovered your husband in the chapel this morning." He spared her the details about the priest's positioning on the altar.

     She leaned forward more and pressed her hand on his. "I understand your discretion, Detective Ballack, but as I want this evildoer brought to justice as you do, I can assure you I will not share the specifics with anyone."

     Ballack looked at her with a firm but kind stare, judging her trustworthiness. "Your husband was killed by multiple blows to the head and to the face. He suffered significant injuries. As understandable as your desire is to see him, would you please allow our medical examiner to take his body first?"

     "For an autopsy?"

     "That would be correct."

     Mrs. Giles shivered, more from discomfort than cold. "I could hardly bear the thought of someone doing that to my Rory, putting him on a table and dissecting him."

     Ballack privately thought the greater pain to bear was the loneliness she would feel as the reality of her husband's death enveloped her. "Still," he said, "despite your reservations, an autopsy could potentially give us a lead in finding his murderer."

     That seemed to loosen her resolve. "That does strike me as somewhat reasonable. I am sure my objections--great as they are--happen to be more emotional than practical."

     "There is no shame in that, Mrs. Giles," Ballack replied as a hand rapped on the door. Tori entered without announcing herself, sweeping around to a seat near the wall and seating herself roughly.

     "Everything fine in Windcastle?" Ballack whispered, his facial expression unchanged.

     "Shut up, jerk," she mouthed back.

     He turned his attention back to Karen Giles. "I don't mean to dredge up any uncomfortable details, but did your husband seem to be under any more stress than usual lately?"

     "You mean," the widow replied, "something like the hospice closing down."

     "Yes, we know about that."

     "Rory was worried, of course, but then we've been through tough times before. I wasn't as concerned about it as he was. He felt underappreciated here. Rory is--I guess I should get used to saying 'was'--an excellent priest. He thought the best of others even when it was hard to do so. He was conscientious and kind. His personality was such an anomaly compared to the rest of this place."

     "Did he ever believe he was in danger?"

     "Vocational danger, yes. That's why he was worried about the probable closing or absorption. What's someone going to do with a priest when his retirement is on the short horizon? But physical danger, I can't imagine. He didn't have close friendships with the staff, except for the Hagans. Oh, Bob and Patricia. Such tenderhearted folks. But the others, not as deep. Still, you can't be thinking it was someone here?"

     "Not to put more stress on what is an extremely sad time for you, Mrs. Giles," said Tori kindly, "but we asked you for a reason."

     "But a place like this!" exclaimed Karen. "I can't imagine it could breed murder and terror like this! Why can't you say it was an outside attack?"

     "We're not ruling that completely out, Mrs. Giles," Ballack calmly replied, "but whoever did this either works here full-time or has regular access to the building as a part-time worker, volunteer, leadership participant, or a visitor. And given these murders occurred in an office and the chapel, it is someone who found a way to enter those places and was somewhat familiar to Dr. Hibbler and your husband."

     She didn't respond, her head drooping slightly. Ballack decided they had spoken for long enough. "You don't need to answer any more questions, Mrs. Giles. I have added enough to your mind and heart today. I can give you my card and Tori here will do the same. If there is anything you recall later, you can always give us a ring."

     "Thank you," she responded as graciously as her grief would allow. "I am sure everyone here is waiting to give me the perfunctory condolences, but there are some I will be grateful to see. The Hagans, Isabel, and Beverly have always been especially nice to me. I am sure their words will at least give me some comfort. Thank you both, Detectives. I'll see myself out."

     After she left the office, Ballack turned to Tori, whose withering frown melted into an exasperated grin.

     "So, she was irate?" he asked.

     "Suzanne Lamotta?" Tori answered.

     "No, Taylor Swift," Ballack crackled with sarcasm. "Of course, the ex-wife."

     "How would you feel if your house got shot up gangland-style?"

     "A seven-shot ripping hardly deserves that label. It's where the shots landed that counts. Did you explain to her that all the damage was confined to the deck light, sliding doors, and the stoneware jug?"

     "It didn't keep her from demanding restitution. she'd whacked out enough to sue us."

     "That bridge is down the road," Ballack waved off his partner's statement. Come on. We have other trails to chase."

     "Like what?"

     "Do you still have Hibbler's personnel file and other documents?"

     "In the van."

     "Does he have a list of important contacts in there?"

     "Maybe. We can check his desk, too. It's no longer a restricted scene. What are you looking for?"

     "His lawyer."

     "Excuse me?"

     "It might help to speak to whomever might have represented his case while at Delmar."

     "Por que?"

     "Just a hunch I got in the cafeteria when Isabel Andrews said a stronger security system was not required by law. Law, lawyer. It just popped in my head."

     "I hope it's in the desk or the file, because I sure don't feel like calling his ex again."

     As it turned out, Hibbler had kept a vinyl case of business cards in the upper left-hand drawer of his desk. Tori whisked through it and found only one attorney. The address of Daniel Sumner was a Central West End location. Ballack knew there were even odds Sumner could be either in court or his office.

     "This had better turn up gold, partner," Tori griped as they eased into traffic on Lockwood. "At least it's on the way to the Delmar clinic."

     "Just a hunch, Tor. Just a hunch."

     "Well, when you get your hunches, the biggest loser of those matches turns out to be Untied Health Care."

    Ballack grinned and looked back at St. Matthew's Grove, surprised to see the blinds opened in a patient room and what looked like Helen Smith's face in the window gazing after them.