Murder in the Choir Room
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About this ebook
Retired teacher Jesse Ashworth has been looking forward to a quiet retirement in the small town of Bath, Maine but for Jesse, retirement has been anything but quiet. After church trustee Jack Riley is found murdered in the choir room of All Souls Church, Jesse and his companion Police Chief Tim Mallory, begin a search for the killer.
Stephen Stanley
Stephen E. Stanley has been an educator for over thirty years, first as a high school English instructor and then as a full-time teacher mentor for secondary education in a large New Hampshire school district. He grew up in Bath, Maine and currently resides in New Hampshire.
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Murder in the Choir Room - Stephen Stanley
Chapter 1
It was the first Sunday after Labor Day and the church was packed. I was sitting in the choir stalls with the rest of the tenors and basses. The women were sitting in front of us, and we had just finished singing the anthem. I was really trying hard to pay attention, but all I could think about was the Colonel’s secret fried chicken recipe and a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. I find it hard to be holy when I’m hungry.
This Sunday was Homecoming Sunday and both the church school and the choir were in session for the first time after the summer break. Apparently God had taken the summer off because there had been no Sunday school and no choir since late May. Each summer most of the churches around here change their services from ten o’clock to nine o’clock, except for the Unitarians who cancel church altogether. I was pretty sure from reading the morning newspapers that this wasn’t a good time for God to go on vacation.
The organ postlude ended and people began to file out of the church. I was at the back of the line as the choir made its way to the choir room. I could see the flutter of burgundy choir robes in front of me as we filed out of the sanctuary and through the narrow hallway toward the choir room. I was in the process of unbuttoning my robe when I heard a scream and the fluttering choir robes were suddenly still. I ran down the hallway and pushed through the group of singers to see what had caused the commotion.
Someone call 911,
I said to the group, but I could see that the body on the floor was well past the services of the EMTs.
Everybody out of the room. Nobody touch anything!
Tim Mallory, the police chief, had been waiting for me, heard the scream, and came to investigate. Nobody had moved; everyone seemed to be in shock. Now!
yelled Tim, and the choir members began to disperse.
The body was lying on its side with a small pool of blood on the floor where someone had bashed in his skull. Several of the choir chairs had been overturned and but there was nothing in view that looked like the murder weapon. Even so it was very clear that this was no accident.
Jesse, do you recognize him at all?
Tim asked me.
I looked at the body but couldn't tell much from the doorway where I was standing. Suppressing a shudder, I entered the choir room, knelt down, and took a closer look.
It's Jack Riley,
I answered. Jack was the head trustee of the church, a local school board member. And not to speak ill of the dead, but he was a general pain in the ass as well.
That's what I thought, too.
Tim said to me.
There was no breeze in the air, and it was hot and stuffy for a September afternoon. I sat on the front porch sipping a gin and tonic and waited for Tim to come home. Tim is my...well, it's hard to describe. Partner, sounds too much like a business arrangement, and boyfriend sounds too juvenile and heterosexual, but you get the general idea.
Tim had radioed for backup and I knew that most of All Souls Church was probably cordoned off with yellow crime tape. An officer had taken down everyone’s statements and sent us on our way. There was nothing for me to do now but wait. Whatever happened, it wasn't going to be good for the church or the community.
My dog Argus had a perfectly comfortable bed on the porch next to my rocking chair, but like most pugs, he preferred my lap and was happily napping while I was rocking. A car pulled onto the street and Argus pricked up his ears. Dogs have amazing hearing and can tell the sound of one car from another. Argus's tail started to wag as Rhonda Shepard parked her car and came up the walkway. I gave Rhonda a wave and left Argus to greet her while I went into the kitchen to make her a gin and tonic. Rhonda had a flare for vintage clothing and hair styles. Today she was wearing a 1930s black dress with big buttons down the front. Her hair was in a bun. She looked like the president of the Ladies’ Temperance Society.
You might need this,
I said to Rhonda as I passed her the drink. She was sitting on one of the rockers with Argus in her lap. Rhonda and I had both taught English in the same New Hampshire school for over thirty years. When she opened her business in Bath, Maine, I decided to follow her here and help out.
I missed most of the excitement. The congregation had left the church before the police got there,
she said. I told her what I had seen and heard and she just nodded her head.
This is a pretty small town and I'm sure Tim will get it solved in no time,
I said. I wasn't so sure though.
I've read that most murders are committed by close friends or family members,
said Rhonda between sips of gin and tonic.
If Jack Riley had any close friends I'd like to meet them.
Maybe I was being too harsh.
He did seem to make a few enemies, like every teacher and parent in the school district for example.
Not to mention every committee member of All Souls Church,
I added.
He was usually right about money matters and had a good head for figures,
Rhonda replied. It was the way he put down everyone who didn't agree with him that made him unpopular.
Still, calling someone a silly fool in public, harsh as that is, is no motive for murder.
No chance it was an accident?
Rhonda asked.
He was face down, head turned to the side, and the back of his head was bashed in. He must have died quickly, because there was very little blood.
Rhonda passed her empty glass to me. Make the next one a double.
Good idea,
I replied.
Rhonda and I were on our second round of gin and tonics when a red SUV drove up the street and the Reverend Mary Bailey got out of the driver's side and headed up the walk. Sixty and usually jovial, Mary Bailey had a tragic look on her face.
This has been a most heartbreaking day,
she said as she took a seat on the porch.
Can I get you something to drink?
I asked as I held up my gin and tonic.
How about a cup of herb tea?
You got it! I'll be right back,
I replied as I headed to the kitchen.
When I returned with the tea, Mary had her glasses off and was wiping her eyes. As a caring pastor, Mary would be called on to minister to a congregation in shock.
I just spent the last hour with Jack Riley's family,
began Mary. They are devastated as you can imagine. The police are questioning them now, so I thought I would check in with all you choir members since you people were the first to find the body. I'm sure you’re all upset. I wanted to start here first to see if you had any news from Tim.
No, I haven't heard anything from Tim. I'm sure as soon as he can he'll let me know.
How are you doing, Mary?
asked Rhonda. It must be very difficult for you.
Oh, yes. A death in the congregation is always a difficult thing, but this...
Tears welled up in Mary's eyes. Rhonda and I wanted to offer comfort, but there wasn't much to say.
Chapter 2
The September sunset was spectacular as Rhonda and I watched the day slipping away. Neither of us felt like being alone so Rhonda agreed to stay for supper. I had no idea when Tim would show up, but I suspected he would be late. I didn't feel much like cooking so I grabbed a package out of the freezer and set it on the counter. Finally a breeze began to stir outside, and the curtains in the windows began to flutter with the fresh air.
How about if I thaw out some beef burgundy?
I asked Rhonda.
Sounds good to me,
she replied.
Argus was underfoot as I put the frozen packages in the microwave. The dog was, of course, hoping something would drop on the floor, when suddenly he lifted up his ears and ran for the door. It was a sure sign that Tim had just driven up the driveway.
What a fucking bad day!
bemoaned Tim as he came into the kitchen with Argus leading the way. Tim took a seat at the table, and I started mixing gin and tonics for all of us. Tim was still in his Sunday church clothes, and they were looking a little worse for wear. I rarely drink more than one drink, but then I rarely see murdered bodies in churches, so we all had a round of drinks. The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes.
Well?
I asked Tim after we sat there for a while.
There isn't much to tell. The techs have been all over the place, but we haven't found a weapon or any evidence yet. And we don't have a motive. The family is distraught, as you can imagine, and not very helpful at this point, and nobody at church saw anything unusual.
The microwave beeped and I took out the beef burgundy and dished it out into three bowls. I grabbed a loaf of bread and put it on the table with the bowls.
Sorry, it's just leftovers,
I said. But it really wasn't a cooking day.
This is great,
said Tim. I haven't had anything to eat all day.
Better than anything I have at home,
added Rhonda. We ate in silence for a while.
What was Jack doing in the choir room? He wasn't in the choir,
I asked. I couldn't stand the silence much longer.
That's a good question,
answered Tim. We found the pouch with the morning's collection after we moved the body. It was under him. It doesn't appear that robbery was a motive, because as near as we can tell, all the money is there.
What was he doing with the collection?
asked Rhonda.
After the collection is taken, the ushers in the back of the church put the money in a pouch, place it in an offering plate, and bring it to the front of the church during the singing of the doxology. Then one of the trustees of the church takes it to the church office and places it in the safe,
I explained.
The church office is in the opposite direction from the choir room,
Rhonda observed.
Yes, it is,
said Tim.
It's a church; nothing is locked on a Sunday,
I added.
But there are people all around,
said Rhonda.
And so far, nobody saw anything unusual,
concluded Tim.
I think people are just a little shaken up at the news. Maybe in a few days they will start to remember something. We can maybe find something out when we talk to them later,
I said.
Tim looked at me carefully. "We are not going to do any such thing. The last time I looked, you were not on the police force," Tim said to me, but not unkindly.
Whatever!
I smiled innocently.
Well,
began Rhonda, I should get along home now.
Me, too,
sighed Tim. I need to shower and get some fresh clothes for tomorrow morning. I'll pick you up for lunch tomorrow,
he said to me.
The sun was rising later and later each day as the summer was slowly morphing into autumn. After a quick and unhealthy breakfast, I harnessed up Argus and we headed out the door. Argus was always happy to go anywhere, so we headed off to town.
All Souls Parish Church is a typical New England white colonial church structure. Its beauty is in its simplicity and scale. It sits on High Street facing the city park and the library, its steeple can be seen from across the river.
As Argus and I approached the church, I noticed Mary Bailey's SUV in the driveway and decided to stop in at her office to see how she was doing. Argus always hesitates at unfamiliar doorways, and he gave the threshold a sniff just to make sure it was not a vet's office. Assured that it wasn't, he led the way down the hall. Mary looked up as I knocked on the door, and I could tell she had been crying.
Jesse Ashworth!
exclaimed Mary, I'm glad you stopped by. Hi Argus!
she leaned over to pat the dog. Argus jumped in her lap and started licking her face.
I hope you like dogs,
I said.
Oh, yes,
she said and started to laugh. Argus seemed to have that effect on people. She indicated that I should sit down. I noticed that the lights on the phone were flashing.
I'll bet the reporters have been calling you all morning,
I said.
The answer machine was full when I walked in the door. I'm waiting for Delores to come in and go through them for me.
Delores is the church's administrative assistant. I'm working on an official statement for the media now. But I'm really having a hard time writing it.
Just make it brief,
I suggested. 'Our prayers are with the family at this tragic time.' That type of thing. Let Tim as police chief give the more detailed statements.
I know,
she sighed. It's just that it's all so difficult. I don't know where to start.
Did you notice anything unusual yesterday?
I asked by way of changing the subject. You get to face the congregation for most of the service.
Nothing unusual. The front doors of the church were open because of the stuffy weather. There were people walking by on the sidewalk, but that's not unusual. Did you see anything from the choir?
she asked.
No, but my view of the congregation is somewhat blocked by the pulpit.
I replied. Was there anything unusual about the service itself? Did Jack Riley always pick up the collection?
The trustees take turns picking up the collections. They have a schedule of duties.
Mary looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn't scheduled for the collection yesterday.
She was looking puzzled as well.
And?
I asked.
And,
she added. The trustees usually wait until the end of the service to take the collection. Jack took the collection away before the end of the service.
I left Mary to write her official statement, and Argus and I continued on our way to work. Three mornings a week I work at Erebus, which is the name of Rhonda's gift shop. I handle the Internet sales, which of late were doing very well. In the last year the store inventory had changes from plastic lobsters and ceramic lighthouses to Maine handicrafts and some New Age items. Crystals, Tarot cards, and Ouija boards were selling quite well, despite, or maybe because of the downturn in the economy.
Good morning'
said Rhonda as I came through the door. Today she was wearing a polyester pant suit from the 1970’s with her hair hanging loose. I filled her in on my morning meeting with Pastor Mary.
The poor thing,
observed Rhonda. She's left to deal with the emotional mess of this, isn't she?
I'm afraid so,
I answered.
Well, she is probably better equipped than any of us. Still I wouldn't want her job for anything.
Slow day?
I asked, looking around at the empty store.
Mondays are usually slow, though it may pick up.
Well, I should get to work; Mondays are the busiest day for Internet sales.
I went into the back office and seated myself behind the computer. Argus took his place under the desk and promptly went to sleep. Sure enough there was a list of orders that had come in over the weekend. It would take me most of the morning to process them.
I lost all track of time as I was working on the orders. Suddenly a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Tim standing in the doorway. At six foot four with a muscular frame, Tim pretty much fills up a doorway. He was wearing his starched white police chief uniform shirt. The chiseled face, the broad shoulders and perfect smile made him look like a movie star cop. There is always something about a man in uniform!
I hope that's not a gun you’re hiding in there,
I said as I looked up.
That’s not a gun,
said Tim as he held out a bag with sandwiches and chips. Tim pulled a chair up to my desk, and I poured us both a cup of coffee from the coffee pot. I told him about my visit with Mary Bailey.
So,
Tim said by way of focusing on my news, Jack Riley was not the scheduled trustee for the collection pick up?
That's correct.
And he took the collection out of the sanctuary before the end of the service?
Yes,
I answered. Do you think it means anything?
It might. But probably not.
Thanks for clarifying,
I responded.
It's what I do,
said Tim with a wink.
So have you learned anything in your investigation?
I asked.
The crime lab guys are going over everything, and an autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon. Unofficially, it looks like trauma to the head. We don't have a weapon identified yet. I have two detectives out questioning church members now, and the TV crews have already been here this morning.
Busy twenty-four hours,
I said.
You got that right,
answered Tim.
We made plans to spend the evening together and then Tim returned to work. After he left, Rhonda poked her head in.
Could you watch the front?
she asked. Jackson is taking me out to lunch.
Jackson Bennett owned an insurance agency in town and has been the man in Rhonda’s life for the past year.
No problem,
I answered. So where are you eating?
Who said anything thing eating?
replied Rhonda as she giggled and took Jackson's arm. Yikes!
Chapter 3
The weather had turned cold by the time Rhonda returned, and it looked like it might rain later. Weather in New England is unpredictable in the in-between seasons of spring and fall. I harnessed up Argus, and we headed home. We walked down Front Street, up by the library and the park, and on up Winter Street passing by the church. I noticed that Mary Bailey's vehicle was gone and figured that she was probably ministering to Jack Riley's family. Jack had a wife and two grown children. I liked the wife, but had never met the children.
Heading up Sagamore Street, I passed by John and Dorothy Lowell's house. My elderly neighbors were nowhere in sight. My house was at the end of the street. It was a yellow 1920's