Death in the Secret Garden (15 page)

‘I never knew you were into bird-watching, Lyon. I thought hot-air ballooning was your avocation.'

‘Ordinarily it is, but I am interested in the return of the eagles.'

‘Yes. Is that not magnificent? It is truly God's gift that the species has been returned to us.' He stared off into space for a few moments. ‘I heard about Ashley,' Mead said. ‘I suppose that is why you are here. I expect that Chief Herbert has an interest in me.'

‘You and several others,' Lyon said. ‘We went to the Middleburg Escort Service and found that an M. MacIntire was one of Ashley's clients.'

‘I did not realize that the Devil's disciples kept such accurate records of sin. Can we go on the cliff path? There's a certain spot where I like to sit for my observations.'

‘Of course.'

They walked in single file along the vague path that followed the ridge line. Lyon knew that this interval allowed Mead time to order his thoughts and construct some casual circumstances for his meetings with Ashley. However, the slumped shoulders and plodding pace of the man in front of him seemed to indicate a profound disturbance rather than someone plotting an explanation.

Mead stopped before a clump of rocks that formed a haphazard stairway to the top of a large glacial boulder. The minister climbed to the summit and then sat down at the top of the rock. He sighed and hugged his knees as he looked out over the river valley. ‘After my undergraduate days, before I went into the seminary, I was in the Peace Corps.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘The experience was deeply moving and significant for me. I awakened to the problems of the undeveloped world and its peoples. I vowed to do what I could to relieve suffering. I didn't feel comfortable with hard science and so health services were not an option for me. I chose the ministry as my vehicle. I truly intended to work in some foreign mission in a third-world country. I learned fluent Spanish so I could serve in South America. I was going to be a worker priest. Not that we have that in the Episcopal Church, but if it were necessary, I was prepared to embark on a personal mission.'

Lyon considered the striking contrast between South American poverty and the comfortable manse of Saint James Church. ‘Murphysville is a long way from the Andes,' he finally said.

‘Yes, isn't it? The flesh is weak. I married Joan and she wanted children. She pointed out to me, in a very logical manner, that it would be difficult and immoral to raise our children in a South American slum.'

‘So you chose here?'

‘Yes.' Mead looked out over the distant Seven Sisters hills. ‘It would seem that I am very weak.'

‘Ashley?' Lyon said softly to steer the conversation back to its intended subject. He suspected that the minister had his own reasons and agenda for what had just been said.

‘Miss Towers' mother is one of my most faithful parishioners. She came to me one day, very disturbed and agitated, over something Ashley had said. It would seem that Miss Towers told her mother that she had a job as an emergency pharmacist.'

‘A what?'

‘That was the girl's cover story to family and friends to account for her late hours. Her mother was uncertain about the truthfulness of this and asked if I had ever heard of such a thing. I said that I hadn't, but that I thought that with the right educational credentials it might be possible. To be on the safe side I checked with the state licensing bureaus. Of course, I had to tell her mother that Ashley wasn't listed with the state.'

‘Did you tell Ashley?'

‘I confronted her with my information.'

‘And?'

Mead MacIntire pursed his lips a moment before answering. ‘She directed me to perform an unnatural sexual act upon myself. Then she yelled at the top of her voice that she was the most requested escort in the state. That outbreak was followed by a threat that if I didn't leave her house she would scream rape.'

The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Lyon felt the pressure of a tight abdominal knot as the possibilities evolved. The name on the client list documented what he was now going to be told. ‘You phoned the escort service and requested her,' he said to ease the man's obvious pain.

‘Yes. We met at the Dew Drop Inn Motel. After she stopped laughing she made me pay in advance. You do understand that it was my mission to discuss her salvation and offer redemption. I had the best of intentions, but I was so weak.'

‘What did she say?'

‘That she would show me some tricks that would blow my mind. She touched me and … I lay with her in the biblical sense.'

‘And then she had to be punished in order to be saved,' Lyon said softly.

‘She was punished, wasn't she?'

‘As was your church secretary and the wanton young woman from the supermarket.'

‘They were all punished.' He faced Lyon. ‘It was truly divine retribution.'

‘You were God's agent.'

‘I might have helped them if I hadn't been so weak.' Mead MacIntire stood to face the river.

Lyon sensed the minister's intended actions and immediately moved behind him. When Mead lunged toward the edge of the rock, Lyon grabbed the rear of the down vest. ‘Stop!'

‘Let me go!'

‘No!' Lyon spun Mead in a half circle. The minister's forward momentum carried him across Lyon's hip and over the far edge of the rock where he fell into a pile of brush.

Lyon scrambled down the rock face in the hope that Mead was not badly injured.

‘Let me die!' Mead MacIntire sobbed into the ground.

Eleven

Canon Mead MacIntire huddled by the Saturn's door, closed his eyes, and pressed his head against the window. Slight tremors racked his body.

Lyon drove out of the access road and turned right at the highway. He gave a concerned glance toward the anguished clergyman. After a moment's hesitation, he reached across the quietly sobbing minister and snapped down the door lock.

Mead's eyes opened. ‘I want to die.'

‘You don't really mean that,' Lyon said automatically, knowing full well that his passenger
did
mean it. He unconsciously accelerated toward Murphysville.

‘I have violated my religious and marital vows. I have disgraced God, the Church, and my family.'

‘You have counseled enough people to know that we all make mistakes.' Lyon mentally cringed at the inadequacy of his response.

‘I knew the weakness of the flesh for I had charted the paths of temptation. What I did not know was far more dangerous. I speak of that which makes us all so vulnerable.'

‘What is that?' Lyon asked automatically.

‘How enjoyable are the sinful ways of the flesh.' Mead clenched his eyes to block motel-room images. ‘I had never before experienced such pleasures or reached the heights of ecstasy she revealed to me. She was a true sorceress. A handmaiden of the Devil. She was a temptress of exquisite ability.'

‘If sins weren't pleasurable they'd be easy to avoid,' Lyon said.

‘My weakness was not just of the moment. I returned to her. I went back the following week, and the week after that. I took money from our children's college savings and paid her fee. And worse, I would have returned again. Once she forced me to wear my clerical collar. Another time she had me bring my vestments. She made me wear my chasuble and girdle. She laughed at me before she lifted the garments to perform unspeakable things on my body.'

Lyon shook his head in acknowledgement of Mead's confession and the realization that whores also had fantasies. He had a vague impression that a vestment's color varied according to the appropriate ecclesiastical occasion. He wondered what was applicable for motel-room sex. He would not ask, just as he would stifle his curiosity concerning what unspeakable things Ashley performed. He and Bea had agreed long ago that as long as you did things by mutual consent and without physical harm, that most anything was allowable in the marital bed.

Mead attempted to force the car door as they turned into the police services driveway. ‘We're there,' Lyon said.

‘If this isn't hell, we are not in the proper place,' the canon said. ‘I cannot seem to open this door.'

‘Let me.' Lyon sprinted around the hood of the car and unlocked the passenger door. Mead nearly fell to the pavement when the door swung open. Lyon helped the minister inside the building and into Rocco's office.

The police chief was on the phone. He arched an eyebrow at their entrance. Mead sank down on the leather couch. The minister hunched over, drew up his feet to a fetal-like position, and turned toward the wall. Rocco shrugged and hung up the phone. ‘What is this?' he asked.

‘I think that Mead wants to make a statement,' Lyon said.

‘Oh?' Rocco still looked puzzled, but turned his attention to the minister. ‘Did you know Ashley Towers, Canon?'

‘I fornicated with her,' was the muffled reply.

‘He means in the biblical sense,' Lyon said.

‘Damn it! I know what the word means. Do you know what you are saying, sir?'

‘I copulated with the harlot several times,' the minister said as he turned to face Rocco. ‘I lay with her and paid for the use of her body. I enjoyed the pleasures of that body immensely. Do you hear me, Chief? I reveled in the sins of the flesh, and I paid her again and again. I deserve to die, for I have violated my sacred oaths.'

‘You don't have to be celibate in the Episcopal Church, Canon,' Rocco said kindly. ‘And even if it were required, I am afraid that breaking sacred vows is not a police matter. I cannot punish you.'

‘I broke a promise to my God, wife and self.'

‘Ashley's list of customers was quite extensive. If you are to be punished, it might be with a social disease.'

‘I would welcome infestation by maggots.'

‘The State of Connecticut can not sentence you to maggots, Canon,' Rocco said. ‘Not even for adultery.'

‘Isn't Lascivious Carriage still on the books?' Lyon asked.

‘God, Lyon, I haven't used that one since I closed down the nude dancing at Sarge's place back in eighty-seven. Besides, it's only a misdemeanor. I don't think a monetary fine is what the canon has in mind.'

‘I desire the complete mortification of my flesh.'

Rocco nodded. ‘Did you kill Ashley Towers, sir?'

‘I killed her like I killed the others.'

‘Others being the young woman in the woods and your church secretary?'

‘They are dead because of my sins.'

‘Sir, I am not going to arrest you for murder in order for you to expiate your sins.'

‘That is not for you to judge.'

‘Then let's get more detail,' Rocco said. He reached into his lower desk drawer and pulled out a small tape recorder. He checked the battery and cartridge before placing it on the edge of his desk. He identified the time and place. ‘Also present in my office are Lyon Wentworth and Canon Mead MacIntire. The Reverend MacIntire wishes to make a statement.'

Silence.

‘Did you kill the women?' Rocco pressed.

‘My name is legion,' was the reply. ‘The sins of all men rest upon me for I am the power and the glory.'

‘Are we into divine retribution here?' Rocco asked.

Canon Mead MacIntire's attitude changed as his lethargy became energized. He stood and threw out his arms in an expansive gesture. His deep voice rang in a sing-song cadence. ‘I am the way! I am thy savior and redeemer! My punishment is in retribution for thousands of sins. We face a millennium of purgatory and I shall lead the way.'

‘You have the right to remain silent,' Rocco said as he pulled a small laminated Miranda card from the desk. ‘You are not required to say anything to us at any time or to answer any questions. Anything you say can be used against you in court.'

‘I would like to point out that you do not have a murder weapon,' Lyon said. He cupped his pony of Dry Sack sherry in their booth at Sarge's place.

Rocco threw back a shot of vodka. His glass was immediately refilled by a hovering Sarge Renfroe. ‘I take it you don't buy thunderbolts from heaven striking them down?'

‘The guy is overwhelmed with guilt,' Lyon said. ‘At this point in his life he'd confess to active participation in the crucifixion.'

‘I've got a confession from him. In fact, I have several confessions from him. Some are written, some are on audio, and a particularly effective one is on video tape. I have four signed Mirandas. Everything has been done by the book and the guy still insists he killed three women.'

‘And no murder weapon. Not a single eye witness. You have arrested an emotionally distraught clergyman with no prior record, not even a traffic ticket.'

‘He'll probably never go to trial,' Rocco said. ‘In his present mental state no judge would rule him competent.'

‘That's true,' Lyon admitted.

‘Then again, look at what I do have. Our murdering canon feels surrounded by sin. He knows of a young woman having an affair with a married man while she carries another's baby. He's bird-watching in the state forest and comes across her stretched out naked on a blanket. He misjudges her naturally flirtatious nature as a real come-on. We know he's recently become filled with the raptures of the flesh, as he calls it, from Ashley's doings. He touches Boots intimately. She laughs or screams. Whichever way it came down it's enough to set him off and she gets herself shot.'

‘Barbara Styles, the church secretary, is punished for stealing.'

‘Appropriating the Lord's tithe was her death warrant,' Rocco said.

‘Killing Ashley was a way to permanently remove her unspeakable pleasures of the flesh.'

‘She was the instrument of his fall and therefore had to go. He could not live with his guilt.'

‘Where did the good canon say he stashed the murder weapon?' Lyon asked.