Page 7 of Go Home
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It was a miracle, of sorts.Dedicated to St.Andrew, the patron saint of fishermen, the church in Douglas Cove had been built entirely of wood, one-hundred-and-forty-five years ago.Despite being doused in diesel at three separate points, only the front, easterly section of the building had been destroyed, leaving the place looking as if a bite had been taken out of it by some gigantic hungry beast.
“Lucky it’s got rising damp, or it could have been worse,” said Owen Daniels, chief of Linnaeus County PD.
Kate didn’t know how to respond to that.The priest had been incinerated, and the historic church would still have to be bulldozed.Perhaps he meant that the fire hadn’t spread, which was, admittedly, a good thing.
By the time Kate and Marcus arrived, the body of Father Thomas had gone to the labs back in Portland, and a couple of white-suited crime scene techs were still on-site, bagging and cataloging evidence before stowing it in their van.Kate and Marcus met with Daniels in the church hall, a boxy, ugly, one-story building squatting on the undamaged side of the church.
“The next-door neighbor, Kyle Walsh, smelled the smoke at about eight-oh-five.He’s cut up about it, because he thought it was a bonfire.People burn a lot of leaves this time of the year,” the chief added, in case the FBI agents weren’t acquainted with the changing seasons.“In truth, it wouldn’t have made a difference; the fire department say that whole area was drenched with accelerant.He would have gone up fast.”
He gazed downward, as if in respect, for a moment or two, then continued.“Walsh has
second thoughts about four or five minutes later, walks out to investigate.”Daniels gestured to the fire door opposite them.“Out there’s the church garden.Walsh’s house is the other side of it.Took him no more than a minute or two to get around and see what was happening.Made the call at eight-twelve p.m.Hauled his garden hose out, but he couldn’t stop the flames.”
“I take it Walsh knew the priest.”
“Everyone knew Father Thomas.He was well-liked,” Daniels said, gazing directly at Kate.The chief was a strikingly handsome man in late middle-age.Lean and craggy, distinguished in his dark uniform, he looked out of place in this shabby little hall.
“Had he been here long?”
“Four years.I met him a few times.County Fair, public meetings, and so on.He got involved.Do you remember theSanta Clara?He was involved in a lot of that.Probably still is.I mean, sorry – “
He stopped himself, aware of what he’d just said.
TheSanta Clarawas an oil tanker, blown off course in tumultuous seas three years ago.The resulting oil slick had wrought terrible damage on the Maine coast and its inhabitants, and birthed a rash of lawsuits.As the chief had meant to imply, they were probably still ongoing.
“So he was an activist?”Marcus asked.
“Well, active, rather than an activist.”
“How long was he in holy orders?”Kate asked.“Any idea?”
Daniels shrugged.“I’ll tell you one thing.He seemed to have worked everywhere.I don’t know if that’s unusual for a priest, but if you mentioned somewhere, odds-on, Father Thomas had a connection to it.”
“Like where?”Kate asked.
“Ireland, Northern and the Republic.Boston.Virginia.Pennsylvania.Up and down the east coast.I don’t know if he was a restless soul or – “ He left it there.“He was a popular figure.People are very shocked.”
He checked his watch and hitched his pants.“Your boss requested some kind of working space for you.”
“Yes, is that possible?”
The chief nodded.“If you folks don’t mind hauling some boxes and filing cabinets out of the way, then we’re happy to have you… I have to say, though, I don’t really understand why the Bureau’s been called in on this.”
“I’m afraid we can’t discuss that,” Kate replied.
“Operational reasons,” Marcus added.
They used those two lines a lot.
Outside in the parking lot, they caught up with the scene-of-crime duo: one sipping coffee from a thermos, the other chastising a child on the telephone.
Kate nodded to the coffee drinker.“Mind if I look at the haul?”
She moved so that Kate could sift through the evidence bags in the topmost crate.
“You do what Daddy says,” said the other tech.“And I have to warn you: I’m already on the brink of canceling Friday.”
