Wednesday, June 20th, 2018
“St. Alban’s, this is it. The church the Davises attend,” Kate said as Rosebud slowed down to park.
“You have a plan?” Rosebud asked as they marched toward the large front entrance. Its white pillars made the building look more like a courthouse than a church to Kate.
“Let’s wing it. Start with the priest, or the father, or whatever he’s called.”
“Seriously, Murphy. Let me do the talking if you’re this clueless about Catholicism.”
“Be my guest!” Kate said as she pulled open the large black door for her partner.
A stale scent of old books and candle wax reached Kate’s nostrils as they entered. The clicks of her low heels made her self-conscious as they echoed against the pastel-colored walls. Only a handful of people were present, scattered along the front. Nobody was holding mass. The church was eerily quiet. Too quiet for her taste.
Kate took a few more steps then turned around to take in her surroundings. Various flags hung over the main area, perched along the edge of the two balconies that lined the main room. Above the entrance through which they’d just stepped reigned a large organ with long white and baby blue pipes. Although nobody was playing it now, she could easily imagine how beautiful the music would sound, echoing into this cavernous room.
She had to admit it was much plainer than she had expected, though. Nothing like the intricate churches she’d seen in movies… Then again, those had probably been cathedrals or some other larger places of worship built centuries ago.
“Come on, Murphy. Follow me. We’ll head to the sacristy.”
A minute later, Rosebud had found the man they had come to see: an older gentleman, probably in his early fifties, graying at the temples but still brown-haired everywhere else. He paced the floor, a loose sheet of paper in his hand as he talked aloud to himself. His round belly and short stature made Kate’s gut doubt the man had anything to do with Lori’s death—not to mention his profession as a man of God—but everyone was still a suspect as far as she was concerned. After all, hadn’t many Catholic priests been found guilty of the most dreadful sin of all?
“Father Coffedy?”
“Yes?” He stopped in his tracks and looked up from his script.
“I’m Detective Rosebud, this is Detective Murphy. We’re with the Boston PD. We’d like to ask a few questions if you have a minute.”
His eyebrows lifted as he began nodding. “Of course, of course.” Then he looked around him. “I’m afraid there isn’t really a place for us to sit down, though.”
“That’s fine. We can stand. We won’t take much of your time.”
“All right. How may I help you?”
“Lori Davis, the daughter of Francine and Doug Davis, do you know her?”
“Of course! It’s so horrible what happened to her.”
The man kissed the cross that hung from around his neck and crossed himself with his right hand. His face looked solemn and somber, but Kate wondered if it was just a facade. “The Davises have been coming here forever. She was baptized here, first communion, confirmation, the whole lot.”
“When did you last see her?”
Father Coffedy tilted his head and scratched his right temple with his index finger.
“I’m not sure, really. I want to say two or so weeks ago. It was while her parents were away. Do you know more? Why did this happen to such a lovely girl?”
“We don’t know yet. We’re trying to trace her last whereabouts. We’re also trying to find a motive. Other people have reported seeing her here for mass on Sunday, June 3rd. Does that seem right to you?”
He brought his hand to cover his mouth, then peeled it away as he twisted the one end of his mustache. “I’m not sure she attended mass that day, but I remember hearing her confession.”
“Care to share what she confessed?” Kate asked.
“I’m sorry, Detective. But her words were between the Lord and her. I cannot relay that information to you.”
“I get that, Father,” Kate said. “But she’s dead now, and we’re trying to find the killer. We don’t know if he’s currently looking for his next victim—”
“You don’t think it was random? You think someone targeted this poor child?”
“Father,” Rosebud interjected, “I understand your responsibility toward the church and the confidentiality of the confessions you hear, but if there’s anything you remember that could help us identify her killer—and possibly prevent other murders—I’d greatly appreciate it if you shared that information with us. What you say will only be used to help the case. We won’t share it with the media.”
The man frowned at Rosebud. “Breaking the Seal of the Confession is grounds for excommunication.”
“Are there security cameras on the premises? Something that would allow us to see who she may have talked to after mass or if she left with somebody?” Rosebud asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know a young man named David Dempsey?”
“Do you mean the son of Karen and Nate Dempsey? Over in the South End?”
Rosebud lifted his shoulders. “Maybe. He was dating Lori Davis.”
“Yes, that’s the one. I know him. Fine chap.”
“Does he attend church here?”
“No, his family lives over by the cathedral. They go to mass there.”
“And how do you know?” Kate asked.
“Lack of priests. We’re no longer assigned to one specific parish anymore. We rotate to cover all the various masses and ceremonies that are needed of us.”
“One more thing. Actually two more questions if you wouldn’t mind,” Kate asked.
“Of course, Detective.”
Kate pulled a photo of the blue rosary and showed it the him. “We found this at the scene. Do you recognize it?”
The father nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“That’s what we’d like to ask you about. How many of those are around?”
He tilted his head once more. “I honestly have no idea, but I can give you the name and number of the volunteer who has been teaching people how to make them.”
“Is this some sort of church program?” Rosebud asked.
“No, no.” The father shook his head. “I’m afraid Catholics don’t normally partake in any sort of fundraisers, other than the money we collect during mass to help with church maintenance. But our numbers are dropping faster than I can get new parishioners. Times have changed so the other priests and I decided to try new things. Be more forward-thinking. It wouldn’t hurt to support those in need in the community. While they may not decide to join our church, at least we’re doing something good for the neighborhood.”
“I’m not sure I’m following,” Rosebud added. “Your lessons on how to make rosaries help the community?”
“Oh no! That’s just because we couldn’t meet the demand. We sell the rosaries that our volunteers make. All profits go to those who need financial help. The only money we keep is to cover the costs of the thread. The rest goes to families in need.”
“Any idea how many people actively produce those rosaries that you sell?”
He shook his head once more. “I’m afraid I’m out of the loop. Follow me. I’ll get that information for you.”
Rosebud and Kate followed him through a couple of wooden doors and ended up in a small office where a man with a cast sat at a desk and typed with one hand.
“Anderson,” the father said. “Could you print out Mary’s contact information, please? And before I forget, there’s some dry-cleaning I’ll need your help with later today.”
“Of course, Father,” he said, smiling. He nodded at the detectives before moving his uninjured hand from the keyboard to the mouse and back.
“Must be tough to do office work with just one hand,” Rosebud said.
“All I can do is my best. It may take a little extra time, but it’s better my bones heal properly.”
“What happened to you?” Rosebud asked, sitting on the corner of the man’s desk.
Kate wanted to roll her eyes but refrained from it. As much as she despised small talk, she admired her partner’s ability to do it. To stand it.
“Silly accident.” He shook his head. “A friend convinced me to try roller skating. I was going really fast down a hill and fell. Badly.”
“Ouch!” Rosebud grimaced.
“Wanna see my X-rays?” Anderson asked.
Kate cleared her throat, putting an end to the useless chatter. “Could you get that contact information first?”
“Of course.”
A few seconds later, the intermittent sounds of an older dot-matrix printer echoed in the small room and a sheet of paper came out of the device just as a tall, broad-shouldered man entered the room.
“Should be on that piece of paper,” Anderson said.
“Thanks, man,” Rosebud said as he got up to retrieve it.
“Are you also a priest?” Kate asked, partly wanting to pin Rosebud for his lack of respect.
“No, not yet,” he said.
“And you?” Kate asked the newly arrived man.
Father Coffedy chimed in. “This is Harold, a volunteer who helps us out. He’s not a priest. This here is Candidate Anderson. He took time off during his last year of seminary for personal reasons. But he’ll soon be returning to his studies. He should be ordained in the coming months.”
Kate nodded. “So were all of you here after mass on Sunday, June 3rd?”
“Yes,” Father Coffedy said while Anderson and Harold nodded.
Father Coffedy continued. “I try to stay for about an hour and mingle with parishioners. We have a core group that likes to hang out when the weather is nice. Then, if I recall correctly, I had to leave to perform a marriage ceremony at a different parish.”
“And you?” Kate asked Anderson.
“I mingled for a while then probably came back here to catch up on my computer tasks. I’m not the fastest typist at the moment,” he said, pointing to his arm.
“Harold?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. What they said. I, too, stick around after mass and help with whatever task I can help with.”
“Do you want to see my X-rays?” Anderson asked Rosebud once more, his tone overly enthusiastic for this early in the morning.
But Rosebud took the bait. “Sure, I had a broken arm once. Let’s see the damage.”
Kate looked at her watch. Parts of her wished she could come across as friendly as Rosebud did. But then again, she didn’t. Oh, the boring discussions he gets into sometimes…
Anderson opened a drawer and pulled out his phone, then swiped past a dozen photos before finding the one he was looking for.
“Look at that! Ain’t I lucky the bone didn’t pierce through the skin?”
Rosebud winced as he stared at the image. “Whoa! When did that happen?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Take care of yourself, man. Let it heal properly.” Rosebud lifted the sheet of paper in the air. “Thanks, Father, Anderson, and Harold. You have a nice day now.”
Rosebud started walking away when Kate pulled out one of her business cards and dropped it on the corner of Anderson’s desk. “Father, Harold, or Anderson, if you remember anything that can help us solve Lori Davis’s murder, do give us a call, please.”
“Will do, Detective,” Father Coffedy said.
“And Father,” Kate said, stopping in her tracks. “Who are the other priests you referred to earlier? The ones from the area who are more forward thinking?”
“Oh, only one of them is the forward-thinking one: Father Matthews. He’s new and very smart. Very educated as well. His breadth of knowledge on most subjects is nothing short of impressive. Father Miller and I are convinced he’s onto something.”