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Authors: Erica Spindler
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and stood.
“Yup. We’ll call you when we arrest him.” He motioned the doorway. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”
When they reached it, she held out her hand. “Thank you, Detective.”
He took it. “You’re very welcome. By the way, I know where you recognized me from. My fiancée and I live in the Riverbend area. We were in your shop, she bought a fleur-de-lis panel for our front window.”
She smiled. “The one with the sunflower behind it?”
He reached around her and pushed the call button. “The very one.”
“I remember Stacy. I hope she’s doing well?”
“Great, thanks.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“I will.”
The elevator arrived and she stepped onto it. He held the door open. “If you happen to see Preacher, or if he shows up at your studio again, call me. Anytime, don’t hesitate.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it, as if there was something she wanted to say but worried she shouldn’t. Curiosity won out. “What’s he been arrested for?”
“Disturbing the peace. Resisting arrest. Trespassing. Burglary.”
She seemed to be attempting to come to grips with it all. After a moment, she said, “Do you think he meant to hurt me? I mean, I gave him money, so he followed me? I don’t get it. And you said he’s never been violent, so why the piece of glass? And why take my cross that way?”
“I wish I knew, Ms. Gallier. An impulse, maybe. He thought the glass was pretty, or your cross caught his eye so he grabbed it. Crazy people don’t need reasons. At least not ones that make sense to the rest of us.”
As the elevator doors whooshed shut, Spencer couldn’t help but recall what Bayle had said earlier about people doing crazy things for attention and his immediate negative reaction to it. Far-fetched was what he’d said. He wasn’t certain why, but he didn’t find it as out-there as before.
He went in search of his partner. When he had tried the Sisters of Mercy secretary earlier, she had been out of the office. He hoped Bayle had heard back from her.
He found Bayle at her desk, just ending a call. She grinned at him.
“Good news, partner. Preacher used to hang around Sisters of Mercy. He’d show up for mass some Sunday mornings, make folks a little nervous, but he was always respectful, just sort of slip in and out. But the last time he showed up for worship, he caused a ruckus.”
“How so?”
“Stood up during the homily and announced the end was near. He did everything but foam at the mouth, and finally they had to drag him out. Vicky said children were crying, the whole bit.”
He whistled. “Not a pretty picture.”
“Before they got him out the door, he shouted that same line he’d used on Gallier, about flesh being stripped from bones and eaten by demons.”
“Tasty.”
“Then he promised retaliation and called Father Girod a demon.”
“When did all this go down?”
“The Sunday before the murder.” She smiled again. “Just got off a call with the lab. Fingerprint tech got a beautiful set of prints from the candle holder—”
“Which we can compare to prints collected from our Mr. Preacher during a previous arrest.”
“Called the request in already.”
“I’m thinking this investigation is taking a turn for the better.”
“Me, too.” She leaned back in her chair, expression as satisfied as a cat’s. “Life is good.”
Life, it turned out twenty minutes later, wasn’t so great. The prints weren’t a match. Not even close.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Friday, August 12
1:00 P.M.
Mira arrived back at the studio just as Deni’s beginning glass class was letting out. She watched the half dozen women exit, her thoughts on what Detective Malone had said about Preacher’s reasoning.
For some odd reason, it comforted her.
Mira supposed it did because that simple observation was held together with the same thread as “bad things happen to good people” and “good people sometimes do bad things.”
The exiting students were
“Yup. We’ll call you when we arrest him.” He motioned the doorway. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”
When they reached it, she held out her hand. “Thank you, Detective.”
He took it. “You’re very welcome. By the way, I know where you recognized me from. My fiancée and I live in the Riverbend area. We were in your shop, she bought a fleur-de-lis panel for our front window.”
She smiled. “The one with the sunflower behind it?”
He reached around her and pushed the call button. “The very one.”
“I remember Stacy. I hope she’s doing well?”
“Great, thanks.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“I will.”
The elevator arrived and she stepped onto it. He held the door open. “If you happen to see Preacher, or if he shows up at your studio again, call me. Anytime, don’t hesitate.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it, as if there was something she wanted to say but worried she shouldn’t. Curiosity won out. “What’s he been arrested for?”
“Disturbing the peace. Resisting arrest. Trespassing. Burglary.”
She seemed to be attempting to come to grips with it all. After a moment, she said, “Do you think he meant to hurt me? I mean, I gave him money, so he followed me? I don’t get it. And you said he’s never been violent, so why the piece of glass? And why take my cross that way?”
“I wish I knew, Ms. Gallier. An impulse, maybe. He thought the glass was pretty, or your cross caught his eye so he grabbed it. Crazy people don’t need reasons. At least not ones that make sense to the rest of us.”
As the elevator doors whooshed shut, Spencer couldn’t help but recall what Bayle had said earlier about people doing crazy things for attention and his immediate negative reaction to it. Far-fetched was what he’d said. He wasn’t certain why, but he didn’t find it as out-there as before.
He went in search of his partner. When he had tried the Sisters of Mercy secretary earlier, she had been out of the office. He hoped Bayle had heard back from her.
He found Bayle at her desk, just ending a call. She grinned at him.
“Good news, partner. Preacher used to hang around Sisters of Mercy. He’d show up for mass some Sunday mornings, make folks a little nervous, but he was always respectful, just sort of slip in and out. But the last time he showed up for worship, he caused a ruckus.”
“How so?”
“Stood up during the homily and announced the end was near. He did everything but foam at the mouth, and finally they had to drag him out. Vicky said children were crying, the whole bit.”
He whistled. “Not a pretty picture.”
“Before they got him out the door, he shouted that same line he’d used on Gallier, about flesh being stripped from bones and eaten by demons.”
“Tasty.”
“Then he promised retaliation and called Father Girod a demon.”
“When did all this go down?”
“The Sunday before the murder.” She smiled again. “Just got off a call with the lab. Fingerprint tech got a beautiful set of prints from the candle holder—”
“Which we can compare to prints collected from our Mr. Preacher during a previous arrest.”
“Called the request in already.”
“I’m thinking this investigation is taking a turn for the better.”
“Me, too.” She leaned back in her chair, expression as satisfied as a cat’s. “Life is good.”
Life, it turned out twenty minutes later, wasn’t so great. The prints weren’t a match. Not even close.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Friday, August 12
1:00 P.M.
Mira arrived back at the studio just as Deni’s beginning glass class was letting out. She watched the half dozen women exit, her thoughts on what Detective Malone had said about Preacher’s reasoning.
For some odd reason, it comforted her.
Mira supposed it did because that simple observation was held together with the same thread as “bad things happen to good people” and “good people sometimes do bad things.”
The exiting students were
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