The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) by Brian Shea (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📗

his worry. “But you and I have known Debbie for a long time. I seriously doubt she’s a cold-hearted killer, but it definitely gives me another person to talk to after I leave here.”

Donny looked temporarily relieved.

“Continue,” Kelly said.

“After replacing the wine, I went into the sacristy and changed out of my vestments. I wasn’t going to be presiding over the next service. Father Tomlin would have been taking the second half of today’s Mass schedule.”

“Is that normal? Do priests usually rotate?”

“No, not always. Depends. But today we split the workload. Father Tomlin's trying to establish himself within the community, and the more the parishioners see his face in front of the crowd, the more comfortable they'll be with him."

"Okay, so you were in the sacristy," Kelly confirmed. "And then what?"

"There was still about thirty minutes until the next service was scheduled to begin, so I went to my office in the back to catch up on Sports Center. The Pats are playing at three.”

Kelly saw his friend mentally punish himself for giving in to the guilty pleasure of his fandom. After a tragic event, people tended to play the “what if?” game. And Kelly knew his friend would find a way to blame himself for leaving the main space of the church. The priest’s Irish-Catholic guilt would be working its magic for a long time to come.

"Okay, you had another Mass coming in thirty minutes or so? When do you typically wrap up confession before the next Mass?"

"Again, it really depends on the number of people waiting to receive their penance. But we try to stop hearing confession about fifteen minutes before the next wave of congregants enter. I guess it’s roughly a thirty-minute window where confessions can be heard. Anyone who didn’t get a chance would be asked to come back at another time.” O’Brien shrugged. “To be honest, there usually aren't too many lingering to confess their sins after a service ends. Most are rushing for the door."

A thirty-minute window at best. Kelly made a mental note. He’d document it later in his notebook but wanted to give Donny his full attention now. "Who else was in the church? Any of the parish staff?"

"In the main area of the church it was just Father Tomlin and me. The altar boys had already changed and were long gone. Those kids can't get out of those clothes quick enough and get back out on the street. You remember how it was, right, Mike?"

Again, Donny was reminding him of a different time, and Kelly’s service as an altar boy within the Archdiocese of Boston. And yes, he could remember how quickly he could disrobe from his religious wear before cutting out to the street to play with friends.

"Was anybody here when you found the priest?"

"No," Donny answered. "Nobody was here."

"Nobody? Debbie wasn’t still present?"

Donny shook his head. "Whoever did this had to have been the last person Father Tomlin had seen."

"Do you keep a running list of who comes in? Is there a sign-in book for confession?"

"No, we'd never do that. That'd be like asking someone to put a placard out saying that they've sinned and 'look at me.' We don't keep track of those who come. It's supposed to be anonymous. That's why we still use the closed confessional box, Mike." Then Donny paused, and when he spoke next, his voice cracked slightly. “Do you want me to show you his body?”

"No, that’s not the way it works. I can’t have you re-enter the church until we’re done processing it. And I'm not walking into a scene until I've got as complete a picture as I can establish. With that being said, how many people have been in the church since you called me?"

"Just those two cops you saw me talking to. They entered the church to make sure nobody was hiding in there. They searched the area, confirmed that Father Tomlin was dead, and then came back out. So besides me, just those two officers down there."

Kelly took out his notepad for the first time since they'd begun talking and jotted down the notes he’d mentally accumulated. "And about what time was that, Donny, if you had to guess?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mike. Probably fifteen minutes or so before you arrived."

Looking at his watch, Kelly noted the time. "And before they arrived, when you called me, you had just found Father Tomlin?"

"Yes." Donny nodded.

"Okay, good, that gives me a nice window of time to work with. If you had to guess, how long of a gap between the last time you saw Father Tomlin and when you made that call to me? How much time had passed?"

"I don't know, Mike, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, if I had to guess."

Again, Kelly noted the time with a squiggly line to denote the approximate nature of it. But looking at it, he realized the murder would've happened at the very tail end of the confessional time period that Donny had explained earlier. The killer appeared to have waited until they were the last person inside the church. Unless more than one party was involved.

"Okay. That's good, Donny. That was really good. I think you've given me some stuff to work on."

"Thanks, Mike." Donny looked relieved.

Kelly knew his friend wanted to feel as though he was contributing, helping in some way, especially in such dire circumstances.

“One more thing,” Kelly said. “Was anything missing from the church? Money or any items of value?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so—I could check.”

Kelly jotted this down and looked up. “We can figure that out later. Just asking. Not a big deal right now. I know this is all a bit overwhelming.”

"So, what's next, Mike?" Donny asked, looking around as the crowd for the next Mass began to fill in along the yellow police tape, panic in their eyes.

Kelly turned and looked around. "Well, it’s going to be pretty crazy for a bit. The media will be all over the place. We're going to have