3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) (6 page)

Chapter Nine

I parked on the street and walked up to the police station. The white walls and green pyramid roof seemed to breathe authority and warning to anyone thinking of breaking the law. As I passed under the seal of the city of Columbus above the doors, I felt a weird sense of guilt, as if I had just been out committing a crime.

The grim old guard poked and prodded to make sure I had no firearms on my body. I thought about the standard “date” jokes, but the people manning the security checkpoint didn’t seem like the joking kind.

I went up to the information desk. “Hi, I’m looking for Detective Jennifer Brown.”

An African-American woman with graying hair gave me a warm smile. “I can help you, darlin’, but I need to know who you are.”

I smiled. “I’m Pastor Aidan Schaeffer. I have an appointment with her at one o’clock.”

She looked at her sheet. “Ah, right. Pastor, if you could sign in here. I will give you your visitor’s badge.”

I signed my name and took the badge.

“Go down the hall, take the elevator to the fifth floor,” she said. “There’s a lady who will take you to Detective Brown. I’ll let them know you are coming.”

“Thank you very much.”

“No problem, take care.”

I followed the directions and was met by a middle-aged white lady in an officer’s uniform.

“Pastor Schaeffer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please follow me.”

She led me past a group of desks and cubicles. I saw pictures of families, wanted posters, handcuffs, and various other cop materials.

A sign hung over a door that read “Major Case Squad.” I had heard somewhere that they handled major murder investigations. That thought made my heart beat a little quicker.

The cop took me to a small room. “Could I get you anything, Pastor Schaeffer?”

“Some water would be nice, thanks.”

She left the room, and I pulled out a metal folding chair from a small table. The room had been painted a dull white, and no pictures hung on the walls. A darkened window to my left made me wonder why it had been put there before I realized it was one-way glass, and there might be people on the other side.

This was an interrogation room.

I tried to look calm and not fidget. After fifteen minutes in the room alone, it became hard to sit still. Finally, the lady cop came back with a water bottle.

“Sorry about the delay, pastor. Here is your water. The detective will be in shortly.”

“Um, ma’am? I hope it won’t be too long. I have some other appointments later this afternoon.”

“No problem. Just a few more minutes.”

A few more minutes turned into another fifteen. I looked at the time on my phone and decided to play a few rounds of Texas hold ‘em.

I finished one hand, then another, and then another.

Where was this detective? This was getting a bit ridiculous.

I began to text my brother when at last, a woman walked into the room.

I missed her initial greeting because I couldn’t help staring. Her black shiny hair hung down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a distracting shade of green. Her body reminded me of the curves on a sound wave diagram. A slight hint of coconut wafted toward me as she walked over to the table.

“Pastor Schaeffer?”

I nodded. “I am sorry, detective, a bit distracted this morning. Never been in a police station before, believe it or not.”

She looked me over and gave me a polite smile. I noticed a thin ragged scar that stretched from the side of her mouth.

How did that happen?

“And we don’t get too many ministers here either,” she said as she sat down opposite me. She offered me her hand. I took it and marveled at her soft, yet firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor Schaeffer.”

“Aidan, please, detective. I don’t insist on ‘Pastor’ very much.”

“You can call me Jennifer.”

She smiled, and I had the chance to be distracted all over again. I’d bet this woman got criminals to confess to anything just by being in the room with them. I’d probably confess to any crime she wanted.

“Do you mind if my boss joins us?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

She motioned at the window and confirmed my suspicion. “Sorry, I’m a new detective. They put us in these rooms so they can observe me. I don’t like it much.”

“I can relate. I’ve taken ordination exams.”

She smiled and raised her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yep, wrote for fifteen hours and then defended what I wrote for about five hours in an oral exam in front of forty people, all biblical scholars.”

“Wow, and I thought preachers had an easy life.”

“Hardly.”

After a soft knock on the door, a salt and pepper-haired man with an athletic build walked into the room. The guy looked like he probably ran marathons for fun. His suit had a crisp just-back-from-the-dry-cleaners look. He had a pleasant relaxed face, but the intense blue-gray shine of his eyes made me feel like I was being X-rayed.

He held out his hand. “Pastor Schaeffer, Lieutenant Scott Weaver. Thank you for coming in and talking with us.”

“No problem, lieutenant. And please, it’s just Aidan.”

“Great, call me Scott then.”

He sat in a chair backed up to the blackened window and waved his hand to Jennifer. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Jennifer cleared her throat. “For the record, Aidan, could you state your full name?”

“Aidan Chester Schaeffer.” I tried not to grimace. I hated that middle name. It had been one of those old family names that, for some reason, people couldn’t let die.

If Jennifer found it funny, she didn’t show it. “And your occupation?”

“I’m the Assistant Pastor of Ministries at John Knox Presbyterian Church.”

“How long have you been at the church?”

“Um, it’ll be two years in March.”

“Thank you and your address please?”

“197 North Cove, Columbus, Ohio.”

“Good, thank you.” Jennifer wrote something down. She took out a picture and slid it across the table. “Do you recognize this person?”

She handed me a picture. I looked at it, and my throat tightened. Amanda.

“Yeah, yeah I do. That’s Amanda McDougal, my ex-fiancée.”

Jennifer tapped her pencil. “When was the last time you spoke with Ms. McDougal?”

“May 15
^th
, 8:00 P.M.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A bit precise on that one, aren’t we?”

I sighed. “It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.”

“Can you please relate the nature of this conversation?”

I stared at Jennifer’s face. It may as well have been a map written in French, full of information but giving none of it away. “I’m sorry, did I miss something? Why are you asking me questions about Amanda? Is she okay?”

She looked at Lieutenant Weaver, who nodded. “Aidan, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Amanda is dead.”

My vision blurred as though I had suddenly become aware of the earth’s rotation. I had not realized how much I still loved Amanda until that moment. What had been a dull ache in the back of my soul now sprung up in a quick, sharp pain, like someone knifing me in the gut.

“Are you okay?” Jennifer asked.

“I’m sorry, I … I just can’t believe…”

My throat constricted as tears built in my eyes.

“Take a minute. It’s okay,” Lieutenant Weaver said.

I fought to get a hold of myself. “How?”

“Before I explain how, you must understand this is a private investigation. The identity of the victim has just become known as of a few hours ago. The family was just informed this morning. We have not released the name of the victim to the press. All they know is that there has been a brutal death. We are trying to let the family have some time.”

I thought about Amanda’s mom and sister. They had endured so much devastation in their lives already, and this would be the worst for them. Amanda had been the rock in her family after her father had died in a car accident a few years ago.

“I understand.” The tears began to build in my eyes again. I fought the urge to let the dam open.

“We have every reason to believe that Amanda was murdered.”

I nodded. “I kind of guessed that but how?”

“We’ll get to that, but first we need to ask some more questions.”

“If you think it will help,” I said, recovering some control in my voice.

Jen nodded and wrote something down on a small notepad.

“Where were you on January 6th, at about three in the morning?”

“That was what, two days ago?”

“Yes.”

“I imagine I was at home sleeping.”

Jen looked at me with her left eye scrunched in a skeptical twitch. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, wh … no! Wait, I’m sorry. I was at the hospital.”

“What were you doing at the hospital at three in the morning? Cut yourself doing yard work?”

I got a bit annoyed. “It wasn’t for me.”

“Then, why?” Jen pressed.

I gripped the water bottle. “Detective Brown, I’m a minister, and like doctors we often get calls in the middle of the night. On that night, or rather that morning, I got the call at about one o’clock. A member of our congregation called to say her husband was having severe chest pains.”

Jen traced a finger along her scar. “And you rushed right off to be there?”

“I did. Even if I wasn’t on call, I would have.”

“On call?”

“The senior pastor and I take turns being on emergency pastoral call.”

“Can you describe what that looks like?”

I folded my arms against my chest. “Whenever there is an emergency in the church, for example, if someone goes to the hospital, plumbing breaks, or little Julie has just gotten pregnant … whatever it is, we drop what we are doing and go.”

“I see.” Jennifer continued writing on her notepad. “Can you tell me their names?”

“Of course, Olan and Edna Wilkes. It turns out Olan just had a bad case of acid reflux, thank God, but it took them about seven hours to get the diagnosis.”

“You stayed the whole time? Why?”

“Um, because I didn’t want Edna to be alone while her husband might have been having a heart attack.”

“You care that much?”

Enough was enough. “I’m sorry, detective, does this have anything to do with Amanda’s murder?”

“It could.”

“What, are you trying to establish my alibi? Am I a suspect or something?” I stared at them, not understanding the direction the conversation had taken.

“That’s exactly what we are trying to do,” Lieutenant Weaver said.

I couldn’t believe it. Me? A murder suspect?

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, we are,” Weaver said.

“How did you come up with that?”

“We’ll get to that, Pastor Schaeffer,” Jennifer said.

So, she was back to Pastor Schaeffer. “No, I don’t want to
get to that
, I want to know now!”

Jennifer stared at me. I couldn’t figure out how eyes that beautiful could look so cold. “Pastor Schaeffer, we will get to everything in due process. For now, let me ask the questions.”

“I’m sorry, but this is all a bit much.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it is, but if your story checks out about the hospital, you’re in the clear. I’m having an officer call the Wilkes’ right now, but in the meantime, I need to ask you some more questions.”

I crossed my legs and sat back in the chair. “Okay.”

“I want to return to that last conversation with Ms. McDougal. Describe the nature of your relationship about that time.”

“Do I have to? It’s not really one of my finer moments.”

She nodded. “Please.”

I sighed. “Well, to begin with, breaking up was not my idea. She met some other pastor. I never found out who it was, and she said she needed someone more spiritual in her life.”

“And how did you react?” She wrote on her legal pad, not looking at me.

“Well, I guess I exploded. We were engaged, got a dog together, and were making plans for the future. It was like being punched in the face. I really thought we were going to spend our lives together. I called her every name I could think of.”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows at me. “That’s not very spiritual of you.”

Yeah, well I’m not very spiritual anymore, so stick it up your ass!

“Ministers are people too, as some people seem to forget. Just like cops, I would imagine,” I growled.

She looked at Weaver, who gave me a slight smile. “Good point,” he said. “And you haven’t talked to her since?”

“No, I haven’t. I wanted to call her all the time, but my stupid pride got in the way. I didn’t want to be the pathetic ex, whining about how good we were together.”

“And so you just let her go? Forgot about your love for her?” Jen stared at me in disbelief.

I threw up my hands. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. It’s also why I haven’t slept soundly for the past six months or stopped complaining to my friends about how lonely I am now. You can ask them if you like.”

“So, no emails? No text messages? Nothing?” Weaver pressed.

“No, not in the least. She didn’t even come over to my place to pick up the stuff she had left at my condo.”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “You two lived together?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, detective. If we did, you can bet your gun I would’ve been fired. But she did spend a lot of time at my place.”

“Do you still have her stuff?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I probably should give it to Ann, Amanda’s mom.”

“You will need to give it to us,” Jennifer said.

She looked at Lieutenant Weaver again, who nodded.

“Pastor Schaeffer,” she continued, “do you recognize the handwriting on this sheet of paper?” She passed a photocopy over to me.

“Yeah, it’s Amanda’s.” I took the note in my hand and forced it not to shake. I cleared my throat and read. “Aidan, he is the one. Find him at the Caves of the Dead. 614-181-0844.”

I looked up at Jennifer. “That’s my phone number.”

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “This note was found on Amanda’s body. As you can see, it seems to indicate you are the murderer.”

Smartly done, accusing me of murder without actually saying so. I guess I couldn’t blame them. But seeing as I was innocent, it didn’t worry me.