Black Princess Mystery (23 page)

“How would
you rate his looks? Do you think he was a handsome man?”

“He was
very handsome, just like you.”

Thorston
smiled awkwardly.

“He could
charm the panties off a nun,” Tasheka added, “and he did, more than once.”

Thorston
smirked at her crude remark.

“Or maybe
he was just bragging. Men can be such dreadful braggarts sometimes, can’t they,
Detective Henry?”

“Is there
anything else about Jake Thompson that I should know?” Thorston asked.

“Well,”
Tasheka said meaningfully, “the trouble really heated up last June. There was a
mixed tournament at the golf club and Father Tim got teamed with Linda
Thompson. Jake Thompson is a big man, but as clumsy as a sloth. He hates golf.
Linda loves golf and that’s the one thing she refuses to let Jake control. In
the mixed tournament all names are thrown into a hat. Jake hates the idea of
his wife playing golf with another man, but he knew she wouldn’t back down.”

“I’m
surprised he didn’t insist that she not play.”

“It might
have worked in the short term, but a woman can always turn as cold as ice in
the bedroom. I’m sure that was the political situation in the Thompson
household. No golf, no sex.”

“You have
a funny way of putting things.”

Tasheka
lightly put her hand on his arm. “Like a lot of men, he hates his wife’s
sexuality, but he loves her sex, so he put up with it.” She removed her hand.
“The other reality is that golf is not wrestling. There is no need for physical
contact of any kind. Though they are teams, men and women never have to
physically touch, except for maybe a congratulatory handshake when it’s all
said and done.”

“Did they
shake hands afterwards?” Thorston asked. “If Thompson is as jealous as you say,
maybe Murphy merely shaking Linda Thompson’s hand put him over the edge.”

“He hated
the idea of Father Tim shaking her hand, no doubt about it. You could see it in
his eyes. Back in his pub days, he would have ripped a man’s throat out if he
so much as shook Linda’s hand.”

“Now
that’s major league jealousy.”

“Jake was
pleased she was paired with the village priest. He could relax because there
was no threat, not even any tension. He followed her around the course and
cheered her on like a dutiful husband, but they fell out of contention. They
were playing alternate shot and on the eighteenth hole Father Tim drove his tee
shot directly behind Dead Man’s Oak, just like in the tournament when he beat
Mike Power. He said it was the one thing he didn’t want to do, but it just kept
happening.”

“I know
what he means. When I play, I tell myself to do anything but hit it in the lake
and guess where I always hit it?”

“That’s
what he did. Linda had to take the next shot and she sprayed it into the water.
They laughed good-naturedly and she suddenly hugged Father Tim, pressing her
breasts hard against him.”

“You saw
it?”

“Me and
about fifty others.”

“Including
Jake?”

“Including
Jake.”

“That must
have been a shocker for him.”

“You could
say that. I thought he was going to have a heart attack on the spot. His face
literally turned purple and sweat beaded on his forehead. It was painful to
watch, especially when Father Tim and Linda looked into each other’s eyes. She
had that animal kind of look, if you know what I mean. Her expression was
sexual.”

“Forbidden
fruit is the most delicious, they say.”

“It was
obvious she found him exciting,” Tasheka said. “Father Tim smiled at her, not
knowing Jake was turning three shades of green. And as they were separating,
his right hand slipped off her back and pressed against her breast. It was an
accident, you could tell, but her eyes flashed. He felt no pain either.”

“How long
did it last?”

“It’s hard
to judge these things, but I would say his hand lingered for a moment. Not
quite a squeeze, but definitely a feel.”

“How did
her husband react?”

“He looked
homicidal, almost clinically insane.”

“I see.”

“Apparently
that night it was not fun and games at the Thompson household,” Tasheka
continued. “He called her every name in the book. She told Father Tim later
that Jake wavered between suicide and homicide for weeks, but eventually things
quieted down and they put their house up for sale. But in November, when Jake
was at work, Linda started visiting the church and making the confessions
Mildred heard. She told him all these things. He was a shoulder to cry on and
she fell for him. That’s when she exposed herself. In time, it got back to
Jake.”

“Wow,”
said Thorston. “Did he ever threaten the priest?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“A couple
weeks before the murder, Father Tim came back to the rectory from a call and
found a visitor waiting for him. It was Jake Thompson. He had jimmied the back
door and was sitting on the living room couch.”

“What did
the priest do?”

“Father
Tim said nothing and sat on the chair across the room. He told me there was a
long silence and apparently Jake just kept staring at him. He said his eyes
were cold and reminded him of shark eyes he had seen on a documentary. Suddenly
Jake stood up, but he never stopped staring.”

“Did he
say anything?”

“Jake said
that if Father Tim ever touched Linda again or even spoke to her in the
confession box, he would slice him up into little pieces and feed him to the
crows.”

“That’ll
get your attention.”

“I’d say
so. It definitely got Father Tim’s attention.”

“Do you
think he was serious?” Thorston asked, pleased by the feeling of intimacy.

“He was
deadly serious.”

“Was that
the end of it, Tasheka?”

“Where men
and women are concerned, there is never an end. That’s what makes the world go
around.”

“How do
you know all this?”

“Partly my
own investigations and partly from speaking with Father Tim. Sometimes he would
sit with me in the park and rattle off confessions as if I was the priest.”

“When did
you last speak with him?”

“The
morning of the murder,” she said. “I called him and he was very open about his
problems. He also admitted that Linda Thompson had been sending emails for
months about her, how shall I say, strong desires.”

“What did
he do?”

“He told
her to be very careful, but encouraged her to explain everything in detail so
that he could offer advice. She apparently didn’t need to be told twice.”

“This
Desdemona is no vestal virgin.”

“Not since
Nixon was president.”

“Think
Jake found one of his wife’s emails?”

“Worse.
The last day I spoke to him, Father Tim told me that Linda had called early the
previous day. Apparently she had gotten drunk the night before, fought with
Jake over money, and then foolishly printed out their entire email
correspondence. She threw all the papers on Jake’s lap before she went to bed.
When she woke up the next morning, she realized what she had done and saw the
papers neatly stacked on her dresser with a knife pinning them down.”

Thorston
frowned. “That was a stupid thing for her to do.”

“People
aren’t machines. They do stupid things, Thorston.”

“I realize
that, but this one could win the stupidity award.” He shook his head. “What
happened then?”

“She
burned the bawdy letters and called Father Tim to tell him what happened. They
had a heated argument, she said she wished she was dead, and then she hung up.
Around lunch time Father Tim got an email that unnerved him.”

“Who was
it from?”

“Someone
with the name
Crow Food
.”

“What did
it say?”

“The email
simply read: ‘I warned you.’”

“Hmm.”
Again the detective’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” He turned away. “Yes, I’m at the
lake looking at some possibilities.” He listened for several seconds and lifted
his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure? All right, I’ll be back in the office
as soon as I can.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “I have some news.”

“Which
is?”

“There’s a
lead on William Murphy’s whereabouts. McNab is very eager to speak with him.”

“How
eager?”

“He’s
chomping at the bit. Apparently he learned something very interesting about
William Murphy and it doesn’t look good for the brother.” He held up his hands.
“McNab told me William Murphy has definitely jumped to the head of the line.”

Tasheka
handed him a piece of paper with an address written on it.

“What’s
this?” he asked.

“Are you
free tonight?”

“Probably,”
he said. “Even if we find the priest’s brother, McNab will want to question him
first. Why?”

“I’m
driving Mom to the city tonight and dropping her off at her friend’s house.
They’re going to the university to hear Handel’s
Messiah.
She does it every year on Christmas Eve. Anyway, I own a
downtown condo and I’ll be staying there tonight. If you’re free, stop by.”

“I’d like
that,” he said, “but I can only stay until eight. My family always has a little
get together on Christmas Eve.” He paused. “Would you like to come?”

“At some
point,” she said, “but not quite yet.” She stood up. “I’ll be there around five
and you come whenever you can. If you don’t show, I’ll know you were too busy.”

“I plan on
being there,” he assured her.

Chapter
Fifteen

They
walked back to their cars and Thorston hesitated, as if wanting to ask her
something. She waited a moment, giving him the chance, but he held back.
Tasheka got into her car and drove away. For the next few hours, Tasheka sat in
her room and listened to music. She walked downstairs in the mid-afternoon.
“Let’s go for a walk, Momma.”

“All
right, dear.”

The two
women walked past Big Mike’s store, St. Timothy’s Church, and the Lakeside
Garage. They waved to Matt Vendor and a few villagers who were out in their
yards, then proceeded past several houses that ran along the golf course,
screened from it by a row of trees. At the sign for Lakeside they turned around
at Matt’s little yellow house. Standing in the large front window was Marissa,
her eyes sickly and sunken. She looked like someone who was waiting to die.
Tasheka and Mrs. Green waved, and Marissa waved back, weakly and tentatively,
and then slipped away like a shadow.

The Green
women had not walked another thirty feet when they saw Mr. Billings, a longtime
resident of Lakeside, getting out of his car. He was five years the senior of
Mrs. Green and still very handsome. He had the reputation of a so-called
ladies’ man, a real charmer, and he grew very animated at the sight of the
women. He made a special point of making make eye contact with Mrs. Green.
“Good evening, ladies!” he greeted warmly.

“Good
evening, Mr. Billings,” Tasheka responded with a friendly smile.

He smiled
at Tasheka. “Good evening, dear.” He then turned to her mother. “Good evening,
Anna.”

“Good
evening, Floyd. How is your wife feeling?”

“She’s doing
as well as can be expected, thank you.”

“How was
the weather in Florida, Mr. Billings?”

“The same
as every year, Tasheka: perfect.” He laughed. “Oh, Anna, I wanted to mention
something to you.”

“Yes?”

“Around
April a bunch of us are taking a cruise off Florida and I was wondering if
you’d like to go.”

“Do I know
any of them, Floyd?” Mrs. Green asked.

“I’m not
sure,” he said.

“Is your
wife going?”

“No, she
doesn’t like traveling anymore. With her disease being at the stage it is,
she’s quite content to sit at home and read.” He laughed awkwardly. “That’s all
she does. If I disappeared, I’m sure she wouldn’t even miss me until it was
time to put the garbage out.”

“I’m sure
that’s not the case, Mr. Billings,” Tasheka said.

“I’m sure
it is,” he said bluntly. He smiled warmly at Tasheka’s mother. “The information
is posted at Big Mike’s on the bulletin board, Anna. The cruise is seven days,
everything included. There’s music and dancing every night.” He looked at her
with his most charming expression. “I’ve heard you say that you like dancing.
You mentioned it at the church picnic last year, remember?”

“Yes,”
Mrs. Green said, blushing like a schoolgirl, “but I haven’t danced in years.”

“Me
either. Helen hasn’t wanted to do anything physical for a long time.” He looked
meaningfully at Mrs. Green. “It’s been almost five years.”