SUICIDAL SUSPICIONS: A Kate Huntington Mystery (The Kate Huntington Mystery Series Book 8) by Kassandra Lamb
Authors: Kassandra Lamb
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closed behind the woman.
“Father Phelps, I have to get back to my office in a little while, so I’ll cut to the chase.”
The priest’s brow furrowed. “I’d prefer you call me Father Sam. Father Phelps sounds so stuffy.”
Kate chuckled softly, then leaned forward in her chair. “Look, I know there’s a limit to what you can tell me, but I don’t believe Josie killed herself. I think she was murdered.”
A chill ran through her at the sound of her own words in her ears. It was the first time she had said murdered out loud in reference to Josie. It brought home the enormity of what she now suspected had happened.
Father Sam’s eyes had gone wide. “Who would want to kill Josie?”
“That is the big question, but first let me address why I think it wasn’t suicide. I’ll tell you what I can, and then you let me know if there’s anything you feel comfortable adding. And again, please keep this confidential. You can’t even share it with her family.”
“I understand, Katie.”
She took a deep breath. “Josie was doing really well. The day before she was found, which may have been the day she died, she left a cheerful message on my voicemail. So it totally blew me away when I found out she was dead. My husband’s a private detective. He has contacts with the police. He found out that it was deemed a suicide. But he also told me that her dog was locked in his crate and was near death by the time the body was found.”
Father Sam winced. “That doesn’t sound like Josie.”
“That absolutely is not her. She would never do that to a dog, especially not her own.”
“She might not have thought it through. Just assumed someone would find her right away.”
“Maybe, but there’s something else. One of the almost empty pill bottles they found in her apartment was for a drug that would have interacted negatively with her other meds. I checked. Neither her psychiatrist nor her regular doctor prescribed it.”
The priest rubbed his chin. “Would this drug, mixed with the others, could that have killed her accidentally?”
“Not likely. She would have to intentionally take way too much of each. The interaction tends to build up over time with normal doses, and it was a new prescription, recently filled.”
Father Sam blew out air and sat back, his tea forgotten.
“Had you seen Josie recently?” Kate asked.
He nodded. “She only comes to church now and again. But she did come to see me a few weeks ago. I can’t remember exactly when, but I can find out.”
“Would that discussion be considered a confession?”
He squirmed in his desk chair, then sat up straighter. “No, not really. But I consider all meetings with parishioners about their personal matters as pastoral counseling sessions, so the same rules apply for them as they do for you.”
He stared at the ceiling above her head for a moment. “I think I can share some things with you. And I too would like you to keep what I say confidential.”
Kate nodded.
“She wasn’t in a good place when she came to see me. She was having some disturbing dreams and she wasn’t real sure what to do about them.”
Kate’s stomach churned. Why would Josie tell Father Sam about the dreams and not her therapist?
“I knew she was in therapy,” the priest said, “but I hadn’t realized you were her therapist. I asked her if she had told her therapist and she said no, that it wasn’t safe. I asked her what she meant by that, and she couldn’t seem to explain it. She said she just felt terrified at the thought of telling anyone about what happens in the dreams.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No. She started to, said they were dark and shadowy. Then she got really nervous and practically bolted out of here.”
Kate sat back against the stiff leather of her chair. “What the hell does that mean?” She winced internally when she realized she’d let the hell slip out.
But Father Sam didn’t react to it. “I have no idea. I’ve been
“Father Phelps, I have to get back to my office in a little while, so I’ll cut to the chase.”
The priest’s brow furrowed. “I’d prefer you call me Father Sam. Father Phelps sounds so stuffy.”
Kate chuckled softly, then leaned forward in her chair. “Look, I know there’s a limit to what you can tell me, but I don’t believe Josie killed herself. I think she was murdered.”
A chill ran through her at the sound of her own words in her ears. It was the first time she had said murdered out loud in reference to Josie. It brought home the enormity of what she now suspected had happened.
Father Sam’s eyes had gone wide. “Who would want to kill Josie?”
“That is the big question, but first let me address why I think it wasn’t suicide. I’ll tell you what I can, and then you let me know if there’s anything you feel comfortable adding. And again, please keep this confidential. You can’t even share it with her family.”
“I understand, Katie.”
She took a deep breath. “Josie was doing really well. The day before she was found, which may have been the day she died, she left a cheerful message on my voicemail. So it totally blew me away when I found out she was dead. My husband’s a private detective. He has contacts with the police. He found out that it was deemed a suicide. But he also told me that her dog was locked in his crate and was near death by the time the body was found.”
Father Sam winced. “That doesn’t sound like Josie.”
“That absolutely is not her. She would never do that to a dog, especially not her own.”
“She might not have thought it through. Just assumed someone would find her right away.”
“Maybe, but there’s something else. One of the almost empty pill bottles they found in her apartment was for a drug that would have interacted negatively with her other meds. I checked. Neither her psychiatrist nor her regular doctor prescribed it.”
The priest rubbed his chin. “Would this drug, mixed with the others, could that have killed her accidentally?”
“Not likely. She would have to intentionally take way too much of each. The interaction tends to build up over time with normal doses, and it was a new prescription, recently filled.”
Father Sam blew out air and sat back, his tea forgotten.
“Had you seen Josie recently?” Kate asked.
He nodded. “She only comes to church now and again. But she did come to see me a few weeks ago. I can’t remember exactly when, but I can find out.”
“Would that discussion be considered a confession?”
He squirmed in his desk chair, then sat up straighter. “No, not really. But I consider all meetings with parishioners about their personal matters as pastoral counseling sessions, so the same rules apply for them as they do for you.”
He stared at the ceiling above her head for a moment. “I think I can share some things with you. And I too would like you to keep what I say confidential.”
Kate nodded.
“She wasn’t in a good place when she came to see me. She was having some disturbing dreams and she wasn’t real sure what to do about them.”
Kate’s stomach churned. Why would Josie tell Father Sam about the dreams and not her therapist?
“I knew she was in therapy,” the priest said, “but I hadn’t realized you were her therapist. I asked her if she had told her therapist and she said no, that it wasn’t safe. I asked her what she meant by that, and she couldn’t seem to explain it. She said she just felt terrified at the thought of telling anyone about what happens in the dreams.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No. She started to, said they were dark and shadowy. Then she got really nervous and practically bolted out of here.”
Kate sat back against the stiff leather of her chair. “What the hell does that mean?” She winced internally when she realized she’d let the hell slip out.
But Father Sam didn’t react to it. “I have no idea. I’ve been
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