Legacy. He sits with a group of men, and I thought one of them might be Robinson. Apparently it was. Parker reluctantly told us that they drank together along with two other men. We have the list of names.”
Ryberg held the piece of paper with the names, and read them aloud:
Frank Wilson
Derek Rochfort
Monica Brown
Dave Parker
Michael Robinson
Although he was addressing the group, he half-turned toward Thiessen, making sure he understood too. “This is where we need to focus. We need to talk to each of these men, including the woman whose name was initially crossed out. Somebody either benefited from Robinson’s death or he had an enemy. I want to know which scenario it is, and he’s more likely to have shared what was going on in his life with his drinking buddies than anyone else. I want to talk to all of the people on this list, even the waitress.”
“Right,” Drake continued, enjoying the flow of the conversation. “He wrote the waitress’ name down and then crossed it out. She socialized with the men also.”
Sergeant Thiessen smacked his pen on the table, getting everyone’s attention. He picked up one of the photos of the dead man. “I have a theory. This man had a halo of blood around his head. He died, or was posed,” he paused and looked around the table, “in a praying position on the ground. His hands were joined in prayer. Like this.” Thiessen placed his hands in front of himself, lacing his fingers together as he spoke. “Just like a dead saint.”
Exactly what Rempel, the paramedic, had said back at the scene.
Pringle began to interrupt and disagree, but Thiessen spoke over him and turned toward Myron. “And you said you found a bible in his bedside table. This may be a case of Christian persecution.”
A groan came from Pringle. Ryberg eyed him.
Thiessen continued quickly before anyone else could respond. “There’s a religious aspect to this murder.”
Nobody moved. Drake watched, as across the table from him, a smirk slowly developed on Pringle’s face. There was a pause before Ryberg spoke. “We should investigate every possibility, Sergeant Thiessen, you’re right; at this point we don’t know what happened.”
Most of the officers from the Hope detachment who were local – the ones who had spent their time elsewhere and had been transferred home, or were fortunate enough to have their initial posting in their hometown – were churchgoers. Many of them attended the same large church that stood on the outskirts of town – including Brandon Van Dyke and Sergeant Thiessen. They were a tight clique, secretive almost, and Drake often heard them talking among themselves about church-related activities. Drake anticipated what his superior was going to say next.
“There are seven churches in town, and I have positive relationships with the clergy from each of them. I’m going to interview the local pastors. If there’s a connection, which I think there is, I’ll find it.”
It wasn’t a request. He was almost up from the table when Veronica, the daytime receptionist, walked in. She was out of breath as her short legs marched officiously toward the group. She looked at Thiessen, then hesitated and passed a piece of paper to Pringle.
He read the note and then screwed up his face as though he’d swallowed something distasteful. The investigator suddenly looked tired. “Your local doctor, who is operating as our medical examiner, has determined the cause of death. It was not the injury to the head. The dead man’s body contained botulinum. This man was poisoned.”
Chapter Six
----
The sharp scent of marijuana drifted through the air toward them from one of the nearby yards. With the breeze blowing against the officers it was impossible to detect where the smell was coming from, and it didn’t matter. Tracking down recreational pot-smokers wasn’t their objective. After being briefly elevated to assist the crime team, Drake was placed back on general duty –
Ryberg held the piece of paper with the names, and read them aloud:
Frank Wilson
Derek Rochfort
Monica Brown
Dave Parker
Michael Robinson
Although he was addressing the group, he half-turned toward Thiessen, making sure he understood too. “This is where we need to focus. We need to talk to each of these men, including the woman whose name was initially crossed out. Somebody either benefited from Robinson’s death or he had an enemy. I want to know which scenario it is, and he’s more likely to have shared what was going on in his life with his drinking buddies than anyone else. I want to talk to all of the people on this list, even the waitress.”
“Right,” Drake continued, enjoying the flow of the conversation. “He wrote the waitress’ name down and then crossed it out. She socialized with the men also.”
Sergeant Thiessen smacked his pen on the table, getting everyone’s attention. He picked up one of the photos of the dead man. “I have a theory. This man had a halo of blood around his head. He died, or was posed,” he paused and looked around the table, “in a praying position on the ground. His hands were joined in prayer. Like this.” Thiessen placed his hands in front of himself, lacing his fingers together as he spoke. “Just like a dead saint.”
Exactly what Rempel, the paramedic, had said back at the scene.
Pringle began to interrupt and disagree, but Thiessen spoke over him and turned toward Myron. “And you said you found a bible in his bedside table. This may be a case of Christian persecution.”
A groan came from Pringle. Ryberg eyed him.
Thiessen continued quickly before anyone else could respond. “There’s a religious aspect to this murder.”
Nobody moved. Drake watched, as across the table from him, a smirk slowly developed on Pringle’s face. There was a pause before Ryberg spoke. “We should investigate every possibility, Sergeant Thiessen, you’re right; at this point we don’t know what happened.”
Most of the officers from the Hope detachment who were local – the ones who had spent their time elsewhere and had been transferred home, or were fortunate enough to have their initial posting in their hometown – were churchgoers. Many of them attended the same large church that stood on the outskirts of town – including Brandon Van Dyke and Sergeant Thiessen. They were a tight clique, secretive almost, and Drake often heard them talking among themselves about church-related activities. Drake anticipated what his superior was going to say next.
“There are seven churches in town, and I have positive relationships with the clergy from each of them. I’m going to interview the local pastors. If there’s a connection, which I think there is, I’ll find it.”
It wasn’t a request. He was almost up from the table when Veronica, the daytime receptionist, walked in. She was out of breath as her short legs marched officiously toward the group. She looked at Thiessen, then hesitated and passed a piece of paper to Pringle.
He read the note and then screwed up his face as though he’d swallowed something distasteful. The investigator suddenly looked tired. “Your local doctor, who is operating as our medical examiner, has determined the cause of death. It was not the injury to the head. The dead man’s body contained botulinum. This man was poisoned.”
Chapter Six
----
The sharp scent of marijuana drifted through the air toward them from one of the nearby yards. With the breeze blowing against the officers it was impossible to detect where the smell was coming from, and it didn’t matter. Tracking down recreational pot-smokers wasn’t their objective. After being briefly elevated to assist the crime team, Drake was placed back on general duty –
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