Tony Catanach was in the dining room where he had assembled the brothers, who sat clustered together silently at two tables. Kerney scanned the group: all the men were middle aged or older; but some were dressed in casual civilian attire, while others wore clerical garb.
Several had their heads bowed in prayer.
Catanach gave an approving glance at Kerney's uniform and stepped into the hallway. A young man in his early thirties and a five-year veteran of the force, he was a newly minted sergeant who took his job seriously.
"I was just about to start taking statements, Chief," he said.
"Bring me up to speed."
"The victim is Father Joseph Mitchell, a Maryknoll priest. His throat was slashed. Entry may have been gained either through an unlocked window or a door."
Along the corridor of the nicely remodeled barracks a series of doors gave access to the dining room, a library, a large lounge, an entertainment room, and a chapel.
"Where's the body?" Kerney asked.
Catanach inclined his head toward the row of hallway windows that looked out on the courtyard and an adjacent two-story barracks, connected to the common area by a passageway.
"The brothers' bedrooms are across the way. Father Mitchell had a first-floor room right inside a door that leads directly to the courtyard. The screen was off his unlatched window, but all the others are still in place. Nobody can remember if the entrance closest to Mitchell's room was locked or not. The brothers aren't real concerned about security. There isn't any sign of forced entry, and if you walk around you'll see four more doors that also could have been used by the killer to gain entry."
"Have you got everyone here?"
"No," Catanach said.
"There are twelve residents, if you count Father Mitchell.
Seven are in the dining room and four of the brothers are in their offices canceling their classes. They'll be back in twenty minutes.
I've asked them not to discuss Father Mitchell's death."
Catanach consulted a pocket notebook.
"Robbery may have been the motive, Chief.
A laptop and desktop computer were taken, along with a tape recorder, a camera, and a VCR. Detective Sloan is in the room waiting for the body to be removed."
"What do you know about the victim?"
"Not much, yet. He was a visiting scholar-in-residence working on a research project. Brother Jerome Brodsky, chair of the social science department, supposedly knows the most about Father Mitchell. He'll be back in twenty."
"What else?" Kerney asked.
"Check out the knife wound, Chief. One deep cut at the jugular. No hesitation marks, nothing sloppy, and no cuts on the victim's hands to indicate any struggle with his attacker. I'd say the priest was probably asleep at the time."
"I'll take a look and be back to help take statements," Kerney said.
Bobby Sloan, a thirty-year veteran of the department, pulled back the sheet covering Father Mitchell's body.
"A clean kill," he said to Kerney.
"This wasn't done by your typical addict looking to steal something so he could fence it and score. The incision is deepest right at the jugular. The killer knows his anatomy."
Kerney agreed, the angled wound was clean, sharp, and long, slicing through the jugular, an axillary vein, and the larynx. The cut had been made where a trained assassin would strike with a knife, and the edges of the wound were close together. Blood had flowed freely.
Kerney scrutinized the dead man's face. His gray hair was cropped short and receded at the temples. Age lines around the mouth and eyes and a fullness to the cheeks suggested the priest had seen the passage of five decades, maybe more.
"Seen enough?" Sloan asked.
Kerney nodded.
Sloan nipped the cover over Mitchell's face and gestured to the two paramedics who waited in the hall with a collapsible gurney. The men stepped inside and removed the body while Kerney and Sloan stood to one side.
The sleeping room was small, no more than a hundred square feet, with a tiny adjacent bathroom. The
Several had their heads bowed in prayer.
Catanach gave an approving glance at Kerney's uniform and stepped into the hallway. A young man in his early thirties and a five-year veteran of the force, he was a newly minted sergeant who took his job seriously.
"I was just about to start taking statements, Chief," he said.
"Bring me up to speed."
"The victim is Father Joseph Mitchell, a Maryknoll priest. His throat was slashed. Entry may have been gained either through an unlocked window or a door."
Along the corridor of the nicely remodeled barracks a series of doors gave access to the dining room, a library, a large lounge, an entertainment room, and a chapel.
"Where's the body?" Kerney asked.
Catanach inclined his head toward the row of hallway windows that looked out on the courtyard and an adjacent two-story barracks, connected to the common area by a passageway.
"The brothers' bedrooms are across the way. Father Mitchell had a first-floor room right inside a door that leads directly to the courtyard. The screen was off his unlatched window, but all the others are still in place. Nobody can remember if the entrance closest to Mitchell's room was locked or not. The brothers aren't real concerned about security. There isn't any sign of forced entry, and if you walk around you'll see four more doors that also could have been used by the killer to gain entry."
"Have you got everyone here?"
"No," Catanach said.
"There are twelve residents, if you count Father Mitchell.
Seven are in the dining room and four of the brothers are in their offices canceling their classes. They'll be back in twenty minutes.
I've asked them not to discuss Father Mitchell's death."
Catanach consulted a pocket notebook.
"Robbery may have been the motive, Chief.
A laptop and desktop computer were taken, along with a tape recorder, a camera, and a VCR. Detective Sloan is in the room waiting for the body to be removed."
"What do you know about the victim?"
"Not much, yet. He was a visiting scholar-in-residence working on a research project. Brother Jerome Brodsky, chair of the social science department, supposedly knows the most about Father Mitchell. He'll be back in twenty."
"What else?" Kerney asked.
"Check out the knife wound, Chief. One deep cut at the jugular. No hesitation marks, nothing sloppy, and no cuts on the victim's hands to indicate any struggle with his attacker. I'd say the priest was probably asleep at the time."
"I'll take a look and be back to help take statements," Kerney said.
Bobby Sloan, a thirty-year veteran of the department, pulled back the sheet covering Father Mitchell's body.
"A clean kill," he said to Kerney.
"This wasn't done by your typical addict looking to steal something so he could fence it and score. The incision is deepest right at the jugular. The killer knows his anatomy."
Kerney agreed, the angled wound was clean, sharp, and long, slicing through the jugular, an axillary vein, and the larynx. The cut had been made where a trained assassin would strike with a knife, and the edges of the wound were close together. Blood had flowed freely.
Kerney scrutinized the dead man's face. His gray hair was cropped short and receded at the temples. Age lines around the mouth and eyes and a fullness to the cheeks suggested the priest had seen the passage of five decades, maybe more.
"Seen enough?" Sloan asked.
Kerney nodded.
Sloan nipped the cover over Mitchell's face and gestured to the two paramedics who waited in the hall with a collapsible gurney. The men stepped inside and removed the body while Kerney and Sloan stood to one side.
The sleeping room was small, no more than a hundred square feet, with a tiny adjacent bathroom. The
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