Murder on Lenox Hill (26 page)

“Did you notice anything in the cup before you poured in the wine?”

“I didn't look,” he said with a frown.

“Then what did you do?”

“I set up the table out there, like always, and put the bread and the cup on it.”

“Was anybody else around?”

“No, like I said, it was early. Then I went to get a robe on. Since none of the other boys were here, I served as acolyte, too.”

“What's that?”

“Lighting the candles at the beginning of the service. You walk down the aisle with a candlelighter first, then light them.”

“So you left the communion table all set up in front of the empty church. How long was it before people started to arrive?”

“I don't know. A while. Nobody got here early this morning. They didn't want to see Upchurch and have to talk to him, I guess.”

“Except someone was here early,” Frank reminded him. “You said somebody was in his office with him. Did you ever see who it was?”

“No, I didn't. And I didn't kill him, either. I wish I'd thought of it, though. It was what he deserved.”

Frank glanced at Kelly, whose eyebrows had risen in surprise.

“One more question, Isaiah,” Frank said. “How do you usually serve communion to the people?”

“They come up front and get it,” he said, puzzled by the question.

“No, I mean do people usually drink out of the cup you filled, or do they dip the bread in it?”

“They drink out of the cup. They come up and get a piece of the bread. One of the boys hands that out when they walk by. Then Upchurch gives them the cup to take a drink out of. Not much, just a sip.”

“That's the way you always do it?”

“Yes, sir,” he remembered to say this time.

“And when does Upchurch drink out of the cup himself?”

Clearly, he wasn't sure what these questions meant. “At the end. He'd serve the boy who was helping him, and then he'd serve himself last.”

“Thank you, Isaiah,” Frank said. “You can go now. If I think of anything else, I know where to find you.”

Now the boy looked even more confused, but he recognized his good fortune and hurried out of the room and back to the sanctuary.

“He one of the boys this guy diddled?” Kelly asked.

“Yeah,” Frank said with a sigh.

“Then he's the one did it, no question.”

“Maybe,” was all Frank said. “Let's talk to the others. We can use Upchurch's office.”

They moved toward the doorway, but when they reached it, Mrs. Evans was blocking their way. “Don't bother that poor boy anymore, Mr. Malloy,” she said. “I killed Reverend Upchurch.”

12

“
D
AMN, YOU'RE GOOD AT THIS,” KELLY WHISPERED. FRANK ignored him.

“Mrs. Evans, that's a dangerous thing to say, especially if it's not true,” he said.

She didn't even blink. “I assure you, I am well aware of the consequences, Mr. Malloy.”

“Let's go into Upchurch's office where we can discuss this privately,” he said, taking her arm. As they passed through the sanctuary, Malloy summoned one of the patrolmen to take possession of the wine bottle and communion cup as evidence. Then he called out to the group of churchmen who had by now taken seats in the pews. “I'm going to question everyone here one by one in the minister's office. Stay where you are, and I'll call you in when I'm ready for you.”

“There's really no need to keep them here,” Mrs. Evans scolded him. “I already told you—”

“I just want to make sure their stories agree with yours,” he told her.

“Do you think I would lie about something like this?” she asked, affronted.

Frank had completely misjudged her once. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again, especially if it meant sending her to prison for the rest of her life. “I have to make reports, Mrs. Evans. It has to look like I investigated everything.”

“Very well then,” she said, letting him conduct her into Upchurch's office. Kelly closed the door behind them. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

Frank put her in one of the chairs by the window, where he and Upchurch had sat the first time they'd met. He took the other chair and let Kelly pull one over from the chess table. “Now tell me what happened, Mrs. Evans.”

She folded her hands in her lap, as calm as if she confessed to murder every day. “Where should I begin?”

“Let's see, Mrs. Brandt said you'd gotten all the boys and their mothers together and told them what Upchurch was doing,” he said.

“That's right. I also invited the church elders. No one knew why I'd called them together, except perhaps the boys themselves. I doubt they believed I would speak about such things, but I did. It was very painful for everyone. At first they didn't want to believe me. A few even called me names and accused me of being . . . well, not in my right mind. I expected that. I just waited, letting them abuse me until one of the boys broke down and admitted the truth. That opened the floodgates.”

“I can imagine,” Frank said, not wanting to picture that scene at all. “And what did you decide to do?”

“It wasn't my place to decide. That's why I had called the elders. They understood it was their responsibility to deal with it. There was some arguing at first. No one wanted the boys to be hurt anymore, so we couldn't take it to court and make it public, but we had to punish that man. In the end, they decided that the best they could do was to drive him from the church.”

“How did you intend to do that?”

“The elders were going to confront him in front of the entire congregation. They were going to tell him they knew what he was and what he had done, and he was to pack up his things and be gone by Monday evening.”

“And you managed to inform everybody in the church of this in less than two days?”

“We each took several families and called on them. I assure you, it wasn't difficult. The word spread even more quickly than we could spread it. Not everyone believed us, of course. Some of the doubters even came to church this morning to stand up for him, but in the end, they were too intimidated by the will of the majority to do anything.”

Frank remembered Sarah's claims about gossip and imagined she was right. “Did you plan how people were supposed to act this morning? Mrs. Brandt said nobody sang or gave an offering or went forward for communion.”

She thought about this for a moment. “We didn't really plan that part of it. I know I didn't feel like singing hymns of praise this morning, so I sat silent, as did most everyone else. I don't know why no one put money in the offering plate, but probably for the same reason. As for communion, I couldn't bear the thought of taking it from that beast, so I didn't go forward. Everyone else must have felt the same.”

“What made you decide to kill Upchurch, Mrs. Evans?” he asked gently.

Her age-softened face colored delicately. “I . . . well, I understood that he could never be brought to justice unless the boys revealed what he had done to them. I couldn't allow that to happen, so . . . so I decided he had to die.”

“Seems like that would be a hard decision for a good Christian woman like you, Mrs. Evans,” Frank observed.

“I think God will forgive me, Mr. Malloy. He knows it was necessary.”

She seemed very certain. Too certain. “How did you do it then?”

“How did I do what?” she asked.

“How did you kill him?”

“You know perfectly well. I put poison in the communion wine,” she said indignantly.

“Tell me exactly how you did it—where you got the poison and how you got it in the wine and when you did it,” he prodded, still gentle.

“Well, I got the poison from my home. I'm sure most every home in the city has rat poison. We certainly do.” Frank supposed everyone had heard Dr. Thomas say that cyanide was found in rat poison. “I brought it to church and—”

“What did you carry it in?” Frank asked.

“What? . . . Oh, my . . . my purse,” she said.

Frank looked meaningfully down at the small drawstring bag she carried. “How'd you get a box of rat poison in there?”

“Oh, no, I mean . . . I carried it in a paper sack.”

“I see. Now tell me how you got it in the wine.”

“I got here early this morning—”

“I suppose your family will vouch for what time you left the house this morning,” Frank said.

“Well, yes, of course they will,” she said but without much certainty.

“That's good. So you got here early this morning. Did you see anyone in the church?”

“No, no one was around. I went back into the room where they store the communion supplies, and I put the poison into the wine bottle.”

“What did you do with the rat poison then?”

“What did I? . . . I . . . I threw it away. That's right. I went out into the alley behind the church and threw it away.”

Frank nodded sagely. “I'm surprised at you, Mrs. Evans. You don't seem like the kind of person to take the law into your own hands.”

This stung her. “I am the kind of person who does what's necessary, Mr. Malloy. I understood the consequences before I did it, and I am prepared to face them now. You may arrest me.”

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I'm not in a hurry to lock you up, Mrs. Evans. You don't seem like the kind of person to try to run away. Why don't you go home and pack some clothes and personal items. You'll want to explain things to your daughter and grandson, too. I'll come and get you later.”

She blinked in surprise. “That's very kind of you, Mr. Malloy.”

“Not at all. You've saved me a lot of work by confessing. I could've spent weeks trying to figure out who killed Upchurch.”

She nodded. “That's true. I'm glad to have spared you that trouble. Well, then, I'll be going. When should I expect you?”

“Not until early evening. Have yourself a nice supper at home. Food at The Tombs isn't very good, so it might be your last decent meal. Pack warm clothes, too. The Tombs aren't very warm.”

This sobered her, and when she rose from her seat, her cheeks were pale. “Thank you for being so kind, Mr. Malloy,” she said as he showed her out.

“Don't say anything to anyone about this, except your family,” he warned her. “This is police business, and we don't want the newspapers involved, do we?”

“Oh, no, of course we don't,” she said.

“Would someone see Mrs. Evans home?” he called to the men still loitering. “Whoever takes her home should come right back to answer questions, like everybody else.”

Several men hurried forward to assume those duties, and Frank returned to the office to consult with Kelly, closing the door behind him.

“Why did she do that?” Kelly asked. “She didn't kill him anymore than I did.”

“Damn, you're good at this, too,” Malloy said, echoing Kelly's earlier remark.

“Maybe she carried rat poison to the church, although I don't see how, but she never put it in the wine bottle,” Kelly said. “The cabinet was locked.”

“And Isaiah said the bottle wasn't even opened when he took it out of the cabinet,” Frank remembered.

“Who's she protecting?” Kelly wanted to know.

“Let's see if we can find out. Just in case, go out into the alley and see if you can find a bag of rat poison. I doubt you will, but just in case the real killer might've tossed it there. Then start questioning those men out there to see if anybody saw anything before the service started, like maybe somebody up on the stage near the communion cup. And try to find out if anybody knows who was in Upchurch's office with him.”

“What're you going to do?”

“Talk to those other people out there, the minister's wife and Linton. His daughter is the one who was raped, but I don't know what he has to do with this mess. Then I'll help you finish up with the men you haven't gotten to yet. You know what we're looking for.”

“Yeah, somebody who wanted him dead and could've put the poison in the cup this morning.”

“And find out if anybody passed the word about not taking communion, too.”

Frank opened the office door for Kelly, and they almost collided with the woman Dr. Thomas had identified as Mrs. Upchurch.

“I'm Reverend Upchurch's wife, and I need to speak with you immediately,” she informed them.

Kelly gave Frank a questioning look. “Go ahead,” Frank told him, and ushered Mrs. Upchurch into the chair where Mrs. Evans had sat.

“Did you have something you wanted to tell me, Mrs. Upchurch?” Frank asked as he took the other seat.

“I most certainly do. Don't waste your time questioning anyone else. I'm the one who killed my husband.”

 
 
S
ARAH DEARLY WISHED SHE COULD BE WITH MALLOY AS he questioned everyone, but she wasn't foolish enough to ask. He'd never allow it, even if he hadn't had that other detective with him. When she saw Mrs. Upchurch volunteering to be questioned, she could stand her inactivity no longer. She left her seat and moved up to where Mr. Linton was sitting all alone.

“May I join you?” she asked, surprising him. He'd been lost in thought.

“Certainly,” he said without much enthusiasm.

“How is Grace doing?” she asked to make conversation as she sat down in the pew beside him.

A spasm of pain flickered over his face. “She's fine, I suppose. She doesn't understand what . . . what's going to happen to her, so she's not concerned.”