A Case Of Murder: Chap II

[Auth. Note] After getting a bunch of flack about the picture I used in Chap I, I decided to change it. The girl in the previous picture was A dead girl, not THE dead girl. After perusing Google for half an hour I settled for that one. Please remember, the picture is just to tell the reader what kind of story it is. The story is NOT fashioned around the picture. Similarly, this is a photo of A police car. It is not THE police car in the story, so please don't send comments telling me that it might not fit the story...it's just a picture to put in the icon column. Thank you.

It had been two days and still not a clue. They had run the girl's prints through NCIC and nothing- apparently she didn't have a record. There was some skin cells that Sgt. Lindsey had scraped from under her nails, but there was no match in the DNA database. It was going to take a miracle to solve this one, or so it seemed. There was something fishy about the Patel guy, he knew something he wasn't telling, but he didn't seem the type. Probably just didn't like talking to cops. Jim Garvin, one of the detectives came in and told Matt, "Chief wants to see you and Bubba. Is he around?"

"No, he's out running down a lead," Matt told him. "I hope someone comes up with something soon."

Chief Arnold Khilling was a big man who sat behind his desk chewing on an unlit cigar. You could no longer smoke in public buildings, but it didn't keep him from chewing on his favorite Macanudos. "What have you got," he asked. "The papers are all over me on this and I gotta give em something."

"Nothing yet Chief. Bubba's out running down a lead. Something came back on the tire prints and he's out checking it out." Matt didn't like it any better than the Chief. If the papers had it, pretty soon it would be all over TV and then the crazies would start showing up.

"Let me know just as soon as you got something." The Chief went back to reading his paper. "These assholes are making us look like a bunch of idiots."

Matt headed back to his desk. Garvin was waiting for him. "You got a call, some guy who calls himself Reverend Shackelford. He says it's about the case you're on." At last! Maybe this was the break they were waiting for. He got the number from Garvin and went to his phone. "First Methodist Church," the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Reverend Shackelford, please." Matt tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. If this panned out, it would at least give them something to give the papers and get them off his back. "May I ask who's calling please?"

"Tell him it's Det. Brooks from Police Headquarters. I'm returning his call."

"Oh, yes detective, he's been expecting your call. I'll put you through."

"Hello detective," the voice was warm and friendly. "I may have some information about your dead girl. Such a pity. Would it be convenient for me to come see you right away? I believe I may be able to help you." After exchanging the appropriate pleasantries, they hung up and Matt called Bubba. He wanted him there to size the Reverend up, Bubba was good at these things. Bubba said he was already on his way back.

Reverend William "Bill" Shackelford was a tall man in his early 60's Matt guessed. They shook hands and Matt showed him into one of the interview rooms where Bubba was waiting. "I'm detective Brooks, we spoke on the phone and this is detective Horowitz. Please have a seat"

"The girl came to see me a few days ago. I would have called sooner, but I didn't know whether you had found the culprit or not. When I read in today's paper that you had not, I called." The reverend's demeanor was calm, fatherly.

"Did she tell you her name, Reverend?" asked Matt. "We really don't have much to go on here. She had no identification on her and her fingerprints didn't match any on file."

"She said her name was Deb...Deborah, Deborah Combes. That's a Biblical name, Deborah, detective."

"Did she tell you anything else Father?" Bubba asked. "Anything else that might be helpful?"

"Not Father, detective, Reverend. I'm Methodist," he said.

"Sorry," Bubba said. "I get you guys mixed up." Matt knew that Bubba was fishing for a response, sizing the reverend up.

"Yes," said Reverend Shackelford. "Are you familiar with a cult around here? It's called the Hand of God, or something like that."

"The Right Hand of God?" Matt asked. "Is that the one?"

"Yes, that's it. The Right Hand of God. Do you know it?"

The Right Hand of God was a bunch of religious nuts that had an old farm about 30 miles East of town. They came in from time to time but never started any trouble that Matt knew anything about. He looked at Bubba who shrugged his shoulders.

"She told me that they were holding her against her will- making her do things. You know. And they made her take drugs. The reverend started talking faster now. "She told me that she had witnessed something bad. A murder, I think and that she just barely got away." He was visibly upset. Matt could tell he was uncomfortable talking about this. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. "I gave her money for a motel room from our relief fund and she said she would contact me the next day, but I never heard from her again."

"You've been very helpful," Matt told the upset clergyman. "Is there anything else you can think of right now?"

"No, that's about all. You will find out who did this won't you? She seemed like such a nice girl, not at all like someone that would do those things they made her do. Not willingly at least."

"We'll find them alright. You can count on it," Matt told him. The reverend rose, shook hands with both and departed. When he had left, Matt turned to Bubba. "You don't suspect him do you?"

"You know me, I suspect everyone," Bubba said with a laugh. "Even you."

Matt had a problem. He couldn't go to a judge for a warrant based on what the Reverend had told him. He needed evidence. He had suspicions, but no probable cause. They were stuck. He made up his mind that they would go have a talk with the Right Hand of God, tomorrow. They didn't need a warrant just to talk