Chasing Angels (Teagan Doyle Mysteries Book 1) by Karin Kaufman

Author:Karin Kaufman [Kaufman, Karin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

A few sips of Coke later, as we sat in silence at the kitchen table, I heard a loud rap at the church’s front doors. A “human knock,” Berg pronounced it. We answered it together—after I undid the chain—and found a plainclothes cop on the doorstep. I recognized him as one of the cops I’d seen on the Weston Meyer murder scene.

Coatless, dressed in suit and tie—a detective’s street uniform—he introduced himself as Detective Joseph Dempster and asked if Berg and I had a moment to talk. Berg invited him back to the kitchen.

“Your parking lot and outdoor lights are out,” Dempster said, lowering himself to a chair. “From the road, the church looks abandoned, except for a little light in the windows over the front doors. I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“Two minutes ago it was dark inside the church,” Berg said. “The lights went out then came back on.”

“Dodgy electrical system, I’d guess. Old building.” Dempster tugged on the knot of his burgundy tie. “Glad I found you in.”

In his late forties, dark haired and broad shouldered, Dempster’s chest strained against the fabric of his pale blue shirt in a way that hinted at a decades-long regimen of weight training rather than too much pasta.

“Light or not, we’ll be here all night,” Berg said, “and through Monday morning unless the Petersons change their minds. What can we help you with?”

“First, I’d like to know what you two know and what you hope to accomplish.” Dempster raised an apologetic hand. “You have every right to be here, of course, but I need the full picture of what’s happening in this old church, and I gotta tell ya, I’m not getting it anywhere with anyone else.”

“Did you ask the—”

Dempster interrupted. “The Petersons have been vague as hell, and Mrs. Peterson falls to pieces whenever I bring up Meyer or Lloyd, the priest in the wall. I’ve asked around about you, Mr. Bergland. You have a lot of friends across a lot of police departments. You also have a reputation for honesty and insight—and I’m not blowing smoke up your cassock or whatever you guys wear.”

“Suit jacket and jeans,” Berg said with a smile. “I was nondenominational.”

“Well, neither here nor there. You see what I’m saying. I’m going to trust your insight—what you’ve discovered so far and what you think about it. We’re at more than one dead end, and I need your help.”

“Of course. I’ll help in any way I can, and so will my colleague.”

At last addressing me, Dempster turned and said, “Miss Doyle. Or is it Mrs.?”

“Miss now. I went back to my old name.”

“You apprenticed under Mr. Bergland for about a year and a half.”

“You’ve been checking up on me too.”

“I’m a detective, what can I say?” He shrugged. “Gotta be honest with you, though.” Here he turned back to Berg. “When I first heard what you guys do for a living, I thought it was weird in a cosmic-hipster kind of way, and I wasn’t sure talking to you would do anything but waste my time.

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