ABSOLUTION (A Frank Renzi mystery) by Susan A Fleet

Author:Susan A Fleet [Fleet, Susan A]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Music and Mayhem Press
Published: 2008-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

The sinner paced the television aisle inside Best Buy at five o’clock, barely able to contain his fury. On dozens of television screens, everywhere he looked, the words mocked him: TONGUE KILLER WITNESS!

Witness? Had someone seen him leave Melody’s house?

The anchorwoman stared into the camera. “Five days ago the Tongue Killer claimed his sixth victim, but now a witness has come forward! You’ll see our exclusive interview with her in a moment, but first, let’s hear what Special Agent Burke Norris said moments ago at his daily news briefing.”

The sinner watched anxiously. Norris said nothing about a witness, but his last words were ominous: “You can help us find the killer. If you notice any unusual behavior by a coworker or a spouse or a boyfriend, call our tipline.” An 800 number appeared on the crawl line below the anchorwoman.

“Now, our exclusive interview!” she said. “Clarion-Call columnist Rona Jefferson has been a relentless critic of the Tongue Killer investigation. Yesterday a witness contacted her and agreed to speak with her on camera. She asked that her face not be shown, and we are altering her voice.”

Rona Jefferson appeared. Behind her, a formless figure was visible behind an opaque screen. “Tell us what you saw,” Jefferson commanded.

An eerie electronically altered voice said, “I lived on the first floor below Patti Cole. The night she was murdered I heard noises upstairs. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but later I heard footsteps on the stairs, and when I looked out I saw a priest!”

“Are you certain it was a priest?” Jefferson asked.

“Positive. I stepped out my door and called to him. He was wearing a black shirt and that white turned-around collar they wear.”

“Was he a black priest?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t black. I couldn’t see his face, but the man I saw was white, definitely. I called out to him: Father, is something wrong? But he didn’t answer. He just kept walking.”

“Thank you. You’ve done a great service by coming forward.”

“But I can’t even live in my own apartment. I’m afraid he’ll kill me!”

Rona Jefferson motioned with her hand, and the light behind the screen went out, leaving the witness in darkness. Jefferson stared into the camera and said, “What more proof do we need? The Tongue Killer is a white priest, and every white priest in the archdiocese should be forced to give a DNA sample to the taskforce to see if it matches the DNA they found on one of the victims. Only then will we apprehend this killer. Back to you, Melissa.”

The sinner’s heart beat at his chest like a hammer. How could there be DNA evidence? He had been careful to leave no trace of himself. He remembered the woman of course. Damn her to hell! Rona Jefferson, too.

“Can I help you with something, Father?” said a male voice.

“No,” he snapped. But when he saw the hurt look on the clerk’s face, he said, “I’m sorry. That interview upset me.” He gestured at a screen

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