“Probably not. The details are boring. But we’re here and they wanted our help.”

“So of course you volunteered and then decided to drag me into another one of your ridiculous cases where I end up dodging bullets or getting a concussion like the last few times I’ve worked with you. You know you guys aren’t normal, right?”

“Normal is boring.”

“That’s very true. But I’d like you to know that my wife said I’m not allowed to play with you guys anymore. You’re too dangerous and you get me into trouble.”

“You’re wife is making you sleep on the couch,” Jack said. “She’s probably upped your life insurance without you knowing it.”

“Good point. I was wondering why she was trying to get a blood sample the other day. And lucky for you Miranda is back up to speed. She’s had a rough couple of weeks after the car wreck. Haven’t you, darling?”

“Talk about not normal,” I said.

“Fill me in on what you need from me,” Carver said.

“Our vic is a man a week shy of his hundredth birthday by the name of Leon Stein. Someone stabbed him in the heart with a very cool looking dagger. I’ve just loaded his prints into the database. I need everything you can dig up on this man.”

We could hear the clatter of keys over the line as Ben worked his magic. “Seems kind of a bummer to kill him before the big centennial like that. You’d think they could’ve waited a week.”

“I’ve also emailed you the photographs of the dagger. You know a couple of collectors in the DC area who might know where it came from or how old it is.”

“I’m assuming there’s a good reason why you and the Doc are on the case instead of the locals. What’s my time frame here? It’s getting late.”

“All you have is a lonely couch to go to. You might as well work.”

Carver sighed again. “Good point.”

“I need it as soon as you can get it to us. We don’t want to spend the rest of our honeymoon buried in chest cavities.”

“That’s a lovely image. Thank you for that.” There was another rapid-fire click of keys and Ben said, “Leon Stein. Married to Maria Sophia Castile, and they celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary last December. Whew, she was fifteen and he was thirty when they married back in 1945. That’s a little icky. But I guess it’s worked out for them okay. They’ve got eight children. Thirty-two grandchildren. And I can’t even count all the great and great-great grandchildren. But I’ll send you a comprehensive list along with financials.”

“Great,” Jack said. “And do me another favor.”

“I’m going to hate this one. I can tell by the sound of your voice.”

“There’s a Father Fernando at the local Catholic church. He’s the one who discovered the body, and he didn’t particularly think it was necessary to find out who killed Stein. See what you can find on him as well.”

“Dude, you know it’s all kinds of wrong to be doing background searches on priests.”

“Yep, which is why you’re going to do it. You love the wrong stuff. Check Father’s DeCosta and Xavier while you’re at it.”

“Fine, but the least you can do is get me seats behind the dugout at a Nationals game.”

“You’re not a baseball fan,” Jack said.

“No, but I can sell them to Special Agent Drummond for an exorbitant amount of money. He’s a dumbass like that.”

“Fine, but I need answers as soon as you get them.”

“When I get them you’ll have them. But it might be tomorrow on the knife. Not everyone dances to your tune like I do.”

“I appreciate it, Carver.”

“I know you do. And I’d also appreciate a long weekend away with my wife. To somewhere tropical. And a babysitter to keep the kids.”

“That could probably be arranged too. And just think, you’ll be sitting behind a desk the whole time for this case. You won’t get shot at or banged up in a car crash.”

“It’s the only reason I’m helping you out. I’m getting too old for this shit. There’s a reason I never worked in the field.”

“Because you could never pass the shooting requirements?”

“That too. Catch you later.”

Carver hung up and I knew we were in good hands. If there were secrets to find out Carver would have them before too long. No one could keep a secret from him.

Chapter Seven

“He wouldn’t have lived more than a few months past his birthday,” I said once I’d completed the autopsy. Or at least the parts that I could.

My supplies were limited and I didn’t have on site testing capabilities, so the samples I’d taken would go to the mainland. What they did with them was up to them. But it didn’t take sophisticated equipment to see that Leon Stein’s body was riddled with cancer.

“He had a few blockages in his heart, but not at the critical stage yet. But the cancer in his lungs would’ve shut him down before too long. We should probably check with Doctor Hizumi to see if he was being treated. But official cause of death was caused by the dagger to the heart. It pierced the anterior wall of the left ventricle. There were no other signs of struggle.”

Jack had rigged up a white board next to Joe’s desk. While I’d been looking at Leon’s internal organs, he’d been making a timeline of events and running background checks and financials on Leon’s family.

“So time of death is narrowed down to somewhere between four and four-thirty. That’s not a lot of time to make the kill and pose the body. According to Joe’s notes, they keep the doors to the courtyard blocked after Mass so the priests can go back to the clergy house and pray and rest between services. So no parishioners followed the priests in that direction. And all three priests said the same thing. They walked back to the clergy house together and no one was in the courtyard when they passed through.”

“That’s all fine and good about parishioners not be allowed to go through to the courtyard after Mass, but Leon Stein was in that service and you’re telling me no one noticed that he walked back there?”

“Sister Teresa and Sister Magdalena both say they saw him leave the front of the church. They noticed Leon specifically because one of the parishioners had to steady him on the way out. They said he was moving slow and wasn’t looking well.”

“Certainly not well enough to fight back against whoever had the dagger.” I sewed Leon back up and pulled the sheet up over him. “So no one saw him outside the church or slip around the side of the building to get to it that way?”

“No, in fact, a couple of different people mentioned that they saw him get on his bike and head toward his house.”

“What the hell?” I said. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about it. There were more than a hundred people in that church on a Saturday afternoon. Everyone saw Leon inside the church and dozens of people saw him leaving. No one puts him in the vicinity of the courtyard.”

“Where’s Leon’s bicycle?” I asked.

“Good question. It wasn’t at the crime scene.”

“So maybe Leon circled back around to the side of the church for a meeting he didn’t want anyone to know about, his killer stabs him in the chest, and then escapes by stealing Leon’s bicycle and making a clean getaway.” It sounded ridiculous the moment the words started coming out of my mouth. But it was all I had at the moment.

“Yeah, pretty much. Something isn’t adding up. Someone is lying.”

“That’s a huge surprise,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “Everyone is always so good at telling the truth. You think it’s the priests?”

“That’s the most logical explanation if you’re just looking at time of death and location. But it’s the explanation that doesn’t sit well with my gut.”

“What about motive? Anything popping that will tell us why Leon was killed?”

“Not a thing. I’ve checked financials. This island isn’t exactly an economic hotspot. And by island estimations, the Steins were considered well off. They own some of the businesses in town. A gas station, a flower shop, the boat rental place, some of the cabanas along the water. They’ve got everything diversified in safe places and they don’t spend above their means.