“Nice to meet you. I hear it became too expensive to run the center, but the diocese wasn’t allowed to sell it?”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been told. Kind of an unfortunate catch-twenty-two.”
“And what about records of retreat attendees from the parish? Or people who worked there? Would you have anything like that here?”
“The police already talked to Father Jim about the matter, but he said there’s nothing like that in our files. It’s too far back.”
“Father Jim is the pastor?”
“That’s right.”
“Are there any other clergy members in the parish?”
“Not presently. He and Tom do a wonderful job of holding down the fort here.”
“Do you happen to have a cell number for Tom?”
“Yes, but it’s better if you give me your number and I can have him reach out to you.”
I withdrew a business card from my purse. I’d already given one to Nolan, but I didn’t know if he still had it.
“You know, I’m just remembering,” she said as she accepted the card with a slim, manicured hand. “Tom mentioned that his son has a baseball game later this afternoon, so it may take me a while to reach him.”
So Tom was a family man. It looked like it might be tough to catch up with him today, but perhaps Emma might provide a portion of the information I was searching for.
“I’m sure he’s extremely busy. Being a deacon must be very rewarding, though.”
“Yes, and rewarding for us as well. With Father Jim in his eighties, Tom has been a great backup and a real godsend to the parish.” She chuckled as she caught her turn of phrase. “Ha, in a manner of speaking.”
“Tom mentioned he has a regular day job, too, but I forget what he said it was.”
“He’s in banquet sales for one of the hotels. It gives him a nice degree of flexibility.”
“How long has he been a deacon?”
“Probably close to ten years, which I know because it was around the same time I started my job. He gives so much, and everyone adores him. I don’t know what we would have done if we’d lost him.”
A warning ping went off in my brain.
“Lost him?”
“He was very ill for a while, a few years back. With esophageal cancer.”
The pinging started to sound more like a piercing car alarm.
“Oh wow. I bet that meant a lot of chemo and radiation. When was this exactly?”
“Five or six years ago, I’d say, and yes, it was terribly arduous. But Tom faced it brilliantly, and he’s fully recovered. I know it seems I’m speaking out of turn, but Tom is open about his experience. He’s a big believer in people sharing what they’re going through—as part of healing.”
“How thoughtful of him.” My mind raced, scrambling for other questions, but a phone in the office rang, tugging Emma’s attention.
“Will you excuse me?” she asked, already on the move.
“Of course. Thanks for your help.”
Strolling back across the parking lot, I weighed what I knew about Nolan against Marc Horton’s theory that the killer might be a member of the clergy. Nolan had been seriously affected by cancer for at least several years. During his treatment, he wouldn’t have had much strength or stamina, which could explain a hiatus. Tom knew Shannon. And Tom surely would have known about the retreat center. What if Tom had actually become a deacon ten years ago as a way of repenting for the murders of Amy and Page? The possibility of Father Jim being a suspect, I noted, seemed highly unlikely, considering he was in his eighties.
J. J. Rimes was still on my list of people I needed to see today, but I headed to town first, where I grabbed a sandwich and checked for any alerts from the sheriff’s office. There was only one, stating the sheriff would be issuing a press release on the case later today, but there would be no briefing. Maybe Killian wasn’t in the mood for facing tons of questions he wasn’t at liberty to answer.
