The Sophia

By N.J. Matthews

The Sophia is the second in a series of 'Dave Harris' murder mysteries. The first was 'Singularity'. Several gruesome murders take place in a very odd location, a Lawn Bowling and Croquet Club. Odder still are a group of women who not only run the club but live in a gothic house situated on the club site.

The women are members of a religious cult with very strange views of the world around them

• Language: English
• Publisher: N.J. Matthews
• Release date: Nov 11, 2010
• ISBN: 9780978256487

N.J. Matthews

Having always being an avid reader, particularly of murder mysteries, I decided that I would try my hand at writing one. The first one, Singularity, turned into a series of three others, The Sophia, The Sign of Nun and Wee Johnnie Norrie. All feature Dave Harris, who rises to Chief of Detectives through the course of the series. After I had written the four crime novels, my youngest grandson asked me why I didn't write anything suitable for his age group. This was a challenge I couldn't resist, Perusia followed along with the sequel Kush. Both are aimed at young adults and are historical fiction set in a time just after Julius Caesar is assasinated. I must admit to being somewhat eclectic. What's next? Who knows.

Book preview

Chapter One

The old woman drew her coat tight around her as she moved out into the chill night air, raining and so cold for October. The night was dark and only the light from the portico of the old mansion illuminated a short stretch of the asphalt of the circular driveway.

The fallen Sumac leaves are plastered to the driveway; they had looked so splendid on the trees such a short time ago, now they were a slippery threat to every step that she took.

Where is Rebeka? It wasn’t like her to venture out so late, and she’s been gone so long, could she have fallen? Was she laying somewhere? Hurt, unable to move, I must find her, where could she be?

Rebeka, Rebeka, are you out there? Can you hear me?

Only the wind and driving rain answered her, she took the flashlight out of her coat pocket and turned it on, at least she had the foresight to bring it with her She continued around the side of the building and saw nothing, heard nothing.

She headed towards the Croquet courts and the Lawn Bowling Rinks at the back of the mansion. The decision had been made to close the club early this year.

The weather has really been dreadful, she thought.

She kept calling, Rebeka, can you hear me? Oh, please answer me.

Still nothing, the light from her flashlight seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness, she moved carefully, searching each bush and shrub, no sign of her.

She’s been gone almost an hour. It’s so unlike her. First, ‘it’s’ gone and now Rebeka, who would have called her at this hour? Her disappearance and that call, they are connected, I’m sure of it.

She recited prayers aloud as she continued towards the Lawn Bowling Rinks, and then she saw it.

What is it? Something, a shape, she hurried forward, the wind whipped her coat open. The rain drenches her.

Rebeka, are you there?

She hurried towards the shape; it looked like a body.

Could it be Rebeka? Surely it's not Rebeka.

She stepped on the soggy rink, so expensive to maintain, so lovely to look at. Now it didn’t matter, she must see.

She shone the light on the shape, and gasped in horror, she stifled a scream by placing her hand over her mouth. It was Rebeka. She knew in an instant that she was dead. Protruding from her chest was a croquet hoop, driven right through her, impaling her body to the turf. Only the top of the hoop remained exposed, the heavy rubber mallet normally used to set up the court was lying beside the body.

This must be the work of the Demiurge, such evil, who else would it be. There was no time to perform The Consolamentum, but surely, she would be considered perfect

She could feel herself beginning to lose control, her head began to spin her stomach was churning.

Get control. Do not let go, get the nerves under control, can’t go to pieces at a time like this.

However, she could not resist the spontaneous urge to throw up.

* * *

Dave Harris had received the call from the Chief of Police, a murder in a very exclusive part of the city; the victim was a friend of the Mayor, would he look into it personally.

I thought when I made Chief of Detectives; I would at least be able to get a good night’s sleep. Not bloody likely. Why is it that people seem to commit murder in the middle of the Goddamn night?

The rain had slowed to drizzle, but it was still soggy, dark and windy, he could see the lights of patrol cars just ahead on his right as he approached.

He remembered passing this spot and thinking what the property might be worth, a mansion and 20 acres of prime land in the most exclusive part of the city, had to be worth 75 million anyway. The mansion had been large enough to create several luxury condominiums and there was still enough room for an exclusive club, Lawn Bowling and Croquet he seemed to recall.

Keeps the old farts off the street I guess.

As he approached, he could see the circular driveway plugged with four or five Patrol cars an ambulance and he thought he could make out Tim Cassidy’s car.

Good. Maybe I can hand this off to him and still get a little shuteye.

He parked his car on the street, just south of the entrance to the driveway and made his way to the group standing in the portico at the front of the building, out of the rain at least.

Hey Tim, whaddya got?

The young detective turned from the cluster of officers and waved to Harris.

Hi Chief, how come they got you out of bed on this one?

The victim is a friend of the Mayor.

He moved under the shelter of the portico, trying to shake off the wetness from his raincoat as he did so.

All I have so far is that the victim is a female, age approximately early seventies, impaled with a croquet hoop. The coroner’s out back with the body, he may have more for us by now.

OK, let’s go see.

They walked around the right side of the building. It was a mansion, three stories of ornate stone with cornices at the top of the third story.

I wonder where Bella Lugosi is on a night like this; I might expect Dracula to jump out at any time.

He could see the floodlights at the back; a makeshift rain shelter provided protection for the Crime Scene Unit, and the coroner. And not that it mattered, for the corpse too.

The lawn was clear of any leaves.

Odd thought Harris.

Never having been on one, Harris guessed that it’s for Lawn Bowling; he couldn’t see where the Croquet set up might be.

He moved into the canvas lean-to, and could see the body clearly in the area lit by the emergency lights. She was on her back, hair plastered to her face from the rain, unseeing eyes staring at nothing, he would’ve guessed early to mid-seventies even if Tim hadn’t told him.

She was wearing a rather strange dress, a sort of gown of a purple colour, tied at the waist with a golden sash. The soles of her shoes, coated with the gold autumn leaves of the Sumacs that were all over this place Except for the Lawn Bowling Green.

Hello David, I didn’t expect to see you here, given your exalted new position.

It was Carl Pelley, the short fat little coroner; he was just removing his rubber gloves as he spoke

Do you want a closer look? I’m just about finished; we’re ready to move the body.

Harris knew that small man was a born tease, he liked him, he was thorough and efficient, and there would be no screw up with this crime scene.

Harris pointed to the croquet hoop that had been driven into the victim’s chest. Only the cast-iron red portion of the hoop could be seen,

That the cause of death?

I doubt it, not enough blood, I think she was dead before that thing was driven into her, note the ligature marks on her neck, I won’t be sure until the autopsy, but I think that’s what killed her.

Have we identified her?

Yes, her name is Rebeka de Sevigny; she’s a resident in one of the condo’s at the rear of the club.

"Thanks Tim, who found her?

Her name is Magdelene Whittaker, she shares the condo with the victim, she came looking for Ms De Sevigny, when she awoke and found her absent.

Where is Ms Whittaker now?

I have asked her to wait in the club area of the Mansion.

* * *

Entering the building, Harris was struck by the opulence of the foyer, he stood, awed by what he saw. An impressive staircase ascended to the next level with ornate carvings on the balustrades. An enormous crystal chandelier hung overhead.

Hand carved walnut paneling adorned with hand carved figures on the ceiling, it was wondrous, dark and he thought oppressive.

I am in here, just to your left.

The voice was clear and strong, Harris and Cassidy turned and entered what had once been the drawing room and was now clearly a Games Room.

At one end of the room was a huge fireplace, surrounded by an altar like, carved mantel that soared a full 16 feet to the ceiling above, an oval portrait hung over the fireplace, maybe the original owner he thought. A comfortable fire was burning in the grate; he stood a few moments absorbing the warmth.

I assume you are in charge?

He turned to see woman standing, facing him, in spite of her diminutive size; she seemed to have an almost regal bearing. She was dressed in a purple gown; similar to that the victim wore, again tied at the waist with a golden sash.

Yes Ma’am, I’m Chief of Detectives Dave Harris, and this is detective Cassidy I’m sorry to have to bother you at such a late hour, but it is important that we talk to you while events are still fresh in your mind.

Quite all right detective, I’m just having some tea, would you and Mr. Cassidy care for some, it’s herbal I’m afraid.

No thank you Ma’am Cassidy shook his head.

Come, sit down gentlemen, how can I help you?

Cassidy had his notebook out with pencil poised as Harris began.

It is my understanding that you found the body, do you have any idea what Ms de Sevigny was doing out there at this time of night, in this weather, with no coat?

"I’m afraid not, as I told this young officer here, I awoke and got up to get a drink of water I noticed the light on in Rebeka’s room, I went in to see if she was all right, but she wasn’t there.

"I couldn’t settle so I decided to sit up and wait for her, when an hour had passed, I decided to go look for her I thought she might have stepped outside onto the portico and perhaps slipped and fallen.

But there was no sign of her, so I began searching the grounds, that’s when I saw her.

Harris noted the lack of any distress in her voice; this was a calm restatement of facts of a horrific event. She seemed unshaken, clear eyed, without a tremour of any kind.

"I understand that you and Ms de Sevigny share accommodations in one of the condos here, is that correct?

Yes, in fact we were one of the originals, we’ve been together here for 12 years, and she will be missed. She shows no anguish, just a statement.

I can appreciate that you must be very upset by what has happened here Ms Whittaker; I will try to be brief.

That’s quite all right officer, death is our constant companion in life, you grow closer to it as you grow older, but you will be unaware of that at your age.

Why is she so cold? No emotion, most old ladies would be hysterical at this point, given what she has seen and the friend she has lost. Could she be involved in the crime? Seems unlikely, but how can I tell?

Is there anything else that you can tell us about this evening or anything that you think might be related to this crime?

The only other thing that comes to mind is that I think I heard the telephone ring, that may have been what woke me up, but I can’t really be sure, I may have just been dreaming.

There was nothing more than that?

I am afraid not.

And I don’t suppose that you know who phoned?

As I said, I’m not truly sure it did ring, let alone who was on the other end.

‘Can you tell me how many people live here Ms Whittaker?"

"Well, there were a total of seven, that of course included Rebeka, so now six, then of course there is Henry, Henry Porteous, in season he is the groundskeeper, in the off season he is our handyman. He has two small rooms in what used to be the servant’s quarters.

Rebeka was the chairperson for the condo association and I used to assist her with some of the tasks, that’s how I came to know these things.

Just the one employee, this is such a big place.

In summer, we hire part time staff for the club, for any luncheons or tournaments we hire caterers. Each condo owner is responsible to contract anything they need in the way of cleaning services and of course there is the condo management company that look after all of the common area issues.

Would you please be good enough to give Detective Cassidy a list of all those names, including part time help and the various companies that are used?

Of course, but I hope it won’t be necessary to question the condo owners at this late hour, like me, the ladies are all quite elderly, I wouldn’t like to distress them too much.

It would take more than this to distress them if they are anything like you.

No Ma’am, we can arrange that for daylight hours, I thank you for your time and help. I’ll leave you with Detective Cassidy. I have other matters to attend to,

He got up to leave.

Sir, I'd like to have quick word with you before you go?

They both moved out to the foyer,

What the hell do you make of that ‘cold fish,’ do you think she might be involved?

Tim, just pursue it as though she is, make sure you check the phone records to see if a call was made and if possible, who made it.

He closed the heavy door behind him and stepped into the portico. It was still raining, harder than before; one patrol car and two officers remained.

They clean everything up?

Yeah, the body’s off to the morgue, the crime scene guys are gone; I guess the weather was bad enough to keep the media people away, so I guess it all went pretty fast.

Good, Cassidy’s still here probably be another hour, I’m heading home, if anything comes up you can reach me there.

Yessir.

He turned up his coat collar and headed down the circular drive to the street where he had left his car; he turned left on the sidewalk and was soon out of line of sight of the two officers.

The trees that lined the street made it seem even darker; the streetlights must have gone of in the storm he thought. As he approached his car a figure darted out the shadows, he was startled; he was deep in thought.

A talon like hand shot out and grasped his right wrist; the grip was so strong he almost cried out in pain. The man pulled Harris’ face close to his; he could smell the putrid smell of stale wine, and vomit.

The man was thin, with wild eyes and narrow face, a straggly beard; his clothes hung like oversized bags on his thin frame Harris could see mucus beginning to escape the man’s left nostril, and with a quick sniff he pulled it back in and swallowed it.

The man exhaled in Harris’ face a rotting smell overcame him, then the voice, more a metallic rasp than a human voice.

"YOU MUST FIND IT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

THIS IS A CATASTROPHE, IT MUST BE FOUND."

The pain in Harris’ right wrist was almost unbearable, was it broken? He tried to pull away; finally, he directed a kick to the man’s groin. The man crumpled in pain releasing his grip; Harris had fallen in the process. He struggled to get to his feet; his right wrist throbbed, the hand seemed useless.

When he had righted himself, he looked for his attacker, but he was gone. The street was empty.

Chapter Two

Unable to sleep, Dave Harris gave up and returned to his office, he sat at his desk, making out a list; he always made out a list when on a case. A list of words, names, addresses, whatever popped into his head when interviewing suspects, witnesses or just bystanders.

He stopped briefly, and rubbed his right wrist, it still pained him and now it was showing signs of bruising. He had said nothing to anyone about the altercation; he was embarrassed that a, frail small man could have roughed him up.

I can’t believe it happened, he took me by surprise, I didn’t even see him approach, but he was so strong. This is stupid. He could be the murderer. I don’t have any option, I’ve got to put out a description, and I know it’s not likely, but somebody may have seen something.

He called Tim Cassidy’s cell,

Tim? It’s Dave, have you started your interviews yet?

I was just about to, what’s up?

"I just wanted to mention to you, that when I was leaving the scene last night, I thought I saw someone on the street, not far from my car. It looked like an old wino or street guy. By the time I got to my vehicle, he was gone and I couldn’t see him anywhere.

Have one of the uniforms check out the street, under those trees there, just in the event, he might have left anything behind. Would you?"

Will do, but I left shortly after you and I didn’t see anything, but it was dark. I’ll get one of the boys do a ‘poke around’ are you coming back out here?

Yeah, I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to check on the phone records yet?

No, I came directly here from home.

That’s OK, I’ll do it. I’ll see you in about an hour.

It took Harris only about 15 minutes before he had copies of the call records faxed to him from the Phone Company. There it was a call at 12:53 AM. He circled the number, called the Phone Company and determined that it was from a phone booth; not much help there.

He arranged to dispatch a fingerprint team to dust for prints at the call box, just a precaution, he would have to be very lucky to get anything worthwhile, it was now more than 8 hours since the call was placed.

God knows who’s used that phone booth since.

Carl Pelley was next on his list Perhaps the coroner had some helpful information.

Carl? Dave Harris here, you got anything for me?

Not a great deal Dave, I did confirm that the croquet hoop was not the murder weapon that little embellishment was post mortem. She was strangled, but here is something for you, whoever did it only used one hand, crushed the vertebrae, had to have considerable strength to do that.

But she was a frail old lady, from what I have been given she was in her mid seventies, would it really have taken that much?

She was 71, but don’t kid yourself, she was in excellent physical shape, I’ve seen 45 year olds that were in worse shape. In my opinion, it took substantial hand strength to strangle her.

What about time of death?

The condition of the body would suggest that she died at about 2:00 AM, give or take. Rigor had not really set in when we were on site, hope that helps.

Not a whole lot, but thanks anyway Carl.

He hung up the phone.

Shit. He could have been the one, and I let him get away. I've got to get a grip I don’t know that for sure. Why would she come out to meet someone like him? Maybe he saw something. Besides, if he made the call, he wouldn’t have had time to walk the 6 blocks, kill the victim and avoid being seen by, what’s her name?

He consulted his list Ms Whittaker, highly unlikely, and where would anybody like that wino get a car? It makes no sense.

* * *

This time he was able to pull his car into the circular drive, behind Cassidy’s and the patrol car He stood in front of the massive door and reached for the door pull, he could hear the bell echo from within. Magdelene Whittaker responded.

She looked imperious standing in the doorway, all 5ft 4inches of her; she had a way of looking at him that made him feel almost her inferior,

Come in Officer.

Tim stood on Dave’s entry into the room, the same room they used last night, the ‘Games Room.

Morning Chief, I was just about to begin meeting with these ladies to discuss last night’s unfortunate event.

Magdelene Whittaker spoke,

Let me introduce you, it’s Chief Inspector Harris isn’t it?

Harris nodded He noted that they all wore the same robe, they all seemed to be of the same demeanour, dignified, heads up, unafraid to look him squarely in the eye. He was used to unnerving suspects and witnesses; it seemed to him that perhaps the tables might be turned.

Ms Whittaker began introducing the assembled women, as each heard her name; she stood and nodded in the direction of the two men.

This is Mira Silbert, our most senior resident here; we have enjoyed her presence from the time that this property was converted into condominiums.

She was even tinier than Magdelene, but as straight as a rod, eyes clear blue, probably sharp as a razor he thought.

"And this is Lourda McKay, one of our newer tenants, and, as are all the others, an avid member of our croquet team.

Ms McKay was the tallest of all of the women, 5ft 9 or 10 inches he guessed, also likely the youngest.

"Please meet Lydia Glen, another of our longer term tenants and Sara Lonsbury, last but not least Ruth Amberton.

Ladies please give the officers every courtesy, be forthcoming so we can get this distasteful business over with as soon as possible."

All of the women were now standing, looking at Harris in anticipation. He cleared his throat and began.

Thank you Ms Whittaker and good morning ladies.

He had to suppress an urge to bow

"I too would like to conclude our business here as quickly as possible Inspector Cassidy will begin the interview process; we require that each interview be conducted separately.

To that end, we will begin with Ms Silbert and ask the rest of you to return to your condominiums until you are sent for, very likely in the order that Ms Whittaker introduced you; thank you ladies."

As they began to file out of the room, Harris asked Ms Whittaker to join him in the Dining Room.

She motioned him to take a chair, which he did, only to note that she insisted on standing He wondered if was this was an attempt at intimidation? He was not comfortable.

Ms Whittaker, you were correct when you indicated that you thought there was a phone call last evening, it came through at 12:53 AM. Have you given any more thought to who might have placed that call to your apartment?

As I said, I was unsure that I really heard it, but as you indicate that the call was actually made to our phone, I accept that it was. But I must say it is most unusual I have no idea who may have called or what the purpose of that call might have been.

Most women would be hysterical about what has happened, not this one, cool as a cucumber and what’s with all these women dressing the same, what’s going on here.

Let’s try a little surprise here.

I understand that our Mayor is a close friend of yours, may I ask how you come to know him?

There was just a flicker, then nothing.

More of an acquaintance, but why do you ask?

At the risk of sounding pompous, as Chief of Detectives I don’t normally get called out on cases in the middle of the night, I was asked to do it at the personal request of the Mayor.

Does that offend you?

Ms Whittaker, I think I must explain, that I ask the questions and you give the answers. Otherwise I can’t do my job.

There now I feel better, back in control.

She arched one eyebrow.

I understand, completely, what more do you need to know? I don’t think whether I know the Mayor or not is relevant to the situation at hand.

Have you seen any strange person or persons lurking around the property? Were there any drifters, homeless people or the like?

Have you a personal bias against the disadvantaged; is this a crime that could only have been committed by a homeless person?

Ms Whittaker, could you tell me why you are making this discussion so confrontational? I asked a simple question, I did not make an accusation impugning any group.

I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s just that these poor people seem to be the victims of society more so than perpetrators of crimes.

Should I ask again?

No, I have no recollection of any homeless person, or for that matter any stranger, lurking about as you say. But given the size of the property, I could not say conclusively, that there never has been anybody hanging around.

I can’t tell you that the next question is at all relevant to my investigation, but can you tell me why all of the people I have met here this morning all dress alike?

"I suppose that one could consider curiosity a virtue in a policeman. You are right to posit that your question is not relevant to your investigation, but since you likely would uncover the reason anyway, I will tell you.

"We are a very small religious community; we choose to dress in this fashion as an indication of our commitment to our way of life.

More than that, you have no right to know.

I understand, at the moment, I have no need to know.

Two more questions, and then I will move on to another interview. Given the horrendous thing that happened last evening, I must say that your demeanour is not what anyone would expect. Is that also a manifestation of your religious convictions?

"You’re more observant than most, yes it is, you may recall that I said to you last night, death is our constant companion in life, and you grow closer to it as you grow older.

As horrific as Rebeka’s death was we cannot forget our lifelong companion, death, is a part of life. To focus on how she died would be wrong; we cannot and should not wreak vengeance.

What about Justice?

Whose Justice, yours? Isn’t that just a prelude to vengeance, an eye for eye"? Rebeka’s life is what mattered, her seeking for wisdom, is what mattered.

Now, what was your second question?

Will you voluntarily provide me with a list of all the club members using this facility?

NO.

He stood up, she never did sit down, he towered over her but he did not feel superior, at this moment.

Would you please send Henry Porteous in to see me?

She departed quietly, soundlessly; he walked around the room waiting for his next interview. This was a strange case. He would get his list, even if it required a subpoena.

Henry Porteous arrived, he was dressed in work clothes, and he looked like he might have been doing something in the yard.

He shook hands and introduced himself; the hand was strong, hard and callused. The nails were dirty, the handshake firm. It was a contest to see who would release first, Harris did.

He made note of the hand strength.

You Assholes made a right bloody mess of my greens out there. Couldn’t you’ve been more careful? I doubt that it’ll recover for next season. I’ll have them all complaining about it. I have to do all this by myself you know.

Harris looked Porteous directly in the eye and said.

I don’t give a rat’s ass for your grass. A woman was brutally murdered there last night; doesn’t that mean anything to you?

Got nuthin’ to do with me, what was she doin’ out at that time a night anyway?

Perhaps we should conduct this interview down at headquarters; maybe a little time in one of the cells would do you some good. Is that what you want?

Just tell me what you want from me, no need to throw your weight around.

Where were you last night?

I was in my rooms, it was a shitty night, remember, where would I go.

Can anybody verify that?

I dunno, I doubt it, I was alone, as usual.

Where is the Croquet equipment kept?

There’s a locker down in the basement, I keep it all there, no call for it this time of year.

Is it under lock and key?

Yes Of course, most of the member’s equipment’s there too. Lot of money tied up in that stuff you know, it’s all tournament quality.

Who has keys, besides you I mean?

Ms de Sevigny, now I guess Ms Whittaker, seems she’s taken over.

What do you mean ‘taken over’?

Ms de Sevigny was in charge of everything, the Club, the Condos, me, now she’s dead. I guess old lady Whittaker’s the new boss.

I take it you don’t much care for her.

As far as I’m concerned they are just dried up old spinsters, got no use for any of them. But I need the job, so I keep my mouth shut.

Have you ever seen any homeless people, bums or hoboes hanging around here?

He laughed, showing a gap where his eyetooth should have been,

Sounds like you’re describing half the membership.

What do you mean; I was under the impression that this was an exclusive kind of club, given the location and the facilities?

He continued to laugh.

Chapter Three

Harris and Cassidy sat in Harris’s office comparing notes of their respective interviews; it seemed that none of the women were of anymore help than Magdelene Whittaker had been nor had any of them expressed much emotion regarding Rebeka de Sevigny’s murder.

Cold Fish, the lot of them, I’ve never seen anything like it.

Did any of them talk about the ‘religious community’ thing?

What do you mean?

According to Ms Whittaker, they are some kind of religious community or order or something like that.

You mean like a cult?

I don’t think so, maybe some obscure religious group, frankly I think they are all too old for cult life, can’t quite see them ringing bells at airports and such.

What about this guy, Porteous? He seems like an unlikable sort, I should see if we have anything on him.

As a matter of fact Tim, I think we should run a background check on everybody at Dunstan Estates, just see if anything turns up You follow up on that and I’ll see what I can do to get a court order to obtain a list of the club members.

I’ll get right on it Dave.

Harris’ phone rang, it was a reporter from one of the local TV stations, Hi Chief, it’s Stacy Franklin from CFTO, have you got a minute?

No point in being curt with her, I might need some media help at some point on this thing

Always have time for you Stacy, what can I do for you?

I understand that you are personally in charge of the murder at Dunstan Estate, could I come down and get a statement from you for the 6 O’clock news? I’d really appreciate it.

Could you give me a little longer on this thing Stacy? Frankly I would have very little to tell you, it wouldn’t be much of an interview.

You have nothing at all for me?

Nothing more than you already have in the press release, remember, this thing is only hours old.

Can you tell me why the Chief of Detectives is even involved in a case this early on; my nose tells me that there is something significant here?

"Not at all, it’s all part of the job; I routinely pick a case and get involved just to keep up to speed with what’s going on in