Chapters 1 and 2

The Book of Answers

These are the first two chapters of my mystery The Book of Answers, which was nominated for an Award of Excellence by Crime Writers of Canada. The graphic above was my temporary cover before publication.

You do not have to be a paid subscriber to read these posts, but I have to tell you how heart-warming and encouraging it is when someone signs on for a monthly or annual subscription. I have set the rates as low as Substack allows. I will absolutely be posting the whole book over time-it’s already written!

1

Zeke the cadaver dog raised his big head as if he’d just thought of a question. He paused his zig-zag search pattern, to turn and face me and his handler. His loud bark sent a shock through me, even though I’d watched him open his jaws to let loose with it.

The producers of “The Ghost Toucher” claimed they were testing a theory that dogs like Zeke are guided by the spirits of the dead. Zeke and his handler were brought in to sniff out the ghost of Saint Mungo’s Church. I thought it was a ploy to jazz up an otherwise boring location shoot.

My assignment was to be the generic minister type in a dark suit and clerical collar who’d say to the camera, “I’ve heard the wild rumors, of course, but haven’t seen anything like what you’re looking for…”

That’s the line I’d stick with if asked. I sure wouldn’t tell them what I’d seen just before the dog barked.

Annika, the handler said, “Good dog, Zeke. You’re such a good dog.”

She knelt to unclip Zeke’s black nylon leash from his safety orange Search and Rescue harness.

“Bones, Zeke. Find the bones!”

Annika tucked the leash in a pocket of her khaki tactical vest as she rose to stand.

She said, “That bark was his first tell Reverend Tom. He may have something.”

The sable-coated German Shepherd bounded up the aisle towards the front of the Saint Mungo’s sanctuary, leaving paw-prints pressed deep into the crimson carpet. He cleared the three steps up to the chancel platform in a powerful leap, landed under the dark oak communion table, and skidded between its legs. Zeke's nails clicked and scratched at the polished wood flooring as he scrambled for footing.

I turned to face the dog-handler, who had all of my six feet of height, and a bit more in her tactical boots. I met her eyes, which were amber.

“Annika, is he really searching for bones?”

“That’s just his go-word. Zeke’s trained to find bones, blood, and partial or complete human remains.”

Those last words chilled me, despite Annika’s bright smile, and the withering heat. The production crew had set up a bank of huge carbon-arc spots. They shone down from the rear balcony, lighting the church up like a high-end car dealership, and roasting us like convenience store hot-dogs.

All the sanctuary windows are stained glass. You’d never know that outside it was a cold and grey morning. A late winter blizzard that left folks from Arkansas to Quebec plowing and digging had also blasted Oakville. I’d felt lucky to get from my car to the church’s side door without tumbling on the slick ice.

Zeke regained his traction on the hardwood floor and dashed towards an oak door set in the wall beside the organ keyboard. He nosed it open and stood peering down the back stairs.

His body vibrating, Zeke turned back towards Annika and opened his jaws for another harsh bark, which echoed through the sanctuary.

“That’s his second tell,” Annika explained. “He wants to get down to the basement.”

Annika’s long blonde hair lifted as she ran to her dog. Her thick-soled boots thudded on the hardwood floor. A holstered phone and a long black flashlight bounced against her hip.

Reaching the doorway, she squatted near Zeke and dug into a vest pocket for a treat. The German Shepherd licked it from her open palm.

“Good dog, Zeke. Bones?”

Zeke took his cue and dove down the back stairs. Annika was right behind him.

I headed toward the chancel steps, halting when I heard, “You need to let us through, Reverend Tom!”

I pivoted in time to avoid Kat Daniels, the assistant director, waving her aluminum clipboard as if she were swatting flies, and me, out of her path.

Hassan, the camera operator was close at Kat’s fashionable heels. His muscled frame made the video rig strapped to his shoulder look small. As he side-stepped to pass us, I backed out of his way until I felt the hard edge of a pew against my rear end.

Kat ran after the camera operator, shouting orders.

“Go! Go! We need this shot. Get downstairs and see what the dog’s found.”

2

The cadaver dog stood guard at the entrance to the old boiler room, the last door at the far end of the basement hallway. Annika knelt close to him, patting his back.

Annika said, “Zeke, you are a good dog.”

Hassan aimed the big lens of his video rig over Annika’s shoulder. Kat was beside the camera operator, hugging the metal clipboard close to her chest.

Hassan sniffed, and said, “What the hell is that?”

Something sweet and rotten emanated from the dark windowless room. I moved closer, pushing down the urge to gag.

Annika said, “Zeke picked up the scent before we did and followed it down here.”

Kat said. “Let’s get lights on in there. We need the shot of whatever he’s found.”

“Annika,” I said, “What’s happening?”

Annika rubbed Zeke’s neck and turned to look back over her shoulder.

“We have to call 911 and limit access. I know that smell.”

I looked at Kat. “You heard her. We shouldn’t go in.”

Kat waved her clipboard for emphasis as she said, “She’s working for me not you, and neither of you have authority here. Ed’s the pastor. You’re just his part-time assistant. You need to get out of our way!”

Kat grew up around this church. The clipboard was new, but she’d started telling me what I needed to do twenty years earlier, when I was here as the student minister.

I’d been put in charge of the Christmas pageant. She’d been thin as a whisper but loud as thunder. A nine-year-old girl with salon styled blonde curls. Tight little fists balled on the hips of her princess dress. Stamping her tiny high heels and proclaiming, “Since my mommy and daddy are in heaven, you need to make me boss of the angels.”

Grown up Kat still had the same haunted pale blue eyes. I knew she had personal reasons for arranging this ghost-hunt. I couldn’t see how they connected to whatever we’d find in the boiler room.

I said, “Kat, we can’t...”

Annika said, “Zeke seems to agree with Kat. He wants to finish his work.”

The big dog stood alert; nose pointed at the dark room.

“Can you…” I began. “Will he…”

“He’s trained for this. He won’t disturb a crime scene.”

I nodded and reached in the doorway for the light switch.

The stench hit us full force as we followed Zeke in. I had nothing to cover my nose and mouth.

The big dog stopped short of a dark puddle spreading fast on the tiled floor. His body was an arrow aimed at the exterior wall, which was pockmarked with clusters of drill holes, each oozing black fluid.

Water-soaked plaster melted away from the wall. It splatted in fat clumps on a classroom-sized whiteboard which lay flat on the murky tiles. It was a match to the shiny new whiteboards now hung on the other walls. Thin lines of plaster dust streaked down the wall below their frames like gritty tears.

“Someone went to town with their drill,” I said, “looking for anchor spots.”

Annika said, “Something’s pushing at the drywall from the other side. See how fast those cracks are spreading?”

Kat said, “Hassan you getting this?”

A section of wall as tall as the camera man and wide as his outstretched arms bulged out then burst towards us. Sodden slabs of plaster smacked the wet floor, splashing Zeke and Annika. 

Hassan turned away from the spray to protect his lens. Kat wasn’t as quick. Her blouse and clipboard were scatter shot with greasy drops. I was out of range.

Even when his shoulders and chest were spattered, Zeke never flinched. Annika knelt beside him, ignoring the fetid fluid soaking the padded knees of her tactical pants.

“Stand down, Zeke. You are a good dog.”

Zeke dropped to his haunches. He turned his head to Annika, who proffered a treat. Before he could tongue it from her outstretched palm there was a loud whoosh.

A murky plastic wrapped mass, large as a man, pushed out of the black hole and crashed on the remnants of plasterboard. The head end landed short of Zeke, sending up another dirty splash. He shook off a spray of dark droplets.

 “Good dog, Zeke. Let’s get out of here.”

A slow dark stream bled out of the wound in the wall. A slurry of gravel and grey snow spilled on the checkerboard tiles.

There was a human form under those layers of plastic sheeting.

Kat asked, “Can we get Zeke back in here? I need a shot of him with the corpse.”

Annika leaned in the doorway to shake her head. “We’re done here. Zeke needs drying off.”

Icy water soaked through my shoes.

“Kat, I don’t think...”

Kat ignored me. “Go wide as you can on the big dark hole. It’s like some weird crypt.”

The boiler room was flooding. The mess flowed into the hallway. The basement reeked with a miasma of decay.

“Okay, Hassan, now back to the body…”

“Kat, please,” I said. “Stop now. This is not what you came here for today.”

Kat opened her mouth but said nothing.

Hassan looked to Kat and then me. Lowering his camera, he left the room.

I turned to Kat, and said, “Whoever that was mattered to someone.”

After a moment, Kat asked, “Who could have done this?”

All traces of the bossy little angel were gone.

(Chapters 3 and 4 of The Book of Answers will be posted next week.)