Silent Screams - C. E. Lawrence [21]
“Did you ever see her with anyone strange or unusual?” Butts asked. “I mean, anyone who set off alarm bells or anything?”
The couple looked indignant, as if he had called their dead daughter’s virtue into question.
“Oh, Lordy, no,” Mrs. Kelleher replied. “She was dating that nice boy. He was respectful. We liked him, didn’t we, dear?” she said to her husband, who nodded obediently.
“He told us that he thought she might be seeing someone else,” Butts said.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Kelleher demanded. Her soft, round face resembled a recently vacated couch cushion.
“Did you know anything about another boyfriend?” Butts asked.
Mrs. Kelleher’s prim face puckered like a prune. “No, of course not! Marie wasn’t that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl is that?” Lee asked.
“The kind of girl who would be seeing two men at once, of course,” she snapped back. “Marie wouldn’t do that.”
“Because she was a good girl?” Lee said.
“Because she was a good Catholic girl. And, I might add,” she said, leaning forward and placing a plump hand on Lee’s arm, “we both trust in the good Lord to bring her killer to justice. We know he’s watching over us, and that he will help you capture this evil, evil man.”
“I guess He was looking the other way when your daughter was murdered,” Butts muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Kelleher said, her little button eyes bright with suspicion.
Lee felt sour distaste gathering in his mouth. Brian and Francis Kelleher held their faith in front of them like a banner. He recognized the smugness lurking behind her eyes: even devastated as she was by grief, Mrs. Kelleher’s voice had the sanctimonious tone of the true believer. These people brandished their beliefs like a weapon. One sweep of the sword of their faith opened a swath between them and the world of nonbelievers—a swift and tidy demarcation.
It set his teeth on edge and angered him beyond reason. He didn’t know why—perhaps he heard echoes of his mother’s stalwart stoicism and superiority. It was hubris in the guise of humility, close-mindedness masquerading as wisdom.
He knew he would have to overcome his distaste, and tried to arrange his face in a proper attitude of sympathy and concern.
“You know, my wife and I worked long and hard to raise our girl with solid Christian values,” Mr. Kelleher said, as if reciting a well-memorized speech. The words had all the spontaneity of a church litany. All the while, his wife watched him, smiling. Lee felt such a visceral distaste for them that he forced his thoughts once again to the unspeakable tragedy they had just suffered.
“You see, Inspector—” Mrs. Kelleher began.
“It’s Detective,” Butts corrected.
She was not deterred a bit, though, and continued without a pause.
“You see, Detective, the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. He must have had a reason for wanting our Marie up there with him—because that’s where she is now, sitting in heaven beside God the Father. He must have some plan for her, or He wouldn’t have taken her away from us like this.”
“So your daughter was religious, too?” Lee asked.
Mrs. Kelleher shifted her focus to him. “Oh, goodness me, yes! She never missed church. Marie was the very best child that anyone could hope to have,” she added, dabbing at her eye with the corner of a flowered handkerchief, which gave off an oppressively heavy floral scent. Lee tried to place it: Was it mimosa? Patchouli? Lilies of some kind?
Brian Kelleher put a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. Lee had more sympathy for him. It looked as though he was just playing along with his wife’s religious passion, and that left to his own devices, he might be a sensible, rational man. Mrs. Kelleher sighed, though Lee had the impression that she was feeling sorry for herself rather than mourning her daughter. Something about this woman rubbed him the wrong way and set off alarm bells in his head.
Another half hour of questioning brought them no closer to useful information about poor Marie. Her parents merely corroborated everything they already knew about her. She