The Gravedigger, Kacie Clement [surface ebook reader TXT] 📗

were his remains buried in a Baptist church wall?”

Terrance, gazing at the multiple pictures of the skeleton pinned to the wall, replied, “I guess we need to figure that out.”

Kamira nodded. “Our call from Colonel Williams is at 11 am, right? I think we should call the church’s secretary, Greta Garrison, first and see if she has ever heard of a Daniel Billings.”

Kamira moved back to her desk, looking up the number for the Baptist church. Dialing the number on the landline and placing it on speaker, she waited for Greta to answer.

Kamira heard Greta pick up the line. “Good morning, Shadowbank Baptist Church.”

Kamira nodded at Terrance silently. “Good morning Greta, this is Detective Kamira Jackson with the Shadowbank Police Department. Do you have a minute? I have a question for you.”

Greta replied, “Yes, a few minutes would be fine, Detective. But then I must deposit our tithes from yesterday. What can I do for you?”

Kamira smiled across the desk from Terrance. “I am wondering if you had any knowledge of a parishioner named Daniel Billings?”

“Daniel Billings.” Greta replied, “Is that the man you found in the wall on Saturday?”

“Yes, it is. Do you remember a gentleman by that name?” Kamira listened as Greta sighed on the other end of the phone.

“Daniel Billings. I have been here almost 50 years and know most parishioners, but I don’t remember Daniel Billings’ name. Wait, back when Pastor Chestfield served as our pastor, there was a gravedigger named Danny. I never knew his last name. I don’t think anyone did, now when I come to think about it.”

Kamira watched Terrance furiously writing in his notebook. “Can you tell me what you remember about this Danny the Gravedigger?”

Greta responded, “Well, let me think. If I remember right, Faye Chestfield, the pastor’s wife, told me the story about him. I think it was 2002 that he came to Shadowbank. Faye had found him in August, sleeping outside behind the library. There had been a terrible storm the night before.

She had taken him for breakfast at Clara’s Café and had the pastor and his brother, the priest, from the Catholic church, meet them there. They gave Danny the job of gravedigger and a room in the basement here between the three of them. I don’t believe the body could be Danny the Gravedigger, though.”

Kamira, her interest peaked, asked, “Why not Greta?”

“Well, Danny the Gravedigger disappeared after Faye Chestfield’s death.”

Kamira nodded silently, “When did Faye pass, and if you wouldn’t mind telling me how she died, Greta?”

Kamira again heard Greta sigh on the other end of the phone.

“It was sad. Pastor Chestfield found his wife, Faye, in their bed one afternoon, dead. Suicide. July 2003, I believe it was.

It devastated the congregation. We had all loved Faye. Pastor Chestfield told everyone that Faye had been suffering from postnatal depression. They had lost their first daughter, Cassie, from a brain tumor. Faye often worried that her other daughter would die as Cassie did. She still had that giant hole in her heart.

I remember the funeral. The entire town was there. It was then Danny the Gravedigger disappeared. They said he couldn’t handle losing Faye. Then just two weeks later, the chief out on patrol late one night found the pastor’s car out on Route 3, burning. It appeared he had hit a tree, and the car exploded. They found charred remains and deemed they were Charles Chestfield. The remains still held a gold cross necklace Charles had worn, proudly given to him by Faye when they married.

That was a sad time in this church’s history. Well, Detective, I must get busy. Please call me again if you have any more questions.”

Kamira heard the phone call disconnect.

 Walking to the whiteboard, she looked at what Terrance had written under the timeline.

Danny, the gravedigger, showed up in Shadowbank in August 2002.

Faye Chestfield died, 2003.

The gravedigger disappears.

Two weeks later, Pastor Charles Chestfield was found dead on Route 3.

Tilting her head to the side, Kamira looked at the board, frowning. “The pastor and his wife died two weeks apart? I bet Danny the Gravedigger is our Daniel Billings. We need to look at Pastor Chestfield’s police report. We need to determine whether his car crash was an accident.”

Walking back to her desk, she pushed the intercom button on the phone. “Sally, can you bring me the file on a Pastor Charles Chestfield’s accident from July 2003?”

Kamira heard Sally say, “Let me pull the file, and I will send it to your email.”

Terrance turned the flat screen on the wall on, connecting to the department’s Skype account. They found Retired Colonel Williams’s number and entered it to communicate with him for his interview.

“Good morning, Colonel. I am Investigator Terrance James, and this is Detective Kamira Jackson. We understand you are the next of kin listed for a Daniel Billings?”

“Yes, sir, notified of that yesterday. I have to tell you, I am surprised. I haven’t seen or heard from First Lieutenant Billings since his discharge in 1970. I didn’t know that Billings listed me as next of kin.”

Terrance nodded. “What can you tell us about First Lieutenant Billings, sir?”

“I met Billings on that fateful morning on March 16, 1968. The Army had just promoted me to Captain and assigned to Charlie Company. That morning we had moved into My Lai. Our initial orders were to find the Vietcong Battalion. It was a peaceful village. Moving into My Lai, I had fallen, breaking my leg. Sergeant Monroe was in charge while the medics were treating me. They gave me pain meds, which knocked my ass out. Billings told me later that groups of women, children, and older men were rounded up and shot at close range by the end of the next hour.”

Shaking his head, a lump forming in his throat, Colonel William’s continued saying, “His fellow soldiers, thirsty with blood, committed many rapes. The buildings were destroyed, Sergeant Monroe shot and killed any remaining survivors. Over 500 Vietnamese civilians died that morning.

From that awful day