O'Heavenly Murder by Jennifer Northen - HTML preview

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN

Father Lonigan was in his office practicing his sermon for tomorrow’s church service, for those few who were still hanging on. As he was adding the finishing touches, he heard footsteps coming down the short hall. Looking up, Lester Hendrix now appeared in his doorway, carrying a small leather gym bag.

The good Father had stopped by Lester’s home a few days after the death of his daughter, Sherry, at the hands of Chief Miller. He found Lester sobbing pitifully; they prayed together for the soul of Sherry to be allowed into heaven.

As her body was still in the custody of the Coroner, nothing had been said about a service or burial arrangements. Father Lonigan had spoken to the Bishop over in Millersburg, and was told, Sherry Hendrix’s body would not be allowed to be interred in the church cemetery, nor there be a Catholic service. He wasn’t sure how Lester was going to take this news.

Motioning for him to sit, “Lester, it’s good to see you out and about. I was going to come by and pay you a visit on Monday. Are things any better?” Samuel knew some people had been treating him as an outcast, while others were understanding and supportive, since it was made public that his only daughter was a murderer.

“Good sir, things have been settling down a bit. Most folks still don’t know what to say to my face, I guess. When they see me comin’ they turn away, or even cross the street to avoid me. But I don’t hold that against nobody. Sherry done what she done, and now it’s in the Lords hands.” Lester crossed himself.

“With god, all things are truly possible. So Lester, what may I help you with today?” Samuel asked, figuring he might as well get it over with now. He had rehearsed a few days ago, what he would say, concerning what the Bishop had said about no funeral for his daughter through the Catholic Church.

“I know it’s not the appropriate time or place, but would you be so kind as to hear my confession Father?” Lester had tears welling up in his tired eyes.

Samuel hadn’t expected this. After a moment of reflection, he didn’t feel comfortable with his request, but decided due to recent events he’d make an exception this time, “Yes, I can hear your confession my son.”

Lester began, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he crossed himself, “my last confession was two months ago. At this time, I wish to confess that I killed Martha Camp and Ruth Anderson. I killed them with claw-hammers I bought in another state.”

Father Lonigan sat in stunned silence, not sure if he should interrupt Lester, or let him finish his confession. His mind whirled as to whether he should protect the sanctity of church doctrine, or if he should try and get Lester to turn himself in to the authorities, or should he break the confessional vow and call the police himself.

Lester continued, “I was directed to kill these sinner’s by one of god’s archangels. He said I still have one more sinner to dispatch, before I will be allowed to enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Father Lonigan was absolutely dumbfounded by his admission. Truly, he now felt, Lester must be insane to believe god would send an angel to direct him to kill these two so-called sinners. That he was going to kill again in order to secure his place in heaven was just too much, “Lester, god doesn’t send…wait…stop, please dear god, no!”

Lester stood as he removed the claw-hammer that was concealed within the leather gym bag. With herculean force he unleashed, blow-after-blow, until Samuel’s limp body was prone upon his office floor.

Counting thirty blows exactly, he stepped back to admire his handy-work. Pleased, he knew he had finished his holy task and that the Archangel would be proud. Letting the hammer slide down through his bloody fingers to the floor, he now departed to return home where the Archangel said he would be waiting.

Arriving home only several minutes later, as he lived just eight blocks from St. Joseph’s, he went into his shed located behind his house, as the Archangel had instructed him to do once he had finished his mission.

Lester had already prepared everything beforehand. Willingly, he approached his self-made gallows. The noose was silently hanging above the chair he had positioned beneath it. Balancing himself as he stepped up, he pulled the noose over his head and tightened it.

The Archangel now appeared before him, “Lester, I’m waiting for you to join me in heaven. What’s the holdup?”

“Oh great one, may I please know by what name you are called, before I step off?”

“You may call me…Leonard.”

THE END