When death stalks the halls of Saint Charles Borromeo’s peaceful seminary, sin and secrets surface faster than anyone can say Amen.
When seminarians start dropping faster than confessions after Mass, Father Brendan O'Clery can’t resist getting involved. His detective niece, Maureen McNeely, relies on her uncle’s gift for puzzles, while Father Brandan—never one to resist a mystery—cheerfully ingratiates himself into her investigations.
With the help of his two best friends, Rabbi Ezra Lieberman and Pastor Langdon Boothe, the trio of clerics wade into a mystery filled with cryptic clues, and cover-ups, mixing murder and mischief in equal measure, as they dive headfirst into the mystery, uncovering a web of deceit, and long-buried sins.
Aiden’s name creeps to the top of the suspect list, the friends must solve the case before evil claims its next victim.
Twisty, clever, and laced with holy mischief, this seminary murder mystery delivers a divine dose of suspense with a side of laughter, and we confess—it will keep you guessing to the very last page.
When death stalks the halls of Saint Charles Borromeo’s peaceful seminary, sin and secrets surface faster than anyone can say Amen.
When seminarians start dropping faster than confessions after Mass, Father Brendan O'Clery can’t resist getting involved. His detective niece, Maureen McNeely, relies on her uncle’s gift for puzzles, while Father Brandan—never one to resist a mystery—cheerfully ingratiates himself into her investigations.
With the help of his two best friends, Rabbi Ezra Lieberman and Pastor Langdon Boothe, the trio of clerics wade into a mystery filled with cryptic clues, and cover-ups, mixing murder and mischief in equal measure, as they dive headfirst into the mystery, uncovering a web of deceit, and long-buried sins.
Aiden’s name creeps to the top of the suspect list, the friends must solve the case before evil claims its next victim.
Twisty, clever, and laced with holy mischief, this seminary murder mystery delivers a divine dose of suspense with a side of laughter, and we confess—it will keep you guessing to the very last page.
A biting wind howled through the skeletal branches of ancient oaks, their twisted forms casting long shadows across the historic Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary courtyard. The Maryland air that evening was thick with the scent of decaying leaves mingling with the faint aroma of incense that lingered in the drafty stone corridors. The chapel loomed ahead, its towering spires barely visible through the November fog. Dim light flickered from within, casting a pale, amber glow through the stained-glass windows that depicted solemn saints with watchful eyes. The chill of the evening seeped through every stone, and silence hung like a heavy shroud, broken only by the creak of the chapel’s wooden doors.
Joseph Lin, a young third-year seminarian, paused at the entrance of the chapel, his breath forming delicate clouds in the cold air. His hands trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the gnawing anxiety that twisted in his gut. Something wasn’t right. He had felt it all day—a mounting tension, a creeping sense of dread that clung to him like the fog. He crossed the threshold with hesitant steps, the echo of his footfalls swallowed by the oppressive quiet. His eyes darted nervously toward the shadows that pooled in the corners of the chapel, where the candlelight couldn’t reach. He made his way to the confessional, the ancient wood groaning softly as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Sinking to his knees, Joseph clasped his hands tightly together, trying to steady his breathing. The confessional felt colder than the rest of the chapel, the worn wooden walls pressing in on him as though they carried the weight of centuries of whispered sins. He opened the sliding door that allowed him to speak, heart pounding in his chest as he heard the faint rustle of the priest’s robes on the other side. Yet something felt...off. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something unseen was lurking just beyond the veil of darkness.
Hesitantly, he whispered, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” His voice trembled, more from fear than guilt, and he struggled to suppress the growing dread gnawing at the edges of his mind. In an embarrassed whisper, he related some of his sins of the past week, none more serious than choosing to sleep in one morning, making him late for his first class.
“We are all judged, Joseph,” the voice intoned, its inflection slipping into something darker. “But tell me…who absolves the guilty?”
Joseph’s breath hitched. Now sharp and biting, the voice seemed to slice through the thin wall between them. “Father, I don’t—” His eyes narrowed in confusion, but before he could speak another word, he heard the confessional door crash open, and suddenly, a dark figure was on him, strong hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air. His vision blurred as he struggled against his attacker, the wood of the booth creaking under the violence.
Before Joseph’s soul left his body, his eyes locked onto his assailant’s. It was—no, it couldn’t be! But why? What had he, Joseph Lin, the first-generation American of Chinese immigrant parents, done to deserve this? There was no mercy there, only cold resolve.
Resigned, Joseph ceased his struggle. His lips moved in silent prayer as his world faded to black, the last sound in his ears the haunting creak of the chapel doors closing in the distance before his soul left his body.
The Murders at Saint Charles Seminary is the third book in author Janet A. Brown’s cozy A Priest, A Rabbi, and a Baptist Minister mystery series featuring Father Brendan O’Clery, his homicide detective niece, Maureen, and his close friends in the clergy, Rabbi Ezra Lieberman and Pastor Langdon Boothe, who use their unique expertise and insights to solve murders. The story hits close to home for Father Brendan when a murderer kills a young seminarian, with a vow of more death to come at the Saint Charles Seminary, where his young nephew, Aiden, is also enrolled. Since his niece, Detective Maureen McNeely, is supposed to be on vacation, the case is assigned to her untested coworker, Deputy Caleb Martinez. Maureen sticks around, off the books, to help guide Caleb through his first homicide investigation and avoid the confusion and wrath of their vindictive supervisor that she experienced during her first case. Still, as Aidan was the one who found the body of the murder victim, Caleb’s suspicion naturally falls on him as the possible killer, raising the stakes for the O’Clery clan.
Told from multiple points of view, readers have a front row seat to what’s not being told the police as they question the residents of Saint Charles, as well as the terror the young men there are experiencing as the killer strikes again. Aiden O’Clery is only three months into his studies and is a kind and gentle soul, and friends with most of the others in his year, one of whom may very well be the murderer. As this is the same seminary Father Brendan attended, he is able to come and go at will and enlists Aiden to be his eyes and ears on site.
Father Brendan’s two close friends, Ezra and Langdon, are only on the fringes of the case; Brendan uses them as sounding boards for his theories and as backup observers when they visit the seminary. They are so peripheral to the story that if they’d been omitted completely, they wouldn’t have been missed. Even though I love this trio of clerical sleuths, Father Brendan has always been my favorite, and the series is really his. Also, the banter between Ezra and Langdon regarding Ezra’s purported diminutive size and Langdon’s prodigious appetite quickly palled.
The charm of the book lies in the O’Clery family relationships. Family matriarch Eabhe O’Clery has been moved to assisted living, and, as expected, is not happy about it. She is lovable but sly, crabby, and manipulative, and knows exactly what buttons to push or cards to play to get exactly what she wants. Her scenes are delightful as she pointedly proclaims whatever is on her mind or wants to know. Her favorite son and golden boy, Archbishop Malachy O’Clery, stirs the pot as the older brother he is.
The resolution of the case was exciting, and I didn’t catch on to who the killer was until it was revealed, much like most of the characters of the book, although there was a big old hint right in front of our eyes that no one considered. The plot delves into Father Brendan’s continued struggles with PTSD from his Gulf War and Afghanistan service and his worrisome reliance on his prescription medications to survive, but there may be light at the end of this tunnel for him, too.
I recommend THE MURDERS AT SAINT CHARLES SEMINARY to readers of mysteries and thrillers, especially those who enjoy amateur sleuths with a religious vocation.