by Kara Lennox
Billy didn’t explain his presence, and the priest didn’t ask. Apparently Claudia’s credentials were good enough to cover the both of them. He admired how she had soft-pedaled their real reasons for being here, all without lying. Since her approach seemed to be working, he remained silent, letting her take the lead if she wanted it.
“We believe Mary-Francis is innocent,” Claudia said, jumping right in with both feet.
The priest’s eyes lit up. “I do, too! I’ve known her since she was a child. Although she is not without sin, she simply is not capable of purposefully taking another human being’s life.”
“Even that of a husband who was abusive?” Billy asked.
Father Benito jumped at the abrupt question. “I knew of the violence in the Torres family.”
“And you counseled Mary-Francis to…to what, endure?” Billy asked. “To stick to those marriage vows no matter what? Maybe try praying?”
The priest looked horrified. “No, of course not. In another time, that would have been the thing to do, but the church has modernized its views. While the specifics of what I counseled Mary-Francis to do are private, protected within the walls of the confessional, I can assure you I did not advise her to remain in the house with a man who thought nothing of harming her.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Claudia said.
The priest turned toward her, pretending Billy wasn’t there. He folded his hands and steepled his index fingers. “I can tell you in general terms what I would normally advise a wife in such a situation. I would tell her to first seek physical safety for herself and her children. Then I would advise that she seek an annulment.”
“But she still would have had to get a civil divorce,” Billy pointed out.
“True enough,” Father Benito said curtly to Billy, then smiled at Claudia. “My feeling is that Mary-Francis announced her intention to dissolve the marriage, and Eduardo Torres—a brutal man, by the way—didn’t take the news well. In defending herself, Mary-Francis killed her husband, then was frightened and did her best to cover it up.”
“Did she tell you that’s what happened?” Claudia asked, and Billy just sighed quietly. The good priest wasn’t going to tell her that.
Predictably, Father Benito shook his head. “If she had told me such a thing, it would be within the seal of the—”
“—the confessional, yeah, we get it,” Billy said.
Claudia shot him a warning look, then returned her attention to the priest. “Father, would it surprise you if I told you that I believe Eduardo is alive?”
Billy knew he should be observing the priest, but he was busy watching Claudia watch him, like a lioness on the hunt. If the priest already knew Eduardo was alive, Claudia would spot it.
Father Benito merely looked confused. “The blood…”
“The test results can’t be trusted,” Claudia said without going into details. “Just believe us when we say there’s good reason to believe Eduardo’s murder, if it happened at all, didn’t happen the way the police thought it did.”
After considering this a few moments, the priest smiled benignly. “I’m but a simple man of the cloth.” His statement was almost a joke, it was so clichéd, and maybe he meant it that way. “I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of this complicated case, but I’m all in favor of anything that could help Mary-Francis. But tell me, what does any of this have to do with me?”
“We were hoping you might have some insight into the family dynamics,” Claudia said smoothly. “Without violating the seal of the confessional, of course…but you must know some things about the family that are general knowledge to anyone who’s observed them. For instance, Mary-Francis’s daughter, Angie.”
Father Benito’s reaction to Angie’s name was immediate and undeniable. He flinched. “Angie is…well, I won’t pretend to know what’s between her and her maker. But she refused to go to church from an early age, turned away from God before her first communion. I’ve had little contact with her over the years, even after her father’s supposed death. While Mary-Francis welcomed my comfort, Angie steered clear of me. She didn’t even come to the memorial service for her father.”
“And what about Mary-Francis’s sister, Theresa? You are close to her, as well?” Billy asked.
At the mention of Theresa, he smiled sadly. “A lovely woman. I assume you know what happened to her?”
They both nodded.
“I pray daily for her recovery. And while I’m not a vengeful person, I do hope the police catch the terrible men who did this to her.”
“Men?” Billy repeated. “As in, more than one?” Claudia might be quick to catch nonverbal cues, but the verbal ones were all Billy’s. How would the priest know there were two assailants? Billy didn’t think that fact had been reported in the press.
The priest shrugged. “Living and working in this neighborhood, I’ve unfortunately been privy to many sad stories about violent crimes. A home invasion almost always involves more than one man. These kids, these gang members, egg each other on. They are cowards, and they stack the deck in their favor. One man could probably overpower a middle-aged woman living alone, but why take chances? Bring along a buddy.”
He was overexplaining, perhaps, but what he said made sense. Statistics bore him out.
“One more question, Father,” Claudia said. “Mary-Francis and Eduardo had a coin collection, supposedly quite valuable. In the confusion of Eduardo’s disappearance and Mary-Francis’s arrest, the coins have gone missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“I can’t tell you anything about any coins,” he said quickly.
“Look, Father, I know you’re not supposed to betray certain confidences, but we’re talking about Mary-Francis’s life here. Already, Theresa has been assaulted by someone—possibly Eduardo or his friends—looking for the coins. If he succeeds in finding them, he will disappear forever, and Mary-Francis will be put to death. So if there’s anything…anything at all, even if it doesn’t seem relevant—”
The priest shrugged and folded his arms. “That’s out of my hands. I will pray that you find them. Perhaps Saint Anthony will intercede. Lighting a candle to the patron saint of lost items might not be a bad idea.”
Billy had been the one who felt queasy over accusing a priest of a crime, but Father Benito’s answer struck him as smug and uncooperative. Maybe he just didn’t like being asked to betray his vows, or maybe he was covering something up. Either way, Billy couldn’t stop himself from pulling one more interrogation card out of his sleeve—preying on a witness’s fear.
“We’ll do that,” Billy said. “But one woman has already been gravely injured, and Claudia here was attacked and beaten. We have reason to believe the men who assaulted Theresa did not find what they were looking for. They won’t stop. You might consider who could be next on the list—Mary-Francis’s daughter? Eduardo’s elderly mother? Or even you?”
“I don’t fear hoodlums,” the priest said firmly. “I also don’t fear dying, so long as my conscience is clear. How about you?”
“I think we’re done here,” Claudia said, standing and half dragging Billy out of his chair. “Thank you, Father, for visiting with us.”
Once they’d cleared the office, Claudia slowed down and took a few deep breaths. “Wow,” she said in a hushed voice. “I thought you didn’t want to play hardball with the priest.”
“I didn’t—until I realized he was lying.”
“I thought so, too.” Claudia’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Let’s go.”
“No candle for Saint Anthony?” He was only half kidding. How many times, as a child, had he chanted the familiar verse: Dear Saint Anthony, please come around. Something is lost and must be found?
“This place gives me the willies,” Claudia said. “How did Father Benito even know we were here? We didn’t make any noise when we entered. He must have a hidden camera or a remote doorbell or something.”
They were halfw
ay to the door when Billy paused to take a closer look at the church. All around the nave, in between the stained glass windows, were wall niches in which statues of various saints were enshrined. On the far wall, partially hidden by an old pipe organ, was a statue of the Virgin Mary.
“Hey, Claudia, check it out.” He made a quick detour to take a closer look at the statue. A rack of candles had been placed in front of it; almost every candle was lit, many more than any of the other statues had.
“This looks a lot like the one we saw in the video and the crime scene photos,” Claudia said. “But these statues are common, right?”
Billy examined the statue base. A line of dirt was visible on the stucco floor of the niche. It didn’t match the size or shape of this statue. He pointed it out to Claudia.
“You think another statue was moved to make room for this one?” she asked.
“Maybe. And look.” He pointed to a spot at the edge of Mary’s sleeve that had been broken and clumsily patched. He didn’t have the fragment from Theresa’s house with him, but the color looked about right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I AGREE WITH BILLY,” Daniel said. “We can’t just go accusing a priest—especially a priest with the sterling reputation of Father Benito—of stealing valuable coins from one of his flock. Right now, due to the high-profile cases we’ve tackled in recent months, we’re all living in a fishbowl. And, realistically, a burglary has nothing to do with proving Mary-Francis’s innocence.”
They were gathered in the conference room at Project Justice—Billy, Claudia, Raleigh, Beth and Mitch, with Daniel again on the video screen and the pig wandering somewhere in the building.
Although Billy wanted to take Claudia back to his apartment and make her stay there, per their agreement, he had felt a need to touch base with some of his Project Justice colleagues. The foundation was on his way home, and no bad guy would try anything in this building, not with so many ex-police officers wandering around.
This case was a mass of loose threads. He felt they ought to be focusing on finding Eduardo, not a statue full of coins. And yet Claudia made a persuasive case that Eduardo might be looking for the coins, as well.
The physical evidence was laid out on the table where everyone could see it—the blue ceramic chip, the video camera and the photo Billy had taken with his phone at the church, which had been blown up on the video screen for everyone to ponder.
“It sure looks like the same statue,” Claudia said.
“But it might not be.” Beth, who’d been tapping away on her laptop, swiveled the screen around so the others could see. “It’s an extremely common chalk statue, sold at thrift stores and flea markets all over Mexico and the Southwest.” Her screen revealed several photos of the same Virgin Mary statue—or rather, copies—she’d found with a simple Google search. “If you could actually get me the statue, I could compare the repair to the chip and know for sure.”
“Even if you prove it’s the exact same statue,” Mitch said, “what will that get us? So, a priest stole a statue.”
“But why would he steal it?” Claudia asked. “It’s not worth anything on its own. He was showing definite signs of deception.”
“You think the good Father Benito is in cahoots with Eduardo?” Daniel asked. “A priest and a gangster?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Claudia pointed out.
“Unfortunately,” Raleigh said, “we can’t just haul a priest in for questioning. We’re not the police.”
“Could we involve the police?” Claudia asked.
“First, there would have to be a crime,” Daniel said. “No one has reported the theft of a statue, and since the statue was still at Theresa’s house after the assault, it can’t be connected to the home invasion.”
Everyone seemed to collectively slump at the table.
“Billy,” Daniel said decisively. “Put a tail on Angie. If she knows about the coins, she must be in contact with her father. Put another tail on the priest.”
“Okay. What else?” Billy asked. It seemed as if Daniel had taken over his case, which no doubt didn’t sit well with him. Billy liked to be in control.
“Go with Beth back to the church. Distract the priest while she takes the chalk chip from Theresa’s house and compares it to the statue in situ.”
“I’ll need to take a sample,” Beth said. “Compare them microscopically.”
“Which is why Billy will keep the priest busy. Once we know for sure the statue in the church was stolen from Theresa’s house, we can lean on him a little harder.”
Billy checked his watch. “The church is closed now.”
“In the morning, then.”
“What about me?” Claudia asked. It seemed as if everyone else had a job to do.
“How do you feel about party planning?” Daniel asked. “I’ve invited two hundred of my closest friends over for the Fourth of July—that’s tomorrow.”
“Nice try, Daniel, but I’m no good at planning parties. You want me to just keep out of the way?”
“I want you to keep yourself safe,” he amended. “Stay at Billy’s, or stay with Jamie and me. You’ll attend the party as a guest, at least. That goes for everyone.” He made it sound like a command performance, not an invitation. “Elena has worked really hard to make it a memorable holiday.”
Billy gave Claudia a hard look. “Your choice. My place or Daniel’s. You did say you’d lay low if I took you to see the priest.”
“You’re right. I did.” Damn it. She thought about going back on her word, but would anyone at the foundation want to work with her again if she couldn’t be trusted?
The meeting broke up. Claudia and Billy headed toward the bull pen and Billy’s cubicle. “I just have to make a few calls and get that surveillance set up.”
“Sure, no problem.” Claudia’s mind was awhirl with all the pieces of this case. It was so close to fitting together. Those coins…those stupid coins. Where could they—
Suddenly something small and furry dashed down the hall straight for Claudia. She screamed and plastered herself against the wall as the creature clattered by, snorting noisily and sliding on the polished wood floor on tiny hooves. It took her a moment to realize it was Buster, Celeste’s javelina. Moments later, Celeste herself burst through a doorway and ran for them, looking not so different from her quarry as she clattered by on high heels, on two feet instead of four but huffing and puffing, a huge net gripped in both hands. Today she wore a dress that looked as though it had been made of silk scarves sewn together, and it billowed out behind her like a half-dozen fairy wings.
“Which way did it go?”
Claudia and Billy both pointed, and Celeste was off, moving a lot faster than a woman her age normally did.
“Has it been loose in the office this whole time?” Claudia asked.
“Apparently so. It’s a destructive little critter. Not housebroken, either.”
“I thought I smelled something odd in the conference room.”
* * *
BILLY ARRANGED FOR SURVEILLANCE on both Angie Torres and Father Benito, as Daniel had suggested. Project Justice had a pool of carefully vetted police officers who were willing to moonlight for such projects, given that the pay was a helluva lot better than the usual overtime gigs available to them, such as concert security or neighborhood patrol.
He wanted to keep digging. There were still leads to follow, phone calls to make, cages to rattle. But he also saw the fatigue in Claudia’s eyes and knew it was time to take her home and let her rest.
Billy stopped at Foodi’s, a place that specialized in gourmet take-out meals, and ordered pretty much one of everything on the menu at the drive-through.
“We’ll never eat all this food,” Claudia said as he piled the white bags into her lap and onto the passenger-side floorboards of his truck.
“What we don’t eat will keep.”
“It sure smells good. Um, Billy, are you going to insist I stay at your place?”
“Insist is too weak of a word. I’ll handcuff you to a doorknob if I have to. I wouldn’t be able to sleep, or think, or breathe for that matter, if I had to worry about whether some crazy was shooting at you through the windows of your condo. I don’t even like being out in the open right now, although at least we’re a moving target.”
Claudia bristled. “You can’t bully me. I won’t stand for it.”
A muscle twitched near Billy’s mouth, and he made no response for a long time, just focused on the traffic. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. But the thought of something happening…” He stopped again, clamping his mouth shut. “If you were just anybody, I’d worry. I’m a guy, you’re a girl, and I’m supposed to protect you. It’s in my DNA.”
“Actually, from a scientific—”
“Don’t start. You know what I mean. It’s what I’m programmed to do. Socialized to do. There, like that better?”
“I don’t like being thought of as the weaker sex.”
“You’re not weak. Believe me, I don’t think of you that way. But you’re also not trained in law enforcement. Yeah, you’re tough, you’ve faced down some bad dudes, I get that. You could be the freaking Terminator, and I’d still twist up inside at the thought…” Again, he clamped his mouth closed.
“You don’t have to censor yourself around me.”
“The hell I don’t. There are things I can’t—I don’t want—” He clammed up again, and Claudia sighed in frustration.
“Why can’t you just be open with me? Is it a matter of trust? We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few days. You know me pretty well by now. Do you not trust me?”
“Of course I trust you.”
“Then why—”
“There are things about me I don’t want you to know. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Frankly, yes.” She was used to people opening up to her, trusting her with everything. From childhood, she’d been a good listener, a keen observer of human nature, which made her understanding and nonthreatening. It was what made her a good counselor, especially with people who were deeply troubled.