by Alexie Aaron
"Where is young Harry?"
"Horrible Harry is either on his way home or answering questions for both of us at the hospital."
"Why aren't you there?"
"Didn't feel cooperative. I hope you, however, are up to an explanation. First give me the one Michael is going to give the cops and then the true one."
"Michael went to visit the school and became curious about the empty buildings across the street. He found his way into the old mill and inadvertently pulled a wall of debris down, causing him to be trapped. He had no idea there was a body in the next room because he never got that far." Father David paused.
"That sounds plausible since Buslowski and I had to force the door open. It's good," I said, nodding my head. I turned around. "Now the real story."
"Manuel Perez confessed to Father Peter that he had used the Pahokee School's bus to transport men from the gulf coast to a fish camp on the east side of Lake Okeechobee. The men paid him in cash. He felt he had sinned since he didn't give a tithe to church. He didn't say who arranged the pickup or elaborate on who the men were. This confession nagged at Father Peter. He thought that either this was an illegal alien smuggling operation, or maybe something worse. So he ran it by Michael who came down in search of Manuel Perez, hoping to get a description of the men. But he had to do it in such a way as to not discredit Father Peter. Manuel had already been absent from work several days when Michael visited the school, using the Williams Foundation as a ruse, to find him. He was chatting with one of the children and found out that Manuel liked to go across the street to sneak a cigarette when he was supposed to be washing the buses.”
"Michael drove his car and parked it near the mill. He was looking around when he spotted some men entering that building. He followed them in order to ask them about Manuel when he caught snatches of their conversation. They weren't speaking English or Spanish which should have flagged Michael to get the hell out of there, but he continued to quietly follow them. They were fussing around in the back room where you found Perez. That, combined with the smell that wafted over to Michael, convinced him that he better leave. He reversed his route but didn't plan on more men entering the building. He was caught between both parties of men and was overpowered.”
"Michael played the lost tourist, and his driving a rental car backed up his story. They must have decided that his death better look like an accident so they knocked him out and pushed over a wall of trash onto him. They left him there to die of either starvation or dehydration."
"So these men didn't want the police looking too deep into his death. They must have taken his car and driven it away. I wonder how much identification he had in there," I said.
"Enough for someone to look into who he was back in Savannah. I think those guys that followed Harry may have been sent to do just that."
"I wonder why they didn't dispose of Perez's body if they went to the trouble of rigging Michael's to look like an accident."
"Oversight? Maybe they were more worried about who Michael was and how this could affect whatever plans that they have." Father David got up. "That’s all I have right now. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Father Peter makes a mean hamburger. Care to join us?"
"Sure, food's always better when someone else is cooking it."
Harry arrived just as we were sitting down to eat. He pulled up a chair and filled his plate. We all ate for a while in silence, each of us going over our thoughts. I watched Harry eat until he caught my eye.
"What?" he said with a mouthful of food.
"Did everything go okay at the hospital?"
Harry swallowed and wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin before responding. Father Michael was still in surgery when I left. Sergeant Dave asked if I had talked to Father Michael, and I said no, you were with him. Did I know anything about the stiff? And I told him maybe it could be the missing bus driver that we heard about at the school."
"Shit."
"Cin, there are priests present,” he admonished. “I had to give him something. He can tell there is something afoot. So, I gave him a toe," Harry reasoned.
"Actually, I agree with Harry," Father David spoke up. "We don't need to antagonize the local police. We may need them."
"You may need them," I corrected, getting up. "I'm out of this. You can use my home. Hell, you can use Harry. Just don't return him damaged. If you break him, you fix him."
"Why may I ask are you, quote, out of this?" Father Thomas asked quietly his tenor voice edged with concern.
"Thumb cuffs, dead bus drivers, secrets held by clergy, terrorists."
"Maybe."
"Bull, not maybe. I figure that we have a group of men smuggled into Florida. The bus driver killed. Michael left for dead. This doesn't sound like 'Hey, I'm here to illegally pick your oranges.' It says 'I'm here to do grievous harm.’" I paused and looked at each one of them, waiting for someone to comment. "Why can't you just bring in the big guns?"
Father Thomas spoke up, “Because we don't know what they’re up to. If we move in too soon, they’ll just take off, and then they’re off our scopes until they do ‘grievous harm.’"
"Father Thomas, you can stop quoting me. It pisses me off." I looked at Father Paul. "Who are you? Why are you in this? No, not just you, how about Father David? Father Peter heard a confession so I understand his stake, but you guys are priests! You're not FBI, CIA or any other acronym."
"May I speak?" asked a too calm Father Paul.
"Go ahead."
"Then sit down." He waited until I sat down. "The four of us have been, and some still are, members of the military. Some of us worked in divisions no one really talks about. We have on occasion done things that were necessary to ensure the success of an operation, but not what Jesus would do. These are our crosses to bear. This country is not safe. Don't believe the press or the White House. The security of this country is a day-to-day struggle of many thousands of people to stop the flow of evil from manifesting itself in our picture postcard country.
"The four of us are friends, and we have been meeting openly in the spirit of our callings to discuss things, ease the tension and mourn the losses. This is our first chance in a long time to actually do something about it. This started off as an investigation, but you know it’s now more than that. Father Michael is in danger, as you and Harry are. You may have thought you were at that mill alone, but I assure you there were eyes there. I think the cops arriving saved your and Harry's butts. Something is happening, and it's happening soon. We don't know what yet. Palm Beach County is your area. The rest of us need to use the knowledge you have. We need to bounce information off of you both."
"So, you need us as consultants," Harry piped up and smiled at me.
"Yes, consultants." Father Paul looked at me and waited.
"Last time I agreed to be a consultant, I ended up in thumb cuffs." I sighed, sat back and closed my eyes.
"I can show you how to get out of them," Father Thomas added to the pot.
I opened one eye. "You’ll disappear after all this is done? And take the illegal firearm that Harry has hidden in this house with you?"
"Yes."
"I opened the other eye. "You'll try real hard not to get us killed?"
"Yes."
"Okay, but if I end up incarcerated after this, you will have to take care of Harry. I suggest a monastery somewhere."
"Cin, you're being a pill," Harry pouted.
"You're a danger, Harry, a danger to the world." I got up and started to pick up the table.
Father Peter laid a restraining hand on my arm. "Let me do this. Maybe you will feel better after a shower and change of clothes."
I was amused by being mothered by a father but accepted the goodwill in which it was given. I smiled and headed for my room, but I stopped short and Father David bumped into me.
"It's a large shower, are you joining me?" I asked the blushing priest.
"I… I just wanted to check out your room, just to make sure we don't have
any surprises."
"Fine with me, but the only surprise in there is an unmade bed and the world’s largest supply of bubble bath. You see, every time Harry gets in trouble, he brings bubbles instead of flowers." I stepped aside and waited while he cased the master suite.
"Harry must get in trouble a lot," Father David said as he left the room.
"That's why we call him Horrible Harry," I said and gently shut the door and locked it.
~
I couldn't believe my timing. Just as I got into the elevator at the hospital, going up to visit Michael, Diane and Betty got off the other one. I squashed myself against the sidewall, hoping I wouldn't be seen. I was successful. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to them. No, that's a lie. I dreaded it. I would let Harry communicate with the Williamses, since our job was finished. He could do the explaining.
Well, I really did like Harry, I thought. I should warn him at least. I reached into my pocket and texted him. “Aunt d leaving rx beware.”
I found out from a cheerful candy striper that Michael had a room to himself at the end of the hall. I felt a bit sheepish that I didn't have any flowers or even a balloon to give him. All I had was a very mangled diary, that I would wait until his pain meds wore off before hitting him with it.
He was awake and eating, much to my surprise.
"So you've come for your religious training?" he said, sucking orange gelatin between his teeth.
"Grow up." I walked over to the bed and felt his forehead. "I think I’ve had enough Catholics for a long while."
"The boys giving you trouble?"
I started laughing at the absurdity of those four priests being called “the boys.” "Tell me, they were all Harrys before taking their Church name, right?"
"Ah, Harry. You really are too hard on the boy."
I wiped some gelatin off his freshly shaved chin. "I see someone has been taking care of you." I sat down in one of the most uncomfortable chairs that have ever been made. I think they’re made that way to discourage people from staying too long.
"Aunt Diane insists that you're never too sick to look your best. How are you getting along with the old dragon?"
"We’re avoiding each other. Even though I saved your butt, she is still holding me responsible for all of this." I waved my hands up and down his body, "So, how many bones broken?"
"Three."
"How many ant bites?"
"Hundreds."
"Hate to say it, but the bones will mend before you will be over the effects of those bites. Aunt Diane is going to be a bit irritated with your new foundation of calamine lotion. But then again, Pink is in - or is it the new black?" I said smiling.
"So what's eating you?" he asked seriously.
I handed him his diary and opened to the last page. He read to himself the account that Father David wrote, noting that he was in danger and the local police probably bugged the room.
"Sergeant Dave Buslowski, has he been in to talk to you?"
"Yes," he said absently as he was still reading.
"I hope your interview went better than mine."
He motioned for something to write with, and I tossed him a pen. Michael filled several pages before handing it back to me.
"My Aunt is arranging for me to be removed from this hospital and be privately nursed in a condo that Betty is setting up."
"Here?" Oh joy, I thought. My head started to ache with the knowledge that Aunt Diane would be in my backyard.
"I have to stay in Palm Beach County according to the Sergeant. Betty will have all the details, just call her."
"Just make sure you’re safe. I don't have the time to run around looking for you. I’m one busy woman." I smiled.
"Thanks," he said gently.
I waved my hand as my eyes were tearing up. "Let's talk about it another time. You’ve Jell-O to eat."
I filled him in on what my family was up to, and he asked fondly about our newly formed friends in England. We reminisced about our last adventure together. He was tiring, so I kissed him on the forehead and tucked him in. I looked at the elevated leg, mentioning that I wanted to sign the cast he would eventually have, and I left, tucking the diary deep into my purse.
I had no more than pushed the elevator button when an all too familiar voice asked, "Visit over?"
I turned to Dave Buslowski and shrugged.
"You're going to have to talk to me." He got in the elevator with me, and we rode in silence.
"Didn't Harry talk to you?"
"Yes, but this is an official inquiry. I need you to follow me to my office." He took my arm and guided me through the building to the parking lot.
"Follow you?"
"Well, let's say I'll follow you to the county lockup."
"If you're going to arrest me, I’d rather drop off my car at home. It's on the way."
"Your precious car will be fine for an hour or two." He led me to my car and waited until I unlocked the door. Dave opened the door and all but pushed me into it. "Remember to mind the speed." He closed the door and signaled for his car to be brought over. The deputy driving got out, and Dave got in the driver's seat.
"Shit." I didn't want to mess with Dave, no matter how mad I was at him. I dialed my phone and let Harry know where I was going to be. He told me that Betty had dropped off the stuff that we had left in Savannah. He also mentioned that she was going to return, after settling Diane in, to have a nice chat with Father David. Somehow I felt a bit safer knowing that Betty was there.
I heard an "Ahem" coming from the speaker in the sheriff's car. So I put down the phone and backed out and headed towards the county lockup.
Chapter Fifteen
I pulled into a parking space and secured my car. I checked the locks twice. It unnerved me to have the county lockup - or the Country Club as we locals call it, as it overlooks Trump's golf course - looming over my precious car. This car meant a lot to me because it was the first thing that made me happy after my husband ran off with a rich bitch. She eventually had dumped him. That would have given me satisfaction if it weren’t that the homeless blighter was living in the pool house presently. Not only did I have Harry on site but my ex too.
Buslowski was waiting for me at the front of the building where he'd been dropped off. "You make me very uncomfortable glaring at me like that. You're not still mad."
"Mad doesn't skim the surface of what I feel about you right now." I raised my sunglasses so he could get a good look at my hateful eyes.
"Put them back on, you scare me. By the way, you're not armed are you?" he said, looking me over.
I held out my purse. "Wanna dig through this? No, then be at ease, all I have is my wallet, a book and several lethal pens. Oh, my cell phone is on, do I have to turn that off?" I said as we walked into a reception area.
"This isn't a hospital. But because of 9/11 we all have to go through security."
He used we, but I noticed while I stood in line for the X-ray machine and metal detector, he walked around it. I laid my purse down on the conveyor belt, took off my necklace and laid it with my watch in a basket. I didn't know what to do with my cell phone so I handed it to the officer in charge. I noticed that they didn't really notice the quality of the necklace and handed everything back to me. I jotted down in my memory that this was good to know.
"Come on," Buslowski growled, being the impatient lout he is.
"Remember I didn't ask to be here. Blast, these lights are bright." I put back on my sunglasses. During a prior investigation, a mist of poison had been sprayed into my face and damaged my eyes and caused my pupils to enlarge. This made my night vision improve but caused me pain during daylight hours. I had been putting in some drops that Mary the pagan witch in Cornwall had sent me, and, although they did improve somewhat, they still were painful. "Are we going to your office or are you just going to book me now?" I said sarcastically.
"I think that since we already have your fingerprints we can just go to my office," he said light-heartedly.
<
br /> Buslowski led me to the elevators, and we rode one up to the third floor. Harry and I had been here before. Not a most pleasant visit. We had been fingerprinted not in the forensics lab but hauled over to the prison by an inexperienced deputy. Dave’s office was a glassed-in affair that housed a large paper-strewn desk, computer station with two monitors, two comfortable chairs that flanked each other, and a battered coffee table that looked as if it did more time as a footstool than held coffee.
I took the farthest chair from the door and sat down. Buslowski excused himself for a minute and came back with a large cup of coffee for me and a perky female deputy named Tina something-or- another.
"Tina will take down your statement."
"Statement on how I feel about stiletto heeled shoe makers, or a statement on police brutality? I assure you that they’re quite similar," I said dryly. "I assume it’s about me finding Michael Williams. Where do you want me to start?"
"I want you to talk to me about the mill and anything else you’ve found out since then," Buslowski's voice tightened.
"Okay, I guess I will start at the school. Harry and I thought that we would visit the school where Michael was supposed to have visited. I don't remember exactly how I heard about the missing bus driver, Manuel Perez. It’s been a long day," I explained. "A little boy, I think his name was Markus, told me that he had seen Father Michael across the street in the old mill. He had seen the photograph of him that I had been holding when I was questioning the staff as to if he had been there. Anyway, Harry and I thought it was worth a try so we went over there and walked around looking for an opening - the big doors were chained shut. Harry and I went in opposite directions, and he found him first. We could see Father Michael through a break in the back wall of the mill. Once I got in and down to Michael, I tossed my cell to Harry and had him call for help. Or did I have him call before? Lord, I don't remember which way, sorry. Where was I? Oh yes, Father Michael. He was trapped and unconscious when I got to him. I think I asked Harry to get some water. Anyway, I tried to get him to drink it. He woke and talked to me. I think he said that it wasn't an accident, and then he passed out."