The Cosmic Ray Heresy

by Frank Smith

  CHAPTER 47-ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS

  After I dropped Olivia off at Munchkin House in the morning I went to the storeroom, got a fresh slab of dry ice and a bottle of alcohol, went to the Optics lab, and rejuvenated the cloud chamber that Sal had used Saturday. I put the communion host destined for Clara Murphy next to the cloud chamber and doused the lights plunging the lab into total darkness. Twenty minutes later I was back in my office dialing Sal's number. Unavailable. I sent a text message. Just two words: "Cherenkov radiation".

  Later first Tom and then Angela called.

  "Nice time yesterday, Frank. You're a good host. Interesting neighbors too."

  She didn't mention Sal so neither did I.

  "I just found out something interesting about a mutual friend of ours."

  "Michael Eddy?"

  "How did you guess?"

  "I was just talking to Tom Lacey about him, but you first."

  "I've got a few things here. Let me see. He has a Pennsylvania driver's license. Born February 23, 1957. That would make him eleven years old in 1968, about the right age for a kid in the sixth grade. Info on the license: six-one, brown eyes, looks slim' poor photo and a Philadelphia address in the Manayunk section of the city."

  "Not too far from where I live," I said. "What about his car?"

  "Vehicle registration is for, get this, a dark gray 2008 Ford Escape."

  "And Monsignor Smith said he saw a gray SUV leaving St. Gabriel's the morning of Soroka's death. It could have been Eddy."

  "Most certainly it was. Our crime scene guys went dumpster diving at St. Gabriel's and came up with a long plastic sleeve complete with label for the candle. Eddy's prints were on it, among others."

  "Nice. The candle too?"

  "No prints on the candle. It might have been wiped. Eddy's prints were on file for two reasons. He was in the service and he is a retired cop, Atlantic City PD, and, you'll be interested in this. While in the Navy he earned a ribbon as a sharpshooter. If Eddy was your St. Elizabeth's shooter he was aiming at the statue, not you. If he was I wouldn't be talking to you."

  "I guess that's a comfort."

  " Now, you said you have something, Frank?"

  "Yes. When I mentioned Michael Eddy to Tom Lacey last week he said the name sounded familiar. Here's what he came up with. Eddy is the unofficial president of a radically conservative Catholic group called the Union of True Believers, the UTB. They're against almost every change introduced in the Church in the last forty years; the Mass in English instead of Latin, lay people giving out Communion, nuns who don't wear the traditional habits, you name it. Eddy is also a regular participant in protests outside abortion clinics and Planned Parenthood offices.

  "He has no record of violence but Tom said that the DA's office did a background check on him a few years ago. He's a former priest. After ordination he spent two years teaching religion at Nazareth College and was forced to leave the priesthood when it was discovered he was romantically involved with one of his students. He married the girl after she graduated."

  "And as a former priest he'd know Latin. I think we found your pen pal."

  "Who might not be too happy about priests who are allowed to be married when he wasn't," I said "or happy about child molesters, rapists, actual criminals who are allowed to remain priests and escaped any punishment."

  "An avenging angel," she said.

  "It makes sense and here's the connection to St. Gabriel's. Tom also said that Eddy now works part time as the local sales rep for a church supply company; furniture, tabernacles, chalices, crosses and crucifixes, prayer books, holy cards, that sort of thing."

  "And candles?"

  "And candles," I said.

  "Which means that if the candle was delivered by Eddy his prints should be on the wrapper," she said.

  "Doesn't make him a murderer, does it?" I said.

  "No, but he's certainly a suspect. Do you have the name of his company?"

  "Hold it. I wrote in down somewhere. Here it is. Harrisburg Church Supplies. Is this enough to pick him up?"

  "The homicide boys have been looking for him for questioning without any luck. They visited his wife and she doesn't know where he is and she's worried. He always calls her when he will be away overnight. By the way, she confirmed that he had attended Good Shepherd. I'll contact the Harrisburg company. They might know something. I'll get back to you with anything I find."

  "Sounds like we're making progress, Angela."

  "Progress which demands caution, Frank. Suppose Eddy is your pen pal, and a murderer. What's the message in the 'priests should be truly priests' emails?"

  "That I'm not a true priest and, I guess, the implication that I should quit."

  "And you don't. So, he escalates the threat by drilling the statue from over two hundred yards away and then attempting to abduct Olivia-maybe a real attempt or just another threat."

  "Designed to scare me and it did."

  "And to warn you that he can hurt you or those you love."

  "Warnings that I have ignored."

  "Yes."

  "Find him, Angela."

  "We will. The question is when."

  CHAPTER 48-NOT IN THIS UNIVERSE

  My cell phone vibrated twice during my Modern Physics class. I called Sal when the class was over.

  He skipped the greeting and answered with, "I make it to be Cherenkov radiation too. Alpha particles from hell."

  Cherenkov radiation is light from a particle moving through a substance faster than the speed of light in that substance. In our case it was flashes of white light from the groups of alpha particles, faint but readily apparent in a darkened room. It is the light equivalent of a sonic boom.

  "Don't joke," I said.

  "I don't know of alpha particles moving that fast in this universe," Sal said. "They're the lumbering giants of the particle world not the high speed bullets. I'm assuming an index of refraction for that saturated air in the fish tank to be approximately one point triple zero three."

  "Sounds about right."

  "Which gives me a speed of light in the tank greater than 99.9% of the speed in a vacuum."

  "And the alphas moving faster than that," I said.

  "Which is insane, Frank."

  "I agree."

  "Besides the incredible speed we also have the problem of where they came from. They couldn't pass through the glass walls of the aquarium."

  "Your reference yesterday to a locked room murder mystery. Where's the secret passage into the room?"

  "Exactly. I'm back to Kurtz's "hole in the universe", Frank. Crazy phenomena require crazy explanations. Ciao."

  Georgina Rutherford had her own "crazy" explanation. She showed up towards the end of my afternoon lab with a briefcase and a very novel plan.

  That evening I received a reminder that if Michael Eddy was my pen pal he had not completely disappeared; a new email. "PRIESTS SHOULD BE TRULY PRIESTS-THEY SHOULD NOT PLAY AT BEING POLICE-DROP IT!" The sender's address was "icuVictoria@gmail.com". There was an attachment; the picnic photo again. This time Vicki had been digitally cut out of the photo. Only a white ghostly outline of her remained.

  If I ignored threats to myself I could not ignore threats to those I love. First Olivia, and now Vicki. What do I do, tell her to make herself scarce? Get her out of town before she was really erased? The following weekend that's exactly what I did do-got her out of town that is- with help from an unexpected source.

  CHAPTER 49-FLIGHT 719

  Our seats in the front of the plane were behind the bulkhead separating us from first class. With no seats in front of us I had plenty of leg room to stretch out. Vicki had the window seat and I was on the aisle-about as private as it gets on a jumbo jet. She had been taking notes since we boarded; what we ate, the attendant's pantomime to the recorded safety instructions, a sketch of the cabin and its two-four-two seating arrangement.

  "Another novel?" I said. "Murder on Flight 719?"

  "Never c
an tell. Did you notice the two priests in the back of the plane?"

  On boarding I had nodded at the two in recognition of our shared vocation.

  "One's a bishop," I said.

  "Even better. They both look like rugged guys which gave me an idea for a story. Suppose there is a commotion by a passenger. The priest and the bishop go up to help the flight attendant who is trying to calm the passenger down. Everyone assumes they are reasoning with the passenger, but my heroine, an amateur sleuth on vacation with her parents, notices something unusual."

  "Priscilla," I said. "Your sixth-grader."

  "Right. Priscilla spots a pistol in a hip holster when the bishop's coat falls open. Now who are they? Priests? Terrorists? Vatican assassins?

  "Assassins? With pistols? You think anyone could get though that security check we went through with a pistol?"

  "You're being too logical, Frank. Okay, maybe sky marshals with a terrific cover. Right away we have a mystery. Are they good guys or bad guys? What would you say?"

  "Can't tell," I said. "We don't know enough."

  "Okay, good. Next thing you know another flight attendant comes up to the group and Priscilla hears her say to the guy dressed as a bishop, 'Do you need any help, Ben?' She knows them."

  "Then the bishop is not a bishop," I said. "It would be unlikely the stewardess would call him by his first name if he was."

  "Right again," Vicki said pointing an index finger at me for emphasis. "Priscilla also notices that the stew is wearing high heels. She thinks that's odd so she follows her back to the galley pretending she's headed for the bathroom. She spots her fixing a drink and pouring something into the drink from a bottle with a label that reads in big red letters, 'WARNING'."

  "Poison!" I said laughing.

  "Okay, poison. Let's go with that. Now, what's the story? Who are these guys? Make something up that fits Pricilla's observations."

  "All right. Let me see. How about this? The two are terrorists and the stewardess is in cahoots with them. She is fixing a drink to knock out a passenger who discovered who the guys are. How's that?"

  "That's fine but you're wrong. The guys are sky marshals. They're trying to calm a passenger who is having a seizure. The stewardess is fixing some medicine for the passenger."

  "Is she a doctor?" I asked.

  "No, of course not."

  "She's practicing medicine without a license."

  "Too logical again, Frank. It's a story for kids."

  "Okay, but what about her high heels?" I asked.

  "The shoulder bag with her comfortable working shoes was stolen at the airport lounge. Same observations, two different stories, terrorists versus sky marshals. It's the way I come up with plots for my stories. First I make up some facts. Then I make up a story to tie all the facts together. Throw in a few red herrings and I can get two or three stories that will fit the same set of facts. That's what makes it fun to read."

  "Sounds simple," I said.

  "It's not."

  Our US Airways flight had left Rome's Fiumicino International on time at noon and was scheduled to land in Philadelphia at 4:00 PM local time. Factoring in the time difference we were in for a 10 hour trip. Our tickets for a Friday flight over and return Monday morning had arrived by way of the diplomatic pouch to Washington and a messenger to my office. I was stunned by the polite request to visit Rome and meet with Cardinal Tossi and discuss my petition to marry and future plans. I say "request" but such a request from the Prefect of the CDF to a priest can't be refused. The invitation for Vicki to accompany me could be refused but she jumped at the chance for a weekend in Rome. Olivia, Joey, my mother, and Daisy all went to my sister's house just outside the city in Lafayette Hill for the weekend. Vicki had arranged for a sub to take her classes on Monday and I asked Joe to cover my Monday class and lab.

  The flight attendants were clearing away the remains of our meal and were passing out pillows to anyone who wanted to take a nap. Vicki took one for each of us and punched hers and put it behind her head.

  "I still can't believe it," she said pushing the button on the arm of her seat to tilt the seat back and raise the foot rest. "It was so easy. Cardinal Tossi could not have been more gracious. It was hard to believe he was the same man who had signed that letter to you from the CDF."

  The Cardinal had been impressive. About seventy years old with a full head of white hair he had risen from his desk to greet us as we were ushered into his office. Ramrod straight his patrician bearing added inches to a stocky frame. He greeted us both by name, shook my hand, kissed the back of Vicki's hand, and held it sandwiched between his two hands as he inquired about the suitability of the accommodations he had arranged for her at a nearby convent. I had a room at the North American College, the seminary for elite candidates for the priesthood from North America.

  "The tea, the pastries, he's a real old world charmer," Vicki said. "I had the impression though that it was a test, like when a big company is thinking of hiring an executive and they invite him and the wife to dinner so they can check her out. Make sure she doesn't look like a biker chick or have purple hair. Make sure I wouldn't cause a scandal."

  "Well, if it was a test, you passed with flying colors. By the way you never told me about what happened when you went off with that nun."

  "She was an art historian and she gave me a very interesting tour of the building and a mini lesson in medieval paintings. I know it was to get me out of the way so you could have a private chat with the Cardinal. Was it all about us?"

  "Partly. Mostly we talked about physics and a few theological issues. It seems the Cardinal has an interest in cosmic rays."

  "The kind that you and Georgina Rutherford are interested in?"

  "Definitely those kind."

  "Did you talk about bosons too?"

  "The Higgs boson too. The real one, not your 'Higgy' version.. He is interested in many kinds of experiments, those which have been performed and those which may yet be done, particularly those that may be very tempting for a priest/physicist."

  "You're being uncharacteristically coy, Frank, and you look like a kid who just raided a cookie jar. Why did he suddenly agree to let us get married? Did you make some kind of a deal?"

  "I believe the Cardinal thinks so."

  "And what about you?"

  "His deal was fine with me."

  Vicki sat up and fluffed her pillow. "Well if you're going to continue being so cryptic I think I'll take a nap. Why don't you do the same? Kill some time. Do you realize that this will be just the second time we have slept together?"

  "When was the first time?"

  "Flight 718, the flight over-correction-it's the second time for me. It's the third time for you."

  "Oh really. How did you arrive at that imbalanced equation?"

  She turned toward me and tapped my temple with her index finger. "Kimono, Frank. Think kimono."

  "Nothing happened with the kimono," I said.

  "Oh, but you wanted it to happen. You thought I was trying to seduce you. You were very disappointed. In your head you had already slept with me."

  "Hmm. 'In my head' may count as a temptation but it doesn't count as a sleep over."

  "It does in the bible," she said smiling.

  "Now you're being cryptic."

  Vicki looked at the ceiling and raised a finger. "I tell you whosoever looks at a woman and wants to sleep with her has already slept with her in his heart."

  "You've taken some liberties there. That passage is about adultery."

  "Well I'm going to sleep and I'm counting this as number two for me and number three for you. Here are a few thoughts to help you doze off. One of the first things I'm going to do when we get back to Philly is look for a real kimono, not just a bathrobe that looks like one. Real silk. And a pair of those flip flops they wear. And, point of information, I will not be shopping for Bermuda shorts or sweaters. I won't be shopping for anything else."

  "You won't throw any DVDs at me?"


  "I promise. You think about your reaction to tea ceremonies because the next one will be a faithful rendition of that French movie."

  "Those thoughts will keep me awake, not help me sleep. You know, I've been thinking. The way science works is not too different from the way you write your mysteries. Frequently more than one hypothesis can fit the same set of facts. The Copernican hypothesis that the earth and other planets revolve around the sun and the older Ptolemaic one in which the sun and planets revolved around the earth are perfect examples. Originally both hypotheses could fit the facts, or the way they put it then, 'save the appearances'; the 'appearances' being the motions of the sun and planets as seen from the earth. The Copernican idea wasn't fully accepted until new observations were made of the planet Venus. You see, Vicki, Venus has phases just like the moon and-Vicki?"

  I must have a soothing voice. My lectures seem to put a lot of people to sleep.

  CHAPTER 50-DREAMS AT 30,000 FEET

  I put my pillow behind my head and pushed my seat back. Soon I was in that half awake state where it is difficult to distinguish between conscious reminiscing and dreaming: kimonos, French movies, tea, breaking up, Martha. It all ran through my mind. It was last spring, right before finals. Martha had brought coffee for both of us and was sitting in my office. Thank God for Martha. Thank?

  "Tell me about it, Frank."

  "About what?"

  "About your girlfriend. I heard you were finally dating someone."

  "Heard from whom?"

  "Julie Thomson in Theater Arts. She has a grad student, a teacher who is dating you. At least that's what the girl told Julie. Vicki Meyers? Hello? Ring a bell? Did something go wrong? You've been moping around here for days."

  "We're just friends. I help her with science lessons in her teaching."

  "That's all? Julie said she saw you both downtown a couple weeks ago near Independence Hall-holding hands."

  "Ok, I might as well tell you. It might help."

  "You have my ear, Frank, as your friend and as a professional if you need that."

  "Vicki teaches sixth grade in the parish school where I'm an assistant. When I first started at St. Elizabeth's she asked me if I could do some science demonstrations for her class. I did and it became a regular thing as I helped her work some fun physics into the one period a week she was expected to teach science. We became friends, at first through our children. Turns out we both liked to go to center city theaters that showed foreign films and we accidentally met one Sunday afternoon outside the Ritz at the Bourse."