A loving fog horn bellowed as he lifted the consecrated bread. Josh held the gold plate under his uncle’s chin, and Larry’s fatherly smile belied the stocky build of a hard-hitting cop. After Mass, Father Ralph felt on edge as he spoke to Larry at the back of the church. They noticed Josh moving closer. Larry nodded, turned, and went back into the church.
“What did Uncle Larry mean when he said, ‘not to pursue the MacKenzie case too aggressively’?”
“Josh, let’s go back to the sacristy. I’ll explain.”
In the sacristy, Father Ralph sat down opposite Josh. “You know Cornelius had a disability, and you were so polite and, in your own special way, let him know that he could talk about anything, including his disability, if he wanted to. Someone shot Cornelius.” Father Ralph saw Josh tearing up. “Cornelius taught my family about unselfish love. I know Cornelius was ready for heaven, and God is taking care of him now. Uncle Larry will do his best to find out what happened.”
Josh listened to Father Ralph’s every word. “I’m so sorry, Father.”
“Thank you, Josh. Now, you take care of yourself and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and let God take care of the rest. Okay?”
“Yes, of course!”
Josh wiped his eyes with Father Ralph’s handkerchief and said good-bye.
Father Ralph searched for a story on Cornelius. Finding none, he thought, “Honest, incorruptible, trustworthy, Larry is a good example for Josh.”
The smell of gardenias caused him to turn around abruptly. A bright yellow scarf circled her neck and trailed down the back of a buttoned-up black trench coat. She had the pallor of a vampire. He had forgotten plans made two days ago. They were set to go sailing. They would drive to the Marina, board his Chris-Craft, and return before noon.
Before he could say anything, Joyce laid her cheek on his chest. He stood stiff as a pillar. The ten-year, unconsummated love affair was intruding at the worst moment. How would he break the news that Cornelius was dead, or did she know?
“I waited until Mass was over. I saw a young man leaving. I was thinking, why don’t we meet tomorrow for lunch?”
He let her relax in his arms.
She needs me.
The softness of her black curls touched his chin and made him feel guilty for allowing her to talk sweetly, but he wanted to hear the melodic notes of her voice, and he allowed his thoughts to drift back to the party and the apparition he had of a man and woman walking along a beech and holding hands.
How inexcusable, considering what has happened.
Joyce hugged him, and he hugged her back.
“Remember the joke, Ralph?”
Oh no! Not now.
“There were three professors on a skydiving adventure...”
“Joyce...I have a lot going on.”
Her smoky-gray eyes twinkled stardust.
“My brother died last night.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, dear.”
Her tremolo was high. She caressed the razor-sharp edge of his jaw.
“I found him in his apartment.”
She moved slightly but didn’t let go. Suddenly, he was gripped by an overpowering emotion and kissed her passionately.
There was a knock on the door and no time to break.
“Father, I forgot my Giants baseball cap.”
Father Ralph saw the shock on Josh’s face. He seized Joyce’s arms and pushed them down to her side. Josh found the crucifix under his t-shirt and rubbed the white cotton covering it. He watched Josh look down at the baseball cap, its center crushed under Joyce’s foot.
Father Ralph saw Joyce’s face change colors, from amber to salt. “She was just comforting me.” He wanted the world to begin again and saw something in Josh’s eyes.
Is it more than suspicion? Is Josh possessive of me and protective, too?
She collapsed. He caught her and set her carefully on a red velvet chair. He looked up at Josh. Man and boy heard her gasping for air. She looked fragile and overburdened in the light filtered by the symbol of hospitality, the pineapple, which was etched into the yellow, pebbled sacristy windows.
Joyce’s breathing and the faint sounds of vehicles on the street filled the void.
Father Ralph picked up the cap and handed it to Josh. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll see you later.” Josh turned and walked out the door.
Father Ralph’s attentions turned back to Joyce.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
She rose, and they maneuvered around each other.
“How can I can leave you at a time like this?” she asked.
“How can you stay?”
“Will you be all right, Ralph?”
“I have to get back to Loyola House.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“No.”
•••
The spotlight on the crucified Christ above the high altar drew Larry’s attention to the oil paintings below the clerestory walls. The pictures dripped with sacrifice and were a reminder of the high-gloss pages in the Latin/English Missal now obsoleted by Vatican II. He looked down at the daily missal, whose pages were printed on paper any daily rag could use.
The bouquet of paraffin melting in votive bottles drifted his way.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the facsimile of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, stretched out under a side-altar with glass front.
Thank God for Josh’s devotion to Father Ralph.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.
“Hi, Dad. I’d like to introduce you to Joan.”
Mark’s voice was shaky. She stuck out her hand. Black hair pulled back in a pony-tail and a white cardigan unbuttoned at the top demonstrated her modesty, and she stood tall as Mark but without his self-importance. Her lips rose like a crescent moon when she said, “Mark has told me so much about you. I’m happy to meet you at last.”
“Nice to meet you, Joan.” He turned to Mark. “Why did you come here? I have to go to work. Cornelius MacKenzie, Father Ralph’s brother, died last night.”
“Dad, I came here because you won’t meet us.”
“That’s correct, and it will stay that way as long as you are living with her outside the marriage bond. Good-day.”
Larry didn’t know what to do but staying with them wasn’t an option. They followed him out the side door, and under cloudy skies, Mark took hold of his arm.
“Dad, you can’t ignore us.”
“Fine. You want to argue, then let’s see Father Ralph. Did you go to communion?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Larry entered the door in the back of the church. A woman in a black trench coat came out of the Sacristy. He was too upset to say hello and wondered why Joan wanted Mark. There must be plenty of Jewish men at the right age. Would she know that a Catholic has certain obligations, which, if not fulfilled, could bar entry into heaven, and how would her parents react to the Leahy family?
Father Ralph’s eyes were bloodshot, and he looked as if he had seen the devil.
Starting a conversation with them present will be harder than climbing a mountain.
“Ralph, good morning. This is Mark’s girlfriend, Joan. We need to talk.”
“Hello, Mark. I haven’t seen you in ages.” He shook hands with Mark and then Joan. “Did you come to Mass?”
Larry answered for him. “Yes, but the real reason for coming was to see me, and that’s what we need to talk about. Mark and Joan are living together and not married. His mother and I have expressed our disapproval, but Mark has chosen to do what he pleases.”
Larry waited for Father Ralph’s reaction.
“Mark, you teach at Riordan High School, isn’t that right?” Father Ralph asked.
“That’s right.”
“And you, Joan, what do you do?”
“Mark has told me so much about you and the influence you’ve had on the whole Leahy family, and I
’m so happy to meet you.” She looked relaxed. “To answer your question, I teach at Lowell High School.”
“She teaches calculus. You could teach calculus. Right, Mark?” Larry asked bitterly.
“Well, it’s more of a challenge than geometry.”
Larry stared. “You went to Stanford. Calculus should be a breeze.” Mark shrugged off the remark.
“Bah.”
Joan looked at Mark. Mark looked at Father Ralph.
“Please, let’s all sit down. We can discuss what is going on and what your plans are. Children?”
Right question, and he said it with a sincere smile.
Joan quickly answered, “Yes, definitely.”
“Then you will be getting married soon?”
“We haven’t...we haven’t looked that far ahead,” Mark said.
Father Ralph directed Joan to the red velvet chair and said, “Please have a seat.”
His voice is as calm as a doctor’s.
“Mark, are all of the teachers at Riordan Catholic?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Well. it’s very important that they set a good example for the boys. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m not a religion teacher, but I’m sure they get the faith presented in a favorable way.”
Joan said, “I teach character education. You know, respect for oneself, respect for others and their differences, diversity, doing your best, and kindness and helpfulness.”
Larry looked at Mark with a scowl and said, “Is that what they teach at Riordan? Diversity?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Father Ralph sat down in an antique chair with a black leather seat and leaned against the back of the chair. “Well, Joan, Mark, that’s wonderful, emphasizing character education. A much better job than in my day, and, Mark, I think what your dad wants to know is if Catholic character education is being taught.”
Larry looked at his watch. “I want to know when they are going to start living apart.”
“Mark, does Riordan require that you live according to the teachings of the Catholic Church?”
Larry looked at Mark and waited.
Joan reached for Mark’s hand. His shoulders relaxed, and he answered, “Father, if you are referring to a mandatum, the answer is no.”
“Mark, just answer Ralph.” Larry’s leg began twitching.
“I did!”
“What’s a mandatum? What’s it got to do with the question?” Larry asked. His eyes shrunk into a glare.
Father Ralph broke in, saying, “It doesn’t matter. Mark is a fine teacher, and I’m sure he knows his responsibilities and the need to set a good example.” After a few moments of silence, Father Ralph added, “Mark. It’s something for you to consider. The future rests with children, and yours would benefit from a father who lives his life the way your father does.”
Exactly.
Joan said, “I agree, Father Ralph. Mark and I have talked about this.”
Mark said angrily, “About what?”
Larry raised his hands in hopelessness.
Joan looked at Larry and said, “The Catholic faith, Mark. We’ve talked about my coming into the Church. I’m Jewish and leaving that behind is not an easy thing.”
Father Ralph started to say, “Joan, you can become a Catholic and still retain your Jewish identity. There is a wonderful organization called the...”
Larry interrupted, “You didn’t answer the question. Does Riordan require you to live according to the teachings of the Church?” Larry smelled something foul, and it wasn’t the fragrance in the room.
“We’re leaving.”
Joan pled, “Mark, I urged you to talk to your father. Please stay where you are. I have more to say.” She tugged on Mark’s hand. “Father, my mother was born in Cairo. She was sent to a convent school because it was the best. She has fond memories of her friends and the nuns.” After a pause, she said, “I’m thinking about what all this may mean.”
Father Ralph gently touched the top of Joan’s hand. “When you decide to have children, you wouldn’t want them to be ignorant of God, would you? Of course not. You will want to give them the advantage over others who don’t have the language to talk about God. I hope you don’t mind my speaking so frankly.” She smiled. “Would your parents be terribly upset if you were received into the Catholic Church?” Father Ralph asked.
“They would be, but they know I love Mark.”
“Here’s something George Bernard Shaw said.” Mark’s voice sounded sardonic. “He said, ‘Because the medieval doctors of divinity couldn’t settle the question of how many angels could dance on the point of a needle, they cut a poor figure next to physicists who’ve settled to the billionth of a millimeter every movement in the dance of electrons.’”
Father Ralph responded, “Ah, but could George Bernard Shaw dance on the point of a needle? Even he was subject to the laws of God.”
“Including his electrons!” Joan said. She and Father Ralph laughed.
Larry said, “Father, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Father Ralph answered, “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Joan.”
Mark pulled on Joan.
Larry looked at the door and said, “You go. I want to talk to Father Ralph, privately.”
As they exited, Joan turned back and gave them the same crescent-like smile.
“Ralph, it went about as well as it could.”
“She’s a nice girl. Living together is their decision. Marriage will solve the problem. Of course, they must live apart for some time before marriage. Let’s not put pressure on them. Joan has to be thinking about what comes next. Whatever Mark says or does, Joan is the one we can count on.”
“I want them to separate. The rest is up to them.” Larry rubbed his hands.
“Why don’t you come up to Loyola House?”
“I’ve only got a few minutes.”
“We can talk over a cup of coffee. Don’t you think you need to?”
•••
Sweat was pouring down Father Ralph’s neck by the time they reached the top of the stairs and faced Loyola House. “I’ve got a slight pain in my hip. Probably from tossing and turning.”
The dining room smelled of mascarpone, strawberries, and syrup.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
Larry sat down opposite Father Ralph.
“You look dejected.”
“Ralph, there’s something more I want to say. About the phone call to Cornelius yesterday. I met with him and later with O’Hara. I got a promise that his security man would escort Cornelius to his apartment. It never happened.”
“I see.” Father Ralph pushed his scrambled eggs around. “Not good. Not good. What can we do now? Who’s to blame?”
“Ralph, I talked to Captain Dempsey, and he refused to send an officer...”
“I’m calling O’Hara.” Father Ralph stared at his cell phone. It was 8:30 a.m.
“Hello, it’s Ralph.” He pressed the speaker button and said, “Larry told me you failed to give Cornelius protection last night. How could this have happened?”
“I told my man to look after Cornelius. I will talk to him later today and find out what went wrong. My plan is to work closely with Larry. Ralph, you are the best man I know, heads above Larry, but I’ll give him whatever help he needs. If questions come up, I’ll call you first before I call anyone else.”
“I see.”
“I had only one man on duty. Larry has a whole cadre of police officers that could have been assigned to the Greenwich. He’s the one with all the experience, and he’s a cop. Why didn’t he give Cornelius protection? Why?”
“He’s here. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No. You talk to him. Ask him. Clare offers her condolences and says she will talk to your sister. I plan to contact Leonard and give him whatever help he needs. I will call my contacts and make sure the brokerage is not affected. You have my promise.”
“Thank you, Ja
mes. Mom will be brokenhearted when she hears the news.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Clare can visit your mother if needed.”
“God bless you, James.”
Larry saw Father Ralph staring.
“You heard him. The blame is yours, Larry.” He pressed down on his fork, and it snapped at the base. “How do I begin to tell the others about Cornelius? Do you have the words I need? I’ll be watching everything you do from now on.”
“I’m very sorry, Ralph.”
Larry got up from the table.
“Wait.”
Larry looked down at Father Ralph.
“There’s something I want to tell you. I got a phone call yesterday. It was Gerald Smith, the bellhop who was fired. My brother had given him the keys to the Topaz Lake house. He was up there when I talked to him.” He paused. “Cornelius asked me to talk to him. I didn’t want to. I don’t know what’s going on. Smith and my brother fished up there at the lake. Smith still has a key. I think he should return the key. Can’t you demand he return the key?”
“Are you Cornelius’ executor? If you are, can’t you ask for the key back?”
“You’re a cop. Tell me what to do.”
Larry could feel the heat of Father Ralph’s smoldering anger.
“Are you suspicious of Smith?”
“I don’t know.” Father Ralph left his half-eaten, dried-up eggs on the plate. “Please don’t call me today. I have too much to do, and you need to figure out what has happened...if you can. Good-bye.”
Father Ralph got up from the table and stormed out of the dining room.
Chapter 6
Friday, July 5
A glance in the rear-view mirror at a stoplight on Van Ness Avenue reminded Larry that constantly looking in the mirror, though it was necessary to drive safely, was also a sign of vanity. His thoughts turned to his son. Mark looked more like his mother, or maybe, it was just the fact that both had escaped the toxicity of a police beat and the hours of midnight investigations. All Mark had achieved was a credential and teaching high school boys. Another peek in the mirror – his eyes had a drained look.
Pretty City Murder Page 9