by J. T. Lewis
“Worry.”
Worry? I thought to myself. Worry about what?
The silence ensued for a few more minutes, before I finally had to say something.
“Worry about what?” I asked hesitantly.
More silence, then a quiet, “Don’t…worry.”
I wasn’t sure what it meant yet, but the sound of Betty’s voice brought a tear to my eye. More minutes of the warm silence prompted me to continue.
“Ok, don’t worry…about what?”
If it was possible, it seemed to get even quieter. I was determined not to talk again, afraid that I may not be deemed worthy of whatever she was trying to tell me.
So I sat, still and silent. The ensuing minutes seemed to turn into hours as I held my tongue, waiting, hoping for more of the message.
Finally it came.
“Every…thing…is…as…it…should…be.”
Chapter 52
August 28, 1998
Jumping forward with a start, I saw the fire had died down to nothing, the mantle clock dinging 5:30 AM. Tears were running down my face as I again leaned back against the front of the couch.
“Everything is as it should be.”
That’s what Betty had said, “Don’t worry; everything is as it should be.”
Did this mean what I thought it meant? What it seemed to mean I could never accept completely, but was she trying to say that there was nothing I could’ve done to change anything?
I didn’t know, but I thought so.
I mulled this over for a long time, looking in my mind at everything that had happened, all of the devastating things that had happened around me in the last two years. Was there really nothing I could have done to change any of it? Was the loss of all of these good people…preordained?
I’m not sure I would ever be able to free myself from the burden, totally…but maybe…at least now there was confidence creeping in, assurance delivered to me personally…by Betty!
I had been wearing my guilt like a suit of armor, and even though I was still holding on to it, some of the pieces were falling away. Thinking of Betty again, tears started streaming down my face, but this time, the sadness of my loss was mixed with relief.
Against my better judgment, relief was streaming into my soul, squeezing out the dark and angry thoughts that had ruled my world for over a year.
***
An hour later, I had sufficiently collected myself and had a shower. Abby had called yesterday and said that she had made an appointment with Father Joe at St. Linda’s for 9:00; so I had some time. I wanted to firm up the list of questions I had for the Father, and I desperately needed to clean my weapon.
One more thing had been brought to the forefront when I got out of the shower…I needed a haircut!
Having an electric trimmer that I used to use for touchups, I had determined that I could probably do it myself. If it turned out badly, I could still get to a barber.
As I headed toward the bathroom, my steps seemed…lighter, my energy level higher than I could remember having in…forever! I had been experiencing some very real physical characteristics that were being brought on by my mental baggage. This was not lost on me, and I was happy that some of my grief was fading.
I gave some thought to Abby and our…situation. I still didn’t know how the subject would be approached, but I was no longer worried about it, a benefit of my dream last night I suppose. If I thought about it, she seemed anything but unhappy with our current relationship, so I doubted she had any kind of devious plan up her sleeve. We would have to just let it happen when it happened.
There was one more issue I had to deal with, I thought as I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair hanging down on my shoulders.
Revenge!
The rational part of my mind replaced the word with justice, and as an officer of the court, that should always be my overriding concern.
I wanted justice, but this was Frank, and he got murdered, just for doing his job.
I turned on the trimmer, and started attacking the mane around my face, hacking off large chunks of hair at first.
Yes, I wanted justice for Frank, but still, a little of me still wanted revenge. It wasn’t the overriding emotion that it had been before, but it was still there. Maybe it was more like an accelerant now, making my search for justice burn just a little brighter.
I smiled at my analogy as I whacked off another chunk of hair.
***
Abby met me in front of the church at 8:45, and we went over our questions while sitting in the Jeep.
She had been surprised by my haircut, making over me like a mother hen. I had brought a pair of scissors with me, in case I had missed anything major. A few snips was all it took to bring a smile to her face and announce, “Perfect!”
She looked very sunny; the bright yellow vest she was wearing complimented her light brown hair. The vest however, couldn’t overcome the slightly worried look on her face.
“You ready for this, Gabe?” I think we had both been a little worried about approaching the church with this issue.
“Yep,” I said confidently, “we are just doing our job. We would be interviewing anyone else in the same situation.”
“But, this is the church…the largest and most powerful one in the world.”
I stopped then and looked at her, “This is a small part of that church Abby. A church is made up of its people, our neighbors. We are investigating the murders of their people; I can’t imagine that they would want to do anything but help us.”
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter 53
August 28, 1998
Father Joseph Sean O’Malley met us at the door to his office with a friendly smile, taking our hands in turn as we introduced ourselves to each other.
“Please, call me Father Joe, or just Joe if you prefer.”
Father Joe was a good-looking man, mid thirties I would guess, small of stature. His grip as we were shaking hands led me to believe that he was in good shape physically. His blue eyes twinkled under the mop of black hair as he led us into his small crowded office. He was, in my estimation, an honest looking man, and a true believer in his faith. I backed up these thoughts with snippets of conversations I’d had with Betty over the years…she had liked him.
He indicated a couple of metal fold up chairs across from the desk and we all took seats.
“So, what can I do for the county prosecutor on this glorious day?”
We had decided that I would lead the questioning, so I started by not beating around the bush.
“Father, I’m sorry to say that we have been working on a murder investigation, a rather large one. Yesterday we made an important connection to all of the victims; it seems that they are all members of this church.”
Father Joe’s jaw dropped like it was weighted with a barbell, his friendly piety falling away just as quickly.
“I do believe Mr. Celtic that I would have noticed if any of my parishioners had been murdered! Who are these people that you think are murdered members of our church?”
Abby quickly opened her notebook, and proceeded through the list.
“Why, that’s preposterous! Every one of those deaths was either an accident, or in one case a suicide. I presided over Mass for each and every one of those on your list.”
“Every one of those deaths was made to look like an accident or suicide, Father. We have incontrovertible evidence that at least a few of these deaths were very well concealed murders, and there is circumstantial evidence to support the theory that they all were.”
Father Joe was not happy, but he was confounded enough by what I had said to sit back in his chair and think about it.
“Father,” Abby started quietly, “doesn’t it seem like a large number of your people have died in the last year or so? Surely it hasn’t escaped your attention that there have been an inordinate amount of accidents in that time.”
The good Father looked at her, thinking. Leaning forward
once more, he waved off the thought with his hand.
“Oh, these things come and go in spurts. One can’t pay any attention to things like that; it’s just His way of doing things is all.”
“Father, we have been all over these files, and we’ve noticed another trend that maybe you could help us with. The accidents seemed to have started in May of last year. Is there anything new or different that happened about that time in your parish? Any infighting between parishioners; or any new people come into the church?”
Although well hidden, I noticed a twitch of the corner of his mouth; something had registered with him on the timeline.
He leaned back into his chair once more, tenting his fingers as he struggled with something. Finally, he stood up quickly, the smile back, but pasted on only for appearances.
“Would you mind stepping out in the hallway for a few moments? I need to confer with my Archbishop on the matter.”
Looking at each other questioningly, we both turned back toward the Father and nodded. Getting out of our seats and making our way to the hall, we were herded closely behind by the priest, who shut the door quickly on our backs.
Grabbing my sleeve and pulling me up the hall a little, Abby said excitedly, “Did you see that, the lip twitch? And the clammy skin on his forehead?”
I had missed that!
“He knows something! He knows something bad, and he doesn’t know what to do about it!”
I was getting ready to agree, when I was interrupted by the muffled, but louder voice of the Father from his office.
“It is imperative that I talk to him…immediately!”
Continued muted conversation came through the office door, but we could make nothing else out of the conversation.
Abby was happy, giddy even, having trouble keeping her excitement in check.
We heard the phone slam down, followed by a muffled “Dammit!”
The door opened quickly, the harried priest almost falling into the hall. Stopping a moment to compose himself, he plastered on his best fake smile before speaking.
“His eminence has asked me to see you out until we have had an opportunity to discuss your concerns further.” As he spoke, he had raised his hands, palms forward in an effort to emulate the word coming from on high. Done with his speech, he brought his hands together with a small clap.
“Come, let me show you out.”
Walking quickly past us, he led us to the closest exit, a side door that let us into a dark alleyway between the church and the school building.
“Just head down that way, you will find the stairs leading to the street. Have a blessed day.”
Without any further fanfare, he pulled the door shut, the lock clanging as he locked us out.
We stood there for a few moments, staring at the door.
“Wow,” Abby said in awe, “We must have really hit a nerve! Awesome!”
I had to agree with her, not only being quickly handled, but the degree of that handling led me to also conclude that we had uncovered something major in the old church. We walked toward the stairway, enjoying the partially shaded yard shielding us from the already too hot day. Stopping suddenly, I quickly looked around, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
“What is it Gabe?”
“Not sure, kinda feel like we’re being watched. It’s probably nothing, just these creepy old buildings.”
We continued on our way, but the uneasy feeling followed me out of the yard until we hit the street.
Weird!
Chapter 54
August 28, 1998
The man pulled back and leaned against the side of the church, letting out some air in a sigh of relief.
He had almost run into them in the dark pathway of the church. Had he not needed to tie his shoestring, they would have run right into him when they exited the building.
“Thank you Lord,” he said to the sky, knowing beyond a certainty that he had been guided to miss his adversary.
Removing his hat, he took out a cloth, wiping first the brim of his hat, then his forehead. Replacing the hat, he then smiled as he looked out upon the roses in his courtyard. Looking at the roses, but thinking about Gabriel Celtic.
This could of course only mean one thing, that Mr. Celtic and his young associate were getting close…too close.
It also meant that he was again being handed the solution at the defined moment that he needed it, that being the presence of Pierce Leffler. How else could one explain his presence in the local jail at precisely the time he was needed?
Crossing himself, he lifted the cross to his lips and kissed it lovingly.
“Praise God!”
Gabriel Celtic had proven a worthy opponent. It seemed that he had even felt the man’s presence as he looked after them as they departed, turning to look around suspiciously.
No matter, the final preparations had been made; all that was left was to fill in Mr. Leffler this afternoon. Although thinking about it now, it would be only fitting to send Gabriel one final message.
The thought struck him as funny, and he laughed loudly, something he very seldom allowed himself to do.
“One final message,” he thought as he tried to control his laughter, “On his final full day on earth!”
Chapter 55
August 28, 1998
“Ok,” Abby started as we approached the cars, “I know you’re not going to agree with this, but I think we need to get with Mike Naples; he would probably know what happened last May at the church.”
“We just don’t know who to trust Abby,” I started, “if he was the leak…”
“If he was the leak, and he didn’t know it, he needs to find out. We can swear him to secrecy, or even arrest him if we think it’s warranted. I’ve known him for awhile now; he’s a devout Catholic, Gabe, a Pope’s son-in-law kind of Catholic if they had that kind of thing. He can be trusted; I swear!”
I looked at my young…friend; the earnestness in her face told me she was right about this. I had come to trust her intuition quickly, even before I knew…the other thing.
The decision was already made.
“Ok, let’s go.”
“Yes!” she said excitedly, holding her fist up in front of me again.
Sighing and shaking my head with a smile, I nevertheless made a fist and “bumped” my partner’s.
This girl was having an effect on me; that was certain.
But a foreboding was creeping its way up my spine, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn’t affect Abby.
Talk about your rosy outlooks.
***
The football was flying back and forth across the office; Staples was at it again. Nathan Stafford jumped up from his desk to reach a high flung throw, neatly snatching it out of the air. Throwing his arms into the air, he did a sort of victory dance in his chair, turning 360 degree in the process, until he saw us.
“Gabriel…Abby…what’s up?” he asked as he quickly pulled out a drawer and deposited the ball. I noticed Abby smiling at Nate, with…a twinkle in her eye. He in turn was slyly returning her smile from across the room.
I hadn’t given much thought to Abby having a social life, much less a love interest, but remembered Nate telling me they were dating. I wondered to myself how serious they were. Since I had only really known Abby for a few days, there was more than likely thousands of things yet to learn of my interesting partner.
The word daughter still stuck in my throat, not because I wouldn’t be proud to have a daughter like her, but there was still some doubt I guess; plus I probably still harbored a little remorse at being absent in her life for all of these years.
“You guys make a cute couple,” I said low.
Shocked, she grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. “How did you…?”
“Nate told me you were dating the other day; besides, I saw him at the airport! I didn’t know it was a secret.”
She smiled then, “I’ll go get Mike; meet us in the
conference room?”
I nodded, and then went to the break room to grab some coffee, two cups. Having second thoughts, I filled a third, taking some cream and sugar just in case.
Abby and Michael Naples were just taking seats when I entered. Closing the door behind me, I set down the cups and took a seat.
“Nice to see you again Michael,” I said in a friendly tone. Mike smiled, but there was something in his eyes, worry maybe.
“You too Gabriel, what’s up?”
“We need some information Mike; I told Gabe you were the man.”
“Ok, shoot!” Mike said, leaning forward.
“You need to keep this under your hat.” I added, “We need your word on it.”
“Ok,” unsure now, “you have my word, doesn’t leave this room.”
Abby gave Mike a very general explanation of what we needed, without telling him why we needed it.
“Can you think of anything that happened to or in the church May of 97, maybe April?”
“It may not be anything big,” I added, “a disagreement, or any new people?”
Mike leaned back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, thinking.
“Nothing comes to mind,” he said thoughtfully. He worked it over in his head for a few more minutes, before leaning forward, arms on table. “I got nothing. I can’t think of anything that would be of interest at all; it’s a pretty quiet parish.”
Abby looked over at me; she was hiding it, but you could tell she was disappointed.
I gave it some thought, “How about this. Just start thinking back, anything at all that comes to mind; can you remember last Sunday?”
“Sure,” he said, leaning back once more. “Normal service, the choir sang; a couple of babies got christened…that’s it, I think.”
“Ok, good,” this may take awhile. “Just keep going back, not necessarily just the services, but anything that has changed.”
“With the school too?”
“Sure, anything at all.”