Gabriel's Revenge (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 2)

by J. T. Lewis

  “I know we got a new principle this year, supposed to be top notch.”

  “Good, good, what’s his name?”

  “It’s a she actually, Miss Leland, Ethel or Edna, something like that.”

  I wrote the name in the notebook. “What can you tell me about her?”

  “Grey hair, glasses, probably….well she looks eighty, but probably in her sixties, wheelchair.”

  “Wheelchair?”

  “Yep, one of those nice electric ones.”

  Since more than one of the murders involved steps, I was fairly certain that it wasn’t her, unless she was faking it. We could look into her if we ran out of other options I guess.

  “They painted all of the rooms in the school this last summer; I helped one Saturday. Let’s see, there has been a lot of talk about re-doing the steeple on the church, but nobody has done anything yet; no one objects to it though if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “We don’t really know what we’re looking for Mike,” Abby said dejectedly, “but we are pretty sure it happened last year, around May.”

  “Ok, farther back, let’s see. The parking lot was repaved last summer, actually, a lot of stuff on the outside of the church got fixed or upgraded last year. The sidewalk was repaired, new downspouts too.”

  “They did a bunch of landscaping around the rectory about then, and the old courtyard, wow, you should see that now. Full of beautiful roses and a fountain, it’s a great place to relax. I’ve been going there with the family every Sunday before church, puts you in the right mood, you know?”

  He was quiet then, thinking hard.

  “I’m not sure if I remember anything else; I’m sorry.”

  “That’s ok Michael. Maybe something will come to you later; thanks for trying,” I assured him, but thinking what our next move would be now.

  He got up and went back to his desk, while Abby and I stayed, both quiet.

  Finally Abby said, “Sorry Gabe, I thought sure he would know something.”

  “We’ll figure it out; don’t worry. Just not sure where we should go from here.”

  A noise behind me caught my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mike Naples returning to the room.

  “I remembered something,” he said excitedly, “I got to thinking about the landscaping and the rose garden, and I remembered something else.”

  Not having much hope that anything having to do with roses was going to crack the case, I put my pencil down and waited.

  “Not the landscaping in particular mind you, but the reason it got done in the first place, a real blessing to the parish.”

  “Did someone donate a bunch of money or something?” Abby asked with slight interest, apparently also not expecting much.

  “No, a man, the Archdiocese assigned a man to the church, they donated Brother Jim!”

  Chapter 56

  August 28, 1998

  James Michael Girard, of the blessed Order of St. Benedict had to smile as he made his way into the jail. How lucky was it to find Gabriel Celtic’s Jeep in the parking lot? He hadn’t even had to go looking for it!

  He had waited until he was sure that no one was looking, and then placed the note, the last note, under the windshield wiper. He had no way of knowing of course, what Mr. Celtic would take away from reading the note, but he thought it was quite creative. He thought himself quite creative, truth be known he thought giddily.

  Entering the lobby of the jail, he signed in and was led to the visitors’ area by a sloppy looking woman jailer. Taking his seat in the booth, he said a quick prayer for guidance. Laying his hand on his robes, he felt the comforting outline of the testament through the cloth. Any lack of confidence in his plan that may have been there was immediately replaced by the glow of righteousness; it was ordained!

  His thoughts were interrupted by the loud Brumpt of the room’s electric lock as the inner door rolled open. Girard was pleased by what he saw on the face of Mr. Leffler as he entered the room. The familiar sneer was there of course, but the eyes acknowledged the seriousness that Pierce had assigned to this meeting.

  Taking his seat, Leffler immediately picked up the phone, impatiently waiting for the brown robed man on the other side of the glass to pick up his.

  “How are you this fine afternoon Pierce?” Girard asked the prisoner.

  Aggravated at the chitchat, the prisoner answered evenly, “I’m anxious…James, you mentioned plans?”

  “Right down to it then,” Girard said, leaning forward, “tonight, after it gets dark, you will get a severe stomach ache, throw up in the sink if you can; make it look real. I might even suggest that if you can bring some ketchup back to your room after dinner; you could lace your expelled stomach contents with it, making them believe you are bleeding internally.”

  “Ok, I can do that, easy. What next?”

  “It is imperative that you wait until exactly 9:00 however, as that is when my…Oblate comes on duty.”

  “Oblate? What the hell…?” Pierce thought quickly to himself, dismissing it just as quickly.

  “Ok, I assume you mean you have a man inside that you have something over; am I right?”

  “He will be stationed at the infirmary,” Girard continued, ignoring the question, “he will get you out of the infirmary and out into the yard. Can you climb a rope Mr. Leffler?”

  “Sure, I’ve done it a time or two,” Pierce stated, although it had been years.

  “When you exit the building, the rope will be over the wall about 30’ to the East. That will be to your left. The wall is only 12’ tall, so it shouldn’t be a herculean task to scale it. After you are over, you will need to pull the rope over the wall, untie it from the tree it is anchored to and take it with you. The longer it takes them to figure out that you are gone, and how you got out, the longer we have before they start looking for you.”

  “What do I do then; will you be there to pick me up?”

  “After I throw the rope over the wall, I will be nowhere near this place. I need to be somewhere public to make sure I have an alibi. I will throw the rope over one minute before 9:00. If everything goes as planned, you should be over the wall by 9:12 at the latest. Gather the rope and cross the tracks to Maple Street. There will be a Green Toyota on the right side of the street about a half a block up. Inside, you will find a change of clothes, and a .22 caliber pistol under the seat.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Girard pulled out his testament. Looking to his left, he saw the guard across the room looking up at him from his magazine. Holding the testament opened in both hands, he nodded at the guard, who nodded in return, going back to his magazine.

  Turning to the last page, he held it up against the glass. “Think you can get there Mr. Leffler?”

  Pierce looked through the glass at a small but clearly defined map that James had drawn on the inside of the back cover. Studying it for a few moments, he finally nodded and leaned back.

  “I am familiar with that area; I can get there.”

  “You will find a driveway with an old mailbox tied with a yellow ribbon. An old shed will do to hide the car; you will then have to cross the creek on foot. There is an old trailer over there, a hunting cabin of someone that…is no longer with us. There you will find a cell phone. Turn it on at 10:30 and await my call.”

  Pierce was pleased with the plan, simple yet detailed enough to keep the cops off of his tail.

  “You mentioned a …job? How soon can we get that over? I’d really like to get out of this part of the country, if you know what I mean.”

  “Patience Mr. Leffler, if all goes according to plan, you will be away from this county by tomorrow night.”

  The sneer returned to Pierces face then.

  “Do you have all of the details memorized Mr. Leffler? This has to be precisely executed to work as I have planned.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it! Just make sure you have your end in place.”

  “It will be so, Mr. Leffler, it will be so.”

&nb
sp; Standing up but still holding the phone to his ear, he just couldn’t help himself to say, “And make sure your Oblate…ain’t late!”

  Uncontrollable laughter escaped him as he hung up the phone and headed back to his cell.

  This was gonna be fun!

  Chapter 57

  August 28, 1998

  Brother Jim?

  “You mean like a monk?”

  Mike Naples shook his head in affirmation. “And I remember he came in April, it was right after Easter, which was in March that year.”

  I sat there, mesmerized, my mind having gone immediately to the replaying of my vision, where Frank was murdered. The clothes! The long garment, the wide brimmed hat! It could easily be the robes of a monk!

  “Does he wear those robes, like you see in the movies?” I ask.

  “Yep, always some shade of brown or tan. Almost always wears a hat when outside too; I’m surprised you haven’t seen him around town.”

  “I’ve seen him;” Abby perked up, “thought it was kinda…weird looking, like a throwback to old England or something.”

  “He is a throwback, very pious, very dedicated to his mission.”

  I was excited! Knowing what I knew from my vision; I was fairly certain this was the perp for the murders.

  Now, I just had to prove it.

  “You mentioned a mission? What is this mission?”

  “It has something to do with beautification and maintenance. The way he explained it, his Abbey is dedicated to the vision of beautifying the buildings and grounds of selected churches, to increase the members’ love of their spiritual home, as well as to attract new members.”

  Michael was thinking, “Weeding out the ugliness, and replacing it with the beauty of God’s love! That’s it; their mission statement I believe. I have heard him repeat it numerous times.”

  “Weeding out the ugliness huh?”

  I looked at Abby, who also caught the implication.

  “So, what’s this all about; can you tell me now?”

  Abby jumped in first, “We can’t really say Mike; I’m sorry. We just don’t know enough yet. But we really do need you to keep this under your hat.”

  Her eyes were imploring. I could imagine her getting her way in most situations, and I had to smile at her use of her wiles in spite of myself.

  “Mike,” I started slowly since it could be a delicate conversation, “have you ever had a…conversation with this brother Jim concerning any investigation, even in general terms?”

  “No one would be in trouble here, Mike,” Abby added quickly, “we just really need to know.”

  If looks could convict, we would have had our man.

  “Well, we have talked, about a lot of stuff. He is very interested in mysteries, loves detective stuff, like that.”

  My heart sank as I realized that we had probably found our leak. At least it was good to know that he wasn’t some sort of spy, or doing it on purpose.

  “For instance?” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

  “Well, last week, he asked how the investigation was going, and I told him that Allen had just brought you in to work it. That’s not top secret or anything!”

  No it wasn’t, but it explained a lot.

  “What about before? When Frank was still working the investigation, did you guys talk then?”

  A realization hit a nerve then, or maybe his heart. Fear soon replaced confusion, and then he got defensive.

  “Surely you don’t think….the only thing I told him was that our investigator must have been getting closer, as he seemed to be more determined than ever. There is no way that could have gotten Frank killed…could it?”

  At this point, I was sure of it, but only because Brother Jim was smart enough to read between the lines. I was trying to figure out how to convey that to Mike without making him feel worse, when Abby did it for me.

  “Mike, if it is him doing all of this, he is plenty smart. He would have found out from some other source anyway if he hadn’t gotten it from you. He must have sensed something was up, or he wouldn’t have pumped you for information. As far as you knew, he was just some guy who liked to live vicariously through you. You had no way of knowing.”

  Mike seemed somewhat relieved, to say the least.

  “Still, we need you to stay away from him until this is over. If he is involved, you definitely need to keep your distance.”

  “Although,” Abby piped back in, “maybe we could use this to our advantage; give the good brother some misinformation to trap him into doing something we want him to do.”

  I thought this was a good idea, and told her so, but neither of us could think of how to use that ploy at the moment. We decided to keep it in reserve for a future move.

  There was a knock on the door, and Ellen poked her head in without waiting for acknowledgement. The smile and bright eyes that were almost always present on her face were absent however, replaced by a slightly worried look.

  “Gabe, Allen needs to see you…he said immediately.”

  Despite Ellen’s furrowed brow I assumed this was a good thing; maybe he had found another break in the case from a different angle. I asked Abby to finish up with Michael, and I left to find Allen.

  ***

  I knocked on Allen’s door, entering on the command of “come” when it was issued. Allen was standing at the window, his hands clasped behind him as he looked out on the hot hazy day.

  “What’s up Allen?”

  He didn’t look around, just stared out the window for awhile longer before saying, “You wanna know who I just got off the phone with?”

  Not much for playing games, open ended questions such as these were a pet peeve of mine, especially ones where there was no possible way I could know the answer to.

  “Why don’t you just tell me Allen,” I said a little too brusquely. “You know good and well I haven’t a clue.”

  His answer was just as curt when he said, “Peter Dolan, do you know who that is Gabriel?”

  “Not a clue Allen.”

  Turning, I saw a mixture of concern on his face, and…anger?

  “He is an Archbishop Gabriel, Cardinal Peter Adrian Dolan, Archbishop of Indianapolis, and the spiritual leader of every Catholic in this part of the world.”

  Sitting down at his desk, he leaned forward intently.

  “I’ve always aspired to talk to this man, even to meet him one day. And I finally got my wish Gabriel. But do you want to know why he called me today? Do you want to know why my first contact with the Archbishop of Indianapolis was a dressing down instead of a blessing?”

  I knew that Allen was raised Catholic, and I also knew that he had recommitted himself to the church a few years ago, after his faith had been rocked temporarily at the loss of his mother. I also knew that he went to Mass every morning, and that his current level of dedication to the church was thought by many to be excessive, considering his current job. I never gave it much thought though; it is in my mind that each person needs to practice their faith as they see fit.

  “I would have to guess it was because of me,” I stated, not sure where this was going.

  “That’s right, Gabriel, it was you! You were nosing into church business without proper authority. He was yelling at me Gabriel, claiming that maintaining the separation of church and state was paramount, among other things. Oh, and you had no right to give Father Joe the third degree this morning.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are to stay away from him, as of this moment forward.”

  I was getting pissed; what was this, the middle ages?

  “We hardly gave him any degree Allen, much less the third. But we did ask him a question that struck a nerve, although we never got an answer.”

  “Then you need to find your answers another way; the church is off limits forthwith.”

  “Allen, since we were there this morning, we have found additional facts that are leading us toward the church’s involvement, at least someone from within the church.
They’re trying to cover something up!”

  “And you have absolute proof, or is this just one of your feelings?”

  “You used to think pretty highly of my instincts Allen. But in answer to your question, no, we do not have absolute proof of anything…yet.”

  “And that’s another thing; I hear that you have been dragging Abby Tran around with you on your investigation, again without authorization.”

  “She is a photographer Gabriel, what the hell were you thinking!”

  “She has good instincts Allen; I was going to talk to you about it.”

  “Look Gabe,” a stern fatherly look on his face now as he stood up and looked down on me, leaning on his arms, fists planted on the blotter.

  “I know you’re lonely…”

  “Hey Allen, you’re getting way off point here!”

  He didn’t hear me over his shouting.

  “If I’d known you needed to get laid, I would have hired somebody for you!”

  My vision was replaced with a blanket of red as I pushed myself up with my legs, my fingers curling into a fist. Then my arm took over, as it propelled the fist in a roundhouse like I’ve never thrown before, straight at Allen’s face!

  The pain of bone on bone as my fist crashed into his cheek was both satisfying and sickening as Allen flew backwards, crashing into the bookcase behind him as a flood of books rained down on his head.

  I stood there shaking, looking upon the pile of sanctimonious crap that used to be my friend. After a few moments, I pulled the Glock out of my holster and laid it on the desk. The badge I withdrew from my belt, flinging it onto the unconscious form lying on the floor.

  “I quit,” I said through clenched teeth as I turned on my heels, leaving first the office and then the building where I had made my living for over 10 years. I would calm down eventually, but I would never be back.

  Unless of course, they arrested me.

  Chapter 58

  August 28, 1998

  The drive home was a blur, compounded by the additional note I had found on the windshield.

  “Great!”