by Gerri Hill
His lips pursed as he shook his head disapprovingly. He turned his back and went to look out a far window.
Marissa kicked her in the ankle. “Try not to get us killed,” she muttered.
“He said he wasn’t going to hurt us.”
“And you believe him?”
“Seeing as how we’re tied up and my gun is over there, yeah, I want to believe him.”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot,” she whispered.
“Perhaps. But I really don’t think he intends to kill us. I really think he wants to confess.”
“We are fucking tied up!” she hissed. “Do you not watch TV? This is what happens before they kill you!”
They both looked up as Monsignor Bernard returned, laboring to carry a chair. He finally set it down, sliding it closer to them. They watched in silence as he settled his bulk into the chair, facing them.
“I do not plan to kill you, Ms. Goddard. But you are right, Detective. You should be able to ask questions of me. There is no other way for you to understand what happened.” He lifted the sleeve of his linen robe, dabbing at the sweat on his brow. “We shall think of it as a trial, if you like.”
Casey glanced at Marissa. “Questions?”
Marissa shook her head. “Feel free, O’Connor.”
“Okay.” Casey met Bernard’s eyes, noting the sadness, noting the hopelessness. No, he had no intention of killing them. He was already defeated. She honestly believed all he wanted to do was clear his conscience. “Why is much too broad of a question,”
she said. “Let’s start with Father Michael. You didn’t kill him.”
“No.”
“But you had Juan do it, correct?”
He nodded. “Yes. I… I coerced Juan into it, yes. I told him I had found cocaine in his truck. I told him I was going to call the police. Unless, of course, he carried out God’s command. I told him Father Michael had sinned. And he must be punished.”
“Because he was having an affair with Father Tim?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m surprised you found that bit of information, Detective. I thought I had it well buried.”
Casey shrugged. “Well, I’m a detective. Some things can’t stay buried.” She cleared her throat. “But why would you kill Father Michael and not Father Tim?”
He frowned. “Why would I kill Father Tim?”
“Because he was having an affair. I mean, you wanted Father Michael killed. Why not both of them?”
Bernard shook his head. “You misunderstand, Detective. The affair was an excuse. That’s all. I didn’t even know about the affair until he told me.”
It was Casey’s turn to frown. “He who?”
“Gerald. Gerald Stevens.”
“Mayor Stevens?”
“Yes. Something you probably don’t know, but they were brothers.”
Casey nodded. “Yes, we were aware of that.” She let out a heavy sigh. “So, Stevens told you about the affair? Not Juan? Not Alice?”
“No. Juan rarely spoke to me. We had a disagreement a few years ago. And Alice, well, Alice simply doted on Michael.”
“But, why would you want him killed?”
“I didn’t, Detective.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Stevens wanted him dead.”
“His own brother? Because he was having an affair, he wanted him dead? My God.”
“What are you talking about? It didn’t have anything to do with his affair.”
“He wasn’t killed because of his affair with Father Tim?”
Monsignor Bernard shook his head. “No. Why would you think that?”
Casey closed her eyes and let her head drop. “We’re talking in circles here.” She looked up. “Monsignor, why don’t you tell us what happened. From the beginning.”
“What the hell are all these people doing here?”
“It’s Sunday, Hunter. Noon.”
“And?”
“Some people go to church.”
“Well, goddamn. It’s going to be a little hard to sneak in unobserved,” she said as she peered out the car window, watching them walk by in their suits and dresses.
“Then perhaps we should go back and get a warrant.”
“Jesus Christ, Sikes, get over the warrant already. No judge is going to give us a warrant.”
“Precisely my point, Hunter.”
“I just want to talk to him, that’s all. He’s probably in church anyway. So we’ll just wait for him to come out, then follow him. That’s all. Just to talk. We don’t need a warrant just to talk.”
“Mayor Stevens came to see me one day. He said he knew that Father Tim and his brother were lovers. And he wanted to put an end to it. He asked that I have Father Tim transferred.” Bernard stood, going slowly to the window and looking out. “I knew that the mayor and Bishop Lewis were friends. I knew if he took this request to Bishop Lewis, it would be granted. So I agreed.” He turned back around. “In fact, I was happy to agree. They were breaking all sorts of rules of conduct, not to mention their vows. If word had gotten out, well, it would have been devastating to the church. Another scandal we would have to weather.”
“So you didn’t tell Bishop Lewis?”
“Yes, of course. I transferred Father Tim, but Bishop Lewis had to approve it. After I explained what I knew, he was happy to do so.”
“So that was that with the affair?”
“Yes. Michael was very upset, of course. In fact, he came to see me that night. He knew his brother was behind it. He told me some very frightening things about Stevens that night. Things I later found out to be true.”
“Like what?”
“When they were young, their parents divorced. Their mother was a drug addict, I understand. But Gerald began to get into trouble, to hang with the wrong crowd.”
“That happens to a lot of people when parents divorce.”
“Probably not as severe as this, Detective. A neighbor boy of theirs came up missing. He was never found. Father Michael told me that Gerald killed the boy. Gerald was fifteen at the time, I believe.”
“Your Mayor Stevens killed someone?” Marissa asked, her voice low. “That’s what this is about?”
“He killed this boy, yes. And Michael helped him bury the body. To this day, it’s never been found.”
“Where?” Casey asked.
“He did not tell me that, Detective.”
“Okay, so was this an accident? Or murder?”
“His throat was cut with a knife.”
“Jesus,” Marissa murmured. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, wait a minute,” Casey said, frustrated. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The cover-up was a cover-up, O’Connor.”
“Huh?”
“I was here on the pretence of protecting the church from a sex scandal. To hide Father Michael’s affair. Divert attention.”
Casey shook her head. “Don’t confuse me. I’m lost as it is.” She flexed her arms. “And these goddamn handcuffs aren’t helping.”
“I’m sorry, Detective. You will be free soon enough, I imagine.”
Casey took a deep breath. “Okay, why was Father Michael murdered?”
“He threatened to go to the police about the killing.”
“Why? Why now after all this time?”
“Because Gerald was popular. And Gerald was running for the Senate. And because Gerald was being backed by some unscrupulous parties.”
“That’s it?”
“Do you know the power a U.S. Senator has, Detective?”
“Obviously not.”
“Michael did not want that power to be in his hands.”
“I guess I don’t understand your role in all of this then.”
The monsignor paced heavily across the room, his breathing labored. Casey watched him, wondering if he would tell them.
“He threatened to expose me,” he finally said, his back still to
them.
Casey glanced at Marissa questioningly, but she shook her head. She waited, hoping he would elaborate, but he stood still, his head bowed. She couldn’t stand the silence. “Expose what, Monsignor?”
He turned his head toward them, then looked away. “Of course, exposing me would expose Bishop Lewis. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I owe Bishop Lewis too much.” He laughed bitterly. “Of course he knew that. He knew I would never allow Bishop Lewis’s name to be dragged through the mud. I mean, I owe him my career, my life even.”
Casey swallowed nervously. “Expose what?” she asked again. She saw his shoulders sag, saw his head drop to his chest.
“Years ago… I had a fondness for… for young boys,” he said in barely a whisper. “A sinner I was, yes,” he said, his voice rising. “A sinner.” He finally turned to face them. “I did it,” he said, nodding rapidly. “I did it, yes. I took them into the rectory, I took them behind the altar, I took them into the choir room.” He raised his hands, his head tilted back, eyes closed. “And I enjoyed it. Yes, I did.”
The room was quiet for a moment, then his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. “But someone told. Someone couldn’t keep quiet.” He shook his head. “Someone went to Bishop Lewis.” He went back to stand by the window. He fumbled with the latch, struggling to open it, finally lifting the window a few inches, letting in cold air. Then he rested his forehead against the pane. “We were in Kansas City at the time. Bishop Lewis was being sent here.” He turned around, looking at them. “I was allowed to come with him. I spent three years in therapy. I never touched another boy again,” he said, his voice faltering. “I thought it was all over with, all behind me.”
“How did Mayor Stevens find out?” Marissa asked.
“I don’t know. But he knew. He knew it all. He knew Bishop Lewis had covered it up. He knew I’d fled Kansas City to come here. He knew it all.”
“And he threatened you?” Casey asked.
“He said he would expose both of us, yes.” He started pacing slowly in front of them. “It would have ruined Bishop Lewis. They would have gone back, they would have reviewed everything he’d ever done, every little thing he kept buried, and they would have found out. They would have found out everything. He said he would expose us. Unless I… unless I took care of Michael.” He closed his eyes. “And Juan, well, he was the obvious choice because no way I could do anything myself,” he added quickly. “But he had someone watching, he must have, because he knew everything.” He paused. “He knew Juan was starting to talk, that Juan was about to break. So he came to me, brought me a gun,” he said, pointing at the table. “He said I had to take care of Juan, because if I didn’t, Juan would tell everyone that I’d ordered him to kill Father Michael.” His fists clenched together. “I had to take care of Juan. And it was so easy. I knocked on the door and he let me in. And I shot him. And then I walked out. Just like that.”
“How did you leave the building so fast?” Casey asked, her mind racing, trying to remember the details of the report.
“No. I went into the empty apartment across the hall. Juan was the janitor there, so he had a key. And I waited until the police came. Then I walked out and blended with the crowd. It was too easy.”
Casey nodded. No wonder he hadn’t had to race up and then down three flights of stairs.
“But the housekeeper?” Marissa asked. “Why her?”
“Poor Alice. She was about to talk. She knew too much.”
“Knew what?” Casey asked. “Knew about Father Tim?”
“Yes, she knew. Of course she knew. She never bothered to tell me though, did she?” He paced again, his shoulders lifting with each breath he took. “But she knew Juan. She knew Juan better than anyone except maybe Michael. And she knew Juan would never kill Michael.” He flicked his gaze out the window. “She looked at me and I knew she knew. I could see it in her eyes. At the funeral, she looked at me. And I knew she knew.”
“So you killed her too?” Marissa asked.
His head whipped around. “I didn’t want to. But he told me I had to. He said if she suspected, then she would go to the police. And the police were visiting her nearly everyday. They were trying to break her. It was just a matter of time.”
Casey shook her head, remembering her visit to Alice Hagen.
“She didn’t know anything. All we were trying to get out of her was the name of his lover. That’s the angle our investigation was focusing on. Nothing about you, nothing about the mayor.”
Marissa laughed then, a bitter laugh. “This is all just too much,” she finally said. “Too much. It had absolutely nothing to do with his affair that I was trying to cover up.” She was shaking her head. “Amazing. Three people are dead. All because some man wants to be a senator.” She tried to raise her arms up but the rope around her waist prevented it. “And you allowed it. You’re a goddamn priest, for God’s sake!” she yelled. “How could you?”
Casey moved her leg, kicking her lightly against her shin. “Calm down,” she hissed.
“I will not calm down!”
“Okay, the people are almost gone, so where the hell is he?”
“Maybe he’s doing confession or something.”
“Wait. Her. I know her,” Tori said, recognizing the receptionist. She bolted out the door before Sikes could comment. She trotted down the sidewalk, trying to catch her. “Excuse me. Hang on a second.”
The woman finally stopped, turning to face Tori.
“I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Detective Hunter.”
“Yes, of course, Detective.”
“I’m looking for Monsignor Bernard. Is he still in church?”
“No. He wasn’t at Mass this morning.” She frowned. “Odd. I don’t recall him ever not being here.”
Tori nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she tried to decide what to do. “Can you take me to his office?”
“Oh, well, I doubt he’s in his office.”
Tori smiled. “Just in case. It’s very important.”
“Okay, well, sure. I suppose I can. I’ve got my key to the building with me.”
Tori turned and motioned for Sikes to join her. “Hang on a second,” she said, waiting until Sikes came over. “This is John Sikes, my partner.”
“Oh. You had a woman partner with you last time.” She held her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sikes,” she said politely. “I’m Susan Ames.”
John smiled charmingly. “Detective Sikes, ma’am.”
Tori rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “Can we go?”
“Of course.” She smiled at John. “As I was just telling Detective Hunter here, I doubt seriously that Monsignor Bernard is in his office. He never misses Mass. Maybe he’s ill this morning.”
“Well, we just have a couple of questions. We won’t take up much of his time.”
“Oh? Is this about Father Michael still? Or poor Mrs. Hagen?” She tsked. “So awful what happened. Just tragedies all the way around. Makes you almost afraid to be alone in your own home. You just never know what could happen.”
“Yes, it was terrible.”
“And her poor husband. I hear he passed out from shock and they nearly lost him too.”
Tori paused at the steps to the offices, waiting for Susan Ames to find her key to the building as she rummaged through her purse.
“Here it is,” she said, holding up a set up keys. But when she reached for the door, it opened. “That’s odd. It’s always kept locked on Sundays. Maybe he’s in his office after all.”
Tori looked quickly at Sikes, then pushed the door open, leaving them in the lobby. But all was quiet and dark, no sign that anyone was about.
“His office is down that hallway, right?” she asked, already heading in that direction.
“Yes, but I can call him if you’d like,” Susan offered.
“No, thanks. We’ll just pop in.”
Susan hurried after them. “Really, he doesn’t like people to just barge in on him. I shou
ld call him first.”
But Tori had already reached his office door. It was closed and locked. She raised her hand, knocking sharply. “Monsignor Bernard? Are you there?”
There was no sound from inside.
Tori stepped back, pointing at the door. “Open it up, Ms. Ames.”
She pursed her lips. “Oh, no. I can’t do that. He would not approve.”
Tori pulled her weapon, holding it in front of her. “Open the goddamn door.”
Sikes stared at Tori, his eyes wide. He finally moved between them, his back to Tori. “Please, Susan. He might be inside. He could be hurt or something. We just want to check on him.”
“Well, I just… I don’t think he’s inside… but, but—” She looked nervously at Tori and the gun in her hand. “If you’re ordering me to open his door…”
“I’m ordering you to open his door,” Tori said calmly. “It’s okay. You won’t get into trouble.”
“Yeah, but we might,” Sikes muttered under his breath.
As soon as the lock was turned, Tori guided Susan out of the way behind them, then pushed open the door. But the office was dark.
She flipped on the lights. The room looked undisturbed. “Does he keep his desk locked?”
“Yes. Yes, he does.”
Tori slid his chair out from behind his desk. “You have a key?”
“I… I can’t get into his desk, no.”
Tori stared at her. “You have a key?”
“I… I let you into his office. That’s bad enough, Detective. I’ll lose my job for sure if I unlock his desk.”
Tori sighed, letting her shoulders sag, then pointed her gun at his desk. “So you’d rather I just shoot my way into it?”
“Oh, no! No, no, please,” she said, moving forward. “This desk was made in Rome. It’s very old. He would just die if something happened to it.”
Tori fixed her with a glare. “Then open the desk,” she said quietly.
Susan glanced at Sikes, but he shook his head. “There’s no reasoning with her when she gets like this, Susan. I’d go ahead and open it if I were you.”
“Then let it be noted that I’m doing it against my will and at gunpoint,” she said.
Tori arched an eyebrow. “Nobody’s pointing a gun at you. Yet,” she added. “Now, open up his desk.”