by Edward Izzi
I looked at her, giving her my ‘furrowed eye-brow’ look. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”
“I did, Phil. You were out of the office and you never returned my call.”
She was right. I saw that she had left me a telephone message, but I didn’t have a chance to call her back.
“What else did he say?” as she passed James Gleason’s business card over to me across the table.
“That’s all he really said. He had driven all to way to Detroit to try to get some information on the insurance claim investigation.”
“Really?” I replied, reaching for another piece of pizza. Something didn’t sound right.
“This guy, a Chicago attorney, drives five hours to Detroit from Chicago just to ask you a few questions regarding these ‘Pedophile Priest Murder’ life insurance claims? And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” she replied.
“Why didn’t he just call you?”
“Probably because he knew I wouldn’t have taken his call,” she eagerly answered.
“And he was wearing a ring like this?”
“Yes, he was.”
I was devouring my pizza and contemplating her explanation of this ‘Gleason’ character and his Detroit visit to her office. She had given me an accurate description of the older man and the dialog that was discussed. I pulled out my cell phone and ‘Googled’ the attorney James Gleason’s name and address. There were several ‘Gleason’s’ that were attorneys in downtown Chicago, but none matching the exact name or address displayed on the business card.
“There is no such attorney’s name or address matching this card, Olivia. Did you try searching his name on the internet?”
“I didn’t have a chance. When I didn’t hear from you, I started planning my trip to Chicago.”
I silently looked at her for a moment. My sixth sense was talking to me again, and I just couldn’t understand what it was saying. Why wouldn’t Olivia do more investigating from her company office, rather than rush over here from Detroit?
“And you say you’ve seen this ring before?”
“Yes, Phil. Gleason was wearing a ring just like this. I recognize it.”
I immediately realized that Olivia probably received an official visit from a member of a ‘Society of the Rose Crucifix’. My mind was going into a thousand different directions, and I just didn’t know what to make out of any of them. Was Olivia sincere? Was she being honest with me? Was she telling me the truth? Was there another connection here between Olivia and this ‘SRC’ ring?
I asked her several more questions regarding ‘Gleason’ as to his appearance, what he looked like and what he was wearing. As I was rifling off my questions, I could tell that Olivia was starting to get irritated.
“Phil, I didn’t come here to get interrogated by the police,” she said defensively, as she was taking the last sip of her Peroni beer.
“Okay, I’ll dial it back. But I insist that you come down to the precinct and file a police report with me tomorrow morning, so that we can put all of this down on record for our investigation. This is quite a break, you know.”
“Yes, Detective Dorian.”
“And I will need you to write up an accurate description of this ‘Gleason’ character.”
“Yes, Detective Dorian.”
“And I will also need you to give me an accurate description of the ring that he was wearing.”
“Yes, Detective Dorian.”
She was smiling, as the waitress brought over another cold one. I suddenly felt something rubbing up against my leg. Olivia was glaring at me with those sultry brown eyes, and she was rubbing her shoeless bare foot up against my right thigh. It was taking all my psychological strength to keep myself from getting very, very excited.
Lots of strength….lots and lots of strength. I started thinking about the investigation. I started thinking about my Roman style pizza. I started thinking about Chicago Cubs baseball. None of that was working.
“Do you always rub your bare feet up against the legs of Chicago Coppers?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from quivering.
“Only the ones I’m attracted to,” she mischievously replied. “You know Detective…”
“You’re not going to call me ‘Phil’ anymore?” I asked.
“Yes, Phil,” as she continued to rub her bare foot up against my leg and in my crotch. “You promised me on my last visit that you were going to take me to Navy Pier.”
“Navy Pier? Now?” I replied.
“Well yes…it is a beautiful night. What better way to get to know each other than from high up in the sky overlooking this beautiful city? Besides, I’ve always wanted to go up on that Ferris Wheel.”
She stopped and pressed her foot up hard. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
I almost answered her in a falsetto voice. “No,” as I shook my head and lied.
Great. There I was at Spacca Roma Pizzeria, trying to finish my pizza and beer with her bare foot rubbing hard between my legs. I was trying to figure out how the hell I was going to gracefully get up from the table and drive us over to Navy Pier without embarrassing the hell out of myself.
I suddenly grabbed her bare foot.
“You’re going to have to stop doing that,” still holding her left foot, “before I make a scene and we both find out how ticklish you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she playfully replied.
“Try me.”
There I was, with a beautiful, classy brunette from Detroit, making a hard pass at me while I was trying like hell to ignore her advances. My sixth sense was talking to me again, and I knew that ignoring her was going to be a very difficult task.
She smiled at me with those alluring brown eyes as she withdrew her foot. This woman is absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. I could tell she was teasing me, to see how I would react to her advances. There was a part of me that just wanted to jump over the table and make incredible love to her…there on the floor, right in the middle of the pizzeria. But I knew I had to control myself, realizing that I wasn’t eighteen years old anymore. I had to be a responsible adult. I had to be a gentleman. I had to try like hell to control myself.
We both finished our pizza and beers, allowing myself to calm down as I paid the waitress. We then got into her white, BMW as she handed me the keys allowing me to drive, and we made our way to Navy Pier. I figured we would go on the Ferris Wheel and I would show her the City of Chicago from high up in the air…without looking down.
I immediately knew she would be taking me up to ‘Cloud Nine’.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Out On Bail
The administrative assistant had been waiting in her late model Cadillac at 26th and California Streets for almost an hour as she was expecting Monsignor Kilbane to be released from the Cook County Corrections Center. It was almost eleven o’clock that morning, as Kilbane had his administrative assistant, Laura Palella to pick him up, as he was just released on bond earlier in court that morning. She had just finished her Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and bagel in her car and was waiting for the desk clerks to finish up and complete the paperwork.
“Hello Laura,” he excitedly said as he appeared out of the front door of the corrections center and opened the passenger side of her car.
“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” he said, still adjusting his black, short sleeve shirt and white collar from when he was picked up several evenings before. He had hastily changed out of his orange prison jumpsuit and into his street clothes as they were finishing up his tentative release on bail.
“I’m not going to miss those orange pajamas at all,” he joked, as he put on his seatbelt.
“We’re glad you’re out of there, Father,” she graciously said. “We’re all sorry you had to go through all of this,” Ms. Palella apologized, as if any of this was her fault.
“Me too,” he said, knowing that as soon as he returned to his office that his first appointment was going to b
e with the Cardinal.
“Has Cardinal Markowitz been briefed on any of this?” he asked, knowing that he was asking his administrative assistant a very stupid question.
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “The Cardinal would like to see you immediately.”
Ms. Palella negotiated the traffic on Cermak Road as the Monsignor was very quiet during most of the car ride back to the State Street mansion. There really wasn’t much to talk about, as he did not want to enlighten his assistant on any more information other than what she had already heard on the news or read in the newspapers.
Kilbane was worried. He was concerned as to what the Cardinal had to say about all of this. He did not brief the Cardinal about any of these investigations or the questioning directed towards him by Detective Dorian. He kept the Cardinal in the dark, figuring that he had all of this under control.
It was just after twelve o’clock, as the Monsignor was back at his office, reviewing his telephone messages and other immediate matters at hand when there was at a knock on his already opened door. Kilbane didn’t even have to look up from his desk, as he knew immediately that it was the Cardinal.
“Good afternoon, Your Eminence.”
“Good afternoon, Monsignor,” Cardinal Markowitz replied, in an almost sarcastic tone of voice.
The Cardinal immediate closed Kilbane’s office door behind him as he made himself comfortable at the chair in front of the Monsignor’s desk. The Cardinal obviously, was not in a good mood.
“I trust you had a pleasant stay on your vacation, Father?” the Cardinal said in a snarky tone of voice. Kilbane knew immediately that the tone of this very personal meeting between himself and Markowitz was not going to be a very pleasant one. He only looked at the Cardinal with a blank, speechless stare.
“What I would like to know, Father, is why? Why would you be stupid enough to try and solicit a ‘murder for hire’ scheme with Little Tony, of all people?”
“Your Eminence, I can explain…”
“Explain what? Do you have any idea what you have exposed this Archdiocese to? A ‘murder for hire’ plot to eliminate any and all prior pedophile ex-priests for the insurance money? How stupid are you?”
“Your Eminence, I was trying to…”
“Shut up, Joe!” the Cardinal said as he loudly pounded his open hand on the Monsignor’s desk. Kilbane only looked at the Cardinal, as he rose from his office chair and began pacing the Monsignor’s office, back and forth.
“I would rather put a ‘For Sale’ sign up in front of Holy Name Cathedral than risk the good name and reputation of this Archdiocese on a ‘Murder for Hire’ scheme with the Chicago Mafia. My telephone has been ringing non-stop from the Vatican, wondering what kind of goddamned scheme we have going on here in Chicago,” the Cardinal angrily replied.
Apparently, the word of this so-called ‘scheme’ was leaked to the media, and of course, Channel 8’s star Mafia reporter, Chaz Rizzo was all over it. He went on the air and ‘hypothesized’ publicly on his Eyewitness News broadcast that there was a relationship between the Cardinal’s Chief of Staff and Chicago’s ‘Capo dei Capi’, and that there was a connection with the murder of the former Fr. McDougall at Rush Hospital and the Monsignor’s proposed, murderous scheme.
“Do you have any idea what kind of bad press we are getting right now? As if we don’t have enough to worry about. It’s bad enough that these pedophile priests and all of their torrid horror stories concerning their victims hitting the press, and now, we have this too to worry about too.”
“But your Eminence, I…”
“Shut up, Joe!” The Cardinal loudly interrupted, while glaring at the Monsignor.
“I only bailed you out of jail so that I could have the pleasure of bitch-slapping you myself, instead of letting those animals over at Cook County Jail do it. What the hell were you thinking, Joe?” the Cardinal screamed, knowing full well what the Monsignor was really trying to do.
“I was thinking of the precarious financial position of our Archdiocese,” Kilbane managed to say.
“Really? And hiring one of Little Tony’s hit men was the best you could do? We’ve got several vacant schools that we’ve closed down that we can’t seem to get rid of, and you think ‘knocking off’ some old priests are a good solution?” The volume of the Cardinals’ voice was starting to come down by a few decibels. “You should have at least discussed all of this with me first, Joe.”
“This was a confidential meeting between two very old friends, Your Eminence. It happened before Christmas and I certainly didn’t ever think that this was going to be front page news.”
“Look Joe…Little Tony is the most powerful crime boss in the city. That guy can’t fart sideways without the Chicago coppers knowing about it. You should know this,” Markowitz replied, in a normal tone of voice.
“It was a very private meeting, Your Eminence, and I had no idea this would be broadcasted all over town.”
“Well, somebody publicized it. Did you ever think that maybe Little Tony was wearing a wire?”
“On that night? No way!” Kilbane replied.
“Somebody said something, Joe. You know better than this. You know you have to be careful when you’re meeting up with somebody like DiMatteo,” the Cardinal reasoned.
“Well,” Markowitz continued, “It doesn’t matter now. Our attorneys have pretty much convinced the judge that it wasn’t you on those security cameras over at Rush the other day. David Herzog has pretty much assured me that he can aggressively defend this murder wrap. Apparently, the DNA on the murder weapon doesn’t match yours.”
The two of them seemed to calm down as the Cardinal sat back in his chair.
“But I can’t have you here right now, Joe.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re going on ‘sabbatical’.”
“What ‘sabbatical’?”
“I’m going to have our office put out a press release today that you will home and in town on sabbatical, studying, teaching and praying, of course. I’ve arranged for you to be an adjunct professor over at Loyola University. You can teach some religion classes there until all of this blows over,” the Cardinal announced. Kilbane only sat at his chair, speechless.
“Why are you getting rid of me?”
“I’m not asking you to resign, Joe. I’m just telling you that you need to be out of here and keep a very low profile for a while until all this ‘blows over’. The State Attorney’s Office needs to drop these murder charges against you. Our attorneys’ will be working overtime to not only clear your name, but the name of this Archdiocese as well. But for now, you can’t be here.”
Monsignor Kilbane continued to sit there, wondering how he could convince the Cardinal to keep him involved with the daily affairs of the Archdiocese of Chicago. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Kilbane was always the ‘man in charge’ at the Archdiocese. To suddenly relinquish all this power, even for a short period of time, was a huge detriment to the Monsignor’s ego and reputation. Kilbane only sat there, in silence.
The Cardinal, as if to read his mind, retorted, “You could always go back to the ‘Ritz Carleton’ over at Twenty-Sixth and California, if you like.” Markowitz was referring to the Cook County Corrections Center.
“No, thanks.”
“Then I think teaching a few religion classes over at Loyola is a better option, wouldn’t you agree, Father?”
Kilbane silently nodded his head. He knew that the Cardinal was making a decision that was probably in the best interests of the Archdiocese of Chicago. There was enough bad press floating around, and the Cardinal didn’t need to be answering to the media or the Chicago Police anymore until this ‘Pedophile Priest Murderer’ was caught and these horrendous homicide cases have been solved.
The Monsignor rose from behind his desk and approached the Cardinal. He genuflected, kissed his ring, and thanked him for all his help and support during these very difficult times. Cardinal Markowitz gave him a very firm emb
race, a longer than normal hug, before leaving his office. There seemed to be a sense of finality in the way the Cardinal held him, that gave the Monsignor the latent sense that he wasn’t coming back.
It was almost eight o’clock that evening, and it was dark in the adjacent parking garage as Monsignor Kilbane was walking out of the Cardinal’s mansion, carrying several boxes in his hand. As he was walking towards his car, he noticed a black Mercedes limousine sitting at the edge of the parking garage with the engine running and the lights on. He said a silent prayer to himself, as he only hoped it wasn’t whom he thought it was.
The long black car moved closer in the direction where the Monsignor’s Cadillac was parked, as Kilbane started loading the boxes into the trunk of his car. As the limousine pulled up behind Kilbane’s Cadillac, the rear window of the long, black car rolled down.
“Get in, Joe,” was all the familiar voice said.
Monsignor Kilbane knew immediately that it was Little Tony and hesitated for several long moments. The crime boss was able to ‘decoy’ the Chicago Police surveillance car that had been following him over the last several days and had discretely arrived at the Cardinal’s mansion without being noticed.
“Get in here, Joe. Now!” Little Tony loudly demanded, as he was ready to order the driver and his other henchmen to physically force him into the car.
The Monsignor closed the trunk of his automobile and reluctantly, entered the passenger side of the Mercedes. Bringing along only his black briefcase, Kilbane entered the limousine. He then heard the car doors immediately lock as the car swiftly sped away. Going at a very high rate of speed, the Mercedes first traveled southbound on State Street, and then continued onto the Dan Ryan Expressway.
Over the next day, several people tried to contact the Monsignor and were unable to reach him, as his cell phone had been suddenly disconnected. Two days later, his cleaning lady arrived at Kilbane’s luxury townhouse in Lincoln Park, only to notice that the Monsignor’s dog had not been let out of the house for a few days. There was waste and animal excrement everywhere. In the following three days, no one had seen or heard from Kilbane, and a missing person’s report was finally filed by the Archdiocese of Chicago with the Chicago Police Department. Chaz Rizzo reported it as the lead news story on WDIV Eyewitness News that the Monsignor was a ‘missing person’ who had quite possibly, jumped bail.