And yet, she had to acknowledge another, more disturbing coincidence—both slain victims were allegedly pedophiles. The young girl said she’d prayed that her step-father would stop touching her. The coroner said that a small boy had been trapped in the doorway, struggling to get away from the priest. The priest’s pants were open and his penis was exposed. Something or someone had stopped both men, forbidding them to continue their sexual abuse of innocent victims.
She’d been thinking of the two murdered men as victims rather than perpetrators. Was she wrong to think that way? The newspaper articles had already revealed that Father Maddox had a sordid past abusing nearly a hundred young boys in Ohio. He would have been run out of town on a rail, or worse, if the Bishop there hadn’t intervened and arranged a transfer to a faraway diocese. Vivien felt her worldview shift imperceptibly. Were both these men ‘evil doers’ who had gotten what they deserved? Was there a vigilante on the loose in New Orleans, a regular citizen, intent on enforcing the law by punishing pedophiles? Was it a serial killer whose psychopathic pattern was killing pedophiles in public places? Or, was it an angel protecting innocent children?
It was a lot to think about. It was too much to consider or solve in only a few days. She set those thoughts aside for the time-being and determined it was necessary to stop by Café Amelia to interview the staff. Perhaps, she’d discover who Father Maddox was with during his ‘last supper.’ Perhaps, someone had seen something that would help her find the boy. Intrigued and a little frightened, she wanted and needed to know what he had to say about the priest and the person or thing that killed him.
Later, when she arrived at the restaurant, Vivien had a photo of Father Maddox in hand. She showed it around and several waitresses admitted that he had dined on the terrace the day he died. They were nervous and not eager to get involved. One called the manager over to confer on how to handle the reporter. Reluctantly, Vivien was directed to Suzanne as the waitress most likely to have served that particular table. Vivien felt a sense of déjà vu when she met the young waitress and was certain that she’d either met or seen her before, but couldn’t place it at the moment.
“Yes, he was here that day,” Suzanne replied when Vivien showed her the photo. “I served him,” she admitted with a touch of reservation.
“What time did he arrive?” Vivien asked excitedly.
“He got here about four or a few minutes past the hour. I know because I had a ten minute break at four. He was here at my table when I returned.”
“How long was he here?”
“Long enough for appetizers and a meal, a little wine,” Suzanne responded.
“Was anyone with him?” Vivien asked eagerly, getting to the real question.
“A boy,” Suzanne replied, but then regretted her response.
As she considered the implications, she was suddenly unwilling to help. She worried that the young boy would be pulled into the investigation and immediately wished she hadn’t said anything about him. It was obvious the reporter wanted to track him down, to interrogate him to get a story. She wasn’t keen on anyone talking to small children about things that should remain private and was even less enthusiastic about reporters in general. From her own experiences, she knew how easy it was for a child to either hold back or embellish any story—often, because the truth was simply too painful and too disturbing to admit. Besides, the boy would’ve come forward already if he’d wanted it known that he was with the priest on the day he died. It was in all the papers and the talk of the city. She looked closely at Vivien and then at her card again, realizing that it was the same reporter who had already informed her readers that the priest was accompanied by someone without first confirming it. That pissed her off.
“Why did you already report that he was with someone in the alley? You couldn’t have known that,” Suzanne asked pointedly. Her glare was even more direct, accusing Vivien heatedly.
“Although I couldn’t quote him as a source in the article, I overheard the coroner talking to the officer at the crime scene. From the evidence, he suspected that someone was trapped in a recessed doorway where Father Maddox was found. I only want to talk to the boy about what he saw,” Vivien replied, trying to put the waitress at ease with the honestly. “Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“Maybe, the boy doesn’t want to talk about it. Have you considered that? Besides, it was a busy afternoon. I’m lucky to have noticed that anyone at all was with the priest.”
“Did he have on a school uniform or any other identifying clothing that would help me find him?” Vivien persisted.
“Like I said, it was a busy afternoon. I don’t recall anything about him except he was a young boy, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. If what you say is true, he’s been through enough, don’t you think?” Suzanne held out stubbornly.
“Could you guess his age? How did he seem…was he nervous or fearful?”
“No, I couldn’t say. All kids look alike to me, but he did seem out of place and uncomfortable. I got the impression he wasn’t here by choice,” Suzanne said as she moved away to attend her waitressing duties.
Vivien left, knowing she’d blown it. She’d pushed too hard too soon. She was too eager. It usually put people off and, although she knew that reaction was the usual results, she couldn’t contain her excitement about this. She wondered if she should take another run at Suzanne in a few days. She felt certain the waitress knew more than she’d admitted or was willing to let on. Vivien’s next report was even more cryptic:
Father Maddox, murdered mysteriously in an alley off Royal and Bourbon Streets, was last seen dining at Café Amelia around four o’clock only moments before his death. Witnesses have now confirmed that he was in the company of a young boy at that time. The boy is possibly between the ages of ten and thirteen. The youth remains unidentified; however, his testimony would be crucial to the investigation of this reporter. Anyone with any knowledge of this should contact Vivien Simon at the Well-Read Rag.
Vivien knew she was teasing the community, but it didn’t feel as if she had any other choice. The only way to get to the bottom of this was through parental involvement. A child was sexually molested by a priest and the parents should be worried. Everyone should be worried and they should also be asking plenty of questions. She needed their help.
Chapter 16
Confirming that a young boy was with the priest moments before he died caused quite the uproar. Vivien’s phone was ringing off the hook, but she wasn’t the only one inundated with questions and phone calls. The schools, the church diocese, and the police department were also flooded with questions and concerns. Some parents were hysterical at the very thought their children could have been in such a precarious situation. Still, there was the question that went unasked, but on everyone’s mind—If Father Maddox was a pedophile, had he molested their child?
She couldn’t confirm or deny it at the moment and didn’t have any reassurances to offer those who called. To top that, the owner of the newspaper was now threatening to fire her. He yelled at her for fifteen minutes, stating ‘she was inciting a riot by reporting unsubstantiated claims.’ He accused her of being ‘cheesy and a vilifying libelist,’ reminding the young reporter that it wasn’t only her ass on the line. She got the impression he was repeating the exact words heard from a politically connected associate, but he was within his rights to criticize his employees. She also got a call from Lieutenant Albright.
“Where the god’s name did you get that information, Miss Simon?” he demanded without even a greeting.
“You know I can’t give out my source, lieutenant,” Vivien countered sweetly.
“Unless you want to face obstruction charges, you better tell me how the hell you knew where Father Maddox dined last!”
“I did my homework!” Vivien retorted heatedly, quickly angered by the threat.
“I’m only going to ask one more time…I have units on the way to you right now. I’ll call them off, but only if you
tell me how you discovered that Father Maddox was at Café Amelia’s?”
“I told you, I did my homework! I had a look at the webcam footage covering both Bourbon and Royal Streets. That’s how I discovered him exiting the restaurant,” Vivien replied defiantly.
“That was pretty ballsy and also brilliant,” Albright said.
“Thank you,” she replied more calmly, realizing that he’d just given her a glowing compliment.
“Maybe, what we need is some fresh, new eyes around the department. Come in to see me next Thursday morning around ten.”
The phone went dead and Vivien clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet the joyful scream. This was her first big break. It’d been a longtime coming and she was more than ready for it.
After all the calls ended, Vivien suddenly remembered that she’d seen Suzanne on the webcam following Father Maddox out of Café Amelia’s—that’s why the waitress looked so familiar. She returned to view that section of footage again. Yes, it was Suzanne alright. She’d definitely followed the priest and the boy along Royal Street all the way to the alley. The bright light was in front of her and she seemed unaware of it as she tagged along behind. Suzanne stood at the entrance to the alley watching for some time, but the webcam didn’t cover anything beyond the entrance. Vivien was convinced that the waitress saw the priest murdered before returning to the restaurant. Armed with this information, she returned to Café Amelia to find out exactly what Suzanne had seen.
“I can only talk during my break,” Suzanne said when Vivien entered the terrace, “unless you’re ordering?”
“I am a little hungry,” Vivien replied.
Suzanne showed her to a table in her section. Vivien ordered a cup of soup, served with French bread and a pot of butter, along with an unsweetened iced tea. Suzanne hung around to answer her questions, but was stunned at the first one out of the reporter’s mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you followed Father Maddox and the boy to the alley?”
“I…I don’t know wh…what you mean,” Suzanne stuttered.
“Suzanne, I caught you on the webcam footage following him. That’s how I knew he was here to begin with. After we met, I knew you looked familiar so I looked at the footage again. You followed the priest and boy all the way to the alley and watched for a lengthy amount of time. Please, don’t deny it.”
“So what if I did,” Suzanne replied defiantly.
“You saw what happened and I want you to tell me what you saw.”
“And, what if I refuse?” Suzanne asked worriedly, wondering if she could refuse.
“I hope you won’t do that. If you do, I’ll have to call Lieutenant Albright, the detective handling the case. He would consider it ‘obstruction’ and might even arrest you. One thing is for sure, he’d pull you in for questioning.”
Suzanne sat down at the empty seat next to Vivien. She was distraught and worried. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid. Even though she’d followed to protect the boy, she hated getting involved in anything to do with police, reporters, and the law in general. Her past experiences warned that it never turned out well.
“I only wanted to make sure the priest didn’t hurt him. I knew what he was the moment he came in. I followed to stop him if I could,” Suzanne said downcast. “I had no idea that I would become part of this investigation.”
“Is that why you didn’t call in the murder when it happened?”
“Yes, but to be honest, I didn’t care if he rotted in that alley. He didn’t deserve any better and I’m glad he came to such a sorry end,” Suzanne replied.
“What did you see in the alley?”
“It’s strange, really. Father Maddox kept pawing the boy and then shoved him, but after they were in the alley, there was a weird light that kept me from seeing anything. Until the light walked the boy to the opposite end of the passageway, I couldn’t see much of anything. I know how crazy that sounds, but that’s really all I know,” Suzanne replied.
Having given the occurrence a great deal of thought after it happened that was the best description Suzanne was willing to give. It was true enough. The light did shield the boy before and after a devil tore out the priest’s throat. She certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t admit seeing that part. The reporter probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. Vivien had listened attentively and accepted her explanation for the time being, deciding to continue with her questions.
“What did the boy look like?”
“He was young, probably between ten and thirteen, just as you already guessed. Didn’t you see him on the webcam?” Suzanne asked, confused. “You said you saw me and the priest.”
“No, like you said, an unusual light covered him. I couldn’t get any image of the boy alone. What did you see while they dined on the terrace?”
Suzanne described everything she remembered, including the inappropriate touch with the napkin. When she was finished, Vivien thanked her and left another business card on the table before she left.
“So, the light didn’t just show up on the webcam. It could be seen by the natural eye,” Vivien silently mused.
That was interesting. Jenny Worth had also confirmed that the light was all she saw and now, after Suzanne’s testimony, she was inclined to believe her. Still, she hoped to interview both of the children involved at the first opportunity.
Chapter 17
When Vivien pulled alongside the curb in front of the late Bill Worth’s home, she took a few deep breaths to settle herself and calm down. All reporters had gotten a bad name since the day in 1998 when a microphone was stuck under Bill Clinton’s nose demanding to know, “Did you have sex with that woman?” It was a huge hurdle to overcome. People hated and despised the press in general, but hated bold, forceful questions even more.
Yes, people wanted to ‘know.’ Their bloodlust craved the dirt, especially on public figures. They had a right to know, but they hated the way the information was obtained and how it was twisted. Readers and viewers often placed themselves in the same situation under the microscope and felt sorry for those interrogated. She didn’t want to appear too pushy or insensitive. She’d made that mistake with the waitress at Café Amelia the first time she’d interviewed her and it had required a second visit to get the information needed. Interviewing and interrogating was a fine art and required finesse, not a battle axe. It required asking questions without suppositions, but she was excited about this case and felt an urgency that was difficult to contain.
Katie Worth answered the door and said goodbye to a neighbor who was just leaving before inviting Vivien inside. Jenny was still at school and would get home in about fifteen minutes. She’d purposely set the appointment to allow a few moments alone with the mother.
For a new widow, only a few weeks now since she’d buried her husband, she seemed resilient and calm. Katie wore lovely green Capri pants and matching top with a single, gold bangle on her left arm. She also wore makeup and her hair was freshly brushed and sparkled as easily as her smile. Actually quite stunning, she looked very different than she had in Jackson Square. She looked younger, more vibrant and alive. Vivien noticed every detail and wondered if Katie was glad her husband was dead. The daughter said she hated him…did the wife hate him too? What kind of bastard had he been that his family didn’t grieve over the loss and appeared to thrive from it?
“Thank you for seeing me today, Mrs. Worth. May I call you Katie?” Vivien began as she was led to the living room sofa.
There was a handyman in the living room, removing old-fashioned brocade drapes and replacing them with white Levolor blinds. Another worker applied paint. It was obvious the widow was giving the home a facelift. Vivien looked around curiously and could hear even more workers in the back part of the house, presumably the bedrooms.
“Yes, you may call me Katie, and please do. We needed to make some changes to the home. Air it out a bit. I don’t think my late husband made any changes or improvements the entire time he owned it, making it out
dated and musty,” she replied, noticing the reporter’s curious glances. “Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing to the bedrooms.”
Vivien followed as Katie showed her the rest of the home and the work already done. Jenny’s former bedroom was now an office and game room painted in a lovely sea foam blue with white trim. The wooden desk and bookcases were also white, but the sofa and occasional chairs were covered in various shades of blue to match the wall color. Katie had moved her daughter to the guestroom and it was now decorated in a completely different manner. Everything was new, including the bedding and furniture, eliminating any chance for old memories to resurface. Katie had also remodeled the master bedroom. Everything had been replaced as well. There was now a queen bed, rather than the king size bed that had crowded the room.
“We’re not finished, but it’s a start,” Katie acknowledge as she led Vivien back to the living room. The workers had already rolled up their tools and were now leaving.
“Were you surprised to hear that your daughter hated her step-father?” Vivien asked after they were alone and seated.
“Yes and no. Bill was a very difficult man to please. He was very demanding and controlling. It felt like we walked on eggshells around him. We lived a very oppressive life. He ‘ruled the roost’ and made sure that everyone knew it. If she hated him, it was because he did things to her…things that he shouldn’t have done, not because he was a strict father figure. I didn’t know that he touched her inappropriately. I didn’t find out until the day he died. I only knew it was a miserable life. I’d been ill for the last few years. He must’ve done those things while I was asleep or rested.”
“I’m sure that was a terrible shock. You didn’t see any signs of his sexual abuse? Your daughter didn’t try to tell you?” Vivien asked, but she quickly realized that her own assumptions were hindering her objective. She hoped to get the story, not offend the family. She again took a few deep breaths.
Crescent City (An Alec Winters Series Book 1) Page 9