Crescent City (An Alec Winters Series Book 1)

by Chariss K. Walker

  “She didn’t tell me out of fear. He threatened her. He warned that if she told, something terrible would happen to me. He used our love for each other against us. If I had known, I would have first reported him to the authorities and then divorced him. I would have made sure he was imprisoned and could never hurt a child again.”

  Katie’s thoughts returned to the afternoon they’d come home from Jackson Square. She’d lit the clarity candle and sat at the dining table with Jenny, holding her hands. She’d listened for a long time and, as her daughter told her all the disturbing things he had done and said, Katie discovered that Bill truly was a disgusting monster. When it was finished, she explained as much as she could to her daughter, continually reassuring her that Bill was a predator, an evil man, and that none of it was Jenny’s fault. They hugged and cried, allowing the tears to wash away any remaining guilt that either of them felt. Those tears had also washed away her own shame about not seeing what her husband had done. She’d been focused on her own misery and hadn’t see Jenny’s. Now, as far as Katie was concerned, it was over. Unless Jenny brought it up or had a need to talk about it again, it would remain over.

  “Has Jenny told you anything more about that day in Jackson Square?” Vivien pursued her line of questioning, looking at her notes to stay on track.

  Katie remained silent.

  “Has she mentioned anything more about the angel she saw?” Vivien asked pointedly.

  “Anything my daughter has told me is privileged and private. I won’t repeat it for you to print. It’s between us and not for the world to read about.”

  “Do you believe she saw an angel?” Vivien persisted.

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve recently read biblical accounts of angels. I like to conduct research and form an enlightened opinion,” Vivien replied honestly. “What your daughter described could have been nearly a direct quote from those sources.”

  Katie remained silent again.

  “Did your family attend church regularly?” Vivien asked next.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that the description she gave to the police is almost a direct quote from the bible. Could she have been influenced by something she learned at church?” Vivien explained.

  “No, I’m not aware of that. We attended church on Sunday mornings as a family, but I don’t recall the sermon ever discussing angels.”

  “What about Sunday school for the children” Could she have heard something there?” Vivien continued to probe.

  “Bill didn’t allow her to attend Sunday school. He kept her in the sanctuary with us. Like I said, he was very controlling.”

  “How have you been holding up since your husband’s death?” Vivien asked, deciding to take a different approach since Katie was so unwilling to open up.

  “To be honest, it’s been very quiet. Our home is much more relaxed and stable now.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say,” Vivien said before she could stop herself. “Are you saying that your home was unstable before? Was he physically abusive to you and your daughter?”

  “Think about it Miss Simon. My husband was hiding a dark secret. He slipped into my daughter’s room to sexually molest her, to force her to touch him. God-only-knows how many times it happened. He was volatile and disruptive, demanding and hard to please. He was a wolf trying to hide in sheep’s clothing, a disturbed, sick predator. That behavior is anything but stable or secure. It’s only natural that we would now feel calm after the storm is gone.”

  “You don’t sound like you miss your husband very much, Katie,” Vivien commented. “To be honest, I can’t say that I blame you.

  “I admit it has been easier.”

  “Did he provide for you and Jenny in his will?” Vivien asked.

  “Yes and no, but with Louisiana designated a community property state and, without a will specifying any other beneficiaries, we will retain the home. It’s paid for and there was a sizeable life insurance policy at work, along with other benefits. We should be alright and even have enough money for college if we’re careful. I won’t have to return to work.”

  “Were you aware that a young boy was also rescued from a pedophile recently?” Vivien asked.

  “I read the papers, Miss Simon.”

  “Do you have any comments on that?” Vivien asked.

  “Only that I’m glad he was rescued. I’m very grateful they were both rescued.”

  “I’d like to mention in confidence that while the boy was in that dangerous situation, a bright light covered and protected him. It sounds like the same light your daughter described,” Vivien commented calmly. “Has she said anymore about it?”

  Again, Katie didn’t respond.

  By that time, Jenny had walked home from school. She was singing when she came in the front door. Katie went to greet her with a hug and welcomed her daughter home. Vivien looked at the young girl closely. At this stage of her development, Jenny was asexual. If not for the long blond hair and pretty blue eyes it would have been difficult to tell her gender. At any rate, there was nothing about her that was sexually appealing to the average adult male. But then, Bill Worth wasn’t the average male.

  Jenny was glad to be home and needed an afternoon snack. After a brief introduction, Katie walked with her daughter to the kitchen where she poured a glass of milk and set out some cookies on the island bar. Jenney quickly sat down on a stool to eat and began to tell her mother about the school day.

  “You noticed that we have company…,” Katie interrupted softly, “a reporter.”

  “What does she want?” Jenny asked, interested, but cautious.

  “She’d like to ask some more questions about what you saw in Jackson Square the day Bill died.” Neither Katie nor Jenney referred to him as ‘daddy’ or ‘step-father’ now. “You can answer her questions or not. It’s up to you. I’ve already told her that anything you’ve shared with me is private and that I won’t repeat it. I think she mainly wants to question you about the angel…she mentioned that a bright light protected another child from harm. Again, you don’t have to speak to her. I’ll send her away if that’s your decision.”

  “I think that’s what he does, Mommy. I think he makes sure that children are safe…that we are safe. He was sent to protect us,” Jenny replied.

  “We do feel safe now and I’m eternally grateful to your angel for ending our torment,” Katie said as she gave her daughter another hug.

  Jenny didn’t want to answer any questions. Katie returned to the living room, apologized for her daughter, and sent the reporter away as promised. They were done with it, but at least Vivien found out that Bill Worth was certainly a pedophile. His wife had admitted that he went to Jenny’s room and molested her. Since she hadn’t known that before, the daughter must have confided that much. Coupled with the description of his vile moods and other controlling behaviors, it was confirmed in Vivien’s mind. He certainly fit the profile.

  Still, she spent the rest of the afternoon talking to neighbors. She got a better picture of the man as well as many comments on his character and nature. On and on, the neighborhood expressed their dislike of Bill Worth. Most made no bones about it, he was not popular with anyone and greatly disliked by the majority. Even the kindest remarks were followed by a ‘but.’ Vivien wrote down every word:

  “He was a good provider, but very rigid and strict.”

  “The kids in the neighborhood avoided that man like the plague. Kids always know.”

  “He was too hard on that little girl. I saw him hit her one time. It would have knocked a grown man down the way he swung at her while holding her up by the arm. I thought he’d break her little arm or dislocate her shoulder.”

  “Katie was never allowed to go anywhere without him hot on her heels. He escorted her everywhere. It was ridiculous and almost as if he forbid her to go anywhere that he couldn’t control.”

  “He took them to church every Sunday, but even church couldn’t cha
nge that man. He was dark. Anyone could see it. I could spot his evil all the way across the street.”

  “You know his nickname was Mr. Meany, right? I don’t know why the kids called him that but, whatever the reason, kids know things. They see things that adults can’t see or have forgotten to see.”

  “I hated him. I hated the way he treated his wife and step-daughter. It just wasn’t right. He wouldn’t allow them to have friends. He wouldn’t even let Katie have coffee with the neighbors while he was at work. She was a prisoner, they both were. It was almost like he thought that he’d lose control over them if there was anyone else around. After he died, some of the neighbors visited in that home for the first time. Now, a few have coffee with Katie on a weekly basis. It’s a big change!”

  “He was very strange and ugly too. How he ever got that pretty woman to marry him is beyond me. We didn’t like him at all, but since she did, we thought maybe we had it all wrong.”

  “I used to see her standing at the windows each evening, waiting for him to get home. At first I thought it was sweet, and then I got a closer look. She had the most miserable look I’ve ever seen.”

  Chapter 18

  In the meantime, parents twisted the arms of their young sons to get to the bottom of any relationship with Father Maddox, but none of the boys were talking. Everyone in the diocese with a child between the ages of ten and thirteen wanted to know if Father Maddox had ever ‘touched’ them. It was a vague, fearful question. The children were scared, but so were the parents. The school had to intervene. A meeting was called for all the families in the diocese who had attended the abbey involved. The ones called were visibly upset while those who weren’t invited were deeply interested, but relieved that their children hadn’t had any contact with Father Maddox. They wanted to stay in the loop just in case their own priests could be or would become suspect.

  The adults were asking the wrong questions.

  None of the children would openly volunteer any information about something so despicable. None would admit they had been sexually abused or inappropriately touched either. A parent suggested that they call the reporter making the claims. Maybe she could get to the bottom of it. Maybe, she knew enough already that would help their children talk and get them to open up about more.

  The school agreed to make the arrangements with the reporter and the parents were forced to wait again without any answers or relief in sight. It was nerve-racking. Everyone was on edge and wanted answers.

  Vivien Simon was often abrupt with adults and lacked finesse during interviews and interrogations. She followed the teachings learned while in college and it was her downfall. Experience was the best teacher, not the rote method of those previous instructions. With children, it was a different story. Having no former mock experience to muck up the process, she was calm and instinctively put them at ease.

  On the night they gathered in the school gym, there were twenty young boys in the group with their parents standing nearby. The parents stayed quiet, reluctantly allowing the reporter to do the job. Vivien had the children move their chairs in a circle and she sat with them in that ring of privacy.

  “I’m not going to ask you anything secret or personal tonight. Let’s start with something simple, ok?”

  “Ok,” the group of youths consented.

  “Raise your hand if you knew Father Maddox.”

  All the hands went up.

  “Raise your hand if you liked him.”

  None of the hands went up, but there were plenty of derisive comments mumbled. Vivien listened until the murmurs quieted. “Maybe, children really did intuitively know who they could trust,” she silently mused.

  “Raise your hand if you’ve ever seen the priest on the playground at the abbey.”

  More than half the hands went up.

  “Raise your hand if you saw Father Maddox on the day he died.”

  Six hands went up. She dismissed the other boys, sending them back to their grateful parents. The relief was so immense that the audible sigh could be heard throughout the expansive room. The principal instructed those students and their parents to leave. The circle discussion continued, now even more private, as Vivien had some of the older students help her remove the empty chairs, pulling the group in tighter.

  “Raise your hand if you saw him at the abbey the day he died.”

  Six hands went up.

  “Raise your hand if you saw him after school that day.”

  Six hands went up.

  “Raise your hand if you went home as soon as you saw him.”

  Five hands went up.

  Thomas LaCour looked around at the other boys helplessly. He felt tricked and totally alone. Now, everyone knew. Vivien didn’t draw attention to Thomas. She continued to learn as much as she could.

  “Let’s start by each one sharing one thing they remember about seeing Father Maddox at the abbey that day,” she said.

  “We went to shoot some hoops after school.”

  “We’d only been there a few minutes when Father Maddox came out to the yard.”

  “He gives us the creeps so we ran away.”

  “That’s not all he tries to give us.”

  “He’s disgusting.”

  “He tried to force me to touch him one time.”

  “We hated him. We’d heard stories about him from some of the other kids.”

  “They’re not just stories.”

  “Tom didn’t see him at first. He’d gone after the ball and, by the time he saw us run away, he wasn’t fast enough to catch up. He got left behind.”

  “The priest grabbed Tom by the arm and wouldn’t let him leave.”

  “We left him.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve felt rotten about it ever since.”

  “We should’ve gone back as a group and demanded that he let Tom go.”

  “We didn’t know if the priest forced Tom to do something.”

  “Then, we found out that he was dead.”

  “We’re glad Father Maddox is dead.”

  After that final pronouncement, the comments tapered off. There was certainly no love lost for Father Maddox. All the boys were downcast, looking at their hands. They felt regret that Tom, the youngest and smallest, was prey to the evil priest.

  “Tom, are you angry at being left behind?” Vivien asked.

  “No,” Thomas spoke for the first time. “I mean, at first I was upset that I wasn’t fast enough to get away with my friends. I was also upset that I hadn’t gone home in the first place like my parents told me to do. I had disobeyed them. I had a lot of time to think about that. The priest scared me…once he had me by the arm, I couldn’t get away. Then, someone helped me and I was finally free from him.”

  “Do you want to tell us what happened next?” Vivien asked softly, hoping not to spook the boy.

  “He held onto my arm…his grip was tight and hurt…I have bruises here,” Tom said as he rolled up his sleeve. Everyone could see the handprint left by a forcefully tight grasp. “He made me walk with him to Café Amelia’s. He ordered food and drank wine. I couldn’t eat…I felt sick the entire time. I was scared, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I couldn’t figure out what to do. When we left the restaurant, he held onto my neck. I tried to run away…but he got hold of my jacket and pushed me into an alley. The next thing I remember, Father Maddox was on the ground…I think he was dead…the only thing I know for sure is that he wasn’t twisting my hair anymore…I was free to run away. I didn’t run though because a man was walking me toward the next street…I think it was Bourbon Street. He made me feel safe. I got a cab and went home. I don’t remember anything else. It was sort of like a dream.”

  “The man who walked you to safety, did he say anything?” Vivien asked.

  “He said it wasn’t my fault and that the priest was evil and had hurt many boys,” Tom replied as if still caught in the web of the dream.

  “Could you describe the man?” she asked quietly.

  “No…he was be
side me, but there was a bright light and I couldn’t see anything about him. I guess that sounds stupid because it was an alley, but I still saw a bright light. By the time we reached the street he was gone.”

  “No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all, Tom. I would like to admonish each of you…If you ever find yourself in such a situation, make a scene. Scream if you must to call attention to the person holding you against your will. Another adult will come to your rescue if they know you’re in danger. Thank you everyone for helping me to understand,” Vivien replied as she looked around the group.

  The meeting concluded and the parents took their children home to question them further. It was obvious that the priest had sexually molested other boys in the group and the parents’ turned their gaze accusingly to the diocese they supported. The clergy and the Bishop knew Maddox was a pedophile before he arrived. Someone would pay for bringing the bastard predator to prey on the children of New Orleans.

  That night, her report took a different twist that picked painfully at an already open wound:

  Father Maddox, a known pedophile from Ohio with previous allegations of numerous child molestations, was murdered in an alley in the French Quarter before he could harm another child. The youth, name withheld, has confirmed that the priest ensnared him from the abbey playground and refused to set him free until someone else intervened. The young boy was rescued from the ordeal by an unknown man. I ask again, “Does New Orleans need to be concerned about more sexual abuse allegations from its parish clergy?” Isn’t it time we held those in the church hierarchy accountable for these crimes and sins against innocent children?

  Chapter 19

  When Vivien Simon met with Lieutenant Albright, he closed the door as soon as she was shown into his office. He buzzed someone for a cup of coffee, asking Vivien if she wanted any. She declined. After clearing a few items from his desk, he got down to business.

  “What do you think is going on here, Miss Simon?”