by Allan, Dale
THE RESTAURANT LOOKED MORE like an old house than a place to eat. As Luke was ushered inside, he wasn’t surprised to see that the inside decor matched the outside appearance. He was led into a small dining room containing five tables with white linen tablecloths and red napkins. Sal had been looking out the small front window, awaiting Luke’s arrival. When he saw him, he quickly walked over and shook Luke’s hand.
“Thanks for coming.”
Luke thought to himself, Like I had a choice? But he said, “Thank you for inviting me.” Sal cut an imposing figure: tall, big boned, tan, and completely bald. When he looked up sharply, a waiter hurried over and pulled out two chairs, inviting them to sit down. Without a word, red wine was poured. Sal took a sip, nodded, and motioned for Luke to do the same. As Sal reached into his suit pocket, Luke saw a holstered gun. Retrieving a piece of paper, he placed it on the table and pushed it toward Luke, who picked it up. Upon opening it, he was immediately disappointed, saying out loud, “I should’ve known.”
The first name was exactly who he thought it would be: Brad Thompson. The second was his new friend from the cemetery: Lori Simpson. Remembering that her husband was the lieutenant governor, he was irritated that he hadn’t figured this out himself, especially since now Deborah even had the same number stored in her phone. Looking up, Luke said, “Thank you very much.”
For the first time ever, Luke saw him smile. He took the red cloth napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar, creating a makeshift bib that protected his expensive suit and tie. Appetizers were served and little was said. Sal ate like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. His mouth was so busy chewing and drinking that there was no time to talk. After he had devoured everything in sight, he looked up at Luke and grinned again. Luke motioned to let him know that he had a piece of lettuce stuck between his fake front teeth. He quickly used one of his big fingers in an attempt to remove it. When Luke shook his head to indicate that it was still there, he looked at him and said, “You’re not screwing with me, are you Father?”
Luke smiled. “No, Sal, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Thanks. Most of these meatballs I have working for me would have let me walk around all day with that stuff stuck in my teeth and would have laughed about it behind my back.”
Luke was amazed that he actually said more than two words in a row. Sal said, “Rebecca insisted that I meet you for lunch. She has a great fondness for you.”
“As I do for her.”
“When you called, she made me promise that I would find the information on the phone numbers immediately, telling me to cancel any appointments and make sure I took care of you first.”
Luke smiled and Sal continued, “Father, God may have some issues with me, but Rebecca is an angel. She’s the best person I’ve ever met, and I would do anything to make her happy. Now tell me, why did you want those numbers?”
Figuring that he could trust Sal, Luke answered honestly. “I need to know who killed my brother.”
Sal pondered that statement for a moment. “Well, Luke, let me tell you what I know. The FBI is keeping tight wraps on all information regarding the investigation. But I have, let’s say, a connection, with a few federal judges. I’ve asked some questions and know that they have no solid leads. They’ve gone as far as working with that Internet company, Google, to review satellite images from the past three years. What’s it been, about a month since the bombing?”
Luke nodded.
“Well, from what I’m told, let’s just say they have nothing.”
Sal had probably used up a week’s worth of words at this point, but Luke decided to ask a few questions anyway. “Do you think this judge is telling you the truth?”
Sal smiled. “I know he is.”
Curious, Luke asked, “How do you know that?”
“Because he wouldn’t be a judge if it wasn’t for me.”
Luke tilted his head, not understanding. Sal elaborated. “Luke, when a judge is under consideration for a federal appointment, a complete background check is done on him. Well, most of these guys have been lawyers or local judges before their selection. Many times, we know something about their past that they don’t want anyone else to know. Capice?”
Seeing Luke’s puzzled look, he continued. “Let’s just say they owe me a favor. You never know when you’re going to need information. Father, there are things you’re better off not knowing, but remember, the federal courts prosecute counterfeiters, money launderers, and crimes having to do with interstate commerce.”
Shocked, Luke changed the topic. “How come they’ve only looked at three years of satellite pictures?”
“I think that’s all they store. Why, do you think they should look further back?”
“I don’t know.”
Sal looked at his Rolex and said, “I better get you home.”
They stood and shook hands and Luke thanked him. While escorting Luke toward the door, Sal said, “If you need anything else, call.”
Running out of clues, Luke decided to try a long shot. “Do you know who Steve Hinkley is?”
“No, that name doesn’t sound familiar. Who is he?”
“A local pro-choice guy that the FBI questioned about the bombing.”
“What did they find out?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sal wrote the name down and said, “I’ll have someone check it out.”
Luke thanked him and left.
Still deep in thought when they pulled up to the gates of Aaron’s house, Luke sat motionless until Bobby said, “You OK, Father?”
Luke looked up. “Yes.”
Bobby jumped out to open the door for him. As Luke climbed out of the car, Anthony said, “You seem a little down, Padre. We’re going to meet some babes at a club tonight. Maybe you want to come with us?”
Bobby laughed. “Yeah, Father, you need to live a little.”
Enjoying the moment, Anthony joked, “One night out with us and you’ll feel like you lived a complete life.”
Smiling, but annoyed, Luke leaned down and looked in the front window. “When you two rocket scientists get home, do me a favor and spell ‘live’ backwards. If you figure that one out, try spelling ‘lived’ backwards.”
As Luke walked toward the iron gates, he heard Bobby yell, “Good one, Father!”
Walking to the house, Luke felt defeated. If the feds didn’t have any leads, and they’d been looking at three years of satellite imagery, what chance did he have of ever figuring anything out? Detective Romo couldn’t help him. Now the unlisted phone numbers were a dead end. What the heck was he going to do? He decided he would follow up on his last lead, John Daly, the homeless man. If nothing came of it tonight, he was through.
AFTER DINNER, LUKE PACED back and forth in his room, waiting impatiently for the time to pass before heading to the Common to find the homeless man who said he knew who killed Aaron. When the clock on his nightstand finally read 9:45, he couldn’t wait any longer. Remembering the incident with the cop the last time, he changed into his clerical outfit and purposely selected a coat that exposed his white priest collar.
Luke parked on a street near the Common. The night was frigid, and he walked quickly. Within a few minutes he was sitting on the same bench where he had distributed the coats two nights before. He saw people in the distance, but there was no sign of John Daly. After fifty minutes, he decided to get up and search for him.
Starting at the Brewer Fountain, Luke walked briskly around the outskirts of the park, oblivious to the danger of doing so. After passing Parkman Plaza and the Central Burying Ground, he remembered that the homeless often congregated with the drug dealers near the bandstand. So he changed direction, walking toward the center of the park. As he reached the bandstand, he was surprised at how dark it was. He heard a man laughing in the shadows. Feeling uneasy, he approached, and a horrible stench filled the air. When their eyes met, the bearded man looked at Luke and said, “Faddah, can you help an old altar boy? I’m a Catholic.” Rememb
ering that same line from The Exorcist, Luke felt involuntary chills run up his spine.
His pace quickened as he thought to himself, I should’ve brought the gun. Shocked at his own thoughts, he said the Our Father silently, until he said out loud, “Deliver me from evil,” without regard for who might hear. As he reached the Charles Street Gate, he frantically realized that his chances of finding John Daly were diminishing by the minute. By the time he passed the Shaw Memorial, he had asked almost twenty people if they had seen John Daly. Determined not to give up on his last lead, he turned around and backtracked, then headed toward the Public Garden, another park across the street. He kept repeating the same question over and over to anyone he passed, all with the same results. Not knowing what else to do, he continued roaming the surrounding streets for hours. Finally, tired, cold, and totally dejected, he punched the car door before reluctantly heading home.
When he entered the house through the kitchen door he was distraught, not only because he had bashed his knuckles but worse, because he had just exhausted his last lead. In an uncharacteristic desire to dull the excruciating pain, he grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine from the cooler. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he padded toward the front of the house and into the library, closing the double doors behind him. As he sat in a leather chair, he filled his glass, raised it, and said, “Aaron, I’m so sorry. I tried and failed.” He took huge gulps in between sobs, and it didn’t take long until the bottle was empty and Luke was passed out on the floor.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Deborah kneeling next to him with tears streaming down her face. After blinking several times, he realized where he was and what had happened. Ashamed, he attempted to stand and saw the broken glass and spilled wine on the floor. She helped him to his feet, and he held his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She burst out crying. “When I saw how late it was, I checked to make sure you came home. I couldn’t find you in your room. I didn’t know if something happened to you or if you decided not to come back. I ran to the wall, climbed the ladder, and saw your car. Then I came back and began searching the house. I saw you lying on the floor.” She began sobbing. “The wine looked like blood.”
Realizing what she must have thought, he said, “I’m so sorry, Deb. I really am. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I had no right to tell you not to drink. Look at me. Who am I to give anyone advice?”
She hugged him as tight as she could, whispering, “I thought I lost you.”
He returned her embrace. Looking at the floor over her shoulder, he released his grip and began picking up the pieces of broken glass. She bent down to help.
“I hope I didn’t stain the marble.”
She dismissed his concern. “It doesn’t matter.”
As they both stood together, Luke took the broken glass from her hand and placed it in the garbage can next to Aaron’s desk. She led him to the couch and said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, she returned, holding a big glass of water and two Advil. “I know from experience—this is the only thing that will help you feel better.” He smiled and took the pills.
When she sat down next to him, he noticed that her short satin nightgown exposed her naked thighs. As he glanced at them, he saw her look down also. Realizing what he was looking at, she surprisingly made no attempt to cover up.
“Luke, we should get to bed. Remember, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we have to get up early to cook.”
He held his head and smiled wobbly. “Is that tomorrow already?”
She smiled. “Can we try to make it a normal day? I just want to forget for one day.”
Luke said without much conviction, “OK, we can try.”
“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”
—Lewis Carroll
HEARING LAUGHTER NEAR HIS bed, Luke slowly opened his eyes and felt the children tickling his feet. He pretended to be asleep, waiting until Alessa walked toward the head of the bed to look at him. Opening his eyes quickly, he grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her over his head. She erupted in laughter, and Abel did the same as he jumped into the bed on top of Luke. Sensing someone else was present, he sat up and saw Deborah laughing from the open doorway.
“OK, let’s leave Uncle Lukey alone so he can get dressed.”
The children protested until Luke pulled Abel close and hugged him tight. “Go with your mom, and I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
After a quick shower, a shave, and a few more Advil, Luke walked into the kitchen. Most of the servants were busy preparing food for the Thanksgiving feast. Seeing Luke, the children ran to his side and each one hugged one of his legs. As he walked to the other side of the room with a child still attached to each leg, he was handed a large bowl and a mixer by Ethel, the head cook. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and having fun. Luke decided that he wasn’t going to think about reality today, he was just going to enjoy the moment.
Plugging in the mixer, he strategically placed the bowl full of cake mix on the counter next to the backsplash. Propping it up so it balanced on the edge of the bowl, he turned the mixer on and watched as it began mixing without any assistance. Proud of his invention, he called across the room, “Hey, Ethel, what else do you need me to do?” Everyone in the kitchen looked as the normally grouchy cook turned and smiled. At that moment, the vibration caused the mixer to fall, still running, shooting cake mix across the room. Luke and the children got the worst of it; they were covered. Wiping the thick yellow paste from his eyes, Luke began licking it off his fingers. The children, watching him, began doing the same as the entire kitchen erupted in laughter. Hearing the commotion, Deborah opened the door and yelled, “What’s going on in here?” The kitchen went silent until Luke swiped some of the mix from Alessa’s hair and licked it off his finger. Then everyone howled as Deborah began laughing. Reaching into the bowl, Luke took what was left of the mix and hurled it toward Deb. She quickly closed the door as the mix splattered on it. For the next hour, Luke and the children cleaned the kitchen as the cooks cooked. The cake mix fiasco set the jovial tone for the day.
Luke cleaned up the kids the best he could, although Alessa still had sticky spots of batter stuck throughout her long, dark hair. He returned to his room to find a clean shirt, then he chose a sweater from Aaron’s vast selection. When he walked back through the dining room, Deborah was setting the table. She looked up at him, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “What’s wrong?” Luke asked.
She smiled. “That’s the same sweater Aaron wore every Thanksgiving Day.” When he began removing it, she rushed over and stopped him. “Please leave it on.” He complied. For the rest of the morning, the children stayed by Luke’s side. The mood in the house was lighter than it had been in weeks.
In the early afternoon, Luke, Deb, and the children stood by the front door and welcomed the servants’ families. Most of the visiting children had been at the house before, and they immediately rushed to the large playroom on the far end. Sounds of laughter filled the house for the first time in months. As the children played, Luke and Deborah prepared to serve the appetizers. The adults sat at a long antique table in the elegant dining room. The children’s table was located in the adjoining room, although they had no interest in eating at the moment.
Before beginning the meal, Luke watched as the servants’ families all held hands. Realizing what was about to happen, Luke’s mom nudged his father, who reluctantly held the hand of the smiling lady sitting next to him. Luke and Deb rushed to sit down. Johnny, a longtime employee and one of the older men seated at the table, took out a small piece of paper and began speaking in heavily accented English. “Thank you, dear God, for the food we are about to eat and for all of those who prepared it. Thank you for the children, as we see you in their loving eyes every day. Thank you for Deborah and Luke; they are very good to us.” His eyes filled with tears as he looked around the table. “And most of all, please, God, bless Aaron.” His voice cracked as
he added, “We miss him so much.” At this point everyone was drying tears from their eyes. After gaining his composure, he continued, “With all of our troubles, we have so much to be thankful for. We give glory to God. Amen.”
While everyone was preparing to eat, Luke’s father spoke sharply, trying not to cry. “I have nothing to be thankful for—absolutely nothing.” Seeing the surprise and shock of everyone at the table, he put his head down. Embarrassed, he stood and walked out of the room. When Luke’s mother got up to follow him, Luke interceded. “Mom, let me go. You stay here and eat.”
Luke headed down the long hallway to the guest room, where he knocked gently on the oversized door. When there was no answer, he turned the knob and peered inside. His father was sitting on a chair, blankly staring out the window. Luke pulled another chair close and sat next to him. When his dad didn’t acknowledge him, Luke leaned over and grasped his hand. Looking straight ahead, his father finally spoke. “I’m sorry that I ruined your day.”
Luke smiled and squeezed his hand. “Dad, everyone understands. Can you please do one thing for me, just one thing?”
The father turned to face Luke. “Anything.”
Luke took a deep breath and sighed. “Remember how much Aaron loved Thanksgiving? It was always his favorite holiday, and it made him so happy to have his family and employees enjoying a great meal together. I know it’s hard, but please think about what he would want us to do. I know he’s watching us now and is happy that we’re carrying on the tradition.”
His dad wiped his eyes and forced a smile. Then he said something sobering. “Luke, if you honestly believe that Aaron is watching over us, please remember that when you’re making decisions regarding your future. Your mother and I are moving back home tomorrow.” Luke pondered that thought for a few seconds and then convinced his dad to return for dinner.
WHILE LUKE HELPED SERVE the main course, his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. He placed the large platter of turkey he was carrying on the dining room table and rushed into the library to answer it. Seeing the number, he became concerned.