A Prayer for the Devil

by Allan, Dale

She answered in her gravelly early-morning voice while rubbing her tired eyes. “Yes, everything is fine.”

  “What are you doing up this early?”

  “I just wanted to say good-bye and remind you to be careful.”

  Luke smiled. “Thank you. You be careful also. I’ve already loaded the address to the Berkshires home in your GPS. I’ll call you later, but call me if you need anything.”

  Anxious to get on the road, Luke walked toward the front door with Deb following. When he turned to say good-bye one last time, she hugged him without saying a word.

  The sun had been out for an hour when Luke reached the Greenwich Historical Society office. Not expecting anyone to be there this early in the morning, he nevertheless climbed out of the car, stretched, and walked to the door to see if the hours were posted. A sign read, “See you after the holidays.” Disappointed, he walked back to the car and headed to the second address on his list.

  Before entering the office building, he already knew that this attempt to find Trinity was a long shot at best. On the directory next to the elevator, he saw the name for Design View Architects, the office where the review committee met. Knocking, he was surprised when a young girl opened the door. “Can I help you, Father?”

  Luke smiled. “Well, I hope so. I’m looking for a lady named Trinity Russo; she’s on the Greenwich Architectural Review Committee.”

  The girl went to her desk and began flipping pages. Looking up, she said, “I’m sorry, but they don’t meet again until next month.”

  Not wanting to give up, Luke asked, “Do you happen to know if Trinity Russo is on the committee?”

  She looked up and thought for a second. “I’m really not sure. Mr. Reilly would know, but he won’t be in until after ten.”

  Luke thanked her and let her know that he might return in a few hours. She smiled.

  He had only been in Greenwich for a half hour and was already down to his last lead—the one lead he hoped he didn’t have to use. He parked his car on the street and hurried up the stone steps into Saint Mary’s Church, realizing that the eight o’clock mass was probably almost over. He entered the beautiful building and quietly sat in a pew in the back and joined the mass in process. When he went up to receive Communion, the priest smiled, seeing his collar.

  After almost everyone had left, Luke approached the presiding priest and introduced himself. He wasn’t surprised when the priest replied, “I know who you are, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” He introduced himself as Father Leo and motioned for Luke to follow him. His warm smile and caring eyes gave Luke optimism that he would help if he could. Entering the small sacristy in the back of the church, they sat down to talk. “So what brings you all the way to Greenwich, Father Luke?”

  Even though Luke knew this question was coming, he was unwilling to divulge all the details. “I was hoping that you could help me find someone named Trinity Russo, who may be a parishioner.”

  Leo smiled. “Is she a friend of yours?”

  “No, I’ve never met her.”

  Realizing that Luke wasn’t telling him everything, but still willing to help, Leo asked, “What makes you think she’s a parishioner?”

  “It’s a long shot, but I thought I would give it a try.”

  Leo picked up the phone receiver from the table, but before dialing, said, “I can have the secretary check our records, but I feel obligated to ask you why you want to talk to her.”

  Luke replied without divulging the real reason he was there. “I need to ask her a few questions about some work that her family’s company did in Boston.” Downplaying it, he continued, “No big deal, just a few simple questions.”

  Leo dialed and asked, “Can you tell me if we have a parishioner named Trinity Russo?”

  A few seconds later, he thanked the secretary and put down the phone. “I’m sorry, Luke, but we don’t have anyone by that name in our files.”

  Luke thanked him and opened the door to leave, stopping when Leo said, “We do have a Trinity Lombardi, though.”

  Realizing that she might have been married, Luke asked warily, “Can you give me her address?”

  Reluctantly, Leo redialed the secretary and jotted down the information for Luke. After thanking him, Luke quickly walked out the door and headed toward his car, and Coachlamp Lane.

  Turning onto the block, he wasn’t surprised to see the grandeur of the houses. If Trinity was working on beautification projects in Greenwich, she certainly might live in a neighborhood like this. Checking the address one last time, Luke pulled into the long, curved driveway and parked.

  The stately stone house was impressive. He counted four chimneys and three garage doors. He took a deep breath, checked his watch, and decided that she would probably be awake by now. After he rang the bell a few times, the door opened. A young girl, who must have been about eight, smiled and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Father Luke from Boston. Is your mother home?”

  She left the door ajar and walked away. Luke waited patiently until the door opened again and Trinity appeared. Seeing Luke, she started to cry and asked, “Is Vincent dead?”

  Confused, Luke answered quickly, “No, I’m not here for anything like that.”

  She wiped her eyes and quickly composed herself, asking, “Then how can I help you, Father?”

  “I’m very sorry to bother you at home. I just wanted to know if you are Trinity Russo.”

  She hesitated and answered, “Yes, Russo is my maiden name.”

  “I have a few simple questions about your father’s building company. I was hoping you could help.”

  “No problem, I’m happy to help, but I’m in the middle of cooking breakfast for my daughter. Would you mind coming in and waiting until I’m done?”

  Luke followed her inside to a room that faced the backyard and was adjacent to the kitchen. While Luke sat and waited, Trinity finished making breakfast. Luke didn’t care if he had to wait all day; he was just happy he had found her.

  TRINITY EXPLAINED THAT HER daughter, Grace, was going to school late that morning because the class had a field trip. “If you wouldn’t mind, we’re running late, so if you take a ride with me, we can talk after I drop Grace at school.” She led the way toward a white Range Rover and unlocked the doors. Grace jumped in the back and Luke sat in the front. As they drove toward the school at a reckless pace, Luke felt like he was a passenger in an off-road car race, and he said a few silent prayers.

  Based on the way Grace was dressed, Luke wasn’t surprised when they sped into the parking lot of Greenwich Catholic School. After saying good-bye, they were back in the zone, speeding down the road again. With her eyes fixated on the traffic in front of her, Trinity said, “I was really sorry to hear about your brother.”

  Luke thanked her. As he started to ask her about her father’s company, her cell rang. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get this.”

  Luke smiled. Not wanting to listen to her conversation but having no choice, he heard her say, “I’m going to have to cancel lunch.” She looked at him while continuing to talk to the person on the phone. “Something has come up. I’ll call you later to explain.”

  She turned onto Greenwich Avenue and parked in front of Michaelangelo, which looked to be some kind of exclusive gift store. Thinking that she had an errand to run, Luke waited in the car until she said, “Aren’t you coming?”

  He followed her across the street and into a restaurant called Mediterraneo that had just opened its doors. The hostess recognized Trinity, smiled, and said, “Right this way, Mrs. Lombardi.” They were led to a table in the contemporary dining room near a window. After ordering coffee, Trinity looked at Luke and said, “OK, Father, how can I help you?”

  Easing into the conversation, Luke responded, “First of all, let me just say how sorry I was to read about the accident involving your parents. They seemed like wonderful people.”

  Trinity’s eyes filled with tears. “They were the best people I’ve ever known, an
d I miss them so much.”

  Luke smiled. “I’m sure God has blessed them.”

  She nodded and he continued. “Were you involved with your father’s construction company?”

  Concerned, she replied, “What do you mean?”

  “Did you work there, help out, or anything like that?”

  “No, I’m the oldest in the family and was in college when the company became successful. Why do you ask?”

  Studying her face for a reaction, Luke replied, “I visited several mosques in Boston last week that were built by Corner Stone, and I had a few questions about the construction.”

  Not flinching, she responded, “I’m sorry, Father, I wouldn’t know anything about that. My brother ran the company for a few years after my parents died, so he could probably tell you everything that you want to know.”

  Encouraged, Luke asked, “Does he live around here?”

  She took a deep breath and frowned. “No, he still lives in Massachusetts. Cape Cod, to be precise.”

  “Do you talk to him often?”

  Another deep breath. “No, we haven’t talked in several years. After my parents died, he changed. Vincent hurt his back unloading a truck at the shop one day and became dependent on painkillers. To make things even worse, while he was home recovering, he began drinking. I spent a fortune checking him into several different rehab facilities, and I thought he was finally cured. When he showed up for Gracie’s fifth birthday party inebriated, and vomited in the yard in front of my friends and family, I told him he wasn’t welcome here anymore. That’s why I was so upset when I saw you at my door today. I recognized you immediately, and knowing that you are from Boston, well, I thought he’d finally killed himself.”

  “I’m sorry that I frightened you. That wasn’t my intention.”

  Changing the topic, she asked, “How have you been since the bombing?”

  “As you know, it feels terrible. It’s like a really bad dream. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I forget for a few seconds that he’s gone, and I feel good until reality sets in. I wish I could go back in time and tell him all the things I should have told him before he was gone.”

  Teary-eyed, she asked, “He had two young children, right?”

  Luke smiled. “Yes, two angels, Abel and Alessa.”

  Her motherly instincts were in high gear when she asked, “How old are they?”

  “Three and four.”

  Innocently, she stated, “Well, thank God that you’re there to help your brother’s wife.”

  Hoping to get more information on Vincent, Luke asked, “Do you think your brother would talk to me?”

  “I don’t see why not, that is, if he’s not drunk or high. Before the drugs, he was a great person and someone that everyone admired, but now, only God knows.”

  “Do you have his phone number?”

  “No, but I think I have his address at the house.”

  After their food was served, the restaurant began filling up. When several customers recognized Luke, he quickly paid the bill, and they headed back to Trinity’s house. She went inside to find Vincent’s address while Luke waited in the driveway. Returning, she handed him a piece of paper with the information. He thanked her, and she walked back toward her car. As she opened the door to the SUV, Luke asked, “Can I get your cell phone number in case I have any other questions?”

  She smiled and said her number slowly so Luke could enter it in his phone. When she was finished, Luke gave her his. Before she left, Luke innocently asked, “Are you in contact with your sister?”

  She furrowed her brow and said, “My sister?”

  Confused, Luke replied, “Don’t you have a sister named Faith?”

  “No.”

  “But the newspaper article said your parents were survived by three children: Vincent, Trinity, and Faith.”

  She laughed. “Not Faith. My adopted brother, Fatih.”

  Hearing the name, Luke’s heart raced, “Where is he from?”

  “Saudi Arabia. Why?”

  Despite the unsettling feeling he had just gotten in his stomach, he calmly replied, “I was wondering if he would know about the construction of the mosques.”

  “I’m sure he would. His parents moved in next door to us, and his father helped my dad get a lot of new business.”

  Confused, Luke asked, “But I thought you said he was your adopted brother?”

  She moved closer to Luke. “It’s another really sad story. Fatih’s family moved into our neighborhood when I was away at college. His father would always stop by our house to see my dad. At first, my father was wary of the Abu family, but they turned out to be such great people. I don’t know the details, but as I mentioned, Mr. Abu really helped my dad with his business, and eventually they became very close friends. About a year later, something happened with Mr. Abu’s job that required him to travel back and forth to the Middle East for work. When his parents began traveling together, Fatih stayed at our house for weeks at a time while attending high school. During a trip to the Middle East, while Fatih was living at our house, both of his parents were killed in a plane crash. It was so sad. That same day, my parents decided that they would adopt him.”

  “Do you still see Fatih?”

  She smiled. “No, after staying in Boston for a few years, he decided that he wanted to return to the Middle East. He wanted to go home.”

  “Have you talked to him recently?”

  “No, I haven’t talked to him in many years. Vincent might still be in touch. I’m just not sure.”

  “Deep faith eliminates fear.”

  —Lech Walesa

  LUKE ENTERED VINCENT’S CAPE Cod address into his GPS and saw that it was about five hours away. Since it was still early afternoon, he decided to drive there directly, hoping to get a chance to talk to him that night.

  While on the road, Luke made a few calls. First, he checked in on Deborah. She was already driving to the mountain house, and he could hear Lori chatting in the background. As Lori’s voice became louder, he heard her say several times, “Ask him.” Finally, Deborah said, “Hold on,” and she handed the phone to Lori.

  Lori got right to the point. “We saw your picture in the paper this morning and were wondering who that was with you.”

  Luke had no idea what she was talking about. “My picture was in the paper?”

  “Yes, you were sitting on a bench drinking coffee with a lady in dark sunglasses.”

  Now he knew. “That’s Jami. Her sister was killed in the bombing with Aaron.”

  There was silence for a few seconds and then Lori replied, “Oh, we never saw her before and couldn’t imagine who she was.”

  “Her sister was a special adviser to Aaron, and we’ve spoken a few times since the bombing,” he said.

  Once they finished talking, he called John, who was working at Aaron’s office. John told him that Blade’s funeral was scheduled to be held in two days. The authorities had already checked, and Blade had no known relatives. John added, “We thought it would be best if he was cremated. Is that all right with you?”

  Luke knew that the Catholic Church had changed its views on cremation in the early 1960s, but he realized that many people still didn’t know it. “That’s fine, John. Do they know that I want to have a small service and say some prayers?”

  “Yes, I already told them. Blade’s body will be on display, and after your prayer service is finished, he will be cremated. We can pick up the ashes the next day.”

  “John, thanks very much for taking care of this. You’ve been a big help.”

  Pulling onto I-95 northbound, Luke knew he would be on this road for almost two hundred miles. He set the cruise control, adjusted his seat, and relaxed, letting his mind wander. He kept asking himself if someone could be so devious that they would plant a bomb years in advance of an event taking place. If Blade’s dates were correct, many famous people had given speeches in the Common after the bomb was buried. Were they waiting for a certain time, or a
particular person, before blowing up the stage? It had been rumored that the pope was going to visit Boston again. Based on the previous papal visit, he probably would have been at the Common. In fact, even the president had spoken there; why didn’t they explode the bomb then? Was it because he was a Democrat? Was being a Republican the link?

  Tired of overanalyzing, Luke turned on the radio just in time to hear a special bulletin being broadcast. “Another bombing has taken place, this time in New York City.” Stunned, Luke jerked forward and listened intently. “A car bomb has just exploded in front of the Stock Exchange on Wall Street. At least fifteen people have been killed and many more injured. Police and antiterrorism units are on site.” Luke said a prayer.

  Still driving, he listened to the same report over and over again. No one had claimed responsibility for the bombing, and lower Manhattan was closed to cars and trains. He knew it was a selfish thought, but now the FBI focus would be diverted from Boston to New York. Obviously there was little chance that he would have any help figuring out who killed his brother.

  He merged onto I-195, which signaled that he would soon be on the Cape. When the GPS finally announced, “Your destination is on the right,” he pulled into the narrow driveway. The houses were modest compared to Trinity’s neighborhood, but even though they were only a few feet apart, they had the advantage of being situated directly on the beach. Noticing a bright orange Jeep in the driveway, he hoped that Vincent was home. He walked toward the wooden front step and saw old newspapers along the walkway and shoes on the front porch. The old boards squeaked as he approached the door.

  Luke knocked a few times, but there was no answer. Peering around toward the back of the house, he thought he heard music, and he headed for it. The backyard contained a small brick paver patio littered with beer cans, but no sign of anyone. Returning to the front door, he turned the knob and it opened. He stuck his head inside and yelled, “Is anyone home?” When there was no reply, he yelled again. He heard a noise, and a few seconds later a tall young man, probably in his early thirties, walked into the living room. Seeing Luke, he was obviously annoyed when he said sternly, “Can I help you?”