A Prayer for the Devil

by Allan, Dale

  Luke smiled and replied, “I’m Father Luke Miller from Saint Leonard’s Parish in Boston. Your sister gave me your address.”

  “You’re not going to save me, Father; I know my sister has bought into all this God stuff, but I haven’t.”

  “I’m not here to convert you. I’ve been doing some research on buildings in Boston and had a few questions about Corner Stone Builders.” Daring to be pushy, Luke continued, “Can I come in?”

  Vincent waved his hand indifferently, and Luke entered the modest house. Sarcastically, Vincent asked, “Can I get you a beer, Father?” as he walked barefooted toward the kitchen.

  Luke surprised him when he said, “That sounds great.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Luke smiled. “I’m serious. Do you think priests only drink wine?”

  Vincent returned and handed Luke a Corona.

  “Thank you.”

  Vincent said, “You wanna sit?”

  Luke sat in a canvas sofa while Vincent flopped into a white bean-bag chair. After taking a slug of beer, he asked, “Well, Father Luke, how’s my perfect sister?”

  Luke looked at him and replied, “She’s perfect.”

  That made him smile. “Are you sure that you’re a priest?”

  They both laughed.

  “I think she misses you, and I know that she’s concerned about you.”

  Vincent became serious. “I miss her, too. How well do you know her?”

  “I only met her and your niece a few hours ago.”

  Sitting up as best he could in the unstructured chair, Vincent asked, “How is Grace?”

  Luke smiled. “She’s perfect, just like her mom.” He added, “She’s a beautiful, happy young girl.”

  As Luke was talking, Vincent’s expression changed as he recognized him. “Hey, you’re the priest from TV. The one whose brother was killed.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, that’s me.”

  “That sucks. Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to have someone in your family killed suddenly.” Luke agreed. They spent the next half hour bonding over their mutual sorrow. Luke found that he truly liked Vincent. He was smart, articulate, and interesting. Looking at his watch, Vincent asked, “Hey, why don’t we go get some dinner? There’s a place right down the street that has awesome food.” Luke gratefully agreed. He was starving.

  VINCENT INSISTED ON DRIVING, so Luke backed his Mercedes out of the narrow driveway and waited until the Jeep pulled out before pulling back in. As they entered the Bee-Hive Tavern, Luke was amazed at the greeting Vincent received. Men at the bar stood and came over to shake his hand. Women kissed and hugged him. Even the owner appeared and welcomed him. He introduced Luke to everyone, not only to be polite, but also because he was showing off that he was hanging out with a celebrity. Luke could tell that many people recognized him, but they were all courteous and friendly.

  During the next hour, Luke decided one thing—that Vincent was no killer. Now he had to determine how much information he was going to tell him. After they ordered, Vincent noticed a small crowd of people standing around a television at the bar. He asked Luke, “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “There’s been another bombing.”

  Shocked, Vincent asked, “Where? Was anyone hurt?”

  “At the Stock Exchange in New York City. The news said at least fifteen dead.”

  “That sucks.” He looked directly at Luke. “I guess you’re one of the lucky ones, Father.”

  Confused, Luke asked, “What do you mean?”

  “When your time comes, you’ll be prepared. People like me will never be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  Vincent smiled. “You know, prepared to meet God.”

  Engaged, Luke said, “Are you worried about not being perfect?”

  “Well, yeah, I’ve had some issues in my life. I’m nowhere near perfect.”

  “Only one person on earth was perfect,” Luke assured him. “His name was Jesus. Do you think that I haven’t sinned?” To make him understand, Luke asked, “Do you have any children?” Vincent shook his head no and Luke continued. “Well, let’s pretend that you have a son who is seven years old and he loves baseball. But unfortunately, he’s not the most coordinated child on the team. As a matter of fact, he’s really not a very good ballplayer. Would you be disappointed in him?”

  Vincent thought for a few seconds. “Not if he was doing his best.”

  “Exactly.” Luke smiled. “Well, how do you think God feels? He doesn’t expect you to be perfect—you never will be. But He wants to know that you are giving it your best. So, when we strike out, we must try hard to do better the next time. Don’t look back, look forward. Remember, He’s on your side no matter what. And remember one more thing—even your perfect sister Trinity isn’t perfect.”

  Vincent considered this. He raised his wineglass, and Luke did the same. As their glasses touched, Vincent said, “Amen, Father.”

  Luke was actually enjoying Vincent’s company and could tell that Vincent felt the same. Unfortunately, during dinner, they were constantly interrupted by Vincent’s friends, all wanting to talk to Luke about the bombing. The lack of privacy meant that Luke would have to wait until they returned to the beach house before asking his questions.

  After Luke paid the check, the restaurant owner stopped by again and asked to take a picture with them. Before Luke could protest, Vincent said, “Sounds great! Let’s get everyone in the shot.” Luke cringed but didn’t want to disappoint the crowd. After several photos were taken, however, Luke said, “That’s enough already! I’d really appreciate if these pictures didn’t end up in the newspaper. OK?”

  On the drive home, Vincent asked, “What else did Trinity tell you about me?”

  Luke answered honestly. “She said that you were a great person. She also said that you had some issues with painkillers and alcohol.”

  “Anything else?”

  Luke, not wanting to embarrass him with the details, said, “She told me about the last time she saw you, at Grace’s birthday party.”

  Vincent frowned. “Well, Father, if you see her again, please let her know that I’ve been off the drugs for over two years. As you know, I still drink, but not in excess anymore.”

  “Why don’t you call her? I have her number.”

  Vincent laughed. “I don’t even have a phone. My entire life takes place within a fifteen-mile radius of my house. I have great friends and an easy life.”

  “But,” Luke said, “no family.”

  “Yeah, I know. You have a point.”

  Entering the house, they relaxed in the family room. He had Vincent’s full attention now, so Luke related everything Trinity had told him about Corner Stone Builders. Luke asked, “Is there anything you can add?”

  “I’ll tell you anything. Just tell me what you want to know.”

  Luke knew that Vincent’s parents were gone before Blade said the bombs were buried in the park, so he asked, “Why don’t you start with when you took over the company?”

  Vincent thought for a few seconds. “Well, once my parents were gone, it was frightening. I really didn’t know what to do. But the guys who worked for my dad for many years helped me through it. And Fatih was a big help.”

  This was the opening Luke was waiting for. “How involved was Fatih?”

  “To be honest with you, if it wasn’t for Fatih and his family, the company probably would have gone out of business. His father had a lot of connections with the Muslim community, and we started building all of the new mosques in the Boston area. Not only was the work interesting, it was extremely profitable.”

  “Tell me more about Fatih. When was the last time you talked to him?”

  Now getting suspicious, Vincent countered, “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re really here?”

  LUKE GAMBLED THAT HE could trust Vincent and decided to go for broke. “Are you a baseball fan?”

  Vincent looked at Luke l
ike he was crazy. “Isn’t everyone? I love the Sox. What does this have to do with anything?”

  “Where were you in October of 2004?”

  “I’ll never forget. I had my back operation the week before the playoffs and watched the games from my hospital bed. That’s when I got hooked on the pain pills. Why?”

  “And Fatih was running Corner Stone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he also make the decision to have green crescents painted on your trucks?”

  “Yes, Fatih thought it would be a good idea, being that almost all of our business was coming from building mosques. I didn’t care.”

  “When was the last time you talked to Fatih?” Luke asked again, hoping to get an answer before telling him more.

  “It’s been several years. Why, what are you getting at?”

  Luke took a deep breath and said, “What if I told you that I have a witness who says that Corner Stone trucks worked in the Common every night during the 2004 Sox and Yankees playoff games. The odd thing is that they only worked at night, and only during home games, while all of the cops that normally patrolled the park were at Fenway. My witness says that they dug several deep holes and made sure that they were covered up each night before they left.”

  Vincent looked at Luke skeptically and said, “You expect me to believe that Fatih buried bombs in the ground and let them sit there for years? You’re crazy. I don’t think he’s capable of something like that. He went to our church, played on the high school football team, and even dated one of my friend’s sisters. He became an American when he lived with us. Luke, if it wasn’t for Fatih’s family and the contracts they brought to Corner Stone, Trinity and I wouldn’t be living the lifestyle we do today.”

  Luke asked, “Don’t you find it strange that as close as you were to Fatih, you never heard from him again?”

  “I did at first, but I figured he got married or something and went on to live his own life.”

  “Did you ever question anything he did while he was running the construction company?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, when I returned to work after rehabilitation for my back, I was surprised that he had fired a few of our long-term employees and hired several other foreigners in their place. Supposedly, they were friends of his.”

  Wanting to confirm his suspicion, Luke asked, “Middle Eastern men?”

  Vincent nodded his head yes and said, “It’s still hard to believe that Fatih had anything to with the bombing.”

  “But there are too many coincidences to ignore.”

  Thinking about everything he had learned in the past several minutes, Vincent asked, “Who is this witness? Where is he now?”

  Luke frowned. “His name was Franklyn Hennessey.”

  “What do you mean, was?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Vincent rubbed his eyes with his hands. Luke could tell that he was afraid to ask the next question. “How did he die?”

  “I think he was murdered.” Luke explained everything to Vincent, who was captivated. When he found out that Blade had carved a crescent in his leg with his fingernail, he put his head in his hands.

  Eventually, Vincent looked up. “Did you go to the police?”

  Luke described Detective Romo’s unconcerned reaction when he found out that Blade was dead, adding, “Until today, I didn’t know that you had an adopted brother from the Middle East. I thought you had another sister named Faith, not a brother named Fatih.”

  “What’s your next move?”

  Luke hesitated. “Do you have any idea where Fatih is or how we can contact him?”

  “I haven’t heard from him since he moved back to Saudi Arabia.”

  “Do you have any contact information for him? A phone number or e-mail address?”

  Still holding his head, Vincent answered, “I have a storage unit in Dorchester. It contains all of the files from Corner Stone: tax returns, accounting ledgers, and some furniture from the company office. There could be some information in the files, but I’m not sure. I haven’t opened it in years, but I still pay the bill every month.”

  Luke asked, “Would you mind if I went there and looked through the files? I promise not to disturb anything. I’ll call you as soon as I’m finished, and either mail you the key or bring it back.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Luke was puzzled. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going with you.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, LUKE opened his eyes and heard the sound of waves crashing in the distance. From the couch, he looked out the window and saw that it was still dark. He sat up, stretching, and saw that Vincent’s bedroom light was already on, and he heard the shower running. After Luke folded his blanket and rearranged the couch pillows, Vincent appeared, and they were ready to go.

  Wanting to talk with Vincent during the hour-and-a-half ride to the Dorchester storage unit, Luke suggested that they drive together. As they walked out into the dark, salt-filled air, Vincent noticed that his Jeep was blocking Luke’s car and said, “Let’s just take my truck.” They sat in silence for the first half of the trip as they listened to reports on the radio about the bombing in New York City. The Stock Exchange would open with increased security. According to the news reports, there were as many police officers in the area as pedestrians. The surrounding streets were still closed to cars, and the subways were running on limited schedules. All riders were being searched.

  Luke’s cell phone buzzed, and he looked at the display before answering. “Good morning, John.”

  “Did I wake you?” John asked.

  “No. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I wanted to let you know that Detective Romo called the cell phone you gave me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Well, he was surprised that you didn’t answer and asked me what I was doing with his phone. Not knowing what to say, I told him that you left the phone at home and I heard it ringing, so I decided to answer it for you. Then he said to tell you that based on the recent events in New York, he’s been reassigned outside of Boston to an undisclosed location. He said that he’d try to stay in touch.”

  Not wanting John to worry, Luke said, “OK, I’ll call him when I get back. Let’s make sure we go to Verizon and get you a phone.” Looking at Vincent, he added, “Maybe we should get two.”

  Vincent smiled and John asked, “Two? Why?”

  “I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

  As they drove, Luke asked more questions about Fatih. Although Vincent still couldn’t accept that Fatih might have been involved in the bombing, Luke could tell that he was beginning to have concerns about his adopted brother. Luke had a difficult question to ask, but he decided to wait, hoping that Vincent would bring it up first.

  A few miles before they reached Dorchester, Luke’s cell phone rang again. Vincent looked at him and said, “Now you know why I don’t have a phone.” Luke smiled and looked at the display. Seeing that it was Jim Hathaway, he quickly answered. Jim got to the point and told him that all of the paperwork for John to get his house back had been completed by the bank. Mr. McMahon, the bank president, had expedited the approval process as a personal favor to Jim. Concerned, Luke asked, “Does Deborah have to sign the loan agreement?”

  “Yes, she has to cosign.” Luke thanked Jim and let him know that she was away for the next couple of weeks. They agreed to touch base when she returned.

  In Dorchester, Vincent turned off Washington Street and into a large brick storage facility. He parked his Jeep, saying, “I’ll be right back,” and he walked into the office. He returned a few minutes later and said, “I just wanted to let them know we’re here.” Pulling his Jeep around a bend in the driveway, Vincent stopped at a red garage door with the number sixteen written in large white numerals. Luke watched as Vincent struggled with the padlock before finally getting it open and rolling up the large door.

  When the outside light il
luminated the dark room, Luke was pleasantly surprised to see that the storage unit was set up like an office, with a large wooden desk in the center and file cabinets lining the walls. Vincent looked at Luke and grinned. “Just the way I left it.” He walked inside and sat behind the desk. “This was my dad’s desk. One of these days, I’m going to bring it back to the beach house.”

  “It’s a beautiful piece of furniture.”

  After looking around, Vincent took charge and directed Luke to search one file cabinet while he started on another one. Luke began by carefully removing handfuls of folders and reviewing their contents. After reading several files containing accounting information, Luke was amazed at the cost associated with the building of the mosques and the profit Corner Stone had made on these buildings. Getting back on track, he scanned every piece of paper for one word: Fatih.

  An hour later, Luke was getting tired and wanted to take a break. As he returned a stack of files to the cabinet, he turned to see Vincent looking directly at him, holding a frayed yellow folder in his hands. “You need to see this.”

  Luke hurried over, and Vincent laid out several pieces of paper on the desk. The first one was the article from an Arab-American newspaper detailing the events of the plane crash that killed Fatih’s parents. There weren’t many specifics, other than the fact that the private plane crashed shortly after takeoff from Riyadh.

  Next, Vincent pushed another newspaper article toward Luke. Recognizing the picture of Vincent’s parents from his research, Luke read it carefully before looking up and saying, “I’m so sorry; they seemed like such great people.” Vincent smiled with tears in his eyes. Next he handed Luke a picture of himself dressed in a football uniform with his arm around a teammate. Looking at it closely, Luke asked, “Is that Fatih?”

  Vincent nodded. “Yes. Because he was so short and thin, he never played in a game, but he came to every practice, and his enthusiasm was an inspiration to everyone on the team. The entire school admired him.”