by G. C. Harmon
“So what is it your parents do?”
Steve took a deep breath. “My parents live in a retirement community between Miami and Fort Lauderdale. I think I told you my dad moved us out of San Francisco about fifteen years ago, when I was a teenager. My Mom, Margot, is a hospital administrator at a place in the Miami Dade area. My Dad is a retired government bureaucrat. He’s always been kind of mysterious about what he did in the federal government. Hell, for all I know, he’s James Bond.”
“Intriguing.”
By now, Steve had reached the exit for the airport and was driving across the raised freeway, searching for signs to guide him to the arrivals area. In minutes, he was entering the pickup zone, and he scanned the sidewalk for a familiar face. Suzy scanned the faces of the crowd as well, not knowing who she was looking for. But Steve suddenly turned in, stopping at the sidewalk. He smiled at Suzy and said, “Brace yourself.”
Steve stepped out, leaving the vehicle at the curb. A large tourist group had just exited the terminal and was now clogging the sidewalk. Steve craned his neck for a moment to see past them, but the crowd suddenly thinned and parted. There stood his dad, a single small suitcase on the sidewalk next to him. “Dad!” Steve called out, and the older man turned to him.
“Steven, me boy,” the older Blazer called out, and stepped forward. Steve threw his arms around his father and they embraced warmly. “Good to see you, laddie.”
Suzy had stayed at the car for the moment. When she saw who Steve was embracing, she raised her eyebrows. The man was tall, the same height as Blazer. He wore dark gray slacks and a gray tweed coat over a white button down shirt that looked more casual than formal. He had a trim beard, as gray as the hair she could see, which was covered by a gray herringbone flat cap. She stepped out of the vehicle to get a better look as Steve led his father over.
“Suzy Wolf, I’d like you to meet my father.”
The man practically bowed. “Andrew Declan Blazer, at your service. You may call me Declan or Drew. Such a pleasure to meet the beautiful lass who has captured me boyo’s heart.”
Suzy was immediately surprised by the thick Scottish accent. The senior Blazer was certainly charming. Steve’s earlier James Bond comment suddenly seemed apropos. “Very good to meet you, sir,” she smiled and shook his hand firmly.
The elder Blazer took in her dark duty pants and white T-shirt. “Am I a wee bit overdressed?”
Steve smiled at his father. “I’m just glad you didn’t wear a kilt.”
“Don’t disrespect the uniform of your heritage, young man.”
Steve picked up his father’s suitcase and let the way back to their SUV. Suzy was about to volunteer to ride in the back, but Drew automatically climbed into the back seat, so she returned to the shotgun seat. Steve got them underway.
Drew glanced around the SUV. “Aye, a genuine police vehicle. Is this where you hold your evildoers?”
“Typically, no, since there’s no cage there.”
“My leg is bumping up against someone’s utility belt.”
“That’s mine,” Suzy said, “I just went off duty.”
“A lady constable. I see my boyo is doing just fine for himself.” To Steve, he said, “Before I forget, I have something for ye.” From a side pouch on his small suitcase, he pulled a CD case. “Florida Scottish Men’s pipes and drums, Miami chapter.”
“Sweet,” Steve said, taking the CD. He glanced over the cover, then fished out the disc and slipped it into the SUV’s CD player. In moments, they were listening to the mournful bagpipes of a marching band. Steve nodded for a moment as he listened, then glanced at Suzy. “Yes, I like bagpipe music.”
“Anything’s better than that bloody rock and roll.”
“Sacrilege.” Steve got them underway back to the city.
About the pipers on the disc, Drew said, “We caught them live at the Scottish games in Fort Lauderdale last spring, they were quite good.”
Suzy was growing more and more curious, and she dove right into her own little interrogation. “So are you originally from Scotland?”
“Nay, I was born here in the city. My parents were immigrants, and I was lucky enough to fly back and forth to the UK with them many times in my life. As a young man, I decided I should like to embrace me heritage. Then, of course, when I met Steven’s mother, I decided to stay here in the states. However, I still retain my dual citizenship.”
Suzy looked at Steve. “Every once in a while, I do hear the slightest hint of an accent in your voice. Now I know why.”
Steve shrugged. “I never noticed.”
“Now, I have to ask. Is Blazer a Scottish name? Where did that name come from?”
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’m kind of curious what version of the story you’ve got on tap, Dad.”
Drew’s smile turned mischievous. “Well, lass, our clan has kin spread all across the United Kingdom, and over the centuries, different clans have intermarried. Legend has it that me grandfather landed at Ellis Island in New York a hundred twenty years ago. He stood in line for hours amid all the noise and confusion. When he finally met with the clerk, he was asked his name. Me grandfather, with his thick accent, stated proudly that he was from Clan Blair. With all the confusion, the apathetic clerk misheard him and wrote the name “Blazer.” Me grandfather didn’t notice this until it was too late. He later saw this on his papers and decided he liked it and never tried to change it.”
Suzy sat enthralled through the whole story. But then she looked at Steve and saw the knowing smile on his face as he pointedly watched the road. She sensed a prank, so she said diplomatically, “That’s quite a story.”
“Yes,” Steve grinned, “quite a story. I’ve heard so many variations of the story of our family history. And somehow they all seem to take place at Ellis Island.”
“Aye, the island has a place in history that, sadly, your generation knows nothing about.”
They fell into silence for a moment, and Steve finally said, “I talked to Mom.”
Drew Blazer’s eyes met his son’s in the rear view mirror. “Aye?”
“I was curious why you were calling out of the blue from the airport,” Steve said. “She didn’t really know. In fact, she didn’t even know you were coming here.” His Dad just stared for a moment, but Steve could see the activity behind that stare. “Is everything alright between you and Mom?”
“Aye, we’re just fine. Happily married after thirty-four years.”
“She said you were visiting some cousin she had never heard of.”
“Aye, that is what I told her.”
“Are you going to make me come right out and say it?”
Drew shrugged. “Do I need to explain that I wanted to come see my son?”
“You might also bring up why you didn’t tell your wife of thirty-four years about it.”
Before the conversation could progress, Steve’s phone in the console beeped and vibrated. Steve sighed. “Sorry. We’re in the middle of something big, my team is working a crime scene.” Watching the road, he tapped his phone screen when he saw that Scot was calling. “Blazer.”
“It’s Black. We’re running into some dead ends here, but we have one possible witness, one of the transients camped behind the church. Are you coming back any time soon?”
“Yeah, I should be there within the hour. I’ll get back to you.” He ended the call. To Suzy he said, “I won’t keep you anymore. I can drop you off at Mission Rock so you can head home.”
“Actually, do you mind if I head back with you?” she said. “I kinda want to keep track of this case, maybe shadow you for some investigative tips.”
“OK. Dad, I can drop you off at my apartment, if you don’t mind hanging out for a while until I get home.”
“Actually, boyo…if you’re working a crime scene, I might just be interested in tagging along. It’ll give me a chance to see just what you do.”
Steve thought it over, feeling a little ambushed. But he sensed that something was going o
n with his Dad. His surprise visit, and now asking to see the crime scene, all seemed to point to…something.
But, there was no body, no bloody evidence, nothing an outsider would really spoil, no expected violence, nothing so shocking that a non-cop would be repulsed by. Except…but he tamped down that one doubt that sprung up in his mind. “OK,” he said. “I’ll let you tag along for a while. But if my Captain says you go, I’ll have to have Suzy take you back to my apartment.”
“Fair enough, son.”
As they drew closer to the city, Drew began taking in the sights all around, and commenting to them on how the city had changed so much since the last time they had visited. Steve pulled them off the freeway and in minutes was pulling up to the same spot he’d left outside the Cathedral.
He noticed the darkened look on his father’s face. “You didn’t tell me your crime scene was here.”
The comment surprised Suzy a bit. “We’re working a case involving a missing priest. What, are you a lapsed Catholic or something?”
“Lass, I would never worship in a Catholic Church. The institution is thoroughly corrupt and has been since the dark ages. In fact, a case could be made that the Church was actually a significant cause of the dark ages because of their need for absolute control of their people. Imagine working your fingers to the bone to give your family the barest of basics and trying to teach them the wonders of God and the Savior. And if one thing you do offends your priest, he will make the claim that you will immediately go to hell.”
This was the nibble of doubt that Steve had felt, knowing his father’s feelings about the Catholic Church in general. “We got him started.”
“This church has historically maintained a stranglehold of control over its people. They would always say their masses in Latin, knowing their people could not understand it, and therefore the Bible could say whatever they wanted the people to hear. This goes against the very word of God Himself, who wanted his people to have free will. This was one of the events that led to the Protestant Reformation.”
“Dad,” Steve said, cutting off his tirade before it got too deep into the history, “We’re not going in. Stay quiet, stay with me and don’t touch anything.”
Steve ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and led them toward the back of the church. He spotted Scot and A.J. at the mouth of the alley. They were consulting with Captain Stanson and Lieutenant Wilsher. As they approached, Steve noted the curious looks from his guys about the strange man with him, but he skipped past it for the moment. With a glance beyond them at the transient camps, he asked, “What’s our status?”
“I had to fight on the phone with the judge and the Chief,” Stanson said, “but we got a limited warrant for the priest’s quarters.”
“I just finished a search,” Wilsher said. “No kiddie porn, which we’re all glad to know. I didn’t really find much else, but…” he held up a plastic bag with a small card inside. “You asked the Bishop about any hangouts that priest might have. This might be one.”
Steve looked more closely at the card. It had a small drawing of a penguin with the name “Paddy’s” over it. “Looks like this might be an Irish pub.”
He didn’t notice his Dad looking over his shoulder.
“We also found a couple witnesses among the bums,” Scot said, forgetting to be politically correct. “They were congregated at the opposite end of the alley, and they say they heard the shots from inside the church. They saw the priest run past and got a direction of travel. They also saw the guy pursuing him, but in the dark, they couldn’t get a good description, just that he was older, maybe in his fifties.”
“So our priest actually made it out and he’s now in the wind,” Steve said. “That’s positive. I’ll go talk to these witnesses in a second. I think a couple of us should check out this bar later.”
Behind him, Drew stepped away, deep in thought for a moment. He heard someone, one of the transients shout something derogatory at the cops.
“Damn them cops. It’s their damn fault.”
Steve heard this too, looking at a disheveled black female homeless. She was apparently talking to another woman, a white lady too well dressed to be homeless. “What’s this about?” he asked Scot.
“It’s bullshit,” Black answered, shrugging it off.
The parishioner lady started to lead the black woman away toward the church. But when she saw Drew standing near the cops, she steered toward him.
“Excuse me,” she demanded, “Are you in charge of these monsters with badges?”
He regarded the homeless woman with a critical eye, which did not escape the observation of the parishioner. She never gave him a chance to answer her question. “I want to lodge a formal complaint against your officers. They were harassing these poor people and were absolutely cruel to them.”
“Madam, these are well trained Police officers, I highly doubt—”
“These pigs do nothing but harass us!” the black woman screamed. “That one called me a niggah bitch.”
Steve glanced back at her, looked at Black. Scot shook his head and rolled his eyes.
Another officer was attracted by the commotion. Officer Norris was working the perimeter nearby and walked over. He recognized the black woman. “What are you up to, Deja? Did you not sleep last night off sufficiently?”
“Another badge monster,” retorted the indignant parishioner. “What, because she’s black and homeless, it must be because she’s on drugs?”
“No, it’s because I busted her for heroin last week,” Norris said.
“Well, I’m taking this poor unfortunate soul home with me. I can at least get her cleaned up, get a decent meal into her and give her dignity back. That is the charitable Christian thing to do.” Next, she took an indignant stance to quote her scripture. “Inasmuch as you have done unto the least of your brethren, you have done it unto me.” With that, she took her new friend by the hand and led her away.
The Scotsman and Officer Norris stared after them. “Mathew 25, verse 40?”
Norris looked up at him. “Probably.”
“I fear she’ll come to regret such a decision.”
“Definitely. Are you supposed to be here?”
“My apologies, officer, I’m here with Sergeant Blazer.”
Once the nearby scuffle subsided, Steve stepped aside to speak with the two transients who had said they had seen something. They had been standing off to the side, taking everything in. As he walked up, Steve could see that they were not exactly like the rest of the homeless here who shied away from police contact. They seemed to be eager to contribute, as it gave them a chance to hang out and watch the action. One was white, with short reddish-blond hair, as young as twenty, with scabs on his face and arms. This indicated he picked at his skin when sores were caused by drug use. The second was black and a little older, wearing a dirty OD green military jacket and torn paints that appeared to be stained with paint as well as dirt. Steve could smell the alcohol on his breath from ten feet away.
“How’s it going, guys,” he greeted them. “My partner said you guys might be able to help us out with this. Can you tell me what happened?”
“It’s like this, man,” said the black transient. In his drunken state, he had to strain hard to sound intelligible, and he stumbled side to side, as if the mere act of speaking might knock him over. “We was down at the end of the ally there. My boy Boney had a fire going, so we was warming up. I heard the shots inside the church. I looked at Boney, and I said…Man, they shootin’.”
Boney now spoke, and Steve figured he got the nickname because his addiction had worn him down to skin and bones. “Some time later, we see this guy come running down the alley. It was Father Fitzhugh. He runs the soup kitchen for us here on the street, a couple times a week. I almost called out to him, but he ran off. That direction.” He pointed.
“So, like, a second later,” the black man picked up the story, “This other dude comes running through. There was something about thi
s guy, so I grab Boney and pull him back against the building so he can’t see us—”
“We were in front of the fire, Lester, he could have seen us,” Boney chided his friend.
“Will you shut up, I’m trying to help this man. I’m sorry for my friend, Officer.”
“It’s OK, Lester,” Steve said, offering a tolerant smile. “Go on.”
“He runs past us, and he stops on the street, like he looking for Father Fitzhugh. But the padre, he gone. Dude takes off running, and it just so happens that he went the opposite direction.”
“About what time was this?”
“Man, I ain’t worn a watch in four years.”
“Fair enough. I know it was dark, but did you guys get any kind of look at the guy chasing the father?”
“Just a little,” Boney said. “He was tall, had some blue jeans on, and this black jacket with a hood. We couldn’t see his face.”
“You said he was tall? Did he have a thin build?”
“No, maybe kind of thick, but not fat. He kind of moved like he was…older.”
“Could you see if he was white, black or Hispanic?”
“I couldn’t tell,” Lester said, “but he didn’t look like any brothah I’ve ever seen.” He suddenly remembered, “But dude was wearing gloves.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
“Yeah, he had that gun, man.”
“Is there anything else you can remember about this guy?” They both shook their heads. “OK. Thank you guys, you’ve been a big help.” Steve pulled out his wallet and fished out a couple of twenty dollar bills. He held them up. “Promise me something. No booze, no drugs tonight. Go get yourself a decent meal, or maybe a hotel room? Thanks, guys.” They practically ripped the bills from his hands. With smiles, they walked away down the alley.
Steve turned away, and saw his father standing nearby, watching him. “You’re wasting your words and wasting your money, laddie.”
“I’m aware,” Steve rolled his eyes.
“This alley is just a sample of the kind of bums that have filled this city. The homeless problem is so much worse than it was when we moved away. They’re just people who refuse to live among the rest of us in civilized society. These are not unfortunate souls, these are the intoxicated and the addicted who stay out here to be close to their drug source. That poor woman is going regret taking that addict home with her.”