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ring, then another, and then a male voice. " ?"
Si
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"Padre Donnelly? Is he available?"
"Not at the moment," the voice replied in crisp English with only a hint of an
accent. "May I take a message?"
I decided not to leave my name. Assuming Father Corletti didn't mention my
call, I might be able to catch
Father Donnelly before he'd had the chance to think about his responses.
"Never mind," I said. "Thanks
so much."
I'm not sure how long I sat there, my head in my hands. Then I heard the scuff
a chair across the tile of and looked up to see Eddie peering hard at me.
"What's on your mind, girl?"
"What?"
"Either you're constipated, or you're thinking deep thoughts. Which is it?"
I frowned slightly at his choice of words, but I wasn't his mother, so I let
it slide. "Deep thoughts," I said.
"Good. We're out of prune juice."
"Thanks for the update," I said.
"So what is it? The book? Your daughter's love life? Damn demon-bugs that keep
crawling over this godforsaken town?"
"Actually," I said, "I'm thinking about Eric."
His bushy eyebrows rose above his glasses frames. "My grandson, eh?" He pulled
out a chair. "In that case, I'll have a seat and you can tell me all about
it."
At the moment, Eddie was the closest thing I had to a father. And since I
needed a shoulder to cry on, I
took him up on his offer and basically spilled my guts.
Laura tapped on the back door just as I was finishing my story. I let her in,
then brought her up to speed as we traipsed back to the table. Eddie was still
there, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the Formica.
"Father Donnelly," he said. "Interesting."
"Why?" I asked, my ears perking up at his tone.
"Just that he's as crooked as they come. If Eric was working with that one,
then he musta been crooked, too."
I reeled backwards with as much force as if he'd slapped me, rage bubbling up.
"What the hell are you talking about? This is Eric! You didn't know him. You
can go around pretending you're part of this family, but you're not. You don't
know us, and you sure as hell don't know Eric."
I pushed back from the table, my hand clapped over my mouth, ferocious anger
warring with total mortification. I ran out of the room and up the stairs,
then fell onto my bed, pulling a pillow tight against my chest.
I knew I was overreacting, I
knew it. But I'd been hit too hard lately to even bother trying to rein my
emotions in.
Damn Eddie
! What right did he have to trash Eric's good name? My husband wasn't corrupt.
The idea was completely absurd.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in the pillow. As pissed as I was, I still
hated myself for lashing out.
I may have only known Eddie for a few months, but I did love him, and I knew
he loved me. He was brash and obnoxious and often thoughtless, but he'd never
hurt me on purpose.
On accident, though. Well, he'd definitely got me good, there.
I heard a soft tap on the door, then felt the mattress shift as someone sat
down next to me. I opened my eyes to see Eddie peering at me. "Wanna take a
punch at me? Just do it in my gut. Be a crime to ruin such a perfect nose."
I smiled despite myself. "No punches. I'm sorry I yelled at you."
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He stroked my hair. "No, girl, I deserved it. Never liked Father Donnelly, and
I opened my mouth without thinking. Maybe he ain't corrupt after all. Father
Corletti likes the pansy-ass jerk, so maybe he's okay."
I propped myself up on my elbow, still listening.
"And even if the rat-bastard's as crooked as the day is long, well, that ain't
no reason for me to go accusing Eric of throwing in with him. Eric might
not've known. Or maybe he was trying to trap
Donnelly."
Laura sat down on the other side of the bed. "Like a sheriff going in to clean
up an outlaw town."
"That's it, girlie."
I almost managed a grin, liking the picture of Eric stepping up to battle
corruption wherever he found it. I
still didn't like him keeping the battle a secret from me, but if he had to
have a secret, I wanted it to be a noble one.
Actually, the more I thought about it, the more plausible Eddie's
revised-and-more-palatable theory sounded. After all, chasing after corruption
can easily get a guy killed&
"Kate?" Laura pressed a hand to my shoulder. "You okay?"
I sat up, nodding and feeling a little foolish. "I'm fine. I'm sorry," I said
to Eddie.
"No need," he said. "And that offer to punch me still stands."
I shot him a wry look. "I'll save it for when I really need it."
I splashed water on my face, and we all traipsed back downstairs. I'd just
poured a fresh cup of coffee when the phone rang. I answered, surprised to
find David Long on the other end of the line.
"I need to talk to you," he said. "Can you meet me?"
"What? Right now?"
"Yeah. Right now."
"I& " I made a shooshing gesture to Laura and Eddie, who were asking who it was
in very non-whisperish stage whispers. "David, what's this about?"
"Have you read the paper this morning?"
I tensed, fearing I knew where this conversation was going. "Yeah."
"Then you saw the article about Jason Palmer."
"Yes, I did. I'm so sorry. He sounded like a good kid."
"He was a good kid." I heard David draw in a noisy breath. "It's all related,"
he finally said. "Jason. The
dead guy in the janitor's basement. And more."
Uh-oh.
I stayed silent.
"Kate?"
"I'll meet you," I said. "
At the cathedral." As much as I hated to admit it, I still wasn't certain
about David
Long. There were too many questions. He may have passed the holy water test,
but he knew too much, and I wasn't going to be completely satisfied until he
walked on holy ground. And even then, I wanted a damn good explanation.
"The cathedral," he repeated, speaking slowly.
"Is that okay?"
A pause, then, "Yeah. Sure. I can do that."
"Great. See you there."
I hung up the phone and looked from Laura to Eddie. "I guess now we'll see
what David Long is made of."
Eddie and Father Ben were with me, the three of us sitting on a step just in
front of the communion rail, when David stepped through the doors. He paused,
then saw us and lifted his chin in silent acknowledgment.
"Come join us," I said, watching him carefully.
He hesitated, but he came, taking one step and then another down the aisle
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toward the altar. I searched his face for hints of pain. Nothing.
I still wasn't sure what David's story was, but at least I knew he wasn't a
demon.
"I didn't realize we'd have company," he said, as soon as he'd reached the
three of us.
I shrugged. "Father Ben and Eddie are interested in the kind of story you're
here to tell. Besides, I'll tell them after the fact, anyway. They might as
well hear it firsthand."
He considered that, then nodded, reaching out to hold the communion rail. "I
don't suppose you're going to tell me what you three musketeers are up to?"
"You suppose right," I said. "You came here to tell me something. So tell."
"It's about the boy who died. Jason Palmer. He was badly mutilated. But he was
wearing a surf club jacket and so the police brought me in, hoping I could
identify the body."
"Could you?" Father Ben asked.
"Yes." He shivered, looking a little green. "Yes, I could recognize him."
"I'm so sorry," I said, reaching out to brush his sleeve.
"I saw something," he said, shaking himself and squaring his shoulders. "When
they brought me in. The
boy had a ring. He wore it on a chain around his neck."
"A ring?" Eddie asked. "What kind of ring."
"Thick, like a class ring, but with planetary symbols engraved all over it." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]